A Very, Very, Very Lucky day?

Jeffrey Huang Block 1

The farm was pretty much lost back then; there was no doubt about that. My farm was a beautiful
one at that. During that time, the fall proved to be much colder than usual. People would come over and
stay as long as they can just to revel in the quiet sanctity; they took the greatest time to indulge in the
sweetness of the aura emanating from my simple house and my amiable nature did well to encourage their
stay. I was still young, having barely set up my life, getting a calm job and all, and so it was only natural
that I still sported good humor and a genial persona.
November came and the farm would only yield another three months of comfort before the land
would be taken away. Saying this takes considerable difficulty, after all, I took much pride in this farm.
People had always been most envious of my farm and now secretly took my demise as great news. Of
course, they were only faking their condolences – some might have actually tried to feel some sympathy -
but such a beautiful land now “up for grabs” could do little to actually acknowledge that feeling. To make
matters worse, my ma had to live with me. If I didn’t have a home, neither did she; it was simple as that.
However, my ma was the bravest of people; Mrs. Walker is pretty well known, considering the respectable
size of Dodge City. Moreover, her attitude is, comparable to the brightest of days, forgiving and sincere.
She could trudge through the darkest, unluckiest of times, the most troublesome of dilemmas, and still look
upon the following day with a zeal and earnestness matched only by the most jovial of children. Despite her
affable qualities, that failed to persuade the bank otherwise, in matters of my farm.
My house was gone, yes, I said it again. Overall there were some pretty persuasive people who
told me it was time to let go. However after much bargaining, they somewhat relented and gave my ma and
me another three months’ time to vacate the lot. However, much vexation issued from this “eviction” and I
then lose my job after poorly attempting to relieve myself of stress; it worked, though the person – he was
my boss – was not too happy afterwards. The paychecks ceased coming in, and the numbskull I was did not
help me into future possible job opportunities. Ironically, the stress came back like a bad penny. In a way,
you could say my ma and I were done for. It was only a matter of time would we then be no less than
beggars.
Upon realizing this, I quickly came to the conclusion that jobs would not be my profession, and
understanding that money was a must, decided to search other ways for a quick pay that would last to some
degree. I knew it was too much to ask to be able to keep the farm, but at this point survival was my top
priority considering this point in time. My ma, I realized, would be too much of a burden in my search; I
came upon the idea to leave her with a friend of mine, and Bon Jovi, whose actually name was Sammy,
came into mind. I knew she would surely oblige, but considering the mood presently, I decided it would be
best to inquire first.
“Ma, let us consider the situation. I have no job, yes, I will say so. It is best to amount to the fact
that money is an immediate requirement. I would not like to say so, but considering your… wizened age,
would it be okay if you were to stay at Bon Jovi’s for awhile?”
As for my flowery writing, I studied under some Brit guy, so bear with it for awhile. Not in this
case. I figured sweet-talking her would not hurt; better to play safe. Refined, descriptive lingo ought to do
it.
She got my idea, smirked, and with those familiar lines set into the face, said, “Billy, you
understand me. I understand you. Cut the trash. Of course I would. Just make sure you come back with
something, ya hear?”
I grinned that broad grin I always do, and set out shortly afterward, my ma in safe arms, and I
sporting new clothes.
Much happened after, so recounting is somewhat difficult. I did much at the same time. Countless
stores I visited, and many people did I meet. I read many papers that day, and answered an equally
remarkable amount of questions as well. However, as quick as I filled out applications and shot out
answers, so did rebukes fire back.
After a few hours or so, I had wasted much of all possible occupations that would both satisfy my
needs as well as the provider. The city was dry; I meant dry of jobs as well as “deprived of water” dry. The
last time rain had ever skimmed our parts was at least three months ago.
I had spent some time resting on a wooden post for a saloon and then decidedly skimmed the
layered posts. And it was that mess of paper that caught my eye. No, it was not the fanciful letters
emblazoned in a dark red hue, it was that picture. Yes, it was that! That picture, with what clarity I still
remember that face!
