Freedom

A Story by Ellianah Ross

Freedom Albiner wrapped her gloved hands tighter around herself, the cold wind biting at her face and hands. But they were nothing compared to the cold, icy fingers that wrapped themselves around her heart.

Freedom glanced over her shoulder. Her fourteen year old son lay curled up in the back, bear skin blankets wrapped around him in a piling heap, covering him entirely. Freedom searched for a dark spot on the blankets, the place where he'd chopped through his leg with an ax. The place she'd seen so clearly in the house, the dark red blood pouring out the wound was nowhere to be seen on the dark, cold night.

Freedom grabbed the side of the buggy with her hand when it lurched to the side, her husband raising the whip and slapping it down on the nearest horse's backside. They took a sharp turn over rickety grounds, Freedom's heart racing. She looked over at her husband, remembering the fear in his eyes when he'd carried her son Andrew through the doorway of their one room home, speechless. Now a wall seemed to cover his face, a blank expression with only a glimpse of anger lighting his eyes.

What would happen to them if Andrew didn't come out with his leg? Or worse, his life? All the work they'd taken to bring themselves to this new state, where they could have free land and a fresh start. Where no one would judge her family for being part Cherokee. Freedom looked at her darker skin. Her grandmother, Wild Flower, had always told her to be proud of her Cherokee half. Had told her how important it was and how it would help her on her journey through life. But her Cherokee part had only driven them away from the people she'd grown to care for, and given her son haters who thought less of him because of his genealogy.

And now her life was worse than it ever had been before. The people nearby had begun to hate her, her son's fate was unresolved, and the cold winter and lack of money and food stood like a cement wall no one could get over. Freedom stared straight forward, straightening her back, defiance lighting her eyes. She'd finally realized: Sometimes you have to look trouble in the eye to make it go away. It could run, or push on you with everything it's got. Either way, you win.