Rose Buds in the Bush - God Will Provide, by Lauren: Part 3

Darcie and Charlotte laid their father to rest exactly one week after they arrived. The scenery around the town which at first seemed friendly, now was cold, lonely and empty.

The sister's walked back home silent, each absorbed in her own thoughts, when Darcie interrupted the quietness.

"Charlotte, what will we do? We have very little money and no provisions, you know we can't take over Papa's job, and we have no property to farm."

"God will provide," Charlotte replied more confidently then she felt.

The next day was the Sabbath so they couldn't work. Darcie cooked the last of the provisions, while Charlotte, trying to concentrate on the Holy Word, fretted. They had no peace of mind that night.

The next morning a handsome stranger appeared on the doorstep. He was in his early twenties, with the rough, weathered appreance of a hard worker with kind hazel eyes and dark curly hair. He introduced himself as Darrell Adams.

Darcie welcomed him in and listened to the reason of his visit. "Probably to give his condolences," she thought.

"Ma'am, I am sorry about your loss and I give my condolences to you and your sister," he started as he got quickly to the point, "As a God-fearing man, I believe it is the duty of a congration to support their pastor, and the duty of the men to take care of his daughters. I have come to offer my help and service."

"Thank you," was all Charlotte could manage as Darcie stood speechless.

"Charlotte was right," she mused, "God has provided."  

Charlotte went to bed that night with a thankful heart, Darrell had given them enough food to last weeks, and she was no longer afraid of winter.

Darcie, however, could only think of the young man's kindness and the tender look in the eye he gave her.

Rose Buds in The Bush - The Price of Peace, by Lauren: Part 2

"I declare, this sun will spoil my skin and produce freckles on my nose," remarked Darcie.

"Well, at least we'll hardly have to worry about frost-bite in winter," replied Charlotte.

"Still we have to make the best of it since father had to be the preacher of the district, and the worst possible thing would be for us to separate."

"Yes, we need father and he needs us especially since mother,... mother...,"

"Died," whispered Darcie.

"She would have wanted us to stay together," replied Charlotte.

After working on their little homestead, Mr Rose announced that he would take a look at the church building and see what repairs were needed. Darcie was to stay at the homestead to clean and do what-ever was necessary to turn the run-down building into a liveable home. Charlotte wanted to help her father with the church's building, so she walked along the road, hand-in-hand with the pastor and father she loved.

After deciding what needed to be done, and tidying up the place, an urgent messenger arrived.

"Sir," he said holding his hat, "we have no sheriff in this town, and two men have held up the banker, and that banker, sir, is as stubborn as a mule and as stupid as an goose, he won't give the men that they want."

"What can I do about it?"

"Can you kinda smooth things over?"

Mr Rose pondered, bowed his head, and nodded.

"Yes I'll come in a minute, Charlotte you must go back home to Darcie, this is an order, you mustn't be involved."

Charlotte obeyed and started off on the lonely walk home. An uncomfortable prickly feeling soon got the better of her, and before she knew it, her legs were running back towards the town.

"Imagine what Darcie would think of me running" she thought.

Charlotte had little time to think much more about the matter, for at that moment was a gun shot; a horrible cry; and nothing more.

Unable to think of anything more then her father's safety, Charlotte ran inside the bank.

Mr Rose was slumped against the wall, dead.

Rose Buds in the Bush - Coolanna's Grave, by Lauren: Part 1

On a hot summer's afternoon, a stranger stepped out of the Cob & Co stagecoach and into the tiny town of Coolanna in the Australian outback. After circling the area he was dropped off at, just to check his Grandmother was not there, he took a walk around the town.

For some strange reason or another, Craig felt an urge to walk through the church's cemetery. Out of the many memorial places, one stood out from the rest, and written on the stone were the words...