 It was an old man. A man whose eyes would unnerve even the most bold and intrepid of men of
justice. Those eyes, what power they possessed! A sharp nose accompanied high cheekbones, deathly white
in color, and matching mustache and goatee came along as well. Creased lines only magnified that aura of
grandeur. His white hairs accompanied that atmosphere and overall added a sophisticated air. Through this
mixture, I came upon the idea of this devil of a man was a wealthy business man that had grown corrupt.
Despite the stature and dignity he permeated , the following information provided below that sharp picture
stated that that man – upon further reading the yellowed, tattered poster the man was revealed to be so
named Thurgood Hills, if not then Kendall Sweeney, which would be his alias – was, in fact, wanted and
that a handsomely large reward will be given to the captor should he be turned in.
Here in Dodge City, it is quite uncommon to see convicts on the loose. On the rarest of occasions,
you might see a filthy man running around in jail rags. Of course, nobody would care or attempt to stop the
person save the prison guards. Law did not really dictate anybody in the South, and it wasn’t go start here
either. Consequently, crooks and villains many under alibis or pseudonyms took up a considerable part of
the populace as well. As a result, their bounties were usually not very large and thus were usually left alone
or forgotten about by the common people.
However, this Mr. Hills, through my eyes, was a professional. Just the poster said so. It was
obviously an old poster, and from that you could say that Mr. Hills here has still yet to be found. He knew,
he knew how to hide. A person in Kansas like me ought to know the difference between a “nobody” and a
“villain”. Mr. Hills was something different. Straight away, I knew he was worth something. In that
moment, I resolved to find him. He was somebody special.
In matters of special, I saw something quite special walk out the saloon as well.
My eyes widened.
It was a girl. When I say a girl, I mean a girl. To simplify things, she was attractive. However, I
for her. She was dressed up as a cowhand. Those stiff chaps, the bristly spurs, and that vest. Her attire was
old stuff but it matched those watery brown eyes of hers. The pupils were pools of chocolate, but hard as
steel did they seem.
She turned around. I looked away. As to the reason why, I am unsure to this point, but perhaps it
comes from that part of me that occasionally makes me look like a half-wit dolt. What happened directly
afterwards I am not completely sure but after a few moments I forgot about who was behind be and was
again absorbed into that scary, but compelling poster of that Mr. Thurgood Hills. The reward looked pretty
tasty.
The girl who was still there, must have seen me gazing at that poster. She sat down on the front
step. Noticing, I cursed for wearing this set of clothing; it was not bad but neither was it my best. Boots,
noticeably large ones at that, matched with that set of gloves I had one; both were of the darkest ebony.
White slacks, somewhat creased, compliment that oversized shirt of mine, but the dirt might have made my
looks a bit more rugged. Did it look alright? It was after some time did I then regain my senses and thought
no more of her, despite the fact that she was less than three feet away.
“ You ok, boy?”
I started. Turning around, I answered with a stare. She’s talking to me?
“You ok?”
Then getting the message, I said, “Suppose so, ma’am.”
Earlier I said I studied under a Brit. Just because I write like once doesn’t mean I talk like so.
“What happened?”
Staring followed and after an awkward silence did I then say something smart like, “ I dunno…”
She smirked, but after awhile she donned another serious expression and said, “What’s wrong?”
A child like her – she could not have been more than twenty – probably couldn’t do much and I
decided to humor her and tell her a bit. It wouldn’t hurt.
“Lost my job a few hours ago. I got my ma and me into a real fix; she doesn’t have much money.
Now I don’t and my house is pretty gone…taken away by the bank and all..”
After I started I couldn’t stop. It was like an avalanche. All my resentment, all the distress I’d been
shoulder ever since the eviction letter came about a week ago ran loose. The words ran out from my mouth
like a stream. The words rang out into the air, stirring up drafts and drafts of wind that seemed to cry out in
defiance at the mountains off in the distance, set in blue.
