Outlaws - An American Youth - [Charles Smith x OC]

Chapter 7 - First adventures

Warning : violence & offensive language.

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The whole happy band was like an ogre: always hungry. Reserves were rapidly dwindling. If vegetables and alcohol were purchased from the local store, Pearson relied on volunteers to go hunting. I hadn't been since the first time, and it itched. Although the camp was pleasant, I liked to change of environment. This time I didn't have to beg Charles. He came directly to meet me.

"We're going further than the last time, I would like to bring back big game. We'll probably not be back until tomorrow.

- I guess I have to take my bow?"

In response, he stared at me stoically. That would fill my desire for adventure. I hurried to gather some things, including my sleeping bag, before installing them on my horse. Revolver on the belt, I still took my rifle. Prudence is a mother of safety, as Charlotte liked to remind me.

We set off, saluting Sean who stood guard. He made a comment that the noise of the horses covered. Probably a derogatory remark, knowing him. I cannot say today where we went that day. I just remember that we had ridden for several hours before arriving at our destination.

We hadn't talked much. I wasn't quite comfortable yet. With him, silence was much easier to maintain than discussion. I took the opportunity to admire these unknown landscapes. Oh sure, they weren't much different from back home, mostly made up of plains and woods. But to know that I had never set foot there excited me. I was trying to imagine the feeling my ancestors encountered when they crossed the ocean to discover this new world full of promise. I asked Charles for his opinion. His response was scathing.

"You mean when they massacred part of my ancestors for their land? Or when they snatched the other one from their homes to make them work to death to get rich?"

Surprised, I was silent. That didn't make me feel more comfortable. Fortunately, we arrived in an undergrowth where he detected traces of animals. We dismounted, bows in hand. I left my partner's tracking skills at work, making as little noise as possible. Squatting in the thickets, we had a clear view of two magnificent hinds. Together we bandaged our bows and hit the bull's eye.

"This should feed us for a few days. It will be dark soon, we should camp."

I nodded, before I approached the animals. I was trying to grab one of them to load it onto my horse, but I had to face it: I didn't have the strength. Leaving Charles to do it, I took a few steps away. I cocked an arrow again, aiming at a rabbit. Our dinner was found.

We moved away to settle in a clearing. After long minutes of silence by the fire, Charles spoke.

"Sorry about earlier, I was rude. But you must understand that not everyone has the privilege to romanticize the past.

- I didn't mean to upset you. I never had to think about it. You know, my family has always been to the east or the north, they were not involved in the traffic of black people. My father fought for the Union and always hated the South. But of course, having lived in New Hanover, there is no doubt that our land was stolen at one time or another, I have no excuses for this part.

- There is no excuse for the things they've done, even if there was, it would never be enough. An apology, an excuse? It means nothing compared to the lives of millions of innocent people"

The words he spoke hung in the air, like a thick layer of snow on a mountaintop. The silence was deafening, though it spoke more truth than anything.

"We may not be able to change the past, but can't we give back for those who are still alive?

- Even if it was the government's intentions, do you really think the owners would let it go? And even if they gave the lands back to the Indians, is there enough of them? Have they kept their culture after years of bullying and reformation school? I don't even remember the name of my mother's tribe. No, I think it was all lost the day the first white man set foot on these lands."