Week 4- For the fourth week we will be doing another classic genre, Get Ready Partners!
You have to use these elements:
Genre-Western
Timeframe & Setting- 1800-1890, Mexico, Texas, Arizona
Objects- A Leather Whip & A Mountain Cave
Special Rules: You can use all three states but if you desire you can use all three
Prologue
Duke Hirman covered his seventeen-year-old face with his arms as the whip descended snapping to his body and coiling around his chest. Duke yelped in pain as his father roughly yanked on the coiled leather pulling the teenager to his own unshaven face.
“Boy, you are comin with me to rob that bank in town! Do you understand?” asked the rather stocky built man.
Duke looked into his fathers face, his breath smelled of whiskey and the stench of his unwashed body stank up the small cave that was lit only by a few round holes in its damp walls.
“Yes, Pa.” Duke said with teeth clenched. “But I am escaping first chance I get!” He thought.
The Twisted Robbery
Dukes plan was very simple. When they rode into town to rob the bank, simply be captured and tell them he didn’t want to be a criminal. The young man sat there in thought, as a soft breeze wafted through the tiny cracks in the wood door that covered the mouth of the cave. Duke looked about, this was the only home he had ever known. Not that he would be sad to leave this dump but he was worried about what lay ahead.
“Will anyone hire a former criminal? Will they believe my story?” That and a thousand other thoughts raced through Duke’s mind causing his temples to throb. Ever since his mother had left him with his criminal father at the age of three, Duke had always been a self-taught person, he had taught himself to read and write and even solve complex math calculations. However he still held within him the deceitful art of robbery taught by his father. Still Duke knew within himself that he was destined for something greater than being a hunted criminal. He didn’t know what, but he was sure that there was something.
Duke’s thoughts were interrupted by a shout from outside the cave.
“Comin Pa!” Duke called out. He picked up his pistol and holster and made his way to the horses where his father waited. “I will not be part of this anymore. I will escape this life if it means I lose my life doing so.”
* * *
“Put your hands up!” shouted Duke’s father as they walked into the bank with weapons drawn and masks placed over their sweaty and sun beat faces. The clerk behind the desk of the small bank glanced nervously at the guns held by the duo. Duke following behind his father now and lowered his gun till it aimed at the floor. He then pulled the trigger sending a piece of lead though the wooden floor. Duke’s father whirled to find his son unmasked and his gun trained on his father’s chest. “Pa, get out! I don’t want you be caught even though you deserve It.” said Duke harshly.
Duke’s father sneered and said, “Well Sonny, here is where we finally part I guess.” He waved a finger and continued. “But just remember I always know where to find you.” With that his father fled out the door of the bank and jumped on his horse and sped out of town. A feeling of relief and dread swept over Duke as he realized he was now free but that his father would probably be back and harm him in some way. The clerk jumped out of his seat and grabbed a small gun from underneath a nearby desk and trained it on Duke as he yelled at the top of his lungs for the sheriff. The sheriff came running, his spurs clinking as he ran across the dusty dirt street. The sheriff was rather old, up in his early seventies. He wore a large white sombrero that looked more like a water bucket than a hat. However it gave a large shadow that covered the face of a clean-shaven man that was covered with wrinkles. “What is it Alex? I heard a gunshot.” The sheriff’s eye’s met Duke’s as he walked in. The sheriff looked at the clerk who was nervously fingering the trigger of his pistol. “Come with me son. You to Alex I want to hear what happened.” Said the sheriff.
* * *
“Alex I know you can be long winded with your stories but for the sake of all of us please get the important part of the tale” said the sheriff.
The clerk looked at the sheriff with a look of hurt on his face but started to recap what had happened moments ago. When he finished his story, which ended up being thirty minutes later. The old sheriff told the clerk he could go and turned his attention back to Duke, who sat in the corner of the small office with a sober look on his face.
“So then my boy,” the sheriff began “why did you turn yourself in?”
