Andersonville 13 – Three-finger Jack

By: Kelly Davidson

 

It was a perfect Saturday morning in Peace River. It was warm, but not too warm, and I was out taking a stroll around the town trying to get a feel for everything here. Connie had offered to go with me but I declined, saying I needed some time alone. I hated to admit it, but I was missing my life back in Andersonville.

As I walked past Shady Pine Cemetery, I spotted Ashlee Gang laying some flowers on a grave. She didn’t seem upset, rather the look on her face was comforting, as if she knew the person was in a better place.

"An old friend?" I wondered. My curiosity got the best of me, and I waited behind a tree for her to leave. After saying a short prayer, Ashlee brushed the dirt off her knees and said something to her baby son who was strapped securely in the stroller. With a slight jerk on the handle, she left the cemetery and turned the corner for home.

Once she was out of sight I crossed the street and made my way inside. I was curious to see what had interested her so much. For the first time I noticed Shady Pine was a big place containing thousands of graves, some of them rather old. In fact, the place where Ashlee had been standing held some of the oldest graves there – dating back to the early 1850’s. I had always thought that Peace River wasn’t more then 10 or 20 years old because everything looked so new around here, but the dates on the graves seemed to indicate differently. The one Ashlee had laid the flowers on read:

Samantha Adams

Born – 1832

Died – December 4, 1891

"What the hell is this all about?" I asked out loud.

"Spying on me, Linda?" I heard someone ask. I turned quickly and saw Ashlee standing there with a coy grin on her face.

"Um no, Ashlee. I…um…well you see." She continued to stare at me with a humorous smile while I tried to think up a quick answer. Realizing I had been caught red-handed, I decided to come clean.

"I’m sorry, Ashlee, I guess I am," I confessed with a sigh. "I didn’t mean to spy, but when I saw you placing flowers on this grave, my detective instincts got the best of me."

"That’s right, you were a PI before arriving in Andersonville," she laughed. "I guess that’s different then. I suppose you’re wondering why I would place flowers on the grave of someone I couldn’t have known."

"I’m sure it’s an interesting story," I replied.

"Not really," she said shaking her head. "Compared to others in this place, her story is really pretty bland. Now Dawn Butterfield over there," she pointed to a nearby grave, "that’s a different story. She was the Judge’s lover for a while."

"Judge Jasper?" I asked a little surprised. Then I realized I shouldn’t be. If Officer Deimos could have a crush on me, why couldn’t Judge Jasper feel the same way?

"No," Ashlee laughed. "I meant Judge Herns."

"Oh. So why…" I stopped myself from finishing the question. I had no right to ask why Samantha Adams meant so much to her.

"Why don’t we have a seat Linda, and I’ll tell you all about her," Ashlee offered. There happened to be a stone bench nearby, and we sat down together.

"This place brings out a lot memories. I guess I’m going to have to explain that too," she sighed. "Did you know Linda, that I remember the lives of every resident who has ever lived here?

"You mean the ones who have been transformed since you’ve been here?" I asked. "Well sure, I remember the ones in Andersonville too; before and after they arrived."

"That’s not what I mean," she shook her head. "I can remember every life of every resident who has ever lived in Peace River. You see, when I first started this job, Judge Jasper transfer all the memories from his previous secretary into me. So I remember all the past and present residents, including their lives before coming to Peace River and how they handled their transformation afterwards. Some, I might add, were most tragic. Others are pleasant to remember, like reading a fairy tale with a happy ending. That’s the way most of them end anyway."

"And Samantha Adams, was that a happy ending?"

"In a way," Ashlee told me with a slight frown. "You see she was the first person to be changed in Peace River. Of course, it was a very different place back then. For starters, there wasn’t a river around the town."

"How did they keep people from leaving?" I asked.

"I’ll get to that. As for Samantha, her real name was Jack Houston, but most people referred to him by his nickname, three-finger Jack. He was a notorious outlaw back then. He killed five men over mild arguments before Judge Jasper got his hands on him. In fact, he was riding away from one such killing when he found his way into Peace River. Well, Jack didn’t actually stumbled in here, he had help. Perhaps it would be better if I showed you what I mean."

"Can you do that? I mean, are you strong enough yet?" I was concerned that Ashlee may try to push herself too hard before she was ready. If she got hurt, I could end up staying longer then 6 months in Peace River. Not that it had been an unpleasant experience so far.

