Wanted

Chapter 44

'Like a lamb to slaughter', Walls thought as he watched John, being led down the stairs by Jeremiah, followed by the marshal.

He wore Carl's old hand-me-down clothes that Sally had given him a few weeks ago when some of their neighbours had come to visit and check out the unusual activity on their ranch. He had looked just as uncomfortable in them then as he was now or maybe it was just because he was so used to looking at him in the Indian clothing. The neighbours had been reserved but none of them seemed too perturbed by the fact that they had Indian visitors on their land. Some of them had even taken heed of Enkoodabooaoo's warning and decided to build some additional shelter for their animals and stock up on supplies. After the event, they had felt they could have let the boy wear his own clothing after all, but now Walls wasn't sure what to think anymore.

Sally was hurrying through the house getting a few things together to give to the boy to take with him. The weather had started to change, she had said with pain in her voice, he would need some warm clothes no matter where they'd take him. Walls knew she kept busy in part to keep herself from crying. She'd grown fond of the boy, and so had he, but not only that, they'd been happy for him, and hopeful. He was loved and because of it his true nature started to show. He was a good boy at heart, a good friend to his sons too, even though he didn't always proof to be the best influence on them. There'd always be some rough edges to him but in a way that was what made him so endearing.

He felt sorry for Jeremiah too. After all the years of solitude, it was the boy that brought him back and made him welcome others into his life. They all fitted together so easily, Sally and Numees, Enkoodabooaoo, Matunaagd, Jeremiah and he. After all they had been through, years of hardship and all that they had lost, they deserved that little bit of peace and happiness but now it seemed pointlessly ripped apart again by a handful of bigoted knuckleheads who felt threatened simply by the colour of another person' skin and a different way of living.

Anna was still carrying her baby brother and tried her best to console her little sisters who were just confused and couldn't understand what was happening. Bert stood beside Alfred, stoic and holding onto his rifle, as if in the hour, all of a sudden, he had grown up, while his younger brother Carl for once allowed himself to be little and in need of his father' support, who had his arm around his shoulder and his hand resting on the younger boy's chest.

Walls noticed how John's demeanour changed as soon as he saw everyone looking up at him as he came down the stairs. Like a parent shielding their children from their own upset, the boy pulled himself together, far too quickly, and far too effortlessly. His lips pressed together to a single thin line, his eyes narrowed and forming a scowl across his face, he looked just as defiant as he did when Sally tried to give him a bath in their kitchen on that first morning all those months ago. Not a lamb.

Walls was wondering if the sullen and defiant façade was just a front. If he was hiding his fear and maybe helplessness behind it or if it was real and John just remembered who he'd always been as well. The little guttersnipe who'd fight back as soon as an opportunity presented itself, and for whom defeat was only a temporary state. Walls was sure that were it not for the injuries John would have fought like a cornered cat to get himself out of this situation, no matter how futile it had been, he would have lashed out, or at least tried to run away, and climb the next tree, but not this time.

Not unlike the boy, Walls was seething with anger and it was written all over his face. He knew his hands were tied though, as were Jeremiah's who as always did not show his true feelings but kept them well tucked away. Walls was wondering what he would have done if they were trying to take one of his sons. Would he have fought back and gotten himself killed. Could he have contained himself the way Jeremiah did? He questioned if it made a difference, the fact, that John wasn't Jeremiah's own flesh and blood and almost started to feel angry with his friend for not fighting for the boy, but then again, neither was he and what would it change.