Duke looked at the floor and nervously spoke and said, “Ever since I was three I lived in a hideout with my father. I didn’t know any better at a young age so I would go into the general store and take the contents of the register while the clerk wasn’t looking. When I became older I realized what I was doing and tried time and again to escape, but each time I was caught and beaten by my father. Amidst all of that I taught myself to read and write and even do math. However all of the materials that I used to learn this knowledge was of course stolen by my father from Easterner travelers.” Duke paused for a moment and gave a loud sigh before continuing. “When I was about fifteen he started taking me with him when he robbed banks and mining companies. If I didn’t come with him he would whip me.” Duke’s voice trailed off as his thoughts took over. He remembered the sting of the whip every time it landed. Duke winced at the memory and was brought back to the living by the sheriff who was calling his name.
“Well for introduction purposes son. My name is Sheriff Tyne. Now I will give you your freedom.” Said the sheriff.
Duke’s eyes opened wide and a broad grin spread over his face.
“But” the sheriff continued, “You must give me the location of your father’s hideout.”
Duke’s smile suddenly disappeared and he looked down.
The older man cocked his head looking at the face of the boy, trying to read his expression. With tears in his eyes Duke looked at the sheriff and said, “Sheriff Tyne…I…do you have a map?” Duke’s thoughts fought him. “What turn in your own father? I love him! Why, he beats you?” A battle raged inside the young lad as he sat on the small wooded stool and cried until the sheriff placed an understanding hand on his back. Duke stood and looked at on the table in front of him which held a map of Arizona. Duke wiped tears from his eyes and searched for the location of cave on the map. As he ran his finger over the map a single tear fell from the tip of his finger, causing the map to become distorted. “Funny” thought Duke, “With this finger I learned to write. With this finger I learned to shoot. And now with this finger I will turn in my father.” Duke’s finger came to rest on the location of the cave. Duke quickly removed his hand as the sheriff stepped in to examine it closer. Duke stood facing in the corner of the room as he sobbed. Sheriff Tyne walked over to the boy and place both hands firmly on the boy’s shoulders as he led him outside.
* * *
Conclusion
“Thank You Tyne for all you have done. You have been the father I never had.” Said Duke. Sheriff Tyne looked at the boy. There he stood dressed in a gray suit and a handsome black hat. Tyne choked up as he said, “I will always be here for you. And I want to thank you, for staying with us for the past year and a half. You have been the son that my wife and I were never able to have.” The man and boy embraced and cried together until the roar of a train was heard from the platform of the train station. Duke pulled back and through his tear laughed and started to dance around Tyne and singing, “I’m going to university! All because of Father Tyne!”
The older man smiled and watched the lad dance around him. The train pulled into the station and Duke gave one last embrace to Tyne and then climbed aboard. After finding a good seat he looked out the window to see Tyne waving. Duke waved back until the train station was out of the sight. “Look at me everyone!” thought Duke, “Once the son of a hunted criminal but now the adopted son of a loving and just man.”
The End
Noah N.'s Writing
Warning: This writing does contain graphic violence. Young children are not encouraged to read.
The Dark Days
Prologue
History remembers the victors as being righteous, but forgets the honor of the defeated. People remember the winners but forget the losers. To most people might does make right as we forget how much was paid, in blood, for the mighty to crush the weak. History must remember that might doesn't make right but that power corrupts. The weak can be as right as the mighty or sometimes more righteous. The weak must not go on without a voice any longer. Their story, this story, must be told.
Chapter 1- Uprising
It was a hot day in the lands that his forefathers had inhabited. Comancheria, or Texas as his masters called it, was prone to hot weather though but that was part of what made his people strong. His people were the once proud Comanche who inhabited this land where no one dared to stand against them until a new army came in like demons and enslaved the Comanche people, no matter how much they tried to resist. They called themselves the Americans and they had forced his people to inhabit small parts of lands called reservations where they toiled without end just to survive.
"Black Crow" a voice called out "come in and take a rest; you're sweating as if you were near death itself."
"If I come in now and rest we won't survive long as we won't have any food to eat" the young man replied to his wife.
"If I come in now and rest we won't survive long as we won't have any food to eat" the young man replied to his wife.
"Those gardens will end up killing you someday" she said with a hint of disgust in her voice.