Supposedly, I was very distraught and that my problems ran to an immeasurable length. The girl
felt bad. At least, at the max potential, she DID feel pity, presuming that she was not faking it. After a few
moments, did my mouth finally run dry and I fell silent brooding over how much I had revealed. It was
probably okay to tell a girl a little but at that moment I felt like I had pushed my ma in front of a gun’s line
of sight. She rose and beckoned me. No specific intentions or expectations crossed my mind; after all,
the most I could probably hope for from her at that point was a few dollars.
However, she did not of the sort, and surprising me and all the horses tied to the saloon’s stall – if
horses could be surprised - and said, “Get on the black one, Sir.”
My expression must have been portrayed on my face as she then repeated “Get on the black one
horse.”
Was it a new house I would get? My mind entertained that thought for a moment before
dismissing it entirely. However, I still speculated as to how this girl might attempt to improve my dilemma
in any way. Nonetheless, I did what she asked after much struggling, and the black horse bucked for a
while before calming down. While this ensued, the girl watched on with stoic passivity. Once I settled
down, she jumped onto another one, this one was brown speckled with tiny drops of mud. And I wondered.
With a cry, she sped her horse on, my horse following in tow, escaping the oncoming inky blackness of the
Kansas night. After some time, passing great distances, did I then fall asleep, to dreams of winning big
money rounding up crooks here and there.

Dawn greeted me when I arose to the distant mooing of cows. A multitude of senses seized me
before I could comprehend which one was which. The smell of cows befouled the air, splicing it into a
concoction of other odors. I got up. The wood floor was cold and the sharpness of cows was noted;
however despite the smell the room I was then in was agreeable to some degree. Papers scattered the floor
here and there, but that only contrasted the rest of the room even more so. The room resembled that of a
library. Bookshelves presented themselves in numerous quantities, full to the brim, ancient and dusty. The
room was plastered of an interesting hue that I could not see in the scarce light. Behind me lay a generous
table with a candle in the center. As far as I could see, that was the only light source, and in front, the
cascade of bookshelves faded off into the gloom. To my right, two doorways made little use of the light,
and showed themselves with interiors unknown. The closer one, after quick speculation proved to be the
smell and sound of the cows. I took no interest in that door. I then decided it was best to stay where I was at
the moment, and decided not to venture any more. I retired to the only chair present and fell into another
fitful sleep.
I awoke again to sounds; however, these sounds were not from cows.
After I regained my senses, I heard, “You there?”
I blinked to focus in on the person. Thurgood Hills stared down at me. Wait a minute. Thurgood
Hills? No, it cannot be. I looked upon that man’s face again. There it was. Thurgood Hills. Was it really
so?
It was.
“ You alright, sonny?”
This man was the splitting image of the poster. My brain must not have been functioning very
correctly, because then I was hoping that he might have had a twin. Why would I think so? This was the
man, the man wanted for who-knows-how-long years. He looked alright though. Given that I had not seen
the poster, I might have assumed that he would have been just some fatherly senior with an interesting
living preference. In this case, the fatherly man changes into one of the most skilled criminals Texas, if not
Dodge City had ever seen. Save the sharp clothing, now he sported a lasso on his left, a Colt 45 sheathed in
a leather holster, at least that’s what I believed, on the right. His shirt also held up a sheriff star; I presumed
that he took that from someone else. I stared at him for a few moments and said something I now do not
find stupid.
“You’re Thurgood Hills.”
That paternal quality he had a few seconds ago vanished. Hard lines grew on his face, the eyes
changed into black bottomless coals. Locking me in a hard gaze, he retreated back a step, and I caught a
hint of fear in those eyes of his.
“You know..”
My heart skipped a beat. Did he really understand? His hand reached towards his holster. The
heart jumped again. The colt said hi to me. My eyes fixed on that one spot. What once had been a dream
naught a few hours ago was now a nightmare.
