Aiden squatted next to the young man. While crates were being unpacked,
tents erected, firewood gathered, fresh water located, livestock cared for and
a meal started, the lad had spent the entire afternoon alone and sitting under
the trees. His only interaction with any of the other exiles had been that
short scuffle involving one of the twins.
“Would ye be up to having a meal with the rest of us, lad? Ye must be
hungry, eh?”
“I’m not! So just leave me the hell alone!” The boy’s rumbling stomach
belied his words.
“Ye havena eaten since afore we left the ship so ’tis safe to say ye’d
be as empty-feeling as the rest of us.” Aiden smiled patiently.
“I told you to leave me alone. Now fuck off!” Spyke grabbed up a handful
of sand and drew back his arm.
“Ye best be rethinking that, laddie.” A stern look replaced the smile. There was an aura of power about the man and the deep
blue eyes sparkled with purpose.
“Huh? Or what?” Spyke inquired with a glower.
“Or, me lad, ye just might find yerself with a strong inclination to eat
yer supper standing up.” The crinkled blue eyes that had been smiling warmly a
moment before now took a cold glare, causing Spyke to hesitate. It was a moment
before the true meaning of the big man’s words sunk in, and when it did Spyke
coloured with indignation.
“You don’t have the right to do that!” Spyke retorted. Nevertheless, his
hand was for the moment staid as he gazed at Aiden’s face. It was not the most
handsome face in the world, a bit too rugged if you asked him. Still, there was
something about the way this man was looking at him that held his attention.
Aiden breathed a silent sigh
of relief at the boy’s hesitation. ‘Aye, ’tis wary he is and angry at the whole
world. The lad wants to back down but needs to save face at the same time.’
He sat next to the skittish young man and his gentle smile returned as he
calmly held out his hand. “Och, just where be me manners? We’ve nae even been
properly introduced. My name is Aiden. I dinnae know about ye, but I am verra
much in need of a friend.” The big man waited patiently to see if the other
would respond favourably to the overture.
Spyke clutched the sand
tighter as he continued to stare at the big man facing him. This was all just a
little too much to process right now. ‘Friend?’ Spyke had never had one unless
he counted that rich bastard who was responsible for his being here, and he did
so desperately want this man with the stern eyes and gentle voice to be his friend.
‘But can he be trusted?’ Spyke’s teeth clenched and his eyes filled. ‘I want to
be able to trust someone ‘cause I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to me?’ he
thought and swallowed hard in an effort to keep the tears at bay.
Aiden’s heart melted as the boy’s
confusion became apparent. “’Tis alright, lad,” he consoled softly, placing
his arm around Spyke’s shoulders and drawing him to his side. “Come now, ye
must be hungry,” he tried a slightly softer approach than what he had used
originally.
The kind words and tone were too much for Spyke. He nestled into Aiden’s chest, buried his face and much to the big man’s abashed amazement, began to cry.
The kind words and tone were too much for Spyke. He nestled into Aiden’s chest, buried his face and much to the big man’s abashed amazement, began to cry.
“Och, laddie,” Aiden murmured
as the young man clung to him. “There now, ye’ll be alright.” He squeezed Spyke’s
shoulder and held him close. Spyke pressed harder into his chest and Aiden
rubbed his back soothingly, not sure of what else to do.
It was all Spyke needed. For
the first time since his parents’ death he actually felt safe and somewhere
deep within, the tiniest seed of trust was planted.
Aiden’s smile broadened when
he saw the fingers open and the sand slowly slip through them.“’Tis nae been so verra
easy for ye, has it, lad? But dinnae fash
yerself, everything’s going to be fine. Ye have me solemn promise that I will
always do me verra best to keep ye from harm. ’Tis what friends do,” Aiden’s soft voice rumbled from his chest.
‘’Tis a bonnie wee fighter ye are or like the rest of us, ye’d ne’er have made it this far.’ Aiden kept these and other thoughts to himself. ‘Only twenty-eight of us made it out of all those taken. Not necessarily the strongest or best, but just possibly the most fortunate.’
‘’Tis a bonnie wee fighter ye are or like the rest of us, ye’d ne’er have made it this far.’ Aiden kept these and other thoughts to himself. ‘Only twenty-eight of us made it out of all those taken. Not necessarily the strongest or best, but just possibly the most fortunate.’