"Better I die than let my family starve" he said painfully as he returned to his work in the small garden he had to work in. He wished that he could hunt bison like his ancestors had so that then no one would go hungry. However, as with anything else, the white man has stolen from them the herds of bison and took the hides off of them and left the meat that his people had depended on for so long to rot. He wondered what the white man would want with just the hide and not the meat as he heard a scream from inside his house.
He whirled around quickly and saw that some of the white men's warriors were inside his house. He ran up to the small shack and saw that they had drunk too much firewater and were destroying his house and attacking his family. One had pulled out a whip and was whipping his youngest son, while another was beating the life out of his wife, and yet another was using a leather whip against the other two children his marriage had produced.
Black Crow looked horrified as the one man who was beating his wife dropped her to the floor and kicked her in the head. Black Crow at once entered the house and grabbed a knife and shouted "Get off my property you demons!"
The one who had just kicked his wife staggered toward him and said "Your wife? That was my wife and she disobeyed me as are you. Now it's my turn to take you down. Come on boys, let's skin this injun."
With that the first man advanced, armed with nothing but his fists. Black Crow noted the great size of this man as he thought of where to place the knife. The man was about to hit Black Crow, but then with all instinct going animalistic, the Comanche stuck his knife in the man's solar plexus and put it at such an angle that it went through his heart. The man looked down as his chest with shock as he saw what the former subject of his had done. Then he collapsed as the knife was pulled out of him and prepared to strike the next target.
One of the two remaining men cracked his whip at Black Crow and struck him in the left arm. Black Crow winced in pain as he ran up to the man with blinding speed and drove his knife through the man's abdomen. The man let out a cry of surprise and agony as he stumbled back and hit a wall as he died.
The final man was so afraid of the tall Comanche that he started to run out the door. The Comanche then took his knife and threw it at the man, hitting him in the lower back. He cried out for help as Black Crow took the knife out of the man's back and then slit his throat.
Black Crow surveyed the room with great horror. The two men's corpses were lying limp on the floor; his children's limp bodies were covered in scars from the leather whips and his wife was lying on the floor with marks of punches all across her body. One thing was true for all of the people in the room though. All but him were dead, and he couldn't stop shaking in horror and anger. How could the white man do this to him?
Then he heard footsteps behind him, and he whirled around and saw the full garrison of the reservation coming to his shack, armed with Colt pistols. The one who Black Crow recognized as the leader surveyed the room and said "Black Crow, you are under arrest for the murder of your family and three United States soldiers.
"You fools!" Black Crow cried out in anger "I didn't kill my family, your drunken men here did and I killed them in self defense."
The officer scowled at him and said "Tell it to the judge."
At that moment a thousand things went through Black Crow's head as he thought about what to do next. But at that moment things were clearer about the white man than they ever were before. He put his hands behind his back as the white man sent his men forward to take him to their prison. Black Crow then pulled a knife out of the back of his pants and stabbed the first man he saw through the heart. He then whirled around and slashed another man in the throat, dropping him to the floor. The soldiers began to draw their revolvers and prepared to fire. Then one soldier fell to the ground dead from an arrow in his neck. The garrison spun around and saw the whole reservation was turning on them. A volley of arrows hit the men and killed most of them as fire was exchanged between the two sides.
Black Crow, astonished that his people had decided to attack the white man, took his knife and stabbed a white man between the shoulders and then another in the same place. The white man's leader turned on him and shot at Black Crow. It was a near miss, grazing Black Crow's side. Black Crow then kicked the officer in the stomach, sending him downwards, and then took his knife and said "tell this to the judge" as he plunged it through the man's neck.
Black Crow looked up and saw that the army of white men was fallen and his people were crying out their war whoop of victory. He joined in this victorious shouting and then heard his name being called. "Hail Black Crow, our new chief who will bring us victory!"
It was a dark night when the Comanche tribe lead by their new chief Black Crow gathered. They weren't large in number, only one hundred men total and about that many women and children. They had heard from white settlements, which they had raided for supplies, that their tribe of Comanche was wanted by the white man's tribal council for killing the soldiers. They also heard that every unit of cavalry in Texas was looking for them and wouldn't stop until they found these rebels.