"I’ll need to take a nap after we’re done, but I’ll be okay," she assured me. "Now, grab my hands and watch."

I did as she said, and everything started to change around us.

Fade out…

**********************************

Voice of Judge Jasper: We are the Roman gods, who fell to your world long ago when your people were still learning how to crawl. We have guided you through the years, rewarded you for good deeds, and punished you when needed. With our leadership, we helped you defeat the Titans in a terrible but glorious war. Once your path was set, we went to sleep, waiting for the day you would reach for the stars and take us home. But the Titans interfered, and turned you away from your destiny. When we awoke, we found much work to do; so we established a base and called it Peace River.

The Titans, with our help, established their own base later on. It’s a town where we can work together, a last ditch effort to avoid another war that may destroy the human race forever. Some would like to see the town and your people destroyed, others would like to see it work – to have peace at last. There is much hatred between our people, and the road ahead won’t be easy but the rewards if we do are great. The name of this last chance for peace is called Andersonville.

**********************************

Andersonville 13 – Three-finger Jack

Written by Kelly Davidson

Edited by Treasach Klawes and Sam Vincent

This story is dedicated to the staff and volunteers of Fictionmania, who do some much for so many. Thank you for all your hard work and time. You make it all worth wild.

Fade in…

I was riding at a steady pace over the rocky path that ran between the trees. It was starting to get dark already, and soon I would have to decide whether to press on or find a place to camp for the night. The latter was not too appealing at the moment. I was still at least another day’s ride from where I wanted to be, and I was sure the posse chasing me was only hours behind. Of course if I was lucky, they had taken the bait and were chasing after my brothers who were heading south. But something inside told me I needed to keep riding if I didn’t want to end up on the end of a hangman’s noose.

The incident that led to my current situation had started off innocently enough. I stopped at a small town with my two brothers for a bath, a meal, and a chance to test my luck at the local gambling house. There I had met another man, a local resident who was long on credit but lousy at cards. In just over an hour I had relieved him of close to $200 playing five-card stud. His luck didn’t get any better as the stakes were raised, and after one high handed round which he lost badly, he threw his cards down on the table in anger and disgust. That’s when he made his first mistake; he called me a dirty cheat.

Normally that would’ve caused me to go for my gun, but I held my temper in check. The last thing I needed was any trouble from the law for shooting some sore loser. I reached for my money to leave when he made his second mistake; he slammed his hand on top of my hand and called me a rotten coward.

I angrily pushed his hand away and that’s when he made his third, and final mistake, he went for his gun. The man was already dead by the time his hand reached his gun handle. I gathered up all my money and made my way back to the motel room, figuring it was self-defense and the sheriff would see it the same way. But I quickly found out that the man I shot owned a mine outside of town, and his business partners weren’t very happy about him being dead. Witnesses were paid off before the sheriff arrived, and suddenly my action was no longer self-defense anymore; it was murder. After I was arrested, a lynch mob quickly formed outside my cell.

 

My brothers, upon hearing the news, formed a plan of their own and broke me out of jail. After a day’s ride they went off in a different direction, hoping to lead them away from me. We made plans before parting to meet at a small town up north.

So here I was, riding alone in a part of the country I had never been to before, determined to beat death. That’s when I ran into this peddler sitting on the side of the road. He was a tall and skinny man riding in a wooden wagon being pulled by a team of brown and white horses. He had a smile on his face, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was more like a predator eyeing his prey.

"Good afternoon," he called out. "Where are you heading to?"

"California," I lied.

"Aww yes, the gold," he grinned with perfect white teeth. "I hear its all been panned out though. Seems a shame to waste a trip out there when so many other opportunities are close by."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like lumbering for one. There’s a new mill about 10 miles north of here, near the town of Peace River."

"Never heard of it," I replied coldly.

"Neither has anyone else," the thin man grinned knowingly. "The town just started up less than a month ago and they’re desperate for people. I’m on my way there right now. Care to join me?"

The offer was appealing. I had been riding my horse hard for two straight days and we both needed a rest. Plus, if this town was as isolated as the peddler said, they most likely hadn’t heard the news about my shooting. It was an idea place to rest for the night.

 

"Why not. I got nothing else waiting for me in California."