'Rose Buds in the Bush'

Darcie and Charlotte Rose

1804-1895   1805-1895

Died during service

R.I.P

"I thought you wouldn't have wanted to wait for me, and go wandering" Said the gruff voice of Mrs A. Jonson, Craig's grandmother.  "Though I never would have guessed you'd wander here."

"Sorry Grandmother,' Craig replied, "but who were they?" Guestering towards the gravestone. 

"The Rose sisters?" The old lady said with a hint of emotion in her voice.

Craig nodded. 

"Well then, it's a long drive to my place, so I'll tell you on the way. 

'It was a summer much like this one in 1820. Two English Sisters and their father arrived in Coolanner.

Darcie was a handsome, tall young lady of sixteen with a slim figure, dark eyes and long, brown hair. Her younger sister Charlotte, was shorter and rounder, but had pretty blue eyes, blond curly hair and fair skin. Personality wise they were also different. Charlotte loved laughing heartily, while Darcie was very ladylike and graceful. However no one denied their special sisterly bond. They loved each other and their father very much...'  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This story was co-authored by my friend Ebony, please visit her blog, she is a creative genius with many talents, one of which is photography. 

Ehem!

Dear readers of Just So Stories,

I just thought I'd tell you that the "Farewell" post was just a practical joke between Lauren and I, and it isn't serious!  xD  Just in case you were wondering what on earth was going on,  hehe! :)

Love from Big Sister <3

Farewell...

Dear friends, followers, and others...

I am going to leave Just So Stories, because Lauren and Alice are simply much better writers then I am...(Lauren is especialy amazing, oh yes, I'm quite ashamed of myself yes I am, I am not NEARLY as good as HER!! She is amazing, oho yes!)
I will try to use this post to express my sadness of leaving, and my gratitude of dear Lauren and Alice keeping me on this blog so long. They are sooo patient, and have put up with a lot.

But it would take too long to go into all the details, so now I will close off-

So long, farewell, adveisaint goodbye...

Love Makenzie

Interview @ Jilla

Hello everyone!

Lauren has recently done an interview with the authors of this blog (Big Sister, Elizabeth and myself) about reading and writing over at her blog, Jilla. Here's the link if you'd like to go and check it out!

::Interview::

Sorry about the lack of stories lately-- we have all been rather busy with various things! We're working on it...

Till then, adieus!

Alice x

A Morning Walk, written by Big Sister

For one reason or another, I woke earlier than usual that morning.  Looking out my window, I could see that the sun had not yet risen, but it was close enough to tint the sky with a faint, pinky gold glow. Birds were shaking the sleepiness from their wings, and giving a few drowsy bursts of song.

The still beauty seemed to beckon to me, calling without words.  I could not resist it.
Yawning, I slipped out of bed and dressed quickly, the chilly air numbing my hands.  I wished that I’d  left the heater on overnight- bother all those “save your energy” slips I got in the mail, from now on I would ignore them.  I headed into the kitchen and fumbled about trying to make myself a cup of tea. Before my morning dose of caffeine, walking is an effort and speech is utterly out of the question.  Then, with the warmth of the tea flooding through me, I headed for the door.  

Out on the verandah, my border collie, Bracken, yawned loudly, his mouth so wide it seemed as though it would split in two.  He stood, shook himself, then shambled over and pushed his head against my leg, demanding a pat.  I smiled to myself, and scratched behind his ears.  Then I trudged down the steps to the garden path, breathing out clouds of white mist.

The world sparkled.  Though I had seen it many a time before, the beauty of it amazed me all over again. Dew shone like perfect, tiny diamonds on spider’s webs, and white frost crunched beneath my feet.  A mouse scurried across the path, and the trees whispered in the breeze.  The world seemed to hold its breath.

Then suddenly, the birds burst out in full song, filling the air with music composed by God himself. Looking towards the east, I saw that the sun had risen fully over the horizon.
 
I stood, my eyes closed, the sun’s warmth soaking into my back, and listened.

