Stone Man by Charles Suddeth

Author:Charles Suddeth [Suddeth, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Childrens boys and men, Childrens fiction Native American, Childrens Historical fiction, United States Childrens Native American Books, Trail of Tears, Children's Homelessness & Poverty Books, Cherokee
Publisher: Dancing Lemur Press LLC
Published: 2019-10-08T04:00:00+00:00

Aytsi’s Medicine?

I woke with the rising sun. As soon as I opened my eyes, Sali groaned and screamed. I leaned over and started to feel her forehead.

She jerked her head away from me.

Warm puke slimed my hands and arms and chin.

Sali lay on her side, her face, neck, and hair coated with vomit. I didn’t know what to do and didn’t have time to clean either one of us off. To keep her from choking, I rolled her onto my lap and let her head rest on my shoulder.

I didn’t see Johnny and figured he had deserted us, since we were nothing but two Cherokee orphans no one wanted. If I couldn’t help Sali, she wouldn’t survive the day.

“Help!”

The mess also covered my clothes, but I didn’t care about myself. I rocked her in my arms. She held her belly with her hands and screamed.

“Somebody help her!”

Johnny appeared with a load of firewood. Dropping it on the ground, he knelt on the opposite side of Sali and said, “Let me have her.”

I let him hold her. “I have to do something,” I said. I knelt beside them. “I didn’t realize how sick she was, or I wouldn’t have gone to sleep.”

“Lad, think hard,” he whispered. “What medicines did Mama use for colic?”

“What for? The willow bark and sassafras made her sicker.”

“You don’t know they didn’t work. Her fever broke, but her belly’s cramping.”

A couple of winters ago, I had gotten sick to my stomach, and I didn’t think I would live. Aytsi had given me some slimy stuff to drink that made me better. What did she call it?

“Slippery something.” I tried to recall.

He huffed and rocked her in his arms. “You better think harder or you’ll lose Sali.”

The memory of the terrible-tasting tea hit me. “Slippery elm.”

He squinted at me. His whiskers bristled. “You mean like red elm?”

“I think so. We always called it slippery elm.”

“Look at the wood I packed. It’s reddish. As in red elm?”

It did have a red cast to it, but I couldn’t tell for sure. “But for tea we need the bark.”

“Then you’re going to have to scrounge up some red elm as fast as you can. I’m afraid to let her lie down. Look on the far side of the sassafras. Take my hatchet. Be quick about it.”

I jumped up and grabbed the hatchet leaning on the outside of the lean-to. I sprinted as fast as I could. I spotted the sassafras I had hidden in, but I didn’t know what slippery elms looked like with their leaves shed. I circled around the sassafras to some other bare trees. They were elms, but not the forest elms in the mountains. If they had their leaves, it would be easier to pick them out.

Then I spotted an oval dead leaf still hanging from a tree. But was it a slippery elm? I broke off a limb and felt the inside. It had a greasy feel and a hint of red. I stripped off some bark with my fingers and dashed back as fast as I could.

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