"Great," the man grinned again. "My name is Mark Merrick."

"Jack," was all I told him.

"Okay Jack," he said with one of those smiles that indicated there was more to this meeting then met the eye. "By the way, what happened to your hand?"

"That’s none of your damn business!" I growled while clutching the reins of my house with the three fingers of my left hand. I had lost two of my fingers helping my brothers chop wood one day. The oldest was swinging an ax and had missed his mark. Instead of hitting the log, he had struck my hand by mistake, chopping two of my fingers off. I was only five at the time it happened. Even though I had forgiven my brother long ago, he had never forgiven himself.

"Sorry," the peddler said still grinning. "I didn’t mean to pry into your business."

"And what’s your business, Mr. Merrick?" I demanded to know.

"Food supplies, pots and pans, things of that nature. Whatever people need, I supply it to them. One time I hauled about twenty sheep in my wagon. Talk about a smell!"

"I can imagine," I responded back with little interest. Personally, I thought it was a stupid way to make a living – being a slave to the whims of other people. "Seems like a risky venture to me, trying to sell stuff to people who may not buy what you have."

"Oh, I don’t know," the peddler countered. "It’s not as risky as say, gambling. One thing you can count on about people, they have to eat."

"I’ll take my chances at the table," I answered in a low snarl. The skinny peddler was really starting to annoy me. He simply nodded at my comment and we rode the rest of the way to Peace River in silence.

When I laid eyes on the town I was taken back a little. For just starting up, the town certainly looked big. Peace River had two saloons, a three-story hotel, a large white church, and at least 20 separate, two-story buildings for businesses. Then there was the large, impressive courthouse sitting in the middle of everything. I noticed the courthouse was made of stone and marble, not lumber. It easily stood out among everything else around it. Even the hotel didn’t come close to the courthouse in style or design, although it was a fancier building than most hotels I had visited. For a town this size, the courthouse was a definite overkill. It must’ve cost as much to build the courthouse as all the other buildings combine.

"I see you spotted the courthouse," the peddler grinned. "Impressive, isn’t it. The founding fathers think Peace River is going to grow and they wanted to build for the future."

"I’m surprise it didn’t bankrupt the town in the process," I shot back. "Who was the donkey’s ass who thought up that idea?"

"The magistrate of this town, Judge Jasper. By the way, there’s a no gun law in Peace River. You’ll need to drop your gun belt off first at the sheriff’s office."

"Stupid law," I commented. "We’ll see about that."

"Suit yourself, stranger. I’ll be seeing you later, I’m sure." The peddler jerked on the reins of the horses and headed off down the dusty street.

As I watched him go, I realized there was something very annoying about that man. He was too confident for a simple peddler. Such confidence, without the skill to handle a gun to back you up, could get you killed. Well, that wasn’t my problem. If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was handle a gun.

I boarded my horse at a nearby stable and strolled fearlessly down the wooden sidewalk to the closest saloon. I was figuring to wet my whistle and maybe even get in a card game before going to bed. I found that playing cards always helped me relax, especially when I won – which was usually the case. I was a natural card player.

Along the way I passed several people and observed something strange; everyone looked clean. What I mean by that was, everyone seemed to be wearing clothes that looked brand new, like they had just bought them at the store. The women in particular were dressed nicely, wearing dresses that were much finer then most women wore to church. I had been to New York City a few years ago, when I had had a silly dream of joining the merchant marines and sailing the open sea. I had seen how women dressed there as oppose to women out here in the west, and it was like being back in New York City again without the tall buildings. In fact, quite a few of the ladies were dressed as southern belles, wearing fine silk dresses with bellowing skirts. It made everything here look so out of place for a western town.

I strutted into the saloon and made my way up to the bar, checking out the few people who were there. They all looked harmless enough, dressed in their Sunday best even though it was only a Thursday night. A few of them smiled at me, only it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was more like that of someone who was part of an inside joke. I brushed the feeling off. I could handle any trouble that came my way.

"Whiskey!" I demanded in a rude demeanor. The bartender eyed my gun, smiled, and poured me a drink from a bottle.

"You’re new in town," he said while pouring me a second drink, after I had gulped the first shot down in one swallow.

"Just passing through," I replied trying to brush him off. I hated talkative bartenders; they should know their place in life. Their job was to pour drinks and keep quiet!

