Hey Everyone! Long time between chapters. I was stuck for quite a bit on how to make these next few chapters come together. the way I wanted them, and Josiah was being rather stubborn-unwilling to help me in how to write the next scene. ;) But thanks to the muses, my imagination and an AMAZING friend/helper/idea giver/beta (thank you I'maMePanda!), we're finally here! Chapter 3. It's short but the next chapter shouldn't be quite so long in the making, and I should have another chapter of Wild West Show ready to go shortly as well.
Simeon Joseph blinked in surprise at the greeting he received when he opened the door. The young man on the steps looked like he could've been knocked over with a feather, obviously just as startled by his outburst as Simeon was. Schooling his features quickly, Simeon smiled. "Well, now. Poe is it? And we haven't even been introduced? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
The teen opened his mouth twice, and Simeon stayed quiet as the blonde haired young man suddenly snapped his mouth closed and appeared to study him. It only took another moment before the teen began to stutter out a question, after a quick glance behind him.
"I...I need...I don't...can I..." As he watched, the boy stopped and sucked in a huge breath, the next words coming out in a rush. "I need to talk to someone."
Simeon smiled. "Well, I like to talk. Would you like to come inside?"
Josiah shook his head fiercely at the question, paling at the thought of having to go in the building. It had taken every last bit of willpower he possessed to get this far, and tamp down the desire to take flight of this meeting, there was no way he could go any further than where he stood. He glanced back at JD, satisfied that his little brother was still kneeling in the dirt playing marbles.
"No sir." he replied quickly, the last thing he needed was to upset the man. He forced himself to look up at the taller and more solid than him man, meeting his gaze. The man's reddish hair was graying a bit, and his deep brown eyes watched Josiah with a bit of both expectation and curiosity. "Are you a Preacher...sir?"
*BoB*
Nodding as Josiah's quiet tirade came to an end, Simeon took a moment and mulled over the information he'd just gotten. Though he was sure it was all truth, he was just as sure it wasn't everything. Years of watching people, decades of bending an ear as folks from every area of life came through his sanctuary of faith, desiring everything from acceptance to redemption to the simple necessities, had given him more than a passing perceptive nature. It had not been overly surprising to hear that Josiah's father had been a man of the cloth. Nor had it been unexpected that he was a domineering man in both home and pulpit, rejecting sinners, and showing nothing of the mercy of the God he supposedly represented. And Simeon was sure the man had tried to push the same on his children and followers.
Not that Josiah had mentioned anything more than his father's beliefs, twisted though they were. Simeon was quite aware of the little signs Josiah had tried to hide during his speech. The almost imperceptible winces, the flashes of both anger and fear that turned his blue eyes darker for mere moments, were telltale signs that there was more to Josiah's history than what had been shared. Simeon also knew that though the outward signs were more than visible, it was the hidden ones that were the driving force behind this meeting. Simeon knew this brief meeting wouldn't be able to erase years of damage, but he would do what he could. He refused to believe that people couldn't change, grow and become far better than they'd ever dreamed possible. He smiled as an idea formed to help the young man waiting on his steps, just as movement shook Simeon from his thoughts. He saw Josiah watching him nervously, shifting from foot to foot in what was clearly an effort to stave off rising anxiety. Not wanting the blonde haired teen to take off before he had a chance to share his thoughts, he smiled warmly and took a step back, closer to the church door.
"I believe, Josiah, that you don't have to be anyone you don't want to be. The way you were brought up, helped mold you, but it doesn't end there. Humans have a wondrous way of adapting." Simeon leaned against the door frame to the church, arms loosely crossed against his chest. He watched the boy digest the information and then look back up at him with those blue eyes that Simeon was sure had seen too much pain for one so young.
"That doesn't...if I don't...I have to not be him. But I can't...he's in here..." the boy pointed to first his heart and then his head, "even though I've...it's been a year!"
Simeon understood and he nodded.
"Your father," Simeon swallowed and tried to keep the look of disdain off his face. The boy's father was no more a father than he was a walrus, but he didn't want the young man stuck on that, so straightening back up, he continued, "was incorrect in a number of manners, Josiah. He should not have done what he did. Any of it." Simeon paused again, holding the teen's gaze for a few seconds while he fought the desire to tell the young man that what his father had subjected him to was more than wrong, it bordered on evil...or that the man was no more than the back end of a donkey, before reigning himself in and continuing, "it does not make you, him. You don't need to abandon everything you want to do, because of who he was."
