Twister to Texas

Atsila began to run away from the storm and was looking for some sort of shelter as she ran. She could hear the sound now, a loud, low pitched moaning sound that was a background to what sounded like the screams of the female puma trying to attract a mate. She felt the blast of the wind grow ever stronger as she ran.

A minute later, and feeling heavy rain pelting her, Atsila saw the huge uprooted tree. The roots hung like skeletal fingers clawing at the air over the deep hole that had been opened when the tree fell. Atsila jumped into the hole and tried to wedge her body into the tree roots as the screaming, swirling cloud overtook her.

The tree began to shake as the wind howled around her. She tried to wedge her body deeper into the roots and held on with all her strength. The tree shuddered again, then seemed to lift a little. There was another shudder and then a snap. The tree trunk had been snapped from the limbs and began rising. In seconds, the tree was whisked away with Atsila trapped inside the roots.

Samuel had been watching the sky all day, and when the clouds began to circle, he didn't like what he saw. Illinois didn't have a lot of twisters, but he'd seen some and knew he needed to get somewhere deep, like a river bank or low area between two close hills. As the sky darkened enough it seemed to be dusk instead of mid afternoon and the clouds began to swirl faster he began looking in earnest.

The area was fairly flat, and though there were a few trees here and there, he found no depression in the ground deep enough to be of any use. He urged Dusty to a trot at right angles to the approaching storm and kept looking.

The funnel cloud of the tornado was on the ground and near enough he could hear the screech of the high winds when he saw the rise in the land. It wasn't very high, only about four feet at the top, but at least it wasn't flat ground. Samuel touched his heels to Dusty's sides and the horse broke into a canter.

When he reached the small hill, Samuel dismounted and pulled off Dusty's saddle, and then lifted the horse's left foreleg. He then looped the right rein over the horse's back and pulled. Dusty turned his head to ease the tension on the bit and by doing so, was thrown off balance. The horse fell quickly onto his left side. Samuel stretched out beside the horse's neck with one hand on his nose to hold him down. With the other hand, Samuel pulled the saddle up over his head. The saddle might protect his head from any falling debris dropped by the twister as it passed. Dusty would protect some of his body, just as the cavalry horses had served as cover during battle.

The tornado approached him quickly, and fortunately for Samuel, turned and passed by a few hundred feet from where he lay. A few small tree branches and a lot of grass and dirt fell on him and Dusty as the tail end of the twister trailed off into the distance. A half hour later, the clouds were gone and the afternoon sun shone brightly overhead.

Samuel pushed the saddle off his head and shoulders when he stood up. Dusty stood up then and shook to remove the twigs and grass that covered his side. Samuel checked the horse carefully for injuries and finding none, checked himself. He saddled Dusty then, and an hour after the storm passed was riding toward a stand of willows in the distance. He'd camp by the stream that supplied the large quantity of soil moisture the willows required, and continue in the morning.

He didn't see the woman until Dusty snorted and pricked his ears in the direction of the fallen tree. He didn't actually see her then. All he saw was a slender arm and hand dangling from amongst the tree roots. Samuel reined Dusty in that direction.

She wasn't very old, he thought as he dismounted. She was an Indian, but he couldn't just leave her here for the coyotes and buzzards. That's what had happened at Washita and it sickened him to remember it. No human deserved that fate.

He was walking to the fallen tree when he heard the faint moan. The girl was alive.

Samuel ran to the fallen tree and gently pulled the girl out of the tree roots, then laid her on the ground. Her breathing was regular if a little shallow, he thought, and when he put his hand on her chest, he felt the steady thump thump of a beating heart.

Her cotton dress was soaked from the rain and muddy from the dirt between tree roots. Samuel was wet too and was starting to feel the chill of the cooler air behind the twister. The girl must be even colder. They both needed a fire to dry out and warm up.

The girl didn't have any cuts or bruises, so Samuel picked her up and carried her to where Dusty stood. With no way to get on Dusty and then lift the girl by himself, he draped her, belly down, over the saddle and then mounted himself on Dusty's rump. After traveling the few hundred yards to the willows, Samuel stopped at a shallow bend in the stream.

