Time and Place

Chapter 3

Leaving the bustle of the town behind me, I set out towards the Hickok's small farm on the outskirts. As I walked, the dusty road stretched out before me, flanked on either side by vast fields of golden wheat swaying gently in the breeze. As I walked, I could smell the sweet scent of wildflowers in the air and hear the distant sound of birdsong, giving the landscape tranquility and peace.

Eventually, I reached the Hickok's farm, its modest farmhouse nestled amidst a sea of greenery. The wooden structure stood weathered and worn by the passage of time, its paint fading and its shutters creaking in the wind. A small garden bloomed in front of the house, its vibrant colors starkly contrasting the muted tones of the surrounding landscape.

As I approached the front porch, I could hear the sound of laughter and chatter drifting from within. It was a warm and inviting melody that filled me with a sense of comfort and belonging. I knocked gently on the door, my heart pounding with anticipation, my breath catching in my throat as I waited for someone to answer.

After a few moments, the door swung open to reveal a kindly-looking woman with a warm smile and eyes that sparkled with kindness. "Can I help you, dear?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle.

I returned her smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over me at the sight of her welcoming demeanor. "I'm looking for the Hickok family," I explained, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. "I was hoping to speak with them about something important."

The woman's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a look of concern. "I'm Ma Hickok," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "Is everything alright?"

As I looked into Ma Hickok's eyes, I felt an instant connection. It was as if she could see the weight of my grandfather's past on my shoulders. I knew I could trust her with the truth. Taking a deep breath, I began to recount the story of my grandfather's encounter with the Hickok boy, my words tumbling out in a rush as I spoke.

To my surprise, Ma Hickok listened intently, her eyes widening with recognition as I described the events of that fateful day. "I know Harley," she said softly, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "He's a good man, brave and true. My boy wouldn't be here today if it weren't for him. No thanks to that Doc Hanson."

As she spoke, tears welled in Ma Hickok's eyes, and I reached out to grasp her hand in comfort. "Can you tell me where to find him?" I watched as Ma Hickok's eyes darted towards the back door, a flicker of apprehension dancing in their depths.

"Harley? Who did you say you were?" Her question hung in the air like a heavy fog, the tension palpable as I struggled to find the right words to ease her concerns.

As I stood on the threshold of the Hickok's farmhouse, the weight of my quest pressing heavily upon my shoulders, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. Ma Hickok's sudden change in demeanor caught me off guard, her once warm and welcoming demeanor replaced by an air of suspicion and uncertainty.

"I'm Ridley," I replied, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. "I'm just a traveler passing through, looking for answers about my grandfather."

Ma Hickok regarded me with a wary gaze; her lips pressed into a thin line as she considered my words. "Harley ain't no grandfather and ain't around these parts no more," she said finally. "He left days ago, said he was looking for something more than what Homer offered."

I felt a surge of disappointment wash over me at Ma Hickok's words, the realization sinking in that my search for answers was far from over. But even as I prepared to bid her farewell and continue my journey, a nagging thought tugged at the corners of my mind, urging me to press on.