Aiden continued murmuring
reassurances while Spyke cried himself out. Just when he felt the young man had
settled, their stomachs jointly protested their emptiness. The resulting
chuckle and giggles broke the sombre mood. Aiden sniffed the air. He glanced
down at the tear-stained face and winked. “Hmmm, something ’tis smelling good!
What think ye we join the others afore all the food’s gone?”
Getting to his feet, Aiden
held out his hand and assisted the smaller man to his feet. Then together they
walked the short distance along the shore, through a break in the trees and
into the clearing where the rest of the men were gathering to partake of their
first meal since landing on the island.
They arrived at the mess hall
just as the men were filing past the long makeshift table. Each one was helping
himself to a mug of chilled goat’s milk; ladling thick beef stew onto his plate
and grabbing up still-warm biscuits, before moving on to find a place to sit
and enjoy the meal that had been prepared for them.
Aiden stepped up to the end
of the line with Spyke following in his footsteps. He smiled when he found himself
looking into soft grey eyes as Galen watched him from over the top of his mug;
those same grey eyes that dropped hurriedly when their gaze was returned.
Aiden’s smile widened when Galen refilled his cup but disappeared when the
younger man took barely half a ladle of stew and only one small biscuit.
“Dinnae ye think ye can
handle a bit more than that, laddie?” Aiden asked out of concern, knowing full
well it had been quite some time since they’d last eaten.
“No thank you, sir. This is
p-plenty,” Galen quietly murmured with a blush tinting his cheeks, before wandering
off to sit between Thomas and Thad.
“Och, well seems to be
nothing wrong with yer appetite!” Aiden chuckled when he saw how high Spyke had
piled his plate.
Larry pulled up one of the smaller
crates and glanced at the food in front of him. Although he was hungry and it
smelled good, his stomach began to churn. He set his plate on the ground next
to him. ‘Stress,’ he thought as his eyes made a quick tour around the assembled
men. Some were beginning to talk with each other, while a few others still
remained isolated. He noticed a couple of younger men glaring at each other, as
sure sign of friction in play. He sensed a lack of guidance and the feelings of
loss that seemed to hang over the gathering.
‘What this band of misfits
needs is some leadership. Not like in the military, but maybe a small assembly of
men who would be willing to act as leaders; who would set a good example and
come up with a set of rules for everyone to follow.’
With these thoughts running
through his head, Larry decided he would make the first move in this direction.
In order for all to hear him, Larry knew he had to be seen. He chuckled to
himself as he looked over at the big Scotsman sitting a few yards away, talking
to the doctor. ‘I guess standing on his shoulders would be sure to make me
seen, but I doubt he’d comply even if I was bold enough to request it,’ he
thought and opted for the nearest crate. He stepped up and after clapping his
hands a couple of times and letting out a sharp whistle, he began to speak.
“If I could have everyone’s
attention for a moment, please,” the ex-marine requested. “I have been
observing things for the last few hours and I have concluded, as a number of
you probably have as well, that we are in desperate need of some leadership. I suggest
we consider electing a few men who would be willing to come forward and take on
such a role. They could form a council, for a lack of a better word. These men
would be there to give us some structure and stability. For example, they would
provide us with someone to go to when problems arise or if certain things come
up where a decision has to be made that affects all of us. They could also set
up a few ground rules or laws that we all would vote on and agree to abide by.
I was wondering if you all would be willing to discuss this possibility and
maybe put in your two cents on the matter.”
Larry gazed out at the faces
looking up at him. There was a multitude of emotions showing in them. He sensed
their interest, and in their eyes, he recognised an understanding of the point
he was trying to make. “Maybe it would be best if each of us briefly introduced
ourselves,” he suggested as he jumped down and took his seat.
“’Tis a grand idea! And seeing ’twas yers, why dinnae ye go first, lad?” Aiden called out to offer his support
and encouragement.
“Well, alright! My name is
Larry West and I am a former marine. Several weeks ago, I was stripped of my
commission due to choices I made which were unbecoming an officer.” Larry
paused. He felt he had already said enough but wanted to add one last thing. “I
would like to thank you men for pitching in and helping to get all the supplies
moved up from the beach area. I am sure we will all, and I think I can speak for
everyone here, be even more grateful when the sleeping quarters have been set
up and a latrine dug. But that can all wait for another day, right?” His
question garnished smiles and nods of relief.