"I believe we are all up to speed on the situation," Black Crow said to the assembled men who listened to his words carefully, "So, my brothers, what is it we should do?"
"How can we fight the white man's warriors with only a hundred men?" Spirit Snake the Shaman asked, "The spirits may be on our side, but the white man is too powerful for us to destroy. We don't even have enough bows to arm our men."
"Have you lost your faith Spirit Snake?" a cocky young warrior by the name of Touches-The-Stars asked sarcastically "Because the last time I checked one proud Comanche warrior is worth at least two of those white men, and if the spirits are on our side then who can stand against us?"
"My brothers," Black Crow started to say as he noticed the mood growing tense between the two men, "If we divide ourselves then we cannot stand against the white man. We shall call a vote among you. Whosoever wishes to stay at peace with the white man say yes."
A call of about 30 men sounded saying yes.
"And whosoever wishes to have war with the white man say yes now."
A larger portion said yes to the war.
"Then it is decided," Black Crow said firmly, "String your bows men, we are going to war against the white man's army."
"But how can 100 men defeat the white army?" Spirit Snake said still skeptical, "We may be able to win a few battles but not all of them."
"That is why we must liberate our brethren from other reservations and unite the tribes under one leader so we may strike the white man and take back Comancheria, the land that has given us home." Black Crow replied, thinking each word over before he said it. "Rest up men, tomorrow we liberate our brothers from a reservation."
It was early morning as the soldier patrolled the borders of the reservation. It was a hard day's work making sure none of the blasted injuns got out of the confines of the reservation to start bothering cattle men and innocent towns. It seemed a fairly routine morning when, out of nowhere, a fellow soldier fell down to the ground, limp from an arrow shot to the neck. The soldier looked around in fright as he saw something he didn't want to see. The rogue band of Comanche warriors everyone was talking about in and out of the camp. More arrows were loosed as the men assembled to fight off the attack, but going out of the barracks did them no good. With each arrow that flew in the air it meant the death of one more man. Before he knew it, this soldier was the last man standing out of his garrison of 12. His Colt six shooter trembled as he aimed it at a horse bearing a Comanche warrior and fired. The bullet hit the man in the shoulder and he grabbed his shoulder in obvious pain. The soldier prepared to shoot the man again, but soon felt a sharp pain in his leg. He screamed in pain as an arrow had pierced his kneecap.
He knew he wouldn't last long, but he hoped to survive long enough to get off another shot. He saw the man he had shot advancing with a knife, prepared to avenge the injury he had caused. The soldier aimed the gun, but it was too late as the injured man stabbed the soldier through the heart with his blade. The reservation known as Lincoln's head was now a place of cheering as oppressed peoples were freed from their oppressors.
Three months had passed since what had been called the Lincoln's head massacre had happened and the Comanche had freed three other camps and now their numbers were one thousand men total. This didn't just slip under the noses of the white man's army as the Comanche weren't just attacking reservations, but were killing Bison hunters and raiding small gold mining towns. The United States government was losing thousands of dollars because of the Comanche raids and they were tired of it. It was time to strike back at these people, and strike hard.
Black Crow sat in a tent, making new arrows for his bow. Ever since his injury at Lincoln's head it seemed his left arm wasn't as strong as it used to be. He was just about done with his sixth arrow of the day when a messenger entered the tent with a look of fear on his countenance.
"Great chief Black Crow," the messenger said with a sense of urgency, "The white man's horsemen are coming toward us quickly. If we do not hurry to arms, we shall surely perish!"
Black Crow stood up at once, "Tell the men to prepare to move out and to get the women and children in to the nearby caves. Also have most of our archers gathered on both sides of that canyon over there," Black Crow indicated to the large canyon about a half mile away, "And gather about 100 men to ride with me through that canyon. We'll lead them through there."
The messenger understood at once what the plan was, "At once Great chief."
The messenger understood at once what the plan was, "At once Great chief."
As Black Crow prepared his weapons he knew what was about to come. It's a risky ruse we're playing here, he thought, but if it works, the white men will stand no chance whatsoever.
He exited the tent and leapt on his horse and motioned for his warriors to follow him toward the advancing horsemen.