As the boy opened his mouth, Simeon sure it was to argue the point some more and he decided a new tactic was necessary. He held up a hand and the teen's mouth clamped shut.
"What grows on an apple tree, Josiah?"
Blinking, Josiah stared at Simeon like he couldn't comprehend the question and Simeon bit back a chuckle. He'd figured he would likely startle the kid with that question. "A-apples...?" Josiah asked the question as if he was unsure of the answer, causing Simeon to smile in reassurance as he nodded.
"Apples," he affirmed, leaning his shoulder back against the door frame. "What happens to an apple once it's picked?
This time, the look Josiah gave Simeon was just shy of thinking the man crazy. "Eat them...?" Josiah reached up to run a hand through his hair with his answer, trying hard not to frown.
Simeon smiled. "Yes...but what else, Josiah? Think for a minute."
Josiah did so, his gaze trailing back over to the young boy he'd called his brother, once again, as it had numerous times during their short talk. The young man looked back at Simeon suddenly, eyes widened a bit in realization. "Could be made into pie?" He queried softly, rubbing his arm.
Simeon grinned. "You bet, Son..anything else?"
"Tarts? Cake? Applesauce?" Josiah asked, gaining confidence in his answers, even if not understanding the question.
Simeon nodded again. "You are correct. Do the apples become strawberries in that process?" Looking rather baffled, Josiah shook his head. "Now, are the apples still apples when the process is completed?"
"No...Yes...I'm not..I don't think so...?" Josiah's bewildered look tugged at Simeon and he reached out to pat the boy's shoulder.
"You're right. They are...but they aren't. They came from an apple tree, but no longer are exactly who they were. Now, they're part of something bigger, better, no longer looking like an apple, but the taste is there. They retain part of who they are, in their quest to become more. And, they didn't become something new to do that."
Josiah stood quietly, looking out over the small road that ran along the side of the church.
"Do you think I need to be serving a call?" The quiet words almost didn't reach Simeon's ears.
Simeon had a good idea that Josiah thought the only worthy call would be something his father ground into him, when the truth was the very opposite. Simeon again considered his words carefully before answering. "I think taking care of yourself and your brother is a very worthy call."
Early Oct 1875 - Eastern WV
Laying as still as he possibly could under the makeshift tent of boxes and crates, Nathan waited, his breath sounding excessively loud in the small confined space. Once the sound of footsteps faded away, he sighed and then shifted, once again trying to get comfortable on the hard packed dirt floor of the alley between the saloon and livery. It was a horrible, dusty, smelly place to be hiding. If wishes were horses, he'd be riding out of this town on a large, dark equine of royal background.
But they weren't...and he wasn't.
He unfolded one bent knee, trying to lay it out straight, as his knees were sore and rather numb from having been in the same position for nearly an hour. If he wasn't careful, if he moved just a few inches too far, the box of empty bottles outside his little tent jingled and clanged, something he didn't want to happen a second time. Having successfully unfolded one knee, he went to work on the second, easing slowly between the pain of sore muscles and the dread of making noise. He swallowed down another patch of fear as he felt it rising, unable to stop thinking about what would occur should someone find him hiding here. He hated this town, with their small minds and unfounded accusations. It wasn't the first time he'd been in a town like this one, but it never failed to both scare and irritate him when he was inevitably faced with the same attitudes again and again.
Sitting slightly more comfortably, he let out a sigh. Honestly, the fact that he hadn't done a thing wrong irked the young teen even more as he sat in the darkness. He couldn't see all the way down the alley, but he knew that outside of his current locations lack of light, it was only just coming into the evening hours. He had no way to escape unseen, until the cover of night. He was hungry, scared and rather exhausted. And, he was simply annoyed at being in the wrong place at the wrong time, again.
After what seemed to be forever later, Nathan slowly crawled out from underneath the boxes and crates, careful not to bump anything when he was this close to freedom. He reached back into the makeshift tent and pulled out the beat up gunny sack that held what little he owned. He looked cautiously up and down the alley, trying to decipher in the darkness, if there was anyone hidden in the alley, other than himself. He saw nothing, for all that he could see, and crept down the alley towards the main street. He peered out, relaxing slightly when he noticed the night fires were lit and there wasn't a soul in sight. Moving as stealthily as possible through the shadows, and holding his breath for fear that even something that quiet could arouse suspicion, he made for the road that led out of this awful little town.