“I’ll add my thanks to yours,
Larry! I agree that any further work can be left for now as we are all rather tired.
And I also think the idea for a council is a good one,” the man sitting next to
him spoke up. “Hello, gentlemen! I am Quentin Bradley. Because of my business
experience as a shopkeeper, I have volunteered to keep an inventory of the
supplies we’ve been given. I must declare to being pleasantly surprised by the considerable
number of crates and what they contained. Nothing fancy mind you; just basic
necessities, but far more than I could have hoped for.”
“Aye, Quentin’s correct about
the supplies!” Aiden concurred. “I’d be Aiden Mackenzie Shea, Master
Cabinetmaker. ’Tis ashamed I am to admit I believed the captain on board the ship
to be misleading me. We had several conversations during the voyage. Of course,
the mon made sure to keep the same distance between us as he would have had I
been afflicted with leprosy.” Aiden had to wait for the laughter to die down.
“In answer to me query regarding the ship’s cargo, he claimed the good folks
who had so diligently lobbied the authorities to bring in this so-called
‘humane’ sentencing of homosexuals, were also responsible for the disbursement
of our liquidated assets. Aye, and they appear to have spent the money well.”
Another man, almost as large
as Aiden and dressed in buckskin, lumbered to his feet. “Brock Trenton Foxx
here. I’m a born and raised mountain man. I’ve scouted, trapped and hunted most
my life. I’m kind of a loner and not too comfortable around people but I guess
we all need to make allowances.” He went to sit down but added as an afterthought,
“by the way, the first latrine has already been started.” These were the most
words Brock had spoken since arriving on the island. The entire afternoon, he
had devoted his time and energy to helping out where needed. He seemed to appear
out of nowhere when something extraordinarily heavy had to be lifted and moved,
like a cast iron stove. He’d see a need and quietly fill it, like digging the
latrine. Not a talker by any means, but definitely a doer.
“Hi, my name is Kelby Curtis.
I had been receiving training to follow in my father’s footsteps but have
decided it is not something I really want to do. Although, I’m not exactly sure
what I’ll do here. I had hoped to become a researcher someday and possibly an
author or teacher.” He lovingly petted the puppy nestled against his thigh as
he struggled
to push down the despair he felt at not having been able to say an adequate goodbye
to his lover. At least he had the memories of his year-long relationship with
Jonathan to keep him company during the lonely nights ahead. No one could take
those away from him even though his lover’s death had left him heartbroken.
Jonathan had never had a strong constitution and had quietly succumbed to a
chest infection after only a week at sea.
Still coming to grips with all that had happened, Kelby really wanted to
retreat from the main group of strangers, but instead staunchly resolved to
learn what his place would be among them.
Lakota had been listening
carefully as each man spoke his piece. When it came to his turn, he drew
himself up and spoke in his soft deep voice. “I am Lakota Evans; physician and
fellow of the College of Surgeons. I have also trained with the shaman
herbalists of my mother’s tribe. It is my hope that each of you will come to me
over the next few weeks and permit me to perform a physical examination and
collect a history of your past medical conditions. I follow the oath of
Hippocrates and will honour your confidences. I have requested one of the tents
be used for this very purpose. If there are any amongst you who have medical
training, I would like to meet with you sometime to discuss the setting up of
the infirmary. Thank you.”
Yancey smiled at the
invitation just issued. He was excited about there being a doctor on the island
and the plans to set up an infirmary. Raising his hand slightly, he spoke up
for all to hear. “My name is Yancey Devon Hayes and I have been a nurse for the
past six years. I’d be honoured to meet with you at your convenience, Dr.
Evans.”
“You’re a nurse! No shit!” the
young man next to him exclaimed. “I didn’t know there were male nurses.” He
shook his head as if to rid it of cobwebs and gazed around at the others before
introducing himself. “My name is Spyke Lambert and I used to be a wealthy man’s
house-boy,” he said before adding under his breath, “which is a polite way of
saying I was the bastard’s boy-toy. At least that’s how I felt most the time.”
Yancey smiled indulgently at
Spyke’s outburst and sympathetically nodded his understanding at having
overheard the last sentences mumbled by the young man.