"We're going to buy the archers some time," Black Crow shouted to his men, "But whatever you do just follow me and you will be given victory."
The horsemen showed their approval as they rode off with Chief Black Crow towards the growing dust cloud that was the white man's cavalry. As they drew nearer to the horsemen, the warriors prepared to unleash a torrent of arrows upon these horsemen. They saw that these men were armed with pistols and sabers, which wasn't much considering that they had destroyed cavalry detachments before. What mattered though was the size of the horde advancing upon them. It was about 600 men strong which that wasn't even much of a problem except Black Crow had sent all but 200 of his own men off to raid towns and gather supplies. What seemed even worse for the Comanche was that Black Crow's detachment that was sent to distract the cavalry only numbered 50, so things looked hopeless.
Despite the situation, Black Crow ordered his men to loose arrows on his mark. The white men grew closer and closer as the horses galloped through the small plain in the center of the canyon that surrounded the combatants. Black Crow set his eyes upon the one who looked like he was the leader and then shouted out a war cry to his men. They started hollering and whooping along and then loosed their arrows. Black Crow hit his man with the arrow and he dropped off his horse with a loud crash. About 50 other men joined that commander on the ground, their bodies either limp or squirming in pain as their comrades rode over them.
The Comanche band loosed another volley of arrows and hit even more men, dropping them to the ground in pain. It wasn't long though before the white man's cavalry was within firing range and they started to fire their Colt revolvers. The shots weren't as accurate as those fired by the Comanche, but they still had enough hit their mark. Twenty five of the Comanche fell off their horses as the other half retreated.
Black Crow felt lucky to be alive after the volley from the white men had killed so many of his warriors. He hoped that the archers were in position, as his men ran down the narrow path of the canyon. The opportunistic white men, seeing their opportunity to give the Comanche their first defeat, pursued the fleeing horsemen in hopes of shattering the morale of the other Comanche's.
Just what I wanted you to do fools, Black Crow thought as he neared the position he wished to be at, just follow us a little longer.
The cavalrymen only had a few more feet to ride until all of the sudden they started to notice arrows raining down on them from the rocky cliffs above. One hundred archers started to rain arrows down upon the unsuspecting cavalrymen, causing fear within the ranks.
Black Crow noticed this panic and confusion as the troops didn't know whether to shoot at the horsemen gathered just ahead of them or to shoot the newly found threat that was raining arrows down upon them. Black Crow ordered his batch of cavalry to open fire upon the confused cavalry and the men and horses were dropping like figs out of a tree. The few men that were left started to ride off toward the exit, but soon found out that about fifty Comanche warriors had the exit covered and were firing arrows at them. The horsemen tried to punch their way out of the narrow corridor but were immediately destroyed.
The whole thing took but a few minutes and then the dust of horses kicking their last had ended. The Comanche had done something that few others had. They defeated a numerically superior force by stealth and encircling them and only lost 30 men to the white man's 600. This incident became world known as one of the greatest defeats the United States had suffered at the hands of a Native American force.
It wasn't to last though. The United States government was tired of losing to these primitives and started to send more and more men. Systematically they were defeated, but that wasn't all that the United States had up their sleeve to destroy the Natives with. They had one last weapon they were about to unleash.
Chapter2- Falling
Black Crow sat in his tent preparing for battle. From the six months since he had lead his people to victory against the white man's horsemen he had gained more victories against men on foot and on horseback. He had also conquered a territory that was half the size of Comancheria and ruled it as chieftain with an iron grip. It seemed that it was finally safe for his people and that they were finally free from the oppression of the white man. Black Crow knew it wasn't safe to become totally visible to the sight of the white men, so he kept his people on the move so that they couldn't be found easily. Little did he know that this situation was about to change.
It was a routine day of moving across the plains of Texas for the Comanche peoples and nothing strange had happened on their five hour march. They stopped for a while to regain their strength at the foot of a mountain with a noticeable sized cave in it.
Black Crow sat down next to his second in command Touches-The-Stars and asked, "Do you think we will have any more confrontations with the white man?"
