Author's note: This was written a few years back and posted on Riders Coming! A The Young Riders Web site. It has since been re-edited and tweaked.
Disclaimer:The Young Riders don't belong to me, but to MGM/UA Television, Ed Spielman and Josh Kane. No copyright infringement intended.
When Shadows Fade
by Kate Red
Prologue
MANASSAS, VIRGINIA — 1852
Nothing about the night spoke of the horrors it would later witness. Silence reigned as it did since the beginning of time, the peace occasionally broken by the weak chirping and ticking of sleepy birds and busy bugs. The moon, in its eternal ritual, rose high above the mountains, and bathed the plains with its silver gray light. In a small clearing in the woods not far from the house, two small boys giggled quietly as they played marbles.
"Your ma will be worried when she finds you gone." With a flick of his forefinger, the boy sent his marble barreling towards the ones neatly aligned near the hole. He nearly shouted in glee when all the marbles fell in one after the other.
The other boy tugged at his curly, russet-colored hair, annoyed at losing two of his marbles. He shot his older friend a mischievous glance. "Nah, she ain't gonna know. I put pillows in my bed like my brother does when he sneaks out and takes a dip in the creek."
"That's clever."
"Yeah, Jed's clever. You know he—" The boy stopped mid-sentence and turned to look suspiciously at the woods behind him. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" his companion absent-mindedly asked as he flicked another marble toward the hole.
"I thought I heard something."
"A rat?"
The younger boy rolled his eyes at his friend and got ready for his turn at the marbles. He already lost five of the shiny ones, three more than he could afford to lose and he wanted them back. He crouched down and tucked his forefinger under his thumb, already lost in the game, forgetting the sounds he thought he heard.
In the barn, the horses stirred, sensing the approaching danger. From the hills beyond, tiny specks of light began to appear and a rumble could be heard.
One of the boys looked up. "I think it's going to rain."
The other boy noted the absence of dark clouds that usually came with a storm. But the thunder only grew louder and louder. Fearfully, he turned to look once again at the woods behind him and froze at what he saw.
Behind him, the shadowy figures of men in horseback began to emerge, five ... twelve ... twenty ... he'd lost count. They were men in black masks, most carrying torches, all carrying guns. Acting on instinct, the younger boy jerked his friend behind some shrubs, the thick foliage and the darkness effectively shielding them from the horses and the men that thundered past.
From their hiding place, the two boys watched in shock as the men went directly toward the barns, releasing the horses from their stalls. After some of the men led the animals away from the barn, one pitched his torch onto a pile of hay next to the barn. It was immediately engulfed in flames, the blaze kissing the walls of the wooden structure.
Shots rang out from the house, drawing the attention of the masked attackers. With one thought, half of the riders turned toward the modest one-level house and began to fire back.
One of the boys started to run for the house, but his friend immediately stopped him, pulling him back in the relative safety of the shrubs. For long, torturous minutes the stricken kid watched in horror as the men continued their assault on his family's house, stopping only to reload, firing again and again and again.
Satisfied no one could have survived the hail of bullets, one of the men, who appeared to be the leader, motioned three of his men to go in. They did and found an old man dead, his body riddled with lead. Beside him lay the bodies of his two sons. Stifled cries and whimpers prompted the three men to check out the rooms at the back of the house. Inside the last room, under a huge bed, lay two terrified figures. Carelessly, a young woman and a little girl of three were dragged out of the house. The mother, seeing her dead husband and her father, ran to their sides screaming, wailing.
With all the fear, the outrage he felt, the boy — who has seen the bodies of his grandfather, father and uncle dragged before him — pulled free from his friend's grasp.
"No, Pete." The words came out in a hoarse whisper. Kid watched helplessly as his friend ran toward his mother and sister. He wanted to cry out, but fear froze the words in his throat when he saw one of the men draw his gun and fire at the small running figure. Pete was dead even before he reached his mother's embrace.
Their work done, the leader signaled his men to gather and prepare to leave the scene of their crime. The leader — who hadn't spoken a word during the entire time — now let out a maniacal laugh as he led the escape. Kid's ears perked up. There was something familiar about that laugh. But all thoughts fled his mind when the big black horse carrying the leader suddenly stopped in front of the bush where Kid was hiding. Kid felt his heart skip a beat. From behind the leaves Kid watched as the man looked down at one little marble peeking from underneath the shrub. The blood drained from Kid's face and he shut his eyes tight, praying for a fast, painless death.
It did not come.
When he opened his eyes, the man had disappeared into the night.