“I am very pleased to know
you, Yancey. Can we meet in the morning after breakfast?” Lakota requested.
“That would be fine with me,
sir.”
“In this place such
formalities seem unnecessary. I am called Lakota.”
“As you wish, Lakota,” was Yancey’s
smiling reply.
Thomas stood and looked
around at the group of men. By now he had met most of them at least briefly,
both while preparing the meal and while unpacking the crates of supplies. But
these introductions would help him get a real feel for the men with whom he
would be building a community. ‘The future starts today. First impressions will
be formed here and now,’ he thought.
“My name is Thomas Fields. I
was a landowner and agriculturalist in Fullerton County. As a result, I am well versed in animal husbandry. I am a passable cook
and offer my services in both those areas. I also have a great deal of experience as a
beekeeper and in the collecting of honey. I
am very grateful to those who have stepped up and helped today. I hope we can
all work together to build a strong community, if for no other reason than to
show those who sent us here, just what decent hard-working men they have lost
from their society.” A cry of agreement went up throughout the large mess hall
as he sat back down.
“M-my name is Galen Deon
Manara. M-my b-brother, sister and I grew up on a vineyard and lived with m-my p-parents
and grandparents. M-my knowledge of w-wine-m-making m-might not be very
useful here, b-but I’m good at taking care of animals.” Galen figured he’d said
enough and went back to picking at his food. After all, they had been asked to
keep it short so everyone could have a turn. He looked at Thad who was sitting
on the other side of him.
“I’m Thadeo Beau Sawyer. But,
please, just call me Thad. I am a barber by trade and until my arrest, ran the
shop my father had left me. I also had a small pottery business on the side as
a hobby until I destroyed all the equipment that had belonged to my mother who
had taught me the craft,” Thad said quietly as memories of that night of
uncontrollable temper assailed him. He cleared his throat and lightheartedly
added, “but I still have my scissors should any of you require a haircut.”
Kevin smiled when learning
that someone had scissors and hair cutting experience. “Hi, I’m Kevin McCaw.
I’ve never had a career as such. I was a rugby player on my country’s national
team and then a traveller. I was brought up on a small farm and have experience
in a multitude of tasks that pertain to farming.” Kevin leaned back and nodded
at Dallas, encouraging him to speak next.
Dallas shrugged. “There’s nothing
much to say. My name is Dallas Carter. I’ve basically been on the streets for
the last five years and did what I had to survive.” Kevin frowned as he saw Dallas
barely restrain a shiver. “What I am is a quick learner and quite keen to pick
up medical knowledge.”
The man sitting beside Thad got
to his feet to introduce himself in a soothing cultured voice. “My name is
Walker Drummond. Until I was disbarred several months ago, I was the Chief
Magistrate of Kingston County. Conveniently however, law is not my only
interest. I am an excellent chef, if I do say so myself, and enjoy gardening. I
am also very much into hunting, although in the past I’ve mostly done it for
sport. Those are my dogs that young Galen has already made friends with and I
am inclined to think a number of you will find the items in a certain as yet
unopened crate rather interesting. I’d like to add to the information being
passed on concerning the supplies. I have several influential friends and
acquaintances sitting on the board of this humanitarian activist group Aiden mentioned. The group’s members are continuing to work on our behalf by investing and
managing the greater portion of assets confiscated from us and I have been
assured that a ship will be returning twice yearly to replenish the supplies we
are unable to produce or acquire on our own. This will also allow for an
exchange of correspondence with our families and loved ones. I do believe we
have a group of basically good men here and together we should be able to forge
new lives for ourselves.” Walker then sat down to the buzz of voices as this
surprising news was digested.
Brodie and Jordan sat side by
side taking in all that was being said and realised it was only fair that they
too introduce themselves.
“I’m Brodie Joel Baker and I
am, that is, was a librarian. Guess I still am if the amount of books I’ve brought qualifies me as such,” the young man joked, and he nudged the man beside
him.
“Jordan Kyle Adams,” Jordan
looked around shyly and bit his lip. “I don’t really know how to do much except
kitchen duties. I do like doing that though and I’m willing to do it here.” He
blushed and covered up his embarrassment by rubbing his face against the brown
puppy in his arms.