The first thing to do was keep the girl warm. He'd learned that lesson in the winter campaigns of the war. An injured man who stayed cold usually died. If he was kept warm, he'd probably survive long enough to make it to the surgeon's tent. Samuel did the only thing he could think of at the time.

After laying the girl on the ground as gently as he could manage, he untied his bedroll from the saddle and spread it on the ground. By rolling her from one side to the other, he managed to get the girl's dress off over her head. Then, he carried her to his bedroll and put her between the blankets. After finding and breaking off a few branches from a dead tree, he began building a fire.

Atsila woke up and looked around her. She'd expected to see the monsters that lived in the dark world or at least something other than a lone man bent over a small fire. Why wasn't she dead? She remembered climbing into the scraggly roots of the large tree just before the storm had overtaken her. She remembered the screeching wind and she remembered the tree lifting from the ground and taking her with it. She remembered the crashing jar when the tree fell back to the ground. It was then that everything went black until now.

Instead of waking up inside the tangle of tree roots she was laying on and covered by some sort of blanket, wool she thought, because it was a little scratchy against her bare skin.

Bare skin! Atsila quickly moved her hands over her body. She was naked under the blanket. What had the man done to her? She felt between her thighs and found nothing unusual. If he hadn't raped her, why was she naked? Was he just waiting for her to wake up before he did?"

The man stood then, walked a ways from the fire, and picked up an armload of branches. He sat back down and added a few to the fire. Once they caught flame, he stood again and walked to where Atsila lay. Atsila kept her eyes closed as the man felt her forehead and then spoke.

"Little lady, you don't seem to be hurt but you won't wake up. Must have hit your head pretty hard I guess. Maybe a little water will help. You're face is muddy anyway, so a little washing won't hurt anything."

Atsila still had her eyes closed when she heard the man rise and walk away. He quickly came back and she felt a wet cloth on her forehead.

He was gentle, as gentle as she'd have been doing the same thing to a newborn child. She heard the trickle of water as he rinsed he cloth and wrung it out, and then the same gentle touch to her left cheek.

As Samuel cleaned the girl's face he didn't find what he'd expected to see. She'd been dressed in the typical Cherokee dress he'd seen as he passed through Cherokee territory, but her face was a little less rounded. By the time he had cleaned the mud from both cheeks, he decided she was a very pretty woman, well, girl really. He didn't think she could be more than twenty if that. He rinsed his bandana in the cooking pot of water and wrung it out again, then began wiping her nose. It was then the girl opened her eyes, and what Samuel saw in those dark brown eyes was fear. He stopped stroking her nose and smiled.

"You don't need to be afraid of me. I'm not gonna do anything to you except clean off some of the mud."

Her voice was a croak when she replied.

"Who are you?"

Samuel smiled again.

"Well, how about that. You speak English. I'm Samuel Kerner, Ma'am. You sound dry as corn meal. You need a drink?"

Atsila nodded and watched as Samuel went back to the fire. He came back with a tin cup.

"Here. I filled it fresh from the stream."

Atsila sipped the water, then drank it down in three gulps. Samuel grinned.

"You really were parched. You want some more?"

Atsila nodded, and Samuel brought her another cup of water. Atsila took another gulp and then looked at Samuel

"Where is my dress?"

"It's over there by the fire drying out. It's still pretty muddy, but I figured I'd let you wash it however you want."

"How did I get here?"

Samuel smiled.

"I found you stuck in he roots of a tree after the twister passed. You weren't awake, your dress was soaked, and it was starting to get cooler. I brought you here to get you warmed up and awake again."

Atsila took another sip of water.

"That's all you did to me?"

"Yes, well, I did take off your wet dress. You wouldn'ta got warm wearing a wet dress."

"What are you going to do now?"

Samuel took off his hat and scratched his head.

"Well, before I found you, I aimed to camp here, fix me some supper, and then go to sleep. I figure on doing the same except I guess I'll be sleeping by the fire instead of in that bedroll. Fire's about down to coals. You hungry?"

