Gold Raven

Brother & Sister Finally Meet
~ Michael Ramsey Webster finds Hope! ~

Hope lay on her side upon a rope suspended cot. Her face to the wall, with her wrists and ankles bound, her mouth gagged. There was not a section of her body, which did not ache from the discomfort of riding on horseback. The distance they had travelled seemed endless, as they switched her back and forth from one horse to the other, giving the animal a rest from the combined weight of two riders.

At first, she had been afraid for her life…and then, in fear of what they might do to her. Yet, one day flowed into the next, and there had not been one attempt to assault or molest her. They spoke to each other in Spanish, mostly laughing and discussing things that drew their attention away from her when they stopped for the night. Other times, although in Spanish, she knew they discussed her. With grinning eyes, and smiling gestures in her direction, they derived some type of satisfaction at taking her. As the days passed, so did her fear, and with the dissolving of it, came feelings of anger.

‘What do they think!? Taking me from my family! For reasons only GOD knows! Dragging me about this barren land!’

Unable to control it, she’d had a burst of rage attacking them. Her punishment had been to ride tied and gagged for a day. She promised to never do it again. As she rode, she observed periodically, sparse patches of greenery, a lone tree or shrubbery offering a spot of shade where weed and grass grew. Occasionally, they’d pass a water hole and take advantage of it by letting the horses drink their fill. They too would wet themselves down, on their heads and neck, making Hope do the same. At one such place, her stubborn refusal to do so, got her shoved into the water, soaking her to the skin. They thought it funny.

“Aah senorita…how appealing will you be to our Jefé if you are burnt to a crisp? Yet, there is something strange about you?” Juan observed as Hope sputtered and gasped trying to get up from the shallow pond. “What you think Eugene? This is no gringa no! She darkens from the sun. Gringa’s turn red…no?”

“Juan…she darkens as the gypsies! That is what they do.”

“Noooo, this one…is not one of them. Who are you gypsy? Where you come from? We take you from your family…but - were you born of them?” He asked. Hope sat stubborn and quiet unwilling to answer their inquiries. “Look at her. She does not look like them! They do not come that color. You mulatto…hmm gypsy?”

Legs and arms crossed, Hope maintained her staunch refusal to satisfy their curiosity. “No matter little one…Our Jefé will be pleased with you. You are much like him you see…yes, I have done well this time.” Juan felt assured.

Once they’d travelled far enough from the townships, they’d untied her with the warning of, “Do not try to run senorita, we will only capture you once again and you will pray that we do…for there are snakes that are deadly waiting for one so foolish as to run where they rest.”

Having no clue of where she was, Hope was not about to take the chance. At night, she lay thinking of Alfredo & Anna and the pain they must be suffering from her being kidnapped.

There was nothing to do about that now, depending on what was to come; she knew it was quite possible that she would never see them again. Then there was the worry of this “Jefé” her two kidnappers kept mentioning. Who was this leader? What fate awaited her once she was handed over to him? She would know when she got there. Pray was all she could do for now, her life was in God's hands and she would deal with what would be, when she faced this…Jefé.

Finally, after travelling over so much flat land, they came to high bluffs. Not quite the height of mountains but high enough to make her gulp in fear when they ascended them going up the spiralling trail to the top. They journeyed high for a pace, careful as they meandered in search of a particular marking. Sitting behind Eugene on his horse, Hope held on for dear life. They now travelled downward, on a steep incline that Hope expected the horse to lose his footing on at any moment, to send them all crashing down, rolling to their deaths.

Squeezing him tightly with her head pressed into his back, her eyes shut, she prayed all the way down. Feeling the animal shift and brace himself as he picked his way down unstable dry soil. At one point, it was so steep, the animal almost sat back on its haunches to maneuver them down. She breathed a sigh of relief once they made it back to the bottom. She looked up to see them riding single file in a narrow pass just wide enough for horses to traverse in single file. Hope sat perplexed until Juan made a sudden careful turn into an opening. His horse backed away whinnying. He did not want to go in.

He clicked and slapped its flank with his reigns to get the reluctant animal moving until it entered, and then it was Eugene’s turn. Since Juan’s horse led the way, the second followed without resistance.

Hope looked up within the thin opening and could see why the first animal had been reluctant. There was barely enough room for their legs on each side of the horses to travel through without touching the sides of rocky bluff. During their passage through, small bits of rock crumbled down. An intense feeling of claustrophobia came over her after she looked up and realized they were at least thirty feet deep in the chasm. Should a downpour occur they would drown in the crevice. Hope fought with her fear.

“Where are we going?” She shrieked in panic.

“SHHH! Do you wish to bring the sides down upon us?” Eugene hissed in warning. Hope thought she would faint, the prospect of possibly being buried alive under falling dirt, sand and rocks made her put her head against his back again for comfort, where she closed her eyes refusing to look. She prayed they come out soon; the heat within the walls was getting to her. An hours ride later, to her surprise, they came out from what seemed the side of a mountain, where they went down a green, but rocky slope to an open valley. As they reached the bottom, she looked beyond to a stone enclosure about a quarter of a mile away from them.

It had once been a hidden convent, and now…it housed bandits, rebels, escaped slaves, Indians and thieves, as well a collection of wild women and whores. Now, after having gotten through the hell of being taken from her family, and forced to travel all of that way, she lay listening to something so ironic, she felt her anger ignite once again. It seemed, this Jefé whom they had stolen her for…didn’t want her.

Not only did he not want her…he was upset that they had brought her here to him. So far, he had done nothing but yell and curse Juan, right outside of the lodging where she lay tied…his lodge.

“What a stupido!! Where is your thinking!? What do I need – with another woman on my hands!? Here – finally, I find peace, now that Jessie has gone with Samuel, thank God! And you bring me another! I have a wife! Your own cousin for goodness sake!-…”

“But Miguel…you must see her – she is different this one! She is a gypsy with hair like gold, skin like-…”

“A gypsy!? You brought a gypsy here to me!? Did Maria see you bring this gypsy?” Miguel asked with dread. Juan stood silent, which was answer enough. Eugene grinned. “I told him Jefé. I ask him this myself…what of Maria? His answer, you will work it out! As leader, you should have the best! Annnd, even I will admit…this one is something for the eyes to see. Once you see her, if you still feel the same. I will take her off your hands.” Eugene offered.

“YOU WILL NOT!! The gypsy is mine if Jefé does not keep her for himself.”

“Juan…Juan…you are not man enough to handle such as she. Stick with your whores; they always like you…especially when your money pouch is heavy!”

“Beso mi’cudo madicon!” Juan instructed Eugene to kiss an area of his body, while labeling him a lover of mothers. Eugene laughed and puckered up throwing kisses at him.

Miguel stood dusty, saddle sore, and weary. He was not in the mood for them, or the gypsy lying within his lodging. No wonder when he returned to camp, Maria was nowhere to be seen. She was no doubt within her lodging in the midst of their children, sulking and waiting to attack him about the gypsy.

“This gypsy…did she come willingly…or…?” He let the question dangle. Juan gulped, and then shrugged showing white teeth. “We convince her…oooh, un’piqueto.” He showed a small pinch with his fingers to gesture a little bit. Miguel stared at Juan a moment, and then turned to Eugene.

“We took her…roped and tied.” Eugene looked at Juan. “It was all his idea.”

“Dios Mio! Juan. No doubt she has a temper to match that of a wild cat!”

“No no! This one… she is as – as gentle as a kitten.” Juan lied. Eugene barked with laughter. “Yes…just don’t untie the kitten! This “kitten” only kicked me in the head, busted his mouth, and then, once again attacked us both…bloodying his nose, and pushed me into a fire…to burn me alive. Do not untie her.” Eugene warned.

“I see. So she is now tied?” Miguel inquired turning to Juan. “This kitten.”

“Only because…she got into the camp – acted a little crazy…try to pull my pistol, nothing serious.” Juan explained. Miguel started laughing, and as he did so threatened. “I’m going to kill you, but first…I will string you up by your little toes! Bare assed, legs apart so that the birds can pluck the crabs from your balls!” Everyone standing near burst with laughter. Juan crossed his legs and covered his privates.

“GO! Out of my face, I must think what to do!”

“Maybe I take the gypsy from you now? Save you the pain.” Juan asked hopefully.

“I will speak with her. Calm her, and ask what is it she wishes to do; if her desire is to return from whence she came…prepare for another ride.” Miguel warned. Juan made a face. “Oh noooo, I will just keep her?”

“Not if she is unwilling you won’t! GO!” Miguel was done. All knew when it was time to leave him. Miguel stood looking into his abode. Women were a royal pain in the ass, plain and simple. They always found reason to complain.

They knew nothing of the word “Satisfied” or its meaning… to be pleased was their greatest mystery; they had not a clue to it. They whined too much, they pouted most all of the time. When that did not work, then tears flowed. With a sigh, he also realized all things in life one might enjoy came with a price. To have a woman, man must suffer with their mood changes, their frailties, their demands, and their rage. At that he shivered. Yet…they brought a pleasure that no real man could deny…and so… most all men were willing to pay the price.

One woman was a handful. But two…’God Almighty, what logical thinking man in his right mind…would dare to have two?’ Before he’d learned the hard way, he’d tried it…but never again! Impossible …unless of course they were meek, mild and beaten down to the point of killing their spirit, to do such a thing, never even occurred to him. There was something inhumanely evil about actually hitting a woman, and no matter what, he could never bring himself to do so. Besides, the only women that turned him on were full of spit and fire…with a flare of temper now and then, a little bite. For that preference, he had certainly paid dearly. Jessie and Maria had been in constant battle over him. When really…in the case of Maria… there had been no reason for it. At first, he had mistaken her for the meek and mild type. Admiring her from afar, now and again, teasing and taunting her to ignite what fire there was in her…but she never took the bait.

So he at first, ignored her…unless he had gotten a little drink in him…then he sought her out, igniting Jessie’s jealousy.

Jessie

She had been his first; a strong, lithe, almost muscular, dark black woman, beautiful beyond words with a panther like carriage and grace. Skin the color of darkest mahogany, gleaming smooth and shiny when covered in sweat. There was no fat found on her body, so athletic and lean and like a cat, she prowled.

Ever watchful – and cunning in her seductive attack, she was faithful to no one, yet looked down her nose at the whores. Jessie chose the man she would be with, no man yet would she allow claim over her, as his alone.

For some reason, she had chosen Miguel. He had been younger than her 24 years when she first approached him. Fifteen at the time, bursting with hormones and needs, and she knew it, made sport of it; laughed as she touched him, flashing a small, firm, dark breast at him before the others, so they could all laugh at his blushing. Because he was so young and inexperienced, it was easy to seduce him…to place him under her spell. She knew she could dominate him...control him…make him pant like a lovesick puppy.

She enjoyed toying with him. Slyly distracting him from whatever duties Ephraim set him to. Leading him on and luring him with his own curiosity to sneak and watch her bathing naked. At the time, it was a turn on for her. She was one who enjoyed having a certain power over her men, and Miguel was a distraction from her boredom. Having teased, inflaming him enough… the moment was ripe…she seduced him. Amazed at the pleasure she found with him, because he was such a willing pupil, she allowed him too much of her. To her utter horror, she fell pregnant with his child.

Unsure of how to rid herself of it without bringing harm to herself, she was forced to carry it full term. The whores who knew how to rid themselves of unwanted babies…laughed at her. None willing to help her be rid of it. By now, Mike was sixteen, and upon hearing about it… he fought with her tooth and nail – demanding that she carry it to full term. During that time, she mentally abused him…always threatening to get rid of it. What kept her from actually following through was the idea that she might inadvertently kill herself.

It was not unheard of for a woman to bleed to death, writhing in agony from a botched attempt to destroy a babe within her, only to die as well.

Her own life meant too much to her to risk the possibility.

Once she came to be with child by him, she no longer desired his touch. Every attempt he made to be with her, she spurned. Screaming her hatred of Miguel she gave birth, immediately rejecting the child, she insisted, "Don't pass it to me! Take it to him, what kind of mother would I make the child!? Get it from my sight!”

Miguel did not understand this, and went back to her with the newborn babe, wailing from hunger; Esteban, his oldest, holding him, he demanded that she feed him. “Get someone else to feed it! I will not be saddled with it!” She spat, and turned from him.

Taking pity on the child, a Spanish woman still nursing one of her own took his son to her breasts. Yet, there was something about Jessie that made Miguel weak, feeling he needed to have her again. Over several weeks, he tried again to lay with her… but she refused him.

“You’ll not have me fat bellied again! All the time I was with Ephraim…not once did he set his seed, nor any other who has had me…but you! I want no part of you!”

Then Maria entered the picture; catching his attention, pulling his longing gazes from Jessie to her. Suddenly Jessie turned aggressive towards him. Arguing with him, punching and slapping him. Drawing him back to her once again, but demanding that he not spend himself within her again. Truth was, she was risking much with the virile young Miguel, she really did not want him, but neither did she want this new, young Mexican girl to have him.

He turned off the memory of it all.

That entire sordid incident was in the past. She was finally gone with Samuel, leaving Esteban behind. Not that she would have taken him anyway. Nor would he have gone. Esteban was his right hand, and his firstborn son. He was proud to have fathered him, even if it had been at the age of sixteen. His son was eleven years old now. It was such a strange fact that they had so much in common. Each of them had lost their mother at the same age. Difference being, he had been taken from his…where Esteban’s had voluntarily left him.

He stood leaning in the doorway long enough, dreading to go inside. He looked back at the large bonfire burning in the center of their hidden sanctuary. He could just leave her for now and go join in the drinking and merry making with the others gathered there. Get himself ripped before he faced the gypsy, then Maria his wife. Squeals from women, boisterous laughter from the men who followed him filled the encampment, as they played cards, strummed their guitars singing in Spanish and English. Such carrying on went on most of the night within the hideout of the wanted desperados. A mix of them existed, black, white, Mexican, Indian and as Ephraim once referred to him as, “The Mulat”, short for mulatto.

Hope laid waiting, getting angrier and angrier. ‘Just wait until I meet this – Jefé, this Miguel. How dare he let them bring me so far, only to say…take her away!’ She was determined to show him her full wrath! They had taken her from her family, bringing her to this Godforsaken place. As she lay steaming, she was unaware that he stood within staring down at her. What alerted her of his presence was his dramatic sigh. She stiffened now fully aware, with a tense waiting.

“Madre de dios! Juan, what have you gotten me into?!” Miguel raked his hands through his blonde hair.

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Book Three
~ Family Reunion ~
Is Right Around The Corner!

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