Touches-The-Stars laughed as he said, "Perhaps but they won't stand a chance against our men. We've destroyed every army they've sent at us and unless the spirits have forsaken us, we shall destroy the other forces they send toward us."
Black Crow kept a deadpan face, "I merely ask because I think I see them out there in the distance with but a few men."
At that moment it seemed every one else noticed as well as Black Crow said "Mount up a strike force to destroy those white men. Touches-The-Stars, you are to lead this strike. Make me proud my son."
Touches-The-Stars looked at his adopted father, "I shall oh wise father. They will never know what hit them."
With that, the 300 man strike force rode off towards the invaders. Black Crow watched from a distance as he saw his men about to loose their arrows. But then a new sound unlike what he had ever heard sounded out across the plains. It sounded like a bullet shot but as if there were about 20 a minute. He saw his men falling by the dozen like bison on a hunt. Black Crow didn't understand what was going on but he knew it was bad as within five minutes the whole strike force was in retreat. The Comanche chief shouted, "Get up to the cliffs where we can see what's going on."
His people started to climb up the rocky face of the cliff while the gunfire was quiet. However, this moment didn't last long as the guns started firing again, once they had been moved closer to the climbing people, and they picked off men, women, and children alike. Black Crow looked behind him and saw that these weren't like anything he had seen. It was as if ten rifles had been put together and could fire almost all at once.
He managed to get up to the top of the small mountain and when he looked down saw a sad site. Hundreds of his people were lying dead below him and even more wounded and being stabbed by the soldiers. He had about 50 men with him and he knew that the other 100 that he had sent away to raid settlements wouldn't be back for a long time. He knew he had to do something he despised doing, but may save his remaining people.
"Spirit Snake," Black Crow said "You must go down there and ask them if they will spare our lives."
"Spirit Snake," Black Crow said "You must go down there and ask them if they will spare our lives."
"How can I do that sir?" Spirit Snake asked with a note of puzzlement in his voice, "They'll kill me once I get close enough."
"I'm sorry dear brother, but that is a risk we must take for our people. Will you do this for us?"
Spirit Snake thought long and hard about this, "Yes," he finally said, "yes I shall."
He tore a piece of white cloth off of his cloth garment and descended from the mountain via a path, waving the white cloth to signify peaceful intentions.
The commander of the forces let him come down and Black Crow could see that they were discussing terms of peace. Spirit Snake seemed to be trying to explain something to the commander when the large man pulled a revolver on the shaman and shot him in the forehead.
Black Crow knew that the white man would eventually kill the survivors too with their new weapons. He whispered to the remaining group of his men, "We must await our remainder in the cave that is behind us. Hopefully the white man will not have seen us."
The people crawled after their leader into the cavern with a hope of survival.
Several hours passed as the people waited for their men to return but they never heard a sound until a voice shouted, "Surrender or die Comanche!"
The people shuttered in fear as their chief asked, "Will we survive if we surrender, and my people granted good lands?"
The officer considered this a moment, "Yes, indeed you shall."
The Comanche warrior said to his people, "I do not wish to but we must become their prisoners. Follow me."
The people walked behind their leader in despair toward the light at the end of the tunnel. They neared the exit when they saw that the many rifle shooters were at the mouth of the cave and lined up right at them. Some of them screamed while others merely dropped dead. But in the end, 50 brave people lay dead from the fire.
Black Crow lay near death, when he saw the white man he presumed to be the officer hovering over him.
"You must be Black Crow," The man said noting the chief's excessive clothing "I'll grant amnesty to your surviving 200 men if you just submit before you die."
Black Crow looked up at the man and scowled. Then he spat blood in the man's eye, causing the soldier to back up and say, "Any last words you fool?"
Black Crow could barely speak but he let out a few sentences, "You have taken our lives, our homes, and our freedom so you may inhabit our lands. You kill us without cause and rob our children of their innocence. But for one moment it became clear that there was one way to defeat you. We fought and died to keep you off our lands and we failed. But the Comanche and every other of our brethren will always be free. No one can take that from true warriors."
The officer said angrily, "Nice words from one who is at my will. Now you shall say goodbye to whatever false demon you worship."