"I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning," I informed him.

"I’m afraid you’ll be with us a little bit longer," I heard a gruff voice behind me say. I turned and saw an incredibly menacing man standing there wearing a badge. This could only be the sheriff of Peace River. Sitting next to him was the peddler I had ridden in with earlier. He was leaning back in a chair with a smile on his face that was just begging to be wiped off.

"We have a no gun law in this town, mister. You’re in violation of that ordinance. You’ll have to see the judge in the morning." The sheriff said it in a way that left no room for argument.

"I tried to tell him, Sheriff," the peddler explained with amusement in his voice. "I told you we’d find him here."

"You damn Judas," I growled at him.

"I want your gun…NOW!" the sheriff demanded.

"You can have my gun when you pry it out of my cold, dead fingers, you tin-plated lawman!" I snared back. Sure, this sheriff was tall and menacing. However, I had found out long ago that bigger, muscular men were slower on the draw than skinner ones; and a bullet to the head would stop him just as fast as anyone else. I stood up from my stool and got ready to draw my gun.

"You’re making a big mistake, mister," the bartender whispered to me. "Sheriff Mars isn’t like anyone else you’ve ever faced before."

"He’s never faced anyone like me before," I replied back in a loud, intimidating voice that everyone could hear. "You have no idea who you’re facing, Sheriff."

"Sure he does," the peddler interjected. "Three-finger Jack, credited with killing five men. Also a chronic bed wetter until you were nine years old." There was a round of snickering around the room.

"You lying son of a bitch," I spat. "I swear, after I’m done with Sheriff Mars here, I’ll shoot you where you sit."

Mark Merrick blinked hard then grinned even wider. "I’d like to see you try, Jack!"

"So would I, Merrick" Sheriff Mars agreed staunchly. Then much to my surprise he added, "Go ahead Jack! Try and shoot him down."

"So you can shoot me down while I’m taking target practice at him? No thanks, Sheriff. I’ll wait until after you’re on the floor to deal with him."

Sheriff Mars chuckled slightly, and I felt a little unnerved by his calmness. What he did next shook me up even more. He took off his gun belt and threw it on the table in front of the peddler.

"There, now you have no excuses," he said firmly. "And I’ll sweeten the pot. If you can shoot Mr. Merrick, I’ll let you ride out of town tomorrow morning a free man. Otherwise, you’ll be our guest here for a bit longer."

I looked at the sheriff who had a stone look on his face, then at the peddler, Mark Merrick, who was smiling as if this were some sort of game we were playing. Surely he wasn’t that stupid to think he could outrun a bullet.

"I won’t shot an unarmed man, Sheriff. I live by a code."

"Mark, go for the gun," Sheriff Mars suggested.

"If I did, this coward would only pee his pants in fright," the peddler sneered.

I felt my anger rise up from my gut, and by reaction I went for my gun. The strange thing is, the peddler never made a move for the gun on the table. Well, if he was that stupid.

I yanked my gun out of its holster and aimed right between his eyes. Out of reaction I pulled the trigger. That’s when the peddler just disappeared. The bullet went past where he should’ve been sitting and crashed into the wall.

"You missed!" I heard him call out. I turned and was shock to see him standing at the other end of the bar.

"How the hell did you do that?" I cursed. I aimed and fired again. The results were the same as before. The moment I pulled the trigger he was gone. Sheriff Mars just stood there watching the action with a tight grin.

"Over here," the peddler called out from the opposite corner of where he had once been. I fired at him again, and once more my target was standing someplace else before the bullet had even left its chamber.

"What the hell is going on here?" I roared. It had to be done with mirrors or something. There was no way this man could move so fast.

"Stand still so I can shoot you," I demanded in rage. He laughed at my suggestion, which only cause me to get angrier and raise my desire to kill him even more. I fired off my remaining shots, but he was simply standing one foot over from where the bullets struck. It was impossible; I was a crack shot. There was no way I could’ve missed him from this distance.

"Give up," the peddler said smugly. He had a grin from ear to ear as he walked towards me.

