CHEROKEE STAR
Part Three (Continued from Post on 11/7/10)

Deputy Olson came running to the cell door at the sound of the banging and yelling, and Cherokee eased back a few inches but didn’t take her seat, as the Sheriff also pulled back instinctively.

“You okay, Sheriff?” the Deputy asked, his hand on his gun in the holster, ready to use it if need be.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Stanley. Go on back up front.” He did as told but obviously was not happy about it.

“Sit down, Cherokee.”

She just glared at him for a moment, then without further words took a seat, those blue eyes daring him to order her around again.

“Didn’t you ever have any goals for your life while you were growing up? No child, not even one who has been mistreated the way you were, grows up wanting to roam around robbing and killing and terrorizing decent folk. Wasn’t there something you wanted to do with your future?”

She chewed her lip for a moment while studying the Sheriff’s face. Finally she said simply, “I wanted to be a singer.” The Sheriff stifled a laugh at this idea and she went on. “More than anything else, I wanted to sing. My mother’s mother taught me some Cherokee lullabies when I was very small and I loved the sound of those mysterious Indian words set to such haunting music. She gave me the only love I’ve ever known and when she died, something in me changed.”

Another moment of silence passed. Finally she said, “Hard.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hard. I became hard, in my heart and in my mind. Had to, to survive. Wasn’t what I wanted but no one ever asked me what I wanted. Generally just told me what they wanted and then took it. Or beat me until I gave it to them.”

“I guess you did have to protect yourself like that, Cherokee. What about all those people you murdered, though? Didn’t that ever bother you? They were someone’s mother, friend, grandfather. Can you honestly tell me that didn’t get to you?”

“Just thought of my father every time and that made it all right. I could do it then. As I said, I made my heart hard and it never meant anything to me. Like killing a snake out on the trail who gets too close to your bedding. You’re not about to let him in, no matter how cold it is. Pure survival. Kill or be killed.”

The Sheriff just shook his head.

“What? You don’t believe me? I could shoot you between the eyes right now and it wouldn’t mean a thing. “You’re a snake to me, wanting to get in my bed.”

“Oh, Cherokee, for heaven’s sake, grow up. Not every man wants to do to you what your father did.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. What difference does it make? You would eventually. Admit it. And I’m going to stop every man from even thinking about that before he has a chance to do it. Snake, remember? Slithering up close to you, hoping you won’t notice, hoping you’ll think it’s okay that he’s just warming himself close to the fire instead of planning to crawl in next to your warm body as soon as your head is turned.”

“You’ve spent too many lonely hours out on the trail, young lady. You don’t even understand what the simplest kindness means any more.”

“They all mean the same thing, Sheriff. And I won’t give anyone the chance to get the better of Cherokee Star. She’ll give them what they deserve before they have a chance to take anything from her ever again! That’s why all the robbing and killing. It meant nothing to me, except money to buy more whiskey and bullets.”

To Be Continued . . .