As the men had settled under
the canopy of the huge tent, the twins had gravitated towards one another
again. No one was really paying any attention to them and it felt strange.
Usually, there would be people buzzing around them, taking charge. Looking a
bit lost and bewildered, Wayne and Wesley had served themselves then dropped
down onto a not-too-clean log which someone had dragged in and watched the
proceedings in silence.
A man near them said he was a
barber and offered his services should anyone need it. Wayne quickly took
mental note of that as Wesley already knew Thad, having worked with him during the
meal preparations.
Suddenly there was a lull and
several pairs of eyes rested on them. The twins were frozen for a moment. Then
seeing the encouraging expressions on a few faces, particularly the giant who
was called Aiden, Wayne spoke, “H-hello, my name is Wayne. Er, I mean Wayne
Bentley. This is my brother, Wesley. He’s called ‘Wes’ for short.”
Wes nodded his head at the
group and flashed one of his famous smiles. “That’s right, and neither of us really
has a trade or any special skills. We sang for a living. We performed at
concerts or special events. Um, that’s really all we did before coming here.”
Troy sat patiently on the
large rock, waiting for his turn to speak. His partner sat between his knees on
the ground, body turned slightly, and his head pillowed comfortably against the
older man’s thigh where Troy absently stroked the long blond hair. “My name is
Troy Harris,” he finally said when his turn came. “I’ve been mainly a tutor of one
thing or another for the past ten years or so. I’ve taught all ages from small
children to old men. I’m not quite sure what I can teach here, but I’ll do whatever
I can to help. I’m accomplished at mathematics, as well as English, history and
science. This is my partner, Levi.”
“I’m not sure what help I can
be either,” Levi said to the group, his hand idly playing with his dog’s ear.
“I was just a rich man’s son.” Then he added almost tentatively, “and by the
way, my name full name is Levi Joshua Harris.” He wondered what Troy’s reaction
would be to that statement. He opened his mouth but wasn’t quite sure what else to
say. Hesitant green-grey eyes darted up to meet his lover’s.
Troy looked down, momentarily shocked. He watched the young man whom he
loved so much bite his lip in trepidation before quickly trying to explain.
“I-I hope you don’t mind. I just.... I only wanted…” Levi trailed off,
unable to fully explain himself and afraid of disapproval.
Hazel eyes bright with unshed tears, Troy pulled the man he had
mistakenly thought he couldn’t possibly love any more deeply, into his arms and
ran a caressing hand down golden hair. “But what about your family? What…”
“My family doesn’t want me anymore,” Levi said, cutting him off.
“Besides, they are in the past. They may have wanted a different future for me,
but instead I got the only one I ever wanted. You are my future, Troy, and
there’s no reason to hide anymore.”
“Then from this day forward,
we will consider ourselves married.” Their eyes met with a tender smile for a second before Troy leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on his husband’s lips.
Raythe didn’t so much sit as
sprawl against the log his back rested on. The puppy he’d been feeding morsels
of food to, was burrowed against his side. The position was more of a pose and
done almost subconsciously. Long midnight-black strands framed his high
cheekbones and trailed down his bare chest. “My name is Raythe deTorgul,” he
said with an arrogant lilt when it was his turn. “I’m a whore,” he bluntly
announced. “And I’m a damn good one.” He sent a challenging glance around the
circle of men. “But I don’t think any of you have the means to pay me for my services.
I’m not sure how many of you could have afforded me to begin with.”
A few of the older men nodded
and smiled compassionately, having recognised the bravado being used to cover
up the young man’s fear and uncertainty.
One man in particular shook
his head at the words being spouted off. ‘That beautiful, overly self-opinionated,
young man is in desperate need of two things,’ Brock thought as he watched the
man of interest to him gently feed tidbits of meat to his dog. ‘A lot of tender
loving care with a fair measure of ‘iron hand in the velvet glove’ type
discipline.’ He didn’t speak. He’d already said who he was and knew word would
spread quickly in this small community to those who hadn’t heard him. He merely
glanced expectantly at the man standing a few feet away.
“Hello everyone; my name is
Nathan O’Sullivan. I am a tailor and a designer of men’s apparel by trade.