I let out a yell and rushed at him with all my might. The peddler simply stepped out of the way at the last moment, and I fell onto a table that busted in half. I got up off the floor and this time approached him more cautiously. Once I got close enough, I took a swing at his jaw with my left hand. The only problem was, when my fist got to where he was standing he was no longer there. I had put my full weight into the punch and instead of being rewarded with a solid smack; I ended up hitting air. The result was that I tumbled onto another table that broke and I hit the floor even harder then the time before. The peddler let out a hearty laugh as he leaned against the bar and watched me struggle to get back to my feet.

"I can end this anytime you’re ready," the sheriff commented.

I ignored his suggested and made my way up to where the peddler now stood. This time I made sure he was no more than three feet away before I rushed him. The impact wouldn’t be as effective but I wasn’t worried about that. If I could get my hands around his neck I was sure I could snap it before he knew what happened. I made my move; this time with both arms extended in order to grab him in case he tried to sidestep me again. This time he simply out-smarted me, dunking underneath my arm when I rushed forward. I slammed into the wooden bar and felt one of my ribs crack. Before I even had a chance to yell out in pain, I felt a swift blow between my shoulder blades and fell to the floor.

As I was lying there losing consciousness, I heard the peddler say; "These American cowboys aren’t very bright, are they? I think this proves I could be a lawman."

"You’re such a showoff, Merrick," I heard the sheriff smugly reply back. "You always have been, even when you were young. Besides, commerce is your expertise, not mine."

"I’m tired of selling useless junk all the time. I’m going to asked father if I can be reassigned, at least on a part time basis."

"I already have enough deputies as it is," the sheriff objected, "I don’t need any more help. And who’s going to clean up this mess?"

I didn’t hear the reply – I blacked out.

*********************************

Sometime later I was awaken by the cool touch of a towel lying on my forehead. I opened up my eyes but was blinded by the morning light shinning in through the window. I cursed loudly, and tried to sit up but found myself too weak to do so.

"Take it easy," someone said as a pair of warm hands, definitely female, firmly held me down. "You need to take a few minutes to gather your strength before trying to sit up. I made you some breakfast. It’s only mush, but it’s very good."

"Who are you?" I asked slowly while focusing my eyes on the loveliest angel I had ever seen. She was petite, with curly brown hair and an angelic face. The woman was wearing a silk, green dress with white lace on the sleeves and collar. It was the type of outfit you would expect a woman to wear to a fancy ball. She smiled sweetly and lifted the spoon up to my mouth.

"Where am I?" I asked after taking a bite of the mush. It tasted surprisingly good.

"You’re in the Peace River hotel, and there’s a deputy waiting outside the door in case you get any ideas. You were in pretty bad shape when the sheriff brought you here, but I fixed most of your cuts and bruises with salve. In a few days your wounds should be completely healed."

"Thank you…Miss?"

She smiled and said, "Call me Terry."

"Terry," I smiled slightly while taking another bite of the mush. "An unusual name for such a beautiful girl. Do you always give your guests such service?"

"Only when needed," she explained while feeding me another spoonful. "I’m a helper here."

"A helper? What does that mean?"

"You’ll find out soon enough," she giggled slightly. "The Judge has assigned me to you. It’s an honor my father bestowed on me for all my hard work in the past. I’m to take care of our first guest in our town. My other sisters are very jealous of me."

"Well, I like the treatment so far," I replied coyly, trying to win her affections. "Your offer to stay here and have you serve me is tempting, but I really need to leave this place."

"I’m afraid," she answered while shoving the last of the mush into my month, "the Judge won’t allow that. You see, he wants to meet with you very badly."

"I’m sure he does, but I don’t want to meet with him. Look Terry, you seem like a pretty levelheaded girl. Help me leave and I’ll take you with me. I’ll show you places that’ll make you forget about this backwater town. I know you like me, I can see it in your eyes."

I was moving pretty fast but she seemed like a naive little girl who could be easily swayed. I didn’t find out until later that it was I who was in fact naïve.

"What do you want me to do?" she smiled willingly.

"Get my horse and bring it out front. You can meet me later at the fork south of here."

"Deputy Phobos," she called out.

The door opened, and a clean-shaven man about 19 years old entered into the room. Like Terry, he was too nicely dressed for the occasion, wearing a clean, spotless shirt and a pair of shinny boots that looked like they had been purchased less than 15 minutes before. His face was rough looking and quite intimidating. I found myself becoming a little fearful of his presence.

