Fanfiction based on the History Channels Hatfields and McCoys.
[Book is a rough draft - needs heavy editing]
Chyna is a young ex-slave girl, she had been property of the McCoy's but now that the Civil war has ended she is free to go. After another n...
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The days passed slowly and not much was said in the small cabin built into the hillside. Cap stored a wooden shed full of emergency supplies, jars full of food, dried meats, dried herbs, and various items for wound treatment. That didn't include hiding many rounds of ammunition under the floor boards. Chyna nervously washed a basin of dishes for the third time. Still uncertain about what she was to do with herself.
She could go into town and work at the saloon, but she didn't want to answer Luella's questions. How was she to tell her? After all, Luella was excited too. "It wasn't just ours." Chyna thought, wiping the stray tear from her eye with the bend of her wrist. Looking up and out the small window, Chyna could see Clint, sitting under the tall tree where two grave markers rested. Her chest clenched tight, as she watched him. Cotton at his side lay a reef of bush leaves, witch hazel, and winter aconite over the wooden cross where it sat like a halo. small yellow flowers almost like gold.
"There you go, Miss Iris." Cotton said with a smile. He eyed the quietly forlorn man beside him before giving a sigh. Cotton turned to Clint with an apologetic gaze, "I'm sorry Miss Iris is with the angels now." He said.
"But she'll have good friends waiting, She'll get to see her brother again and meet my daddy...and Skunk hair...and it won't be sad not for her," said Cotton a small smile coming to his face. "It's just sad for us, that's what Aunt Levicy says, it's sad for us because we have to wait our turn." he added. "and we miss them."
Clint would hardly blink, and he was numb to the chilled air around him. Still, Cotton's words were loud in his ears.
Cotton heavy a silent sigh as his shoulders drooped, He wasn't doing as well as he'd hoped he would with cheering Clint up. He could remember well though, it took the others a long time to cheer him up so long ago as well. Cotton's eyes fell on the grave marker next to Iris', It too had Winter Aconite netted around it. Carved into the cross was a name " William Anderson Hatfield III."
Chyna shivered as the front door opened, Cap carried in firewood with him, and removing his gloves he feed a log to the dying fire of the hearth. For a moment he watched the flames dance and the fresh log start to crackle. From the corner of his eye, he could see Chyna drying the same dishes she had three hours prior.
"You should lay down, Ma said you should rest for the next two weeks...or until she tells you otherwise," Cap said carefully. Chyna laid down her dry towel, "I'm alright Cap, I promise. I've learned my lessons - I'd lay down if I didn't feel well." She said with a smile.
Cap's eyes squinted, she'd been avoiding the bedroom. Chyna wasn't as slick as she'd like to imagine, and Cap was sharper than most people wanted to give him credit for. Looking into the back room Cap's gaze fell on the little alcove in the rocky wall. Closing his eyes he sighed, "I can get rid of the space." Cap said.
Chyna nearly dropped her dish, her eyes flying to the backroom. "what? why?" she asked quickly, fast small steps propelling her to stand before the entryway as if to block the way. "You can't look at it, you won't go back to the room. you need to rest." Cap urged. "I can rest anywhere. I'm fine - you won't touch that nook William," she said.