Before long, however, my peace was shattered by the sound of Bracken barking.  I ran to him, and found him digging frantically at a rabbit hole.  I smiled, knowing that he didn’t have a hope; the rabbit would have escaped through another entrance long before Bracken reached him.  Poor Bracken, he so desperately wanted to catch a rabbit.  How jealous he had looked, when the cat had proudly dragged one through the front door!  (I might add that she then proceeded to eat it on my nice, clean floor. I was not pleased).

Bracken soon gave up on his rabbit.  Afflicted with grief, he trotted off to the dam to chase ducks.
I began to follow him, but was halted mid-step by a willy wagtail, who swooped in front of me to a nearby branch.  “Sweet pretty creature,” he sang cheekily, “Sweet pretty creature!”  He looked at me with his bright black eyes, his head on one side.  Then suddenly, he flew away in the direction of my house, as if to remind me I was supposed to be there.  I sighed, whistled to Bracken, and followed the bird back home.

- The End-

'A Wollypog Called Petoskey': Chapter Two

{Click here to read part one}

Chapter the second: A Terrible Shock

written by Big Sister

Petoskey sat down next to Hexagon. Night had fallen, and it was very dark. Shadows slipped between the trees, and strange sounds came floating towards them on the chill night air. Hexagon shivered, and it was not because of the cold.

“What should we do?” he asked.

“It’s no use us even trying to get back in the dark,” answered Petoskey, trying to keep his voice sounding cheerful. “We’ll only get even more lost. I’m sure well find home again in the morning. They’ll have a search party out by then, most likely.”

Hexagon groaned. “Mother will be cross. Whatever will she say to me? She’ll never let me out of her sight again!”

“Don’t worry. I got her necklace back. And I got my mother’s ring, too. They’ll forgive us when they see them” said Petoskey comfortingly. “And anyway, I’m sure they will be so glad to see us that they won’t bother to be angry."

“You’re probably right,” agreed Hexagon, yawning. “We may as well try to get some rest.” And with that he turned over and went to sleep.

Petoskey stayed awake. He lay listening to the trees creaking, and the wind howling. He hoped that he was right in saying that they would get home in the morning. Then, as the moon started to rise, his eyes finally closed in sleep.

*            *          *

The sun shone brightly through the trees, spilling golden light onto the forest floor. As it  moved slowly higher in the blue sky, its rays crept closer to the faces of two small figures, sound asleep at the foot of the largest tree in the forest. As the rays touched them, one simply turned over, but the other stirred.  It was Petoskey. He opened one eye, and then sat up, looking wildly about him. For a few seconds he had no idea where he was.  Then suddenly he remembered all the happenings of the day before.

Petoskey yawned, and rubbed his aching bones. Hexagon was still sound asleep, and snoring softly.  Petoskey woke him.

“Where are we?” demanded Hexagon, sitting up and looking around in the same manner as Petoskey had.

“In the forest” replied Petoskey. “Don’t you remember?”

“I do now. Say, I’m starving!”

“I’m hungry too, and parched.  We have to find home. It can’t be so far away.”

 “If only we could follow our tracks,” said Hexagon. “But they won’t show up – not with all the pine leaves.”

Petoskey thought hard for a moment. He then started to walk around, staring hard at the ground.

“What are you doing?” inquired Hexagon, who was wondering if thirst and hunger was sending Petoskey mad.

“I think we probably…ah, look Hexagon!”

“What is it? Said Hexagon, peering into the trees. “I don’t see anything”

Petoskey showed him a broken stick. “See?” he said. “We may not leave footprints, but we have left a track. It will be hard to follow, but I think we’ll manage.”

“My, you sure are smart, Petoskey!” said Hexagon. “I would never have noticed.  Thank goodness I got lost with you.”

Petoskey, being a very modest fellow, pretended not to hear him. He started to follow the track.  Hexagon soon got the idea, and they soon became completely absorbed in what they were doing, so absorbed that no one said anything for a very long time.

