(Jan. 6, 1909)
“Shhh”!
Will watched, as she walked just beyond the whistling pine thicket, leading to her tiny cabin. She was a tall woman, wearing a long skirt that fit high on her waist, and her dark gray hair was fixed in a tight bun. Sadness touched the boy, as he noticed she had a slight limp, and strangely, she was carrying a dead squirrel.
Little Tommy whispered, “It’s that mean Apache lady, she’ll scalp ya!”
Will looked at his little brother harshly, “You and your Apaches! Just where did you hear that anyways?”
Tommy’s eyes grew wide, “Everyone at school knows she’s an Apache, and they’re the meanest kind! And look, she’s a limpin’!”
Will followed up, “And what does that have to do with anything?”
Tommy retorted, “Why, everyone knows ya’ never follow a wounded Apache into the rocks!”
Will exclaimed, “The only rocks are in your head! I’m going to go talk to her! There comes Uncle John in the wagon, you hitch a ride with him on home, I’ll be along later.”
Running for the wagon, Tommy hollered back at his big brother, “It’s your hair!”
A little nervous, Will walked slowly up the lane, for he too had heard schoolhouse rumors.
When he caught up to her, she was standing in her yard, next to a huge stump. There was a hatchet and butcher knife, stuck in the stump. The lady with the dark skin and high cheek bones, grabbed the butcher knife, and made a horizontal cut behind the squirrel’s tail. Then grabbing the tail with one hand and the back legs with her other, she shucked the hide like it was an ear of corn!
“What in the world?” he thought to himself.
Then with the hatchet, she made three quick blows – head, front feet, and back feet – gone!
With that she turned, looked at Will, and said, “Well, are you coming in?,” and then she limped up the front porch, and went inside.
Now wasn’t that the strangest invite he had ever had?
Hmm? Taking in the whole scene, he figured it seemed harmless enough. From the hand-hewn logs to the smoke rising from the chimney, it looked down-right invitin’!
Yes, he believed he would!
Marching up the front porch, he stepped inside the one room cabin. Was he ever amazed by what he saw! It was so nice and tidy, with nothing out of place. He was trying hard not to be nosy, but his eye caught the patchwork quilt laying on her iron bedstead; and, how beautiful it was! Really beautiful! He also noticed it matched perfectly the skirt she was wearing.
The gray haired woman spoke, “Do you like my quilt?”
Will replied, “Yes, ma’am, it’s beautiful!”
She smiled, and said, “Some call the pattern double-bitted axe, some apple core”
Will responded enthusiastically, “I like double-bitted axe!”
She smiled again and said, “Me, too.”
“Well, I hope you like fried squirrel, because I can’t eat all this myself.”
Will was feeling a whole lot better about the mean Apache lady now.
“Thank you, ma’am, I would like that!”
She then pointed, and with a joyful tone said “Alright then, grab some leather britches from that gallon jar over there, and I will set them to hot water.”
Will looked puzzled, “Leather britches, ma’am?”
She said “Oh, I’m sorry, that’s what we Cherokee call dried green beans.”
Will chuckled, and while retrieving the greens beans he hesitatingly replied, “Sooooo…you…you’re not Apache?”
She smiled, and said, “No, and I don’t scalp little boys either.”
Will turned red, but didn’t respond.
When they sat down for the meal, she thanked the Lord for the bounty, and asked Him to bless it.
Will was becoming more delighted by the minute, and he spoke again, “The meal is grand, I really like squirrel and gravy! I was curious, what did you shoot that squirrel with, ma’am?”
She acted surprised, and said, “I didn’t shoot him. I trapped him in a dead-fall trap using a bait trigger.”
Will’s eyes grew large, “You trapped a squirrel?!”
The old Native American lady smiled, and said, “Wouldn’t you think it strange, if a full-blooded Cherokee couldn’t trap a little ole’ squirrel?”
Will was simply elated, just what kind of an artifact had he found?
More inquisitive now than ever, he asked, “Where did you come from, ma’am?”
Laughing she said, “Come from? Well now, I was here before you, your father or your grandfather! But to answer your question more precisely, I came from Tennessee on the Trail of Tears.”
Will knew about the Trail of Tears from Mrs. Ingram at school, and that over 1,700 Native Americans had passed through Ashley County in the cold harsh winter. Looking gravely, he responded, “Oh, I’m sorry.”
The elderly Native American lady replied, “My family were en-route to Oklahoma when I became very ill. The Haney family took me in and raised me. They were very good to me. In time, I married their son Thomas. We lived here together, until he was killed during the civil war by bushwhackers. I have lived alone on this hillside as a widow ever since 1863.”
Widow? Will remembered what Mr. Wrinkles had just shared in church! He taught that a true Christian helps the fatherless, and the widows! (James 1:27) And here was a real widow, sitting right in front of him – crippled too! What would he do? What could he do?
He glanced over at her wood box, it was very low. There it was! His chance to help!
“Ma’am, could I fetch some firewood for you, and fill up your wood box?”
She smiled and replied, “Well, you sure can, and thank you! My leg has been hurting lately with this cold weather.”
Will spent the next hour chopping wood and hauling it to the wood box. Upon finishing, he bid her good evening and asked if he could come again.
She responded, “You are always welcome at my abode, I get awful lonely here. If you wouldn’t mind learning from an old Native American woman, I will even teach you how to make a dead-fall trap, the Cherokee way.”
Will just about burst! A full-blooded Cherokee Native American was going to teach him how to trap wild game!
“I would love that ma’am, and thank you!”
Will was headed down the lane, when he turned abruptly and running back to the cabin, poked his head in the door, “I almost forgot ma’am, what is your name?”
Smiling, she replied, “My name is Eliza Ann.”
“Thank you again, Ms. Eliza Ann! My name is Lil’ Will. And Lord willing, I’ll be seeing ya’ again soon! Pastor Wrinkles says we should always say ‘Lord willing,’ because we’re not in charge of anything, God is!” (James 4:13-15)
Ms. Eliza smiled, “That’s right, Lil’ Will, He is in charge, and I do believe He sent me a new friend today.”
Lord willing, until next time.
Michael Everett Jones is a Texas County native, old fashioned historian and purveyor of traditional Christian values. Email ozarksgrandpajones@gmail.com.