The girl walked in.
“Hey, pop-”
 She saw the gun. He shot it. She jumped. She got knocked back like a feather. A crimson mist
sprinkled the wooden floor in a steady line.
He stared at the girl. After that, it becomes explicable. A rage possessed me at that moment and
with one fluid motion, I grabbed the old man unawares and flung him across the room. Propelled onto the
first bookcase, the man sank down without another word. With almost deliberate force, the bookshelves fell
on top of each other, each issuing a resounding crash. The last crash faded away and I stood there like a
rock. Dumbstruck, I stood there, surveying the scene.
After some time, I heard a lot of talking and running, and out of the door I had not dared to
venture rushed in five people, one of which later was found to be the sheriff. All of them had similar
pantaloons though each of them looked very different from the next. The first one had a farmer look to him,
a straw hat covered some of his sun-bleached skin. The second and third appeared to be brothers; they both
had barley in their mouths and oversized overalls covered most of their body. The fourth was dressed in
style, he had on a sumptuous frock, wool I believe, overseeing a nice suit underneath. The sheriff was
dressed up as a usual cowhand though he came with the extra shiny star. They too stared at scene for a few
moments and then shook my hand with much gusto. However, upon seeing the dead girl, they stopped.
“What in tarnation-”
“Bless the lord. You did this?”
It was a moment before I found my voice. “Sure,”
It continued like this for a moment, the people asking questions, I answering them. I felt no
obligation to answering them but neither did I feel like hiding anything. I was overwhelmed at that moment
and the people carried me away to the nearby police headquarters, where everything was reiterated. After
that I returned home, with both the money and my ma, pleased to no end.
The money I got from capturing Thurgood was, and forever, will be to me no end of a surprise
but I suppose I could be called one of the luckiest people there probably ever would be at this point in time.
With that money I so coincidentally got, I paid off the debt and was able to retire to my previous farm.
What a rushed turn of events! It was a blur, I still cannot remember everything happen. Even still, I had
much money to fritter away and I frequently found myself thinking of the girl, whom I later found out was
named Jamie. So it was Jamie Hills. The people who went over to the ranch I was taken to had not bothered
to clean it up. After that incident, I had decided her to be an enigma, a strange quandary. Why did she take
me there? Upon revelation of this question, did more open up. What had the Thurgood intended to do with
me in the first place had I not mentioned his real name to him in the first place? Was I meant to have this
money? Did Jamie have a reason for saving me? At first I had attempted to dismiss this topic and address it
as folly. It did not work. The older Hills, who was now in prison, is separated from his daughter, who I
think is dead. That is so because of me. Should I really take this? After all, the old man had seemed to be a
nice fellow in the beginning.
This I pondered for many days. For the past couple days, nature had seemed to darken. The
mountains leaned forward in anticipation. Gloomy there were yes, but in front lay the vast acres of corn and
barley and other crops I had planted in spring, spry, full of life. It was an interesting picture. Two
contradicting forces they were, seemingly pitted against each other. Wind whipped, snarling and howling; I
was still sitting out on the front porch. I was glad I could, heedless of the weather. I could call this home
again.

Presently I saw a looming shadow quickly grown out of the hills to the right. Grey thunderclouds
circled overhead, casting the figure a perpetually dark and mysterious air. It raced along the hills, coming
ever closer and closer. Finally it came into view. My heart stopped.
Jamie Hills was sitting on a jet black horse at the top of the hill. Hair billowing around, slashing
the air, Jamie stared at me, eyes hard as steel, her figure just like a sentinel on the brink of battle. She was
ferocious, and from her I felt a rage, a cold anger seeping into the air. What hate she felt!
“Villain! What folly must have driven me to pity a devil like you!! Mad I must have been, what do
you understand of my father??!!’
My stomach dropped. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Curse you! Curse you ‘til the very last days of your life!!”
She then turned those eyes I would probably never see again, and with a feral shout, bore away on
the wind just as fast as she had come.