Ever since awakening, Hexagon had felt that something wasn't quite right, but he simply could not think what it was.  Then suddenly it came to him.  Instead of the usual noises of birds and other wildlife, there was silence.  Nothing stirred. Even the trees seemed quieter than usual. 

Hexagon felt a little alarmed. “The woods are quiet today, aren’t they, Petoskey?” he said.

Petoskey nodded.  “I've been thinking that too,” he said.  “It’s rather strange.”

 “You - you don’t suppose something could be wrong, do you?”

“I certainly hope not.”

And they both lapsed into silence once again.

Not long later, Petoskey gave a sudden shout of delight.

“Look Hexagon!” he cried. “There’s the tree we carved our initials on!”

“And I see smoke!” replied Hexagon jubilantly, and both Wollypogs broke into a run towards the village. Then they came to it – and stopped dead in horror.

The village was gone.

All that was left of it was the charred and burnt remains of what had once been houses and shops. All was silent, and nothing moved except a lone sheet, flapping in the wind.

'Stella's Destiny Part 3' By Lauren

This is the third edition of Stella's Destiny

Click on the following links to read Part 1 and Part 2

On May 23, 1836 President Jackson had signed a treaty declaring that the Cherokee Indians were to be removed from their homeland and into North Carolina. They were to have a grace period until May 1838 for the tribe to voluntarily remove themselves to Indian Territory. 


Once Stella heard about this new law, she immediately went back to her tribe, to comfort and to tell them of Walter's plan. 


Stella was greeted by Onacona (her husband) and told him her news. Onacona was at first doubtful of this plan, but seeing it was their only hope, he had no choice. He went to consult with the leaders of the tribe. 


There was many mixed feelings among the Cherokees. Some felt that they should take advantage of the two years they had to leave their home, and proceeded to do so at once. Stella tearfully said good bye to many of her beloved friends, knowing that she'd never see them again. Some Indian's felt that they should stay and fight for their homeland even if it meant death. But many embraced Walter's plan and Stella's solution.  


Stella went back to Aunt Rosa's farm once again, to help prepare. Walter figured out that they could fit one-hundred Indians at a time in the house and barn. And once a week his friend from Nashville agreed to take ten Cherokees at a time in his covered wagon to the outskirts of the city, where there was unsettled land that they could live off until the removal was over. The weakness of the plan was, there weren't many places to hide if the soldiers checked their house. But Walter saw that it was worth the risk. 


On the 21st of August The Cole family opened up their home for Cherokees. Walter would arrange the journeys to and from Nashville, and the order of who would go in what wagon. And Louise was in charge of cooking and cleaning. Stella helped wherever she could. 


On the 3rd of October the first wagon appeared. Walter arranged that families should travel together, and pregnant mothers or mothers with young babies should go first. However Stella claimed that she would be that last Indian to leave, even with a three-year-old daughter, Adsila. 


Stella had other concerns of her own, she was three month's pregnant. How would she be able to cope with a pregnancy, as well as all the other pressure she was facing. And how would she take care of a newborn?


Everything went along smoothly. Walter's biggest concern however, was the official removal day, when the Indians would be forced to leave. Would the soldiers check their house? The day kept drawing nearer, it hung around the air as if it were an execution day. Walter decided that it was too risky hoping that no-one would check the house, so he dug five large cellars with the help of several other men. Walter figured out that twenty people could fit in one cellar, so the cellars should fit everyone. 


KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! came the dreadful sound on a cold and gloomy day in May 1838. Every Indian woman, man and child hid in Walter five cellars. But even though they hid in cellars, that unwelcome sound of army personnel at the door, made even the bravest men hold their breath. 


Walter walked up to the door. Louise ran around the house to make sure there was no evidence of one-hundred people living in it. 


"We have permission from the Government to investigate your house Sir. Just to check that no Indians have decided to hide out here. You live very close to their tribe." Said the closest man to Walter at the door. 


