Jimmy fought against the emotion welling up inside of him. He stared at the picture of his ma with moist eyes. His ma had been a pretty woman. She wore her ebony hair pulled back in a tight bun during the day, like Emma did, but let it flow loosely around her shoulders at night. You could always tell the shade of her mood by the expressions on her lovely face. Her dark eyes had been her best features. They would light up when she laughed or burn you with a piercing intensity when she was angry. He liked to think that he had inherited his own intense look from her.
He had many memories of his ma. Most of them were rather pleasant, but it was the last one of her, that always haunted him. No matter how hard he tried to stuff this particular memory behind a locked door in his mind, something always pried it back open. He shoved the picture under his pillow and closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep and forget all about the day he last saw his ma alive. Sleep eluded him. Instead, he was taken back to the day when his life changed forever.
They were alone the day the men came looking for his pa. His pa had left the farm to conduct some abolitionist business, and his older sister Celinda was in town buying supplies. His ma had put up a brave front, pointing her rifle at the men as they rode into the yard, and ordering them away from the farm. They had laughed at her bravery; irking her anger, and making her fire a warning shot at them.
The men had sobered up then, but still did not seem to give the thought of her holding a loaded weapon much concern. Their reason became apparent when another man had snuck up from around the side of the house, and jerked the rifle out of her startled hands. He had gone at the man, trying to defend his ma, but he was no match for the much larger and burlier male.
Using him as a means of keeping his ma in line, the men had ordered her to cook for them, while they ransacked the house, pilfering valuables, and trying to find any information about his pa's abolitionist activities. When some of the men had exited the house after eating, he and his ma had breathed a sigh of relief. They were certain that the men would leave them in peace, but that was not the case. Instead, one of the men made advances toward his ma, and before he could do anything to help her, another had locked him into the cellar, and where he was forced to listen to his ma's terrified screams as the men took their turns violating her.
Her cries echoed in his head now and he clenched his teeth to keep from crying out the anguish he felt again over having been so powerless to do anything to protect his ma from the humiliation and cruelty she had experienced at the hands of those men.
It was at his ma's gravesite that he had vowed he would never be that scared or helpless again. He had not only learned how to shoot a gun, but to use it with deadly speed and accuracy. Never again would he be unable to protect those he loved or to defend himself. Never again.