"I’m sorry Jack, but there’ll be no horse waiting out front until after you see the Judge. We’ll talk later." She giggled slightly as she gathered up her skirts and left the room.

"You stink!" The deputy stated directly while tossing me a long robe that was lying on a chair. That’s when I noticed someone had removed my clothes and I was completely naked. "You’re going to need a bath before you can see Judge Jasper. Follow me."

He led me downstairs and out the back to a large building. There was a chimney next to the building with smoke coming out of it. Inside I found a stone basin large enough to hold three men. It was filled with hot water."

"Take off your robe and get in," the deputy commanded with authority. I did as he ordered, and watched the dirt flow off my body as I sat down.

"Here, try this soap."

Deputy Phobos tossed me something white about the size of a deck of cards. This stuff he called soap was nothing like I had seen before. It was a small, square block of clay-like substance that didn’t bend or break in my hands. I sniffed at it carefully and noticed it smell kind of sweet. I took a small bite and spat it out.

"What are you doing?" The deputy yelled out in shock.

"You told me to try it, and it tastes like horse shit," I cursed angrily. "What the hell is this poison."

"You’re suppose to rub it over your body, not eat it" he explained. Then he added under his breath, "Uncivilized human."

"If only I had my gun," I told myself, while wondering if it would’ve done any good. As I rubbed the bar of soap up and down my arm white foam and bubbles began to appear. I found the dirt that had been build up on my body over the past month came off much easier then just splashing water at it. I even smelled cleaner. I continued to wash my entire body under the watchful eye of Deputy Phobos.

 

When I was done, the deputy escorted me to another room where a pile of fresh clothes was waiting for me. He ordered me to put them on. Much to my surprise, everything fit perfectly. After I was dressed, I was taken to the courthouse and placed in the front of the room. Deputy Phobos walked over to the Judge’s bench, but never took his piercing eyes off me. A few minutes later Sheriff Mars walked in with the peddler, Mark Merrick. Another man, a preacher, also joined us.

"Well old Jack," I said to myself, "you’re in trouble now. They have a judge to pronounce your guilt, a sheriff and deputy to carry out the sentence, and a preacher man to give you your last rights. All they need now is the mob to witness your hanging."

No sooner had I finished saying that to myself than a group of about 25 people started shuffling in. They took a seat in the spectator’s section. I stared at them with a mean scowl, but each one just smiled back at me. It was the oddest thing I had ever seen.

The sound of a door squeaking open caused me to look forward again. A man walked into the courtroom and up to the bench. Even if he hadn’t been wearing a black robe his presence screamed out the word ‘Judge’. He stood well over 6 foot, had slightly graying hair, and a thick but well-groomed beard.

He took a seat on the bench then turned to the deputy and said, "Make sure someone fixes that door so it doesn’t squeak anymore." He then picked up his gavel and pounded it three times.

"This court is now in session," he announced. "Jack Houston, you have been found guilty of your crimes. It is our intention …"

"Wait a minute!" I yelled out in protest. "That’s not proper procedure. Ain’t you going to read the charges?"

"How about bad grammar for starters?" the Judge replied while looking over the glasses he wore. "Didn’t your mother ever tell you that the word "ain’t" isn’t a word?"

"My ma died when I was 8 – and what’s this all about?"

"This is your trial," the Judge said with a sigh. "You’ll have to forgive me, I’m a little new to your judicial system. I was hoping we could forgo some of the formalities it contains."

"Are you even qualified to be a judge?" I questioned accusingly.

"I’m more qualified then you can ever know," he stated dryly. "As for your charges, let me see what we have here." He shuffled through some papers and looked at each one carefully. "I see you’ve murdered five men, Mr. Houston."

"That was in self-defense," I argued. "Everyone of them drew their guns first, as stated by the witnesses."

"Yes, so I see," he responded while still looking at the reports. "However, a couple of them were provoked to draw."

"They still drew first," I argued. "And when someone insults me, I let my gun do the talking."

"Is that so," the Judge bellowed. "Well in this town, Mr. Houston, things are a little different. We have order here, without the need for violence that you’re accustomed too. However, those previous killings are not what you’re being charged with."

"Then what am I here for?" I snarled in a demanding tone.

"Violating our gun law – that’s a five dollar fine. And you’re ordered to pay for the tables you damaged. Mr. Bacchus, do you have a bill for the tables."

