Soft Rain Read Online Free

with a crying baby. They were all drinking from the river.
    “Best get yourselves a drink; never can tell when you’ll get another,” the tall soldier advised Soft Rain.
    Mother didn’t need to ask her daughter to translate. She immediately put down her blanket packand found a cup. As they drank from the cool water Soft Rain looked across the river. She felt she could almost see Green Fern approaching.
    “What did the white man say?” Old Roving Man asked her.
    “He said we should drink some water,” she answered.
    Mother offered Grandmother’s cup to Old Roving Man, but he shook his head. “If the white man wants me to drink, I refuse,” he said angrily.
    He thinks like Little John’s father and Uncle Swimming Bear
, Soft Rain thought.
    “I want you to drink,” Mother pleaded.
    Only then did Old Roving Man take the cup, dip it into the river, and drink it empty before handing it back to Mother. “It was good and—”
    “Time to move along,” the tall soldier interrupted.
    “Wh-Where … are you taking us?” Mother asked the soldier. It was the first time Soft Rain had heard anyone speak to the soldiers. And her mother knew so few words of the white man. She was proud of Mother’s bravery.
    “To the stockade, then west,” the soldier answered quickly.
    Stockade
was a word Soft Rain did not know. But west! Her father had said they would not movewest. If they planted their selu, they would not have to move. Didn’t the soldiers know that? Where was Father? He should tell the soldiers. Soft Rain began to cry.
    Big Boots pushed her. “Hurry along. No dawdling,” he yelled before mounting his horse.
    Others were also crying. The baby hadn’t stopped. Trying to comfort him, his mother sang until she had no breath left. She gasped and sobbed.
    Horses snorted. Mother took Soft Rain’s hand and heaved her bundle over her shoulder. They followed the creaking wagon. The baby cried on.
    In front of them, more people and more wagons joined the group. The dust thickened. Soft Rain sneezed. Then she saw Old Roving Man stumble and fall. His turban fell off his head.
    A soldier kicked him. “Hurry along,” the soldier commanded.
    Mother dropped her bundle and helped Old Roving Man up. Soft Rain picked up his turban.
    “Where are they t-taking us?” he stammered.
    “West. To the West,” Mother answered.
    Closing his eyes and bowing his head, Old Roving Man mumbled, “Not this old Tsalagi.”
    Where will he go if he does not go west?
Soft Rain wondered.
Is he afraid?
It seemed to her that all her people must be afraid of the West. Old RovingMan, Green Fern … especially Green Fern. And her mother? She hadn’t spoken to Soft Rain since they had drunk the river water. Whenever Soft Rain tried to talk, Mother cried.
    They walked on down the mountain road to the town, past the store and the teacher’s house. The teacher’s door was open. Soft Rain could see an overturned chair inside. Some white people who lived in town stood staring and pointing as they passed by. No one laughed, though, the way the man with the skinny horse had. The smell of cooking meat filled the air. Soft Rain was hungry and tired. She remembered the bacon her mother was carrying. Would the soldiers let them stop and eat?
    The town was far behind before she heard the command “Stop here.” The baby had finally fallen asleep. Old Roving Man and Mother sat on the ground, their backs to a tree. Snuggling into her mother’s outstretched arms and feeling the warmth of her body, Soft Rain could almost forget her aching stomach. No one spoke until the family with the two children climbed out of their wagon. They offered their bread. Mother broke off pieces for Soft Rain and Old Roving Man, who fell asleep chewing. The bread eased the ache in Soft Rain’s stomach.
    Though her legs were still not rested, they weresoon walking again. The dust from the wagons, horses, and people grew thick and bothersome. Mother sneezed, shifting her pack to the