It was a sunny, warm day in Lowcast Branch—which means Acacia Branch—Cherokee County, Alabama. The air was fragrant with flowers, the birds were singing - you can just listen to it. Life flowed peacefully and everyone was happy. Men worked in the fields, women fussed around the house, children played. The wind dozed overhead, sitting comfortably in the clouds.
Only in Cherokee County, Alabama, in the vicinity of the village of Lowcast Branch, which means Acacia Branch, do days like this occur!
And then, like a bolt from the blue, an alarming cry cut through the peace and quiet of a beautiful day. A horseman appeared on the road from the field. His face was covered in dirt and dust. The sides of the lathered horse heaved heavily. The man was waving his hand and shouting something loudly. He was overcome with fear. In one morning he rode all over Cherokee County without getting off his horse.
- Indians on the warpath! - he shouted. “They've already killed the Cozard family and set their house on fire. To arms! To arms!
Having raised all the inhabitants of Lowcast Branch to their feet, the horseman galloped further across the fields, across the rivers to other villages, in order to announce the impending danger there too.
The men abandoned their work in the field and hurried home. Anxiety and fear were written on their faces. The women left their household chores and ran to call their frightened children from the street. The race began, like a hunt. The villagers examined the guns, prepared bullets, and sharpened knives. In a word, they were in a hurry, like hounds who had picked up the trail of the poor raccoon. Armed to the teeth, the men gave final instructions to their wives on how to barricade the house, how to protect children, livestock, and property in case of an Indian attack.
But there was a woman in Lowcast Branch, which means, as you remember, Acacia Branch, who did not want to fight the Indians. She was generally against battles and battles. Her name was Mrs Holmes. She did not build fences around the hut, sharpen knives, boil water and all that stuff, but took her entire large family, which consisted of nine children, and led them to a corn field not far from the house.
The corn at that time was already tall, about eight feet, or even all eight. Green, juicy! Only in Lowcast Branch, Cherokee County, Alabama, does such corn grow.
So, Mrs. Holmes took her whole brood and hurried into the field. And no one can find them there! She gathered all her children around her and decided to count them so that, God forbid, she wouldn’t lose anyone along the way. Yes, not once, but twice. And so, when she reached her son Warren, she gasped.
- For God's sake, Warren! - she cried. - You forgot to put on your jacket! You're wearing a white shirt that I washed just yesterday. The Indians will notice you right away, even from a distance! There is no better target for their arrows. God save us and have mercy!
- So should I go home and get my jacket, Mom? Warren asked.
- Only this was not enough! You'll be scalped before you even take a step. You're not going anywhere! I know how to fix the matter, and not even the sharpest Indian will see you. Oh, it’s bitter and disgusting for me to stain such a fresh shirt, which I washed with my own hands just yesterday. But what can you do, I’ll have to dirty it in the name of saving your life. I will cover her up so much that no one will see her even two steps away!
The rainy season had just passed, and the ground was still damp and loose. Mrs. Holmes took handful after handful of black liquid mud and so smeared Warren's white shirt that there was no living space left on it. It became blacker than the very soil on which such rich corn grew.
When the deed was done, Mrs. Holmes and the children went deeper into the thicket of tall stems, covered with waving heavy green leaves, and sat there, trembling with fear, afraid that the war cry of the Indians was about to be heard nearby. However, the wide corn leaves continued to rustle peacefully in the wind, as if saying:
“How often people make mistakes!”
And Mrs. Holmes still sat and waited, but heard only the singing of birds and the buzzing of insects. Everyone waited and listened with fear. We waited a long time and finally heard.
But these were not the war cries of the Indians or the sounds of gunfire, but simply shouts:
- Unlock the doors! Come out! Don't hide! It was a false alarm! All Cozards are alive and well! We found them, they are working in the field!
Doors opened and women and children jumped out from everywhere. Mrs. Holmes and the children also returned from the field. Everyone was again satisfied and happy, everyone except...
Except for poor Mrs. Holmes. She needlessly smeared black mud on her son Warren's clean shirt.
And all because of vain anxiety.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru