A/N: this story totally cuts Zee from the picture. in a nice way. I own
Liberty James and the other characters not mentioned in American Outlaws.
Any similarities are purely coincidental and unintended. No copyright
infringement intended either.
Liberty stood at the windowsill overlooking the rows of corn. As a child she'd sat on the edge of those vast green fields waiting for her father to arrive home after his workday. Standing at the windowsill in the kitchen, staring at those stalks of corn reminded her why she was here.
It was those people from the paper, The Tennessee Times. They wanted the story of Jesse James. The famous outlaw from Missouri. Her father. She'd been asked to speak many a time, but each time she declined, respectfully of course, and lived her life quietly on her farm. Her fathers' farm. Their home.
Her uncle Frank visited often, as did her cousin, Bob Younger. They tried their best to stop talking about Jesse and her other cousin Cole, but it seemed his name was always on their lips. She tried not to cry every time they did, sometimes she failed, and others she succeeded. One thing she knew was that she'd been named after her fathers' victory and she wasn't going to smear the James' name by a meaningless article in a dime novel. She had been corresponding with the TTT for over a year by letter and she had finally decided it was time. The tale should be told. Her fathers' legacy should be revealed. Only then would her heart feel free. Only then could she move on.
A knock on the front door aroused her to the waking world where her fathers' 'laughter was only a distant memory. Her fathers' smile was an image that remained only in her mind.
""Yes?" she said, opening the door and holding her skirts back. A young woman with a notebook stood in the doorway. Her small frame was draped in an unflattering fabric that hid her from site.
""My name is Greta Davidson, I'm from The Tennessee Times. Our meeting is today." She said quite abruptly.
""Ah yes, the reporter. I'm Liberty Zee James, first and only daughter of Jesse and Zee James. Do come in Ma'am." Liberty responded just as firmly. The woman entered and walked straight into the den.
""Can we sit in the kitchen please? I would find it easier to speak." Liberty suggested. Greta pursed her lips.
""Very well. Let us get going. I am to head back on the train at 7 pm tonight with this story ready for press in two days time. Shall we begin?" she sneered stalking into the kitchen. Liberty smiled.
""I see you are not too interested in my story."
""It is work, I am sorry if I seem rude, but I am in a hurry." Greta said sighing. Liberty sat facing Greta. They differed much in stature and looks. Liberty had hair as dark as her fathers', but eyes a blue as her mothers. Greta was plain, in a nice way. Her mousy red hair was pulled into a neat bun and her eyes were seen through square spectacles.
""How would you like to do this Ms. Davidson? Shall I just speak and you write? Or do you have something prepared?" Liberty asked staring at the cornfield again.
""The storytelling is fine. I am quite a good listener. Begin when ready." Greta replied scribbling something on her yellow note pad.
Liberty smiled as she watched the corn rows sway and turn with the wind, she almost thought she could see her fathers hair brushing the tops of the stalks as he came home.
""It was like it was yesterday," she said quietly. And Greta began to write..
Liberty stood at the windowsill overlooking the rows of corn. As a child she'd sat on the edge of those vast green fields waiting for her father to arrive home after his workday. Standing at the windowsill in the kitchen, staring at those stalks of corn reminded her why she was here.
It was those people from the paper, The Tennessee Times. They wanted the story of Jesse James. The famous outlaw from Missouri. Her father. She'd been asked to speak many a time, but each time she declined, respectfully of course, and lived her life quietly on her farm. Her fathers' farm. Their home.
Her uncle Frank visited often, as did her cousin, Bob Younger. They tried their best to stop talking about Jesse and her other cousin Cole, but it seemed his name was always on their lips. She tried not to cry every time they did, sometimes she failed, and others she succeeded. One thing she knew was that she'd been named after her fathers' victory and she wasn't going to smear the James' name by a meaningless article in a dime novel. She had been corresponding with the TTT for over a year by letter and she had finally decided it was time. The tale should be told. Her fathers' legacy should be revealed. Only then would her heart feel free. Only then could she move on.
A knock on the front door aroused her to the waking world where her fathers' 'laughter was only a distant memory. Her fathers' smile was an image that remained only in her mind.
""Yes?" she said, opening the door and holding her skirts back. A young woman with a notebook stood in the doorway. Her small frame was draped in an unflattering fabric that hid her from site.
""My name is Greta Davidson, I'm from The Tennessee Times. Our meeting is today." She said quite abruptly.
""Ah yes, the reporter. I'm Liberty Zee James, first and only daughter of Jesse and Zee James. Do come in Ma'am." Liberty responded just as firmly. The woman entered and walked straight into the den.
""Can we sit in the kitchen please? I would find it easier to speak." Liberty suggested. Greta pursed her lips.
""Very well. Let us get going. I am to head back on the train at 7 pm tonight with this story ready for press in two days time. Shall we begin?" she sneered stalking into the kitchen. Liberty smiled.
""I see you are not too interested in my story."
""It is work, I am sorry if I seem rude, but I am in a hurry." Greta said sighing. Liberty sat facing Greta. They differed much in stature and looks. Liberty had hair as dark as her fathers', but eyes a blue as her mothers. Greta was plain, in a nice way. Her mousy red hair was pulled into a neat bun and her eyes were seen through square spectacles.
""How would you like to do this Ms. Davidson? Shall I just speak and you write? Or do you have something prepared?" Liberty asked staring at the cornfield again.
""The storytelling is fine. I am quite a good listener. Begin when ready." Greta replied scribbling something on her yellow note pad.
Liberty smiled as she watched the corn rows sway and turn with the wind, she almost thought she could see her fathers hair brushing the tops of the stalks as he came home.
""It was like it was yesterday," she said quietly. And Greta began to write..