I’ve numerous bolts of cloth with me and I am willing to make clothing for
those of you who were not fortunate enough to bring very much with you. I also
work with fur and I’m hoping a couple of you will be able to provide me with
some. I’ll see no man do without what’s needed to protect him from the elements.”
The well-dressed man stood off to one side as he had by now finished his
supper.
Wes pricked up his ears the
moment he heard the words ‘tailor’ and ‘clothing’. He immediately looked down
at his own person and suppressed a groan. He looked positively shabby! His
usually crisp and impeccable clothes were limp, dirty and stained.
He looked over at his twin.
Wayne wasn’t doing any better but then, Wayne did not have Wes’ penchant for style
and so he did not fret as much. They both liked to dress well though. In fact,
they had to in their line of business. It was expected of them, but Wes
obsessed over it in a way that sometimes drove Wayne mad.
Putting his plate aside and
getting to his feet, Wes sidled nearer to Nathan and observed the man more
closely. Yes, there was a definite air of fashion about this man, from the way
his jacket was cut to the elegant pleats in his pants. His shirt was well made
too and obviously of the finest cotton. Wes was well acquainted with such stuff
and realised Nathan somehow appeared less bedraggled than most of the others on
the island despite having worked equally as hard.
Wes suddenly looked up from
his scrutiny and flushed. A pair of smiling brown eyes was observing him. “Oh, I’m
s-sorry,” he managed to stammer under the firm gaze. “Didn’t mean to, um, stare.”
“What did you say your name
was?” Nathan asked, liking what he saw as well. The young man was almost as
tall as he was, so they looked squarely into one another’s eyes.
“Wesley. Hi there. You said
you are Nathan, right?”
“Yes, that is correct. Glad
to meet you, Wesley,” Nathan answered, holding out his hand.
Wes reached out and shook
hands. “Same here! Say, is it true you have a trunk or two of your own?”
“Yes,” Nathan replied.
“And you’ve got cloth and
material in it? For stitching and sewing?”
“Yes, I do!” Nathan smiled at
the young man’s inquisitiveness. “I imagine it will come in handy once we’re
established and clothing needs to be replaced.”
“Well, I certainly need some
repairs on my clothes. They are falling apart!” Wes spread out his arms to
better display himself.
Nathan ran an experienced eye
over the slender form before him. “Hmm …,” he hummed quietly. The young man was
exaggerating slightly as the outfit he wore was in better condition than
most.
Wes started to squirm and
sternly told himself to stand still. “Can you repair this tear on my sleeve?
This is Egyptian cotton and very expensive. We imported it from England.”
Nathan sighed. ‘What a self-centred
young man,’ he thought. ‘And what an adorable imp; totally artless, obviously too
spoiled and pampered for his own good.’ Even knowing Wesley would in all
likelihood be disappointed, Nathan firmly informed him, “the supplies I have in the
trunk are to be used for emergencies and to clothe those who did not get a chance
to bring much with them. Tell me, where is your stuff?”
“Over there. Just that one
trunk, as that’s all they allowed each of us to bring!” Wes said, his eyes
reflecting some of the horror he had experienced.
“One of those?” Nathan
pointed to two identical trunks, placed side by side. “Well, if you like we can
take a look inside sometime tomorrow when everyone is more settled in, okay?
Perhaps we can find something you can wear that will be more appropriate for
working. The shirt you’re wearing may do well for a fine dinner party but won’t
be any good to you for daily wear here.”
Wes stared with his mouth
open. “Work? We don’t work!”
Nathan raised an eyebrow.
“Well, young man, best to put your past behind you, I say. None of us chose to
be here and believe me, none of us was quite prepared for this bitter twist of
fate. But we will survive if everyone does his fair share and maintains a group
spirit. With willing co-operation on everyone’s part, we’ll do fine!”
Wes swallowed. He was an
intelligent young man and easily understood the unspoken words. Time to let the
past go, as the man said. A flash of utter despair shot through him. Then with
a stiff upper lip, he raised his eyes and looked deep into the brown ones
before him. “Yes, you are right.” Wes drew himself up to his full height. “You
are certainly right. The past is dead, but we’ll be fine if we work together.”
Samuel Boyd gravely nodded when
over-hearing the tail end of what Wes and Nathan had been discussing. Although being part of a society was well
beyond what he was used to, he nevertheless wholeheartedly agreed with the
young man’s final words.