With that the man pulled the trigger on his revolver and shot Chief Black Crow in the back of the head.
Conclusion
While this story is fictitious, all of the events that happened here were based on fact. The United States Government did slay many Native Americans and rob them of their freedom. They also betrayed them, abused them in camps, and most certainly stole their ancestral homes. And for what? So we could have somewhat more land? A little more glory in that we defeated the weaker man? We must remember this time in our history where we became the very evil that we swore to fight against, not so we may become depressed, but so we may learn from our mistakes and never do it again. Let the story be told that this is how the west was really won. Through the blood of innocents.
* * *
Isabella’s Writing
Elizabeth walked along the dirt road that ran along her home near Houston, Texas. Her father was a plantation owner, a wealthy man who had learned long ago to keep a strict eye on his slaves and a keen eye on business. Now, on her 16th birthday, Elizabeth was finally able to have her own responsibilities. With her leather whip in her right hand, she made her way towards the stables where she was met by a young, black slave.
“Miss Williamson.” The boy greeted, looking down and not meeting Elizabeth’s eyes.
“Prepare Tonto for me.” She said strictly, taking on the tone that she had heard her father use with the field slaves.
While she waited she looked over the surrounding fields and prepared a trail in her mind that she would take. Her father, Henry Williamson, was the master of the 15 acres that lay just a few miles off the border of Arizona, along with the 400 Negro slaves that did the labor work around the plantation.
Just when she had finished deciding her path, the Negro boy from before was walking up to her leading a black stallion. Elizabeth held her hand out and the boy dropped the reins into her waiting hand, his moves hesitant and uncertain.
“Ma’am, if I may, it is almost night and there seems to be a storm brewin’.” The boy pointed out hesitantly. Both he and Elizabeth looked up and the dark clouds above them and the ever increasing wind around them.
“You can go back to your work.” Elizabeth said, her voice less harsh then before, ignoring the advice. The sight of the boy’s trembling hands and uneasy stance made her feel uncomfortable and, though he had been trying to be helpful, help form a slave was something that she didn’t need.
The very possibility of a slave helping her was humiliating enough, not to mention the shame it would bring to her family, as well as to herself.
Elizabeth mounted her horse and rode him into the mountains that stood near the plantation, leaving the boy standing outside of the stable, alone.
As she rode on top of her horse, she thought about the Slave at the stable. She had always been around slaves, and she had seen the kind of cruel treatment that most owners gave them. However, Elizabeth herself had never really given a thought to them.
In fact the only reason why she was thinking about them now was because the new slave boy at the stable and his effort at giving her advice.
“Advice that I do not need.” She said to herself convincingly.
She gave Tonto a quick flick with her leather whip and tightened her grip on the reins as he broke into a canter.
The trail grew steeper as they climbed higher into the mountain and Mary grinned as the wind rushed into her face. They finally stopped at the entrance to a mountain cave just high enough to over look the stables and most of the plantation.
The wind was now incredibly loud and was strong enough to whip branches into Elizabeth’s face. A glance down the steep path told her that it would be too dangerous for her to ride Tonto back down the mountain trail, and continuing further was hazardous as well.
A moment’s panic flashed through her mind before she blocked it.
“I am a daughter of a wealthy plantation owner.” She told Tonto as she dismounted. She took his reins in her right hand and led him into the cave behind them. It was just tall enough for Tonto to walk inside comfortably and at first glance it seemed like more then enough room for both Tonto and Elizabeth to be in. However, as Elizabeth took a better look around, a large hole blocked most of the cave off, spreading from the deepest part of the cave to the wall just left of Elizabeth.
To avoid the hole, she would have to stand up against Tonto and keep an eye on the hole just in case.
“Perhaps I should have listened to that slave.” She though, but then scoffed at herself.
She moved Tonto closer to the wall, much to the unhappiness of the large, black stallion.
As the minutes past the wind grew harsher and harsher until it snapped a small tree just above the cave in half. The broken tree limb smacked against the roof of the cave and crashed just in front of the entrance.
The crash startled Tonto, who was already on edge with the wind, and caused him to rear in surprise and fear.
