The river has been open to trade, and the River boats are rolling in. Bring trouble in spades. Gamblers, Mistresses, bad guys galore and so much more, BG has in store.
A collaborative western story written in poetry, that continues as the character...
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Broken
Cuddled together they lay on the bed, with the pleasure over, their minds turned to more important matters as they discussed the journey that had brought them here. It may seem from the outside that their life was idyllic, but beneath the gloss, they were full of apprehension. Deep within Missy, there was a niggling doubt, that haunted her like an unwanted ghost.
What they were about to do required the utmost confidence in their interpretation of the evidence, it had taken countless years to collect.
Here they were, just a short distance from their goal, and for some inexplicable reason, the anxiety would not leave her alone.
She wasn't alone they both feared that one mistake could lead to a disastrous end of their lifetime's work.
Softly stroking her face, he spoke slow and sure, I assure you, my love (renmen mwen) I've turned over every rock and stone and followed every clue. She has got to be our daughter, if not I don't know what else can be done, I'm afraid this may well be our journey's end.
Almost everything is perfect, and with unyielding concentration, your intuitive senses have guided us to this Nexus where all paths converge at this one person.
However, before we commit to our selection and attempt a connection, we'd best be sure we get it right, for if we fail, it may break your ability to bond, possibly forever.
There is one thing we know for sure, she's gifted in fine arts, with the skill of hand that has been passed down through every generation since the first mix of the African Princess and Carib King's blood, nearly two centuries ago.
Looking into his eyes, she replied.
Barton, renmen mwen (my love) I have never doubted your devotion to finding our child and only a few men who would make the sacrifice you have to bring us this far. But still my intuition tells me there is something askew and for the first time in my life, there's nothing my powers can do to help ease my anxiety, it's like looking through a fog that my sight can't penetrate.
However, I know for sure this is our daughter even though she appears to lack any of my spiritual skills, for she is surrounded by a power equal to mine. This is something I've not sensed since the moment of her birth and it feels so good not to be alone.
Perhaps the gift has been suppressed by some life experience and is buried deep in her soul.
We knew of these risks when as a newborn we passed her into the care of the elders, believing it would protect her from harm.
In retrospect and knowing what she's been through, the decision doesn't seem a wise one and she may well struggle to believe or understand our motive.
Yes, I guess you're right, having said that we could be misjudging her ability to adapt. She's no child, and as a woman has demonstrated an amazing strength of character, a determination and a fearless will to survive.
When I looked into her eyes, I saw that same drive shinning from those fierce Carib eyes, she's quite clearly inherited from you. And if your right there's little doubt, that with your guidance any dormant power could be awoken.
Barton, I agree, but only if she's willing, there's no will on my part to force it on her, it must be free will.
And this brings us to the tone of her skin, this was the gravest doubt the Elders had when pressing me not to unite with you. They warned me that a Sang Mele's skin could be like that of the father's, although it usually favored the mother.
You remember as a new born she was pale, but most definitely not white, however, her white heritage stood out a mile, putting her life in danger. The threat of persecution and murder of whites persisted for generations after the revolution.
Well, Missy, this would suggest we did well to heed the Elders advice, to have her smuggled to safety across the gulf, however bad that decision looks today.
Nevertheless, it fills me with sadness that our plans didn't work out, as the link with our daughter was soon broken, leaving us with no idea of what to do or where to go.
Barton let's cease the sadness and recrimination, for these are indeed wondrous times. I think it's up to us to bite the bullet, as these American Cowboys say. Let's do it, let's get close, you never know the fog may clear so that I can see her for who she truly is?
