BLESS

There were thirty of them, not counting children, which settled in Nowhere. The thirty were finally free. Free to go wherever their tired feet led them. After leaving the old plantation home, it took the thirty a long time to reach Nowhere. Indians once lived on the old plantation home too. The Indians had been driven away, deep into the swamp. The gators, snakes, and God knows what else was supposed to have at ‘em. As sure as the sun rise and set, evil never wins. It was the Indians from the old plantation home that had given Cloud the amulet. It was a token for safe passage. And it was the Indians who had sent word ahead of them that the most pitiful looking ex-slaves to grace God’s earth was coming their way. A small band of braves road ahead of them to a shallow part of the Sabine River on the Louisiana side. It was up to them to make it across to the Texas border. Once safely across, they were led by another band of four braves, and a unit from the Calvary all the way to New Mexico on into Arizona. The thirty left Louisiana only days before the gunboats came down the big river to shell the big houses along its muddy banks. Ivensen was spared. Bless, our family griot knew that change was going to have its way. Change was as constant as the setting of the sun and rising of the moon. She said the old plantation home had been a place for the unnatural breeding of slaves to work the expansive sugarcane fields and other plantation enterprises. The master renamed it Ivensen Plantation and Sugar Refinery because it had become more prosperous than even he had imagined. There were hundreds of slave children running around ragged who knew neither there or where of this life, or who their real ma or pap might be. For her, the thought of leaving Ivensen Plantation had become her purpose in life. Purpose with a capital P. She could taste it in the food she ate, smelled it in the air she breathed, saw it in the eyes of the other slaves, felt it in the clothes against her skin. And she dreamed of it when she slept at night. Life had to be better than what they had been living. The breeding of slaves was an evil she could no longer bare. Nothing about it was righteous. It bred all kinds of vices and ills. The thirty felt as she did, secretly they agreed leaving there meant survival and a chance at a life none of them would have if they stayed there. It's a wonder to behold how God uses people to set events into motion. He brought that soldier to their doorsteps, to Abigail, brought them two together for that purpose; him a fir tree and her a cypress tree. The two unlikeliest people to ever forge a bond of love. Both defined by their environments. Love was the only way it was going to work in everybody’s favor. That’s some powerful stuff. Not many young people are left. Can’t say I blame them none, the young ones that is. The world is big place. But there ain’t no pot of gold at the end of no rainbow. I would never sprinkle salt on their dreams though as my ma Bless would say. I’m still partial when comparing Nowhere to other places, even though I hadn’t been to many places. Never ventured far from the ranch. Some might say my opinion ain’t worth the copper on a penny. There’s still some nice folks around. A little dignity and kindness can take you a long way. Try being mean as a mountain lion and see how far that gets you. I’ve always felt the sun didn’t shine anywhere else as bright as it does in Nowhere. Nowhere grew strong and it grew wide as the years went. Just like a well fed and mightily loved woman. Soon after settling in Nowhere and before the feeling of belonging could be contained in the hearts and minds of the people, the railroad came calling. Then the prospectors come with dreams of their own. Progress came riding in like a Babylonian whore, glorified and mystified, fast and wild. In one hand was promises of prosperity and sweet indulgences. In the other, a whole heap of misery, spilling over and draping the flank of the animal it come riding in on. The folks here bought into it lock, stock, and barrel. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wanting better for yourself and your family. True, folks in Nowhere would have been content to some degree with the way things were before all the nonsense, and certainly before all of hell broke loose. If their spirits waned, they weighed the cost. They employed whatever was at their disposal. The wishbone-shaped willow reeds they had brought from Louisiana to lead them to water. Prayed harder. Sometimes in the confines of leaning outhouses, in the shadow of chicken coops, in barns while forking hay, when hauling timber, while whupping misbehaving children, and when dragging buffalo carcasses in snow. They waited on patience to perfect the medicine man’s chant for rain in the dry season. The rains always came. The earth always gave back. And prayers were always answered. Me? I’d take progress any day. My thoughts always go back to Louisiana. So, I’ll digress for a minute. Those stories ma told pulled on my heartstrings like nobody’s business. When freedom came knocking loud way back then, the door opened. The choice was theirs. The thirty exercised their right to freedom by choosing progress. They had the good sense to know that progress meant change, and change was good. Anything was better than what they were leaving behind. If they’d stayed they would’ve surely died. So, they weighed the cost. Back to the subject of settling in Nowhere. The thirty had unknowingly claimed stake in the middle of Apache country. Foolish? Maybe. Brave? Absolutely.