The sudden motion caught Elizabeth off guard and the black stallion’s flailing hooves caught her on the tip of her shoulder, knocking her off balance and sending her plummeting into the hole just a few feet away.
Darkness covered her as she landed with a soft thump on the dirt floor, and Elizabeth gasped as the air was knocked out of her. She lay there for a few minutes, panting and strangling to get oxygen back into her lungs.
When she had finally recovered, Elizabeth lay there looking up at the ceiling of the roof. From above she could still hear the sound of the wind rushing and the frantic neighing of Tonto above.
“Tonto!” Elizabeth called.
A horse’s neigh was heard from above.
“Tonto, go home!” Elizabeth called up again. If Tonto was found returning home without her, her father would know to send a rescue party after her.
She listened to the nervous nickering of her horse before hearing the sound of his hooves leaving the cave.
Elizabeth sighed in frustration and anger. She should never have been so foolish as to come up here onto the mountain. As a skilled horseman, or rather, horsewoman, she should have seen the dangers of the storm. Even that slave boy at the stable had seen the signs.
To top it all off, her shoulder was throbbing tremendously and her back ached from the fall. After several more seconds of throbbing pain, Elizabeth stood up slowly and felt the side of the walls. Just as she had decided that it would be almost impossible for her to get out herself, footsteps sounded from the front of the cave.
“Daddy is that you?” Elizabeth asked, looking up through the faint darkness.
A figure appeared at the top of the hole and looked down at the girl, the darkness making it impossible to distinguish the person’s face.
However, though it was dark, Elizabeth could make out someone’s hand lowering a long, stick-like thing.
“Grab hold.” A quiet, hesitant voice said.
Elizabeth recognized the voice from the slave boy from the stable. “No way.” She thought to herself. “There’s no way a Slave would save me.” She pushed the though out of her mind before reaching up and grabbing what she realized was her leather whip that she had dropped before.
The figure grunted as he lifted Elizabeth out of the hole. “Forgive me, Ma’am.” He said, it was a boy, “But you are heavy.” He gave one final tug at his end of the whip, succeeding in lifted Elizabeth from the depths of the hole and onto the solid ground of the cave entrance.
“It is you!” Elizabeth exclaimed. In front of her stood the same, nervious, slave that had warned her about the storm.
The boy looked worried. “Are you well, Ma’am?”
Elizabeth nodded slowly.
“Then we best be back before your father begins to worry.”
As they made their way back down, Elizabeth asked, “How did you find me? Did Tonto lead you here?” She looked around for her black stallion.
The boy shook his head, his dark, brown skin blending in the dark of night.
The two were forced to remain silent as they waited for a particularly loud blast of wind to subside.
“When the storm had started, and you hadn’t returned, I asked the foreman if I could look for you.” The boy continued.
When he stopped Elizabeth prodded him. “And the foreman let you go look for you alone?” She asked, doubtfully.
The boy shook his head. “The foreman though that I was joking and said that he would give me a beatin’ if I said anything more about it.” He stopped again as another blast of wind filled the air.
When the wind stopped he seemed uneager to continue so Elizabeth spoke up.
“You snuck away from the foreman and came here to help me?” Elizabeth’s eyes widened.
The boy gave a curt nod and looked away before jumping off a steep rock and landing with a crunch on the ground.
“The stable is only a quarter of a mile away from here.” He said. “Your horse, Tonto is there and I should be getting back.”
Elizabeth grabbed his arm before he could move. “You’ll be punished.” She said.
Before this she never would have laid a finger, much less her whole hand on a slave, but now her perspective had changed a bit.
The boy shook his head, his eyes showing shock though a small smile played on his lips.
“Good night, Miss Williamson.” He said before bowing slightly and walking towards the stable
As he walked away Elizabeth called out. “Thank you!”
The boy turned around, surprised.
“And my name is Elizabeth.” Elizabeth finished, a tiny smile on her face.
The boy got over his surprise and gave Elizabeth a huge, white, smile.
“My name is Aiden.” He said with a grin.
“It’s a pleasure to know you, Aiden.” Elizabeth said, returning his grin. “Until next time.” She curtsied and the two of them parted ways.