“I am willing to support any
duly-elected council. My name is Samuel Boyd and I panned for gold most my life;
a trade which will prove useless now. I’ll admit I’m used to living a solitary
life but will definitely try to fit in and do whatever has to be done to make a
success here.”
A fancy-dressed man nearby,
brushed off his trousers and straightened his silk vest. Seth had squandered
away the daylight hours with meeting only his own personal needs. He had
washed, shaved, and changed into a clean suit. His shoes were polished to a
mirror shine, his jacket totally dust-free and not a hair on his head was out
of place.
“I’m Seth Ryan Edwards. I am
a gambler, a darn good one, and if anyone is interested in a friendly game of
poker, I’m your man.” He gently pushed away the puppy that was sniffing around
him. “You belong to that big guy over there, little fella,” he whispered for
the animal’s ears only.
Preston didn’t have too much
to say when it came to his turn. “My name is Preston Chadwick; my speciality is forestry.
I’m a lumberjack and if it’s alright with everyone here, I’d like to offer my
services when it comes time to choose and fell the trees needed to construct buildings.”
“Mitchell Wolfe!” the only
black man in the crowd spoke up as he scratched behind the ears of the little
dog lying beside him. “I am an apprentice-carpenter and would like very much to
learn more about my trade. If Aiden would accept me as an assistant, then that
is what I’ll be.”
“Aye, ’tis more than enough
work for us all, Mitchell,” Aiden responded with a grin. “’Tis a team we’ll be
making, my good mon.”
A man in a wide-brimmed hat and
heeled boots spoke up. “I am Hendrik Van Der Berg. Until my arrest and exile, I
worked as an assistant ranch foreman. I know my way around horses, of which
there are none here that I am aware of, and cattle, again which appear to be
sadly lacking. However, that said, I am ready and willing to try my hand at just
about anything.” He stared down at his empty plate. ‘If only Eric was here, all
of this would be so much more bearable,’ he thought and tried to fight back the
sadness that threatened to overtake him.
Another young man who’d listened
carefully as each of the men before him, decided it was his turn to speak up. They were an eclectic bunch
from a wealthy member of the judiciary, a doctor, a farmer, labourers, right
through to a whore. He wondered how he could fit in. He supposed he was closest
to the whore since that’s how he’d been arrested, but up until then he’d never
done such a thing. His late mother had taught him that to be poor did not mean
you could not have values. He had tried to follow her teaching and the day he’d
given up on them, had been the day of his falling.
‘Well,’ he thought, ‘I will
do my best to make you proud of me again, Mama.’ He stood in his torn, filthy
clothing, raised his head with pride and spoke. “My name is Gille Wheaton. I
don’t have any fancy education nor do I have any great skills, but I work hard
and will help wherever I am needed,” he offered and sat down. ‘Not a very
eloquent speech,’ he mused, but there was really nothing more he could offer.
Galen felt his anticipation increasing as the introductions came to an
end. He hoped the time for selecting a council was close at hand. He shifted
around until he was sitting on his heels. “Thomas,” he hissed, pulling at the
man’s sleeve. “If we have an election, will I b-be allowed to vote, too? I’ve never
done it b-before ‘cause I haven’t b-been old enough. B-but I’m eighteen now.”
The more excited he grew at the prospect the more pronounced his stuttering
became. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.
“Of course, you are allowed
to vote, Galen. If you were considered old enough to be sent into exile to this
place, you are old enough to help decide who will serve on a council,” Thomas
replied, giving the younger man a supportive smile.
Galen looked around and
wondered who would be making the announcement to start the elections. He was
almost bouncing with pent-up enthusiasm.
“Well, Larry, now that we
have had the opportunity to learn a little about each other, how about you move
on to the second part of this hastily put together agenda?” Quentin quietly
reminded their temporary, self-appointed spokesman.
“I guess now is as good time
as any,” Larry commented and once again got to his feet. “I’d like to thank you
all for sharing some about yourselves. I know it can be difficult to divulge
personal information to others. Do you all feel that five would be a sufficient
number of members for the council?”
After a few moments of
murmurings, nods and various signs of agreement, Larry asked, “So who wants to
be the first one to volunteer or offer a name?”
