Day by Day

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Orry was close.  

He was wonderfully close to home- close to Tahlequah and home. And he was close to his ma, and to Preacher and Miss Lucinda. 

And Caroline.  

He had missed them all. He had worried so much about his ma, after he knew the truth. He was happy to see her- and he wanted to tell her that he had met his father. Mystery rumbled his stomach.  

He was close back to his people- to the Cherokee Nation. Tecumseh made him think of the stories of his father's- 

He stopped. If Henry was his father- was he still a Cherokee? The thought meant so much to him- it had always been something no one could take from him. When he had nothing else, he had the good Lord and he had his heritage. Many things had changed for Orry since he left the small settlement of Redbud.  

His palms began to sweat with the anxiousness of it. Home. Tahlequah, Claremore. His ma. Everything he was familiar with. He grinned to himself. He was going to be home, to be the place of rocky hills and farmland and the melodies of locusts deep in the evening.  

He would sleep on a real bed. He would eat real food and wear real clothes and do the farm work he was used to- not polishing guns or marching. In the nights, he would stare into the Indian Territory sky, and study the stars the way he had before the war. No, he couldn't be as careless. He would never be as careless. But Orry felt his heart turn. Many things had changed.  

Still, there were some things that would never change.

The sun was falling, and the temperature with it.  

Caroline stared at the colors of the sky, appreciating for the first time in a long time, the natural wonders around her. It had been such a hard thing to do, when the days were accompanied by such sickness and the clamor of soldiers all around them.  

Blues faded to yellow, and yellow to a bright but gentle orange. The western end of the sky was the color of pumpkins. There were few clouds, but clouds still, and they were feathers. The entire picture was still and soft and evoked nostalgia.  

The vivid colors of the sky set the trees along the horizon into gnarled black shadows; they were complete and starkly shaped.  

But the picture of peace was shattered when her thoughts crept in. She didn't know how long they could get on without a man to do the heavy lifting. Certainly, they could farm, and they could probably do things like repairs on the house.  

Though she knew they could not build a new barn. They couldn't defend themselves. She had thought it before- she couldn't set a trap. She couldn't shoot straight. All those nicey-nice things she had been taught amounted to diddly squat now. She could embroider a pillow, but she couldn't kill a bird. She could push a broom, but she couldn't load a gun. And she knew she could still play a piano, but she couldn't fish.  

Caroline didn't know what she was worrying about. She could learn to kill animals, and she could learn to load a gun, and she could learn to fish. She would.  

A sigh escaped her there. If only some man was there to teach her. Pip, or Joseph, or someone. Orry. How she wished he was there! It burned in her heart, and she closed her eyes. She missed all three of them. She lay awake at night thinking about her father and worrying about Joseph and vying for Orry.  

Rising from her place on the leaf smattered ground, she dusted her raggedy dress off. She would have to turn it, or wear one of Mimma's dresses. The winter was coming again, in a few months, but soon, the fall. When they would have all gathered after the crop harvest, and eaten together and laughed and joked. It would have all been so nice.  

"But there are still good times to be had," she told herself aloud. "This war certainly can't last forever." But she couldn't even convince herself.  

She looked once more at the sun, and listened to the stillness of the sighing wind, then turned her face to the house with new determination in her step. She would learn to do the things she couldn't do, if it took her a thousand years, she would. Caroline had faith that God would allow her to learn those things.  

He wouldn't just leave her hanging.  

So she entered the house, thinking deeply on the matter, and had supper with Mary and Lettie.  

"I'll clean everything up, since ya both did it so long," Mary began to say.  

"No, you'd better go to bed. Its late, and the day's been long," Caroline said. "Just let me do it, both of you, please?" 

Her plead was not too passionately resisted, and she took to cleaning everything up while upstairs, the other women took turns bathing, and readying for bed.  

The noises all around her grew dim and dull as her thoughts began to sprint across the pages of her mind. Distinct memories of church services, Sunday picnics, giggles, and days in school with her friends. The days at the beginning of the war when thunder storms had frightened her to death. She feared greater things now- she was afraid, but Caroline had faith.  

Things would work out, for the best. She knew they would. Although it was difficult, she was beginning to see, and beginning to believe that even though she couldn't understand His ways, God had something in mind.  

From the corner of her eye, she saw motion coming up closer to the house. When she turned to study it, her heart caught in her throat, and her fear mingled with anticipation. She couldn't make out the figure, if it was a man, or if it was her imagination. Yes, yes, it was! She could tell.  

Oh, it was a soldier.  

Dread ruined her anticipation, and she moved away from the window. Why did they always come here? There were at least a few thousand other houses in the Territory, and they all seemed to come to her.  

Well, what was she going to do? She hadn't a gun, and didn't know what to do with it if she did have one. She supposed that she could find out what business he reckoned he had there, and if he just wanted a place to sleep, well, then, she would give him a pillow and a blanket and let him sleep on the porch.  

Disgust reared its ugly head in her. Soldiers. They could fire a gun and kill another man- but they didn't fight the real war. No sir. The families left behind fought the real wars. They suffered the empty seats at the supper tables, staring at them.  

With little thought, she yanked the door open, stepping boldly out, planting her hands squarely on her hips.  

Her eyes focused on the man, taking slow strides closer to her, but his pace quickening in a way that scared her. As if- as if- 

"Caroline- it's me."

Sorry, guys.  I couldn't fit all of it into one book:( I kinda wore myself out on it. But take heart, dear readers, if any of you finish this, I am writing a sequel! Thanks for reading- God bless. Please comment, vote, etc.

   Love, Morgan<3