Hours later, Nathan was wearily pushing himself forward, forcing himself to take steps out of the sheer need to know he was as far away from the previous town as he could be. As the sun began to rise, it's golden rays causing the night sky to turn a reddish hue, he could tell he was getting close to another town. The ruts in the road were clearer, deep and hard packed from consistent use. The trees that had thickly lined the road up to now were beginning to thin and the road widened the further he walked.
He swallowed the bile that suddenly rose up from the combination of fear and hunger, as the now familiar feeling of trepidation raced through his veins. Never knowing how folks were going to respond to you took a heavy toll on your emotions. His steps slowed the closer he got to the town. As the buildings began to appear, fear won out and he bolted off the main road and ran through the sparse trees, his gunny sack bouncing off his hip from where it was tied around his waist. He ran until the cramps made him stop, dropping to his knees next to a small bubbling creek. It was warm for the time of year and Nathan stuck his hands in the creek in order to splash water on his face, willing himself to calm down.
He took a number of deep breaths, fumbling to open the gunny sack without looking, his eyes closed as he tried to calm the erratic beating of his heart. His fingers grabbed hold of the last bit of jerky in the sack and he pulled it free, taking a huge bite and focusing on savoring the flavor.
He wasn't sure how long he knelt there, but having calmed down, the jerky long gone, he went to stand up, when he heard movement behind him. He froze momentarily and then turned on his knee, trying his best to hide any trace of fear….and almost laughed in his relief when he saw his watcher was a young girl of 8 or 9. She grinned at him when he gave a soft smile.
"Who are you?" she asked with a little tug of her worn but clean dress, her deep brown eyes filled with curiosity.
"Nathan. Who are you?" Nathan got slowly to his feet after posing his question, his knees sore again from his previous position. It was odd to see a young black girl by her lonesome, and he was slightly concerned about the reason for such. The girl's giggle had him looking at her, one eyebrow cocked. Obviously, she wasn't as concerned as he was.
"I'm Lucy," she answered with another little giggle.
"What are ya doing out here?" Nathan asked, taking a few steps closer to her, before shifting his weight to one foot as he fixed the gunny sack at his waist.
She pointed to the bucket at her feet, then to the creek behind Nathan, her smile growing at Nathan's slightly embarrassed look. He wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed the bucket in the first place.
Mentally shaking himself, he took a step forward, saying, "Can I help you?"
She didn't answer, simply cocked her head to the side and reached down for the bucket. Handing it to him, she then trailed behind him when he took the few steps back to the edge of the creek. A few moments passed in silence while he filled the bucket with the cool water, his mind full of unanswered questions. He turned to give the bucket back to her, and almost dropped it, startled at the sight of a short, long haired black woman heading their way. The woman's stride was nothing short of determined, despite the fact it was more than obvious she was nearing the end of a pregnancy.
"Lucy, come here." The little girl's grin did nothing to calm Nathan's nerves, as she skipped over to the woman in the dark blue dress, leaving Nathan standing there awkwardly, bucket still in hand. He watched as the woman stopped and spoke in hushed tones to Lucy, before heading towards him a second time.
"Lucy said you're alone?" The words were firm but not unkind, and Nathan found himself unable to do anything but nod. He'd said no such thing to Lucy, but it wasn't something he was going to bring up at the moment.
"Come on then. We live over the hill."
BoB-BoB-BoB
Nathan jogged up the hill, the fish on the string he held, jostling a bit as he did so. Esther had promised fried fish for dinner, if he brought enough back. Stopping at the top of the hill that overlooked the small Shaw farm, he sighed in contentment. He looked down at the line of fish and couldn't help but grin. Eight fresh trout. Enough for all of them, even Zeb. Esther's husband could out eat any one Nathan had ever met. The man was a complete contrast to his tiny wife and even after 5 weeks it was still a source of humor for Nathan. He knew he wouldn't be here much longer, but ever since his father had died, it was one of the very best places he'd been. Lucy wanted him to stay, every day listing another reason for him to do such. But the Shaw's were planning to move….they were headed North East….and Nathan was determined to keep moving West.