Atsila sat up and pulled the blanket around her as Samuel walked away. He was white, so she didn't really trust him. Her grandmother had told her tales of what she called the "Old Lands". The Cherokee had been friendly toward the white men and had tried to be like them. They changed their clothing from deer skins to cotton cloth, and built the same cabins as the white men. They'd adapted their religion to that of the Jesuit priests who came to teach them English and other skills. Still, in the end, the white men had taken their lands and forced them to come to Oklahoma territory. Many had died along the way. Her own grandfather was one of those.

In Oklahoma Territory, the land was different, the weather was different, and the white men did not live up to their promises. Still, the Cherokee had survived in spite of the white man. This man seemed to be a good man, but other white men had smiled and said good things too. She was still trying to decide when he brought her three slabs of bacon and a fried bread made from corn meal.

He smiled.

"All I got's bacon and cornmeal. It probably ain't what you're used to, but it'll fill you up. I eat out of the skillet and I ain't got no plate, so this pot lid will have to do."

With that, the man who called himself Samuel Kerner got up and went back to sit by the fire. Atsila watched as he ate the same thing he'd brought her and drank water from his coffee pot. She finished eating and then tried to stay awake in case he tried to do anything, but the fatigue of the day combined with a full stomach quickly caused her to begin nodding her head. Atsila fell asleep moments later.

After he finished eating, Samuel banked his fire to keep the coals alive until morning and then stretched out beside it. His thoughts were confused.

At first, he'd seen fear in her eyes, but after they'd talked a little, the fear had disappeared and was replaced by something else, a look of...Samuel wasn't sure what it was, but the woman didn't seem to be afraid of him anymore. She was wary, to be sure, but not afraid. She was probably Cherokee, so maybe she was just as brave as had been the Cherokee Confederate soldiers he'd fought against in the war. He'd seen Cherokee women as he traveled south, but had never actually met one, so he didn't know if they were brave or not.

He didn't even know her name, but already he felt only respect and not hate for her. He couldn't hate a woman anyway, even an Indian woman, and he felt a need to help this one. He hoped if he did, it might partly atone for the women and children at Washita.

What was he going to do with her now? She didn't seem to have anything except the dress, not even any type of shoes. If he rode off and left her here, she'd probably die. He could try to find another Cherokee town and leave her there, but he had no idea where any were.

He'd take her with him if she wanted that, but it would slow him down. Dusty couldn't travel as fast with two people on his back because he'd have to be rested more often. Samuel smiled to himself then. It wasn't like he had anywhere to be on any particular day. He didn't really know where he was going and wouldn't until he got there. Getting there a little slower wouldn't matter.

If he asked her to go with him, would she think he expected her to give herself to him? He wouldn't, of course, but she wouldn't know that. She'd probably think the worst and run off as soon as she got a chance. She wouldn't survive on her own, and he'd be responsible for that.

It wasn't that the idea hadn't occurred to him. When he'd taken off her dress, the sight of her firm breasts and rounded hips, and the small thatch of black hair between her thighs had stirred his manhood. When he'd picked her up, the feeling of her breasts against his chest and her bare legs against his bare arm had only increased that stirring.

Samuel had let those feelings die as he started the fire, and when he came back with the pot of water to wash her, they didn't come back as strongly because she was covered. Now, they came back again as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Yes, she was a woman and he was a man and it was natural for him to feel that way even though he didn't know the woman. Good men didn't act on the desire he felt, not unless the woman was his wife. She wasn't.

The sun was just beginning to light up the willows at the edge of the stream when Samuel woke. He stirred the coals of the fire until he had a mound of red, glowing heat, then added small twigs until they flamed. He was adding larger sticks when the woman woke up.

"Is my dress dry?" she asked.

"I expect so. I'll bring it to you, and don't worry, I won't look while you put it on."

Samuel went back to his fire and added a few larger sticks. He heard the rustle of the blankets and then the softer sound of the woman dressing. He was putting two large branches on the growing flames when she walked up beside him. Samuel looked up and smiled.

"Mornin' Ma'am. You feeling better now?"

"Yes. Thank you for helping me. I didn't think white men cared about Indians."

"Well, maybe I'm different. You needed help and I decided to help you. Want some breakfast? It'll be just bacon and corn cakes again. Don't know if Indians drink coffee, but I'll have some of that in a bit too."