As the soldiers investigated the rooms and the barn, little Adsila sensed that something was wrong and got nervous. 


"Mamma, please can we get out?" 
"Not now, we're playing a game, like hide-and-seek, but you have to be very, very quiet"
"Where's Dadda?"
"I'm here, but you be quiet." replied Onacona 


The three-year-old must have heard the tension in his usually calm voice, and started to cry.


"shh" whispered Stella in desperation, "Be quiet do you hear!"


"I WANT OUT" Wailed Adsila.


Stella heard muffled voices from above her, and none of them were Walter's or Louise's. The cellar door opened up and came the most horrible sight they could imagine. Six armed soldiers were suddenly in the cellar forcing everyone out. 


One of the men roughly grabbed Stella's arm, and pushed her out of the cellar door. 


"What are you doing here, go back to your own home, and stay out of this business" Shouted the solider, "Wait a minute, is that Ingin' girl your kin?"


"Yes, she's my daughter, and this is my husband (pointing to Onacona), I am an Indian." Stella bravely replied.   


Twenty of the Cherokees hiding in that cellar were forced out and into the wagons waiting outside. None of the other cellars were found. 


"Stella!" moaned Louise
"How can you! Can't you see she is with child?" Cried Walter his voice chocked with emotion.


Stella ran free from the soldiers, and hugged her brother and sister for the last time. 


"Thank you so much, you have saved many of my family, please take care of them." She whispered.


"Oy, git back in line miss!" yelled a solider.

"I love you!" Stella cried out as she was hustled into a wagon.


Although one of the cellars was found, the Cole family saved many of the Cherokees. Over two-hundred men, women and children were saved from this fate. Walter took good care of the remaining Indians and a few years later they returned to their home, hiding, so they were never found. 


As Stella said, she travelled the Trail Of Tears and comforted and helped her 'family' where she could. On that terrible day 16,542 Cherokees and 201 inter-married whites travelled that horrific journey. They were all loaded like cattle into six hundred and forty-five wagons.
     
Helpless Cherokees were arrested and dragged from their homes. Children were often separated from their parents, and in the chill of drizzling rain. They encountered a terrific sleet and snow storm with freezing temperatures. The sufferings were awful, they slept on the ground without a fire. And several of the Cherokees were murdered by the locals passing through towns. When the journey ended in March 1839, there were four-thousand silent graves.


All of this was to satisfy white man's greed, and a prejudism towards a different colour skin and a different cuture.   


Stella indeed had an unusual and inspiring destiny. If she had have been an ordinary girl for those times, she would have married a white man, and raised a family, and probably had a relatively easy life. But Stella was destined to help the unloved and unwanted of America, even to the extent of proudly becoming a Indian. Her mission was as noble as they come. 

'Stella's Destiny Part 2' By Lauren

This is part 2 of my story. Click here to read part 1.

Stella woke up in a daze. She was lying in a strange house that was different from anything she had ever seen before. A Cherokee women was cooking something in the small kitchen.

Suddenly Stella remembered her fall from the day before, and someone had picked her up. Was it possible that her rescuer was an Indian?

Meanwhile Louise and Walter had search parties out looking for her. When she had not returned after supper and Aunt Rosa arrived home, they got worried.

 Aunt Rosa was told everything and she insisted that they send search parties out for her. But because of the storm, Walter was unable to even ride to town to get help, so they had waited until morning.

Louise was devastated and Walter was shattered. The search parties had looked for her for three weeks, so they started their father’s funeral without her.     

For five years they heard nothing of their beloved sister. Walter was married and had two of his own children. He became a wealthy ranch owner, after inheriting Aunt Rosa’s farm. Louise was engaged and lived with Walter and his wife Charlotte.

One day a knock disturbed Louise from her piano playing. She opened the door and saw a young woman, just a little younger then herself, with dark curly hair and a tiny baby in her arms. It took a few moments for Louise to recognize the women as her own sister Stella.

“St-Stella?” stammered Louise, “Is it really you?...I’m so happy to see you, we thought you were dead, I can’t believe this, why haven’t you come sooner?”

The words all came out in such a hurry that Louise could barley hear what she was saying.

“Walter come quickly” shouted Louise.

Walter appeared quickly. He was as startled and as overjoyed to see her as Louise was.

After much greetings and hugs, Stella sat down and told her story.

“After the news of Father’s death, I ran away through the storm and out of Aunt Rosa’s property. Speaking of Aunt, where is she?”

“She passed away a year after you left us.” Walter informed her.

“I have been gone so long,” Stella said thoughtfully, “Oh, back to the storm, Blanche suddenly skidded and I fell off. A kind Cherokee named Onacona (meaning white owl) picked me up and carried me to his village. I was unconscious.

His mother and sisters took care of me until I had fully recovered from the fever I had from riding in the storm. I didn’t return home because I needed a break from this house, and I wasn’t ready to face my life again.

 After staying for a few months, I was accepted into their village and I became a Cherokee. I married Onacona and this is my daughter, Adsila (meaning flowering). 

I have lived in that village for five years, It has become my home and I love the Cherokee people as if they were my own kin. Of course I still thought about all of you, and I missed you, but I still couldn't turn back. 

Recently there has been trouble in the Cherokee tribe. There are rumours about a Cherokee removal by the Government. There are some men in the village that say we should fight for our land and our hopes, and even fight white man. But many beleive we should try to make peace and do whatever the white men say we should. 

However this is still only a rumour, but I have to admit that the rumour is looking more likely then ever. The Government has already taken most of the children to boarding schools, to be 'civilised'.  Their parents had no choice. 

We have even adapted to their customs, and Cherokee no longer have their own religion, the missionaries have brought revival and Christianity to us, and we have hoped that white man can see us as brothers and sisters in Christ. However, different skin colour means a lot to some people. 

I decided to come here and ask if these rumours are true. If they are, my plan is to implore you to hide as many Cherokee Indians in this house as it can hold."

As Stella finished, her brother and sister noticed a new determination and a passion for her new 'people'. She was still the same Stella, but also somehow different. Was this perhaps, because of her new-found mission and destiny? To save the unwanted people of America? 

After thinking for a while, Walter spoke up. 

"How do you think you can hide a whole tribe in this house, I know you have entirely good intentions, but your plan is just not realistic" 

Stella stood up; narrowed her eyes; and drew herself as tall as she could against her brother. Her siblings immediately recognised this as the typical iron-will-Stella-look. 

"If you can't save even one of my people, then I will march with them to the ends of this country, helping comfort as much as I can. You can be sure that I will escape no fate that my family faces, all because of skin colour."

Walter and Louise could see that there was no way they could refuse her.

  

"I will help you and your people as much as I possibly can, but I cannot guarantee how many I can save. But Stella, you will go with Louise, Charlotte and my children to England where you can be safe. If this rumour is true, there could be serious consequences for hiding Indians, and I don't want you to be involved. "

"Walter, I am already as heavily involved in this issue as much as anybody could be, there is no use stopping me, but of course Louise and your family must go", replied Stella.  

After talking it through, Louise claimed that she wouldn't return to safety if both her sister and brother wouldn't. So Charlotte and her children went alone.   

The Coles' spent the next three months finding out all they could of this recent 'rumour'. Walter found out that it was indeed true. And with a heavy heart, he informed Stella. What was worse for Walter, was that Stella was considered an Indian to the government since she was married to a Cherokee. She was in just as much danger as every other Cherokee. Plus she had a baby to take care of.  

Walter worked even harder on a plan knowing how personal this issue had become. He knew that Stella would go with her people anyway, but to know that the Government would actually force her out of Tennessee and into the unknown wild west, was unimaginable. 

Part 3 Coming soon!