“I do!” Galen rose up on his
knees and waved his hand. “I vote for Thomas Fields!” He quickly sat down as a
deep blush stained his cheeks. He wondered what everyone found so funny.
“And does Thomas accept the
nomination?” Larry asked, trying to keep the smile off his face.
Thomas was surprised at the
sudden boldness of his newly-found young friend. He gave the redden-faced lad a
smile. “Thank you, Galen. It was very nice of you to do that.” He looked
towards Larry and nodded. “Yes. If I’m wanted, I will accept.”
In his excitement, Galen
barely prevented himself from throwing his arms around the bigger man’s neck.
He was used to spontaneous signs of love and affection from family members but
was resigned to it now being a luxury he would have to forgo.
Quentin turned to Larry. “I
think since you showed great initiative in starting these proceedings and were
also willing to quickly volunteer in so many areas, you should be considered
for the council. What do you have to say about that, Larry?”
Larry thought about it for a
moment before he answered with a positive nod and an “I’ll be proud to serve!”
verbal reply. He then announced, “I’d like to nominate Aiden Shea!”
Sensing Aiden’s hesitancy and
before the other man could respond, Quentin spoke up. “I second that! Aiden, I
know you’re not a talking man, you’re a doer, and as such I believe you would
set an ideal example for the rest of us to follow. I do hope you’ll accept this
nomination.”
Tempted as he was to decline,
Aiden answered in the affirmative. “Aye! I accept!”
“Would anyone else like to
put forth the name of someone to be considered for the council?” Larry asked
once again, looking out over the gathered men.
“I’d like to nominate Walker
Drummond!” Thad called out. He enjoyed working with the man while supper
preparations had been underway and instinctively recognised the leadership
qualities this man possessed.
“As honoured as I am, I’m
going to have to decline.” Seeing the crestfallen look on the younger man’s
face, Walker leaned over, put his arm around Thad’s shoulders and gently explained,
“I’m not saying I’ll never serve on the council. It is that the present time is
just not right for me.” He smiled when the explanation was reluctantly accepted.
Thomas looked towards Troy. The
man had shown himself to be a strong force that afternoon and he was also quite
impressed by how much Troy was admired by his young partner. “I’d like to
nominate Troy Harris to join the council.”
Troy sat up straight in
surprise. “Yes, I’d be honoured to be on the council.”
“Excuse me, please. I’d like
to be nominating Doctor Lakota Evans!” Aiden quietly stated.
Larry looked over at the man
sitting next to the big Scotsman. “What do you say, Doc?”
Lakota was taken back to hear
his name as he was used to being passed over due to his mixed heritage. “Thank
you for the nomination. I will accept.”
Several other names were put forth,
but most were politely declined by the one nominated and no others step forward
to volunteer. Quentin counted and kept tab of the hands raised in support for
each candidate as he individually presented the men willing to serve in this
capacity. He then announced those voted in; Lakota Evans, Thomas Fields, Troy
Harris, Aiden Shea and Larry West.
“Grand! We now have all seats
on the council filled. Thank you to all those who let their names go forward and
to everyone who participated in this process.” Larry brought the election to a
close. “Now, does anyone have any questions to ask the council or any ideas of
when you would like us to meet?”
Thomas spoke up. “I should
think it would be wise for the five of us to talk first thing in the morning
and discuss what needs to be done to make a viable community for ourselves.”
Aiden slowly nodded his head.
“Aye! I agree with yer suggestion. We can select a facilitator, come up with
several guidelines and report to ye all tomorrow evening,” he firmly proposed
as Larry and Lakota also murmured their agreement.
“Sounds like a plan,” put in
Troy, reflectively nodding his head.
With the election behind them,
an agreement was unanimously voted on that no one would go wondering off until
exploration teams had been put together. A night guard was determined with Preston
and Mitchell taking the first watch.
Each of the men assumed responsibility
for washing up their dishes and leaving them spread out on a large overturned crate
to dry. A couple of men volunteered to clean up the bigger items used for
cooking and baking while a few others cared for the livestock.
Finally, everyone gathered up
their personal belongings and found a space to bed down for the night. They’d
put in a busy day and were exhausted. Tomorrow loomed on the horizon and the
majority of the men looked forward to it with heartwarming expectation.
TBC…….
No comments:
Post a Comment