By Way of the Rose by Cynthia Ward Weil

reached over and smoothed Sarah's long, shiny hair. “Your hair is so silky and straight, not like ours. But it is just like someone else's. Someone who loved you with all their heart.”
    “Who? Who loved me and had hair like mine?”
    “Well, there's something you need to know. Maybe it'll help you to know who you really are. I know this person who loved you so much wanted you to know who she was, I just never knew when exactly I should tell you and when you'd be old enough to keep this secret. Are you old enough to keep a secret if I tell it to you?”
    “Yes, ma'am. I can keep a secret. I can keep a secret for as long as you want me to.”
    “Well, this is a secret that you can't tell anyone, not even your closest friend. You are really an Indian. Your real mother was a Cherokee woman. She was hurt very bad on the move west. Daniel and John found her while they were out hunting and brought her home where we cared for her. We tried our best but she was hurt too bad. She died right after she had you. I had just lost a baby so you fit in perfectly. No one knew the difference.”
    “Did you know her name?”
    “The only thing she said before she died was the word, Sehoya. From that we decided to name you Sarah.”
    “Sehoya.” Sarah softly repeated the name. “I'm Sehoya.”
    “She also wanted you to have these.” Marion handed her the box. Sarah opened it and saw the carved beads for the first time. They were dark and shiny. Small, intricate designs decorated each round wooden bead. “They're so beautiful.” She lifted them from the box and held them as if they were alive with the spirit of her mother.
    “I hope that knowing this helps you. But remember, you can never tell anyone else. We hid you for a reason. Life as an Indian is worse than that of being a Negro slave. Men want to rule over Negro slaves, but they seek to completely obliterate Indians... Erase them from the face of the earth. You must keep our secret.”
    “Yes, ma'am. I will.” Sarah lovingly gazed upon the beads.
    “Here, let me help you to put them on.”
    “Yes, ma'am.” Sarah smiled. “Momma, I feel that I should be sad to know that I'm not really a DuVal, but I'm not. I'm glad of who I am. Now I understand why I've always felt like an outsider. I am an outsider, and knowing this does help me. Thank you, Momma.”
    That night Sarah rested peacefully knowing that she was Sehoya. She was a Cherokee.
    The next morning, Daniel called the workers together. “I hate to say this, but it looks like we're ruffling too many feathers. For everyone concerned, I have to ask you all not to go into town without us. I know it's not fair, but it's the world we live in. I suppose the only way to live like you want to live is to move north, and I won't blame you if you do.”
    Jonas looked at Daniel. “Me and mine is staying until we work off our debt to you, sir. That's the least we can do for what you done for us.”
    “I sure would appreciate it. But as I said, any of you can go at any time. If it gets too bad for you here, I'll understand.”
    In the end all of them decided to work off the debt before beginning to save every penny to move north.
    Nathan and Cora stood down by the stream watching as Sarah, Greta, Shane, Jennie, Bettie and now Thorney and Thomas were all swimming, climbing trees and swinging on grape vines. They laughed and squealed, splashed and played. Cora looked at Nathan. “Can't we just go play a little? We don't have to like them. It's our stream too.”
    “No!” Nathan spat the word at Cora.
    “Why not?”
    “You do what you want to, I'm going to the house.” He turned to leave. Cora stayed. Nathan paused and turned. “Cora.” He huffed. He couldn't believe she hadn't trailed behind him like a puppy. “Come on!”
    “But you said I could stay if I wanted to.”
    “You wanna stay down here with a bunch of gals, Injuns and Negras?”
    “Um, no... no. I'm coming with you.”
    “Well, if you want to.”
    The look