Killing Cynthia Ann

16 Sunday School, Spring 1863

Sunday School, Spring 1863 "She's got to go to Sunday school," insisted Orlena, lifting Still-She-Mourns' chin to force her to meet Orlena's eyes. "Aren't you concerned for her soul?" Still-She-Mourns pulled Toh-Tsee-Ah closer to her chest, as if she could hide them both in the wicker chair. "No. No. She wanted to say she would take care of her baby's religious instruction , but she could not find the word for teach, nor for religion. "We can't let her grow up in perdition and sin," pursued Orlena, standing straight and clasping her hands in front of her church dress. Still-She-Mourns did not understand the words, but she understood enough to pull away and look down. Orlena had a brown and gray hooked rug on her parlor floor. Orlena wasn't about to give up. She leaned toward Toh-TseeAh . "Don't you want to go to Sunday school, Topsannah," she asked the child directly. "And look at the pretty picture books? And learn about Jesus?" Toh-Tsee-Ah nodded and squirmed to get down from her mother 's knee. She liked playing with the other children. She liked the special attention the ladies at Sunday school gave her. 134 "See?" said Orlena. "She's got better sense than you have, Cynthia Ann. Come along, dear," she added, holding out her hand to the child, "I'll help you get dressed." Orlena felt victorious. Amelia, her sister-in-law, had told her of the fights she had with the "little barbarian" when Cynthia Ann and Topsannah were staying with her and Silas. Amelia had never adjusted to having an Indian child in the house, but now Toh-TseeAh was speaking English as well as any four-year-old, better than some six-year-olds. It was gratifying to see the progress toward saving her. "You'd better come along, too, Cynthia Ann," Orlena added, over her shoulder. "No sense in staying cooped up here all the time. You need to get to know other people." Still-She-Moums nodded. Yes, she would have to go. She had to see what they were doing to Toh-Tsee-Ah. She had to figure out what they were trying to do to her as well. After Serena Parker left to join Billy in Illinois, Isaac Parker once again took charge of Cynthia Ann, but he was seventy years old and declared that he and Bess were too old to become nursemaids again, so they hitched up a buggy and delivered Cynthia Ann to her youngest sister, Orlena, whose husband, Ruff O'Quinn, had a farm on Slater Creek in Anderson County, a few miles southeast of Palestine, Texas. Orlena didn't want to take the responsibility. She laced her arms across her chest and pointed out, "Silas is her guardian. Amelia got the Legislature to appoint him. Let him take care of her." "You know we tried that," said Isaac, running his hand through his thin white hair. ''Amelia couldn't seem to get along with her." "Yeah, I heard from Amelia how it was," she said, looking away. "It's not like we don't ever see each other. Silas and Amelia only live about thirty miles from here. She said that woman is too much trouble." "She's your sister!" exclaimed Bess Parker, moving forward to touch Orlena's forearm. "She's been through unthinkable horrors out there among the 135 savages," said Isaac, waving vaguely toward the west. "It's our duty to help her readjust and recover." Orlena was silent. I don't care about none of that, she thought. She hasn't been a sister to me. I don't even remember when she was taken from us. And now, twenty-five years later, she comes along and wants to be a sister. I don't have any feeling for her. She's no sister of mine. "All the rest of the family have taken a turn at trying to make a go of it," said Isaac. He leaned slightly toward her. "Now, we figured , it's your turn." Orlena drew herself up straight and took a deep breath. "It's good that you have come here to tell me what to do, Uncle Isaac." The sarcasm in her voice was as thick as icicles. Isaac was stopped momentarily. He hardly knew what to say...