"Right here, Your Honor." He handed it to Deputy Phobos, who forwarded it to the judge. Judge Jasper looked at the bill and nodded.

"Two tables at $3.50 a piece for a total of seven dollars. Add the five-dollar fine and that comes to $12.00. Do you wish to pay the fine, Mr. Houston, or serve a lengthy sentence here in Peace River?"

I laughed out loud. Here I thought I was in real trouble; maybe even being brought up on murder charges. Instead I was going to be released with a twelve-dollar fine. I reached for my money purse and counted out ten dollars in coins. Two dollars short – well, no matter. I had over $400 in bills and coins in my saddlebag.

"I’ll pay the fine, Your Honor. I just need the money that’s in my saddlebag."

"Where is this saddlebag?" the Judge demanded to know.

"Right here, Your Honor," Sheriff Mars said and held it up.

"Let me have it so I can pay my fine and be on my way," I demanded.

"You’re not getting any of your stuff back until you pay the fine," Judge Jasper interjected on the sheriff’s behalf.

"But my money is in that pack," I tried to explain.

"Which you won’t get back until you pay the fine," he stated firmly.

"But I can’t pay the fine without the money in my pack!" I shot back in an angry tone.

"Then I guess you’ll be serving that long sentence after all," Judge Jasper answered with a thin smile. "Mr. Houston, I sentence you to life in our town." He slammed his gavel down to make his decision final, then slowly raised his hands and started to mumble something under his breath.

The rest of the room got deadly quiet, and I stood there bewildered over the Judge’s actions. What the hell was going on here? Suddenly I spotted a blue ball of light rising from his hand. It looked like a glowing sun and was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was also one of the strangest things I had ever seen, and I was a little frightened at what its purpose was suppose to be.

The judge opened up his eyes and the ball of light suddenly shot from his hands like a bullet from a gun. It came right at me and hit me in the middle of my chest. While I didn’t actually feel the impact, my body took a few steps back as if it had. Suddenly my insides became alive with a tingling sensation that started in my chest and moved throughout my body. I tried to scream, but found myself unable to do so. That’s when the first changes started. I was a tall man, about 6’2", and I found myself shrinking rapidly.

As a got smaller, other changes began to happen. I could feel my arms get narrower, and a sudden burst of energy produced two mounds that started to rise from my chest like mountains from the sea. My undershirt changed into something tight and constricting, as it wrapped itself around the upper part of my body. I felt something pulling from the top of my head and discovered it was long, curly hair that rushed over my shoulders. Suddenly my new hair shot upward and worked its way into a tight bun.

Around my legs something smooth and silky encircle my groin, and I cursed at the delicate feel of whatever it was. My shirt and pants merged together, then transformed into a light blue dress with a white flower print. The skirt of the dress then started to bellow outward as layer upon layer of lacy petticoats pushed out from underneath.

My hat, which I had failed to take off in front of the judge, changed into a bonnet of similar design to what the dress was, and had white lace around the opening. A ribbon grew out from the bonnet and neatly tied itself into a knot underneath my chin. My old boots, all scuffed and worn, disappeared into a pair of dainty, woman shoes.

The tingling sensation began to subside but before it did, I felt a slight tugging on my manhood that seemed to be pulled up inside my body. The effect sent a sexual sensation throughout my body, and caused me to shiver in excitement. Then everything went back to normal.

"What…what’s happening?" I asked almost out of breath. I held the skirt of the dress out in front of me in bewilderment. How could I be dressed in such a feminine outfit? Then I realized it was a female voice that had asked the question, not my own rough, manly voice. I gasped in wonder when I looked at my left hand; it had five fingers again.

"Why am I dressed like this?" I asked in disbelief.

"How else would a proper, young lady your age be dressed?" Judge Jasper replied with a smirk.

"Lady?" I shirked in a high, female voice as if I had just seen a mouse. "But…but, I’m a man!"

"What do you want me to do with this?" Sheriff Mars interrupted while holding up my saddlebag.

"Since Mr. Houston is no longer around, I suggest you give it to Mr. Merrick to add to our city coffers. I’m sure he’ll find something useful to do with it."

"THAT’S MY MONEY!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

"Not any more," Judge Jasper replied calmly as he stood up