They ate in silence for a while. Samuel was still thinking about what he was going to do with the woman. As Atsila ate, she looked around for something she could use as a weapon in case he tried to do anything to her. All she saw was a short section of tree branch the man had cut for firewood. When the man turned to the fire to fill his coffee cup, she quickly pulled the branch to her side. Samuel heard the rustle and turned back to look at her, then smiled.

"I see you still don't trust me. That stick wouldn't stop me if I wanted to do anything, but you needn't worry."

The look in the woman's eyes told him she still wasn't sure. He smiled again and reached for the knife at his belt. When the woman picked up the stick, he held out both hands.

"Don't go getting' all upset. I'm gonna give you my knife."

Samuel slowly pulled the knife from its sheath, took it by the blade and handed it to the woman.

"Here. Maybe this'll convince you I'm not gonna do anything to you."

The woman cautiously took the knife by the handle and put it in her lap. Samuel grinned.

"Well, now that you can fight me off, maybe you'll tell me your name."

"Atsila. I'm Atsila."

"You a Cherokee?"

"Yes."

"How'd you get out here and all tangled up in them tree roots?"

Atsila thought for a moment. She couldn't tell this man the real reason.

"I -- I was out looking for cattail roots when the storm started. I climbed inside the tree roots so it wouldn't carry me away, but it picked up the tree and me too."

"Well, you're a lucky woman. That was a big twister, bigger than any I've seen before. Where'd you come from? I was riding in this direction and didn't see any Indian towns along the way."

"My village is a long way from here, I think. I don't know how far the wind carried me."

Samuel didn't think she was telling him the truth, or at least, not all of it because she seemed a little nervous and looked at the ground when she spoke. That didn't change the fact that she still needed help.

"Whatcha gonna do now? Try to find your town?"

"I would, but I don't know where to look."

"Well, the twister was coming from the south, so if it blew you here, you must live further south. You plan on walkin?"

Samuel smiled when Atsila looked at him with a wry look on her face. There was a little spirit left in this woman.

"I don't have much choice, do I? I don't have a horse."

Samuel sipped his coffee and then stared out over the plains.

"No, but I do."

"You're saying I should come with you?"

Samuel turned to look at Atsila and saw she had her hand on the knife in her lap.

"No, I'm saying I'll help you find your town. Looks to me like that dirty dress is all you got. It's gonna be hard to walk very far without food or shoes. I'm just offering you a ride, that's all. You got my knife so I can't try anything, right?"

Atsila sat behind Samuel as the horse walked slowly toward the south and further away from her village. The man's knife was tucked under a belt she'd made from a strip torn from the bottom of her dress. It would be easy to get to if she needed it.

She didn't know what she'd do if they did come to another village. Hunters from other villages often met each other on the plains, and they always exchanged the goings on of their village. It had been only one day since she was cast out, so another village might not yet know, but they soon would. No woman who had committed adultery would be welcome in any village, and she would be cast out again.

She could tell him the truth, but if she did, what would he think? When her aunt had told her of the ways of men and women, she said the whites thought adultery was a sin against their God. Surely Samuel would think she was an evil woman and leave her there in the middle of nowhere. If she didn't tell him, he'd keep looking until he found a village and she'd have to tell him anyway. She couldn't decide which would be worse.

As Samuel sat easily in the saddle as Dusty walked, he could not ignore the woman behind him, though he tried. She was rocking back and forth with each step Dusty took, and that rocking often pressed her breasts into his back. She also rode with her thighs against his, and when he'd looked down once, he'd seen her dress had pulled up and bared her lower legs.

It wasn't right, he thought, to be thinking about an Indian woman that way, but he was. If only she'd been ugly he wouldn't be affected, but such wasn't the case. He hoped he'd find a trail soon that would lead to a Cherokee town. Even if it wasn't her town, he'd leave her there. The people of the town would help her get back home.

The sun was high overhead when they passed through an area of rocky ground. Samuel let Dusty pick his own way because the horse had enough sense not to step where he'd risk tripping or falling. He heard the warning buzz of the rattlesnake at the same time Dusty shied to the left and away from the snake. The next thing he knew, he was falling to the ground.