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

Chapter 20 - Fresh Air

Over the next few days, we did our best to settle in this cursed place. Our previous camps looked like palaces compared to this one. Even in broad daylight, the sky seemed dark and threatening.

The atmosphere was like heat, sweltering and electric. I only slept in rare moments and had few activities during the day. The premises required a certain degree of idleness. Time was flowing slowly, and soon I began to comprehend the latest events.

---

Some time after our arrival, Charles and Abigail left for Saint-Denis. They wanted to give our companions a decent place to rest. It was only when they told me that they had managed to bury them that I realized. They were dead. Real dead. We'd never see them again.

I've always liked Hosea. He seemed to be the wisest of this crazy band, and yet he was one of them. I wish I had more time to get to know him, I'm sure he could have taught me a lot about life. And Lenny. I didn't know him very well, but he was a good boy. He was barely younger than me, he must have had plenty of dreams and hopes. And now he was no longer.

I did my best to take it all on myself and show nothing of my anguish to my companions. I moved away from the group to pass my nerves on the poor beast that was to end up in Pearson's stew. I furiously wiped away the few tears I had not been able to hold back, covering my cheeks with the animal's blood. Other tears flowed, digging furrows through the red lines coloring my face. At this moment, I heard Charles's calm voice.

"Anna. You ok?"

Wiping my tears discreetly, I nodded, probably unconvincingly. He squatted in front of me. I avoided his gaze, trying in vain to hide my crying.

"When did you last sleep? You look exhausted.

- Have you seen the place? It's impossible to sleep here. And before that, there was all this shit to deal with when you all didn't come back."

He nodded sadly before getting up.

"I'm going to do some scouting up north, you come with me?

- I... I don't know if I can leave the camp.

- Come on. There's not much to do here anyway. We'll bring back some food."

I didn't need any more reasons. I washed the blood from my face and hands before I retrieved my belongings and followed him out of this hell.

-----

Charles didn't tell me right away where we were going. I didn't care. Anything that could get me away from these swamps was good to take. As we went up north, I felt my breathing again. As usual, Charles remained silent for quite a while. Before finally informing me of our destination.

He wanted to hear from his Indian friends whom he had helped a few weeks before. They were experiencing troubles on their reservation, so he wanted to see if he could help them. Listening to him speak, I stopped my horse. Noticing this, he turned around to face me, surprised.

"I don't think it's a good idea for me to go.

- Why not?

- Because I'm white? Because I'm from Valentine? That these lands where I was raised were theirs and were savagely removed from them?

- You're not responsible for the past. You don't work for the government. All they need right now is help. And that's what you do best, take care of people, find solutions, work hard. Trust me, it's going to be fine."

Reluctantly, I followed him. I remained worried for the rest of the trip. I was afraid of their reaction, but I think I was mostly afraid to see the consequences of the painful wars that took place before I was born. Knowing the bad that has been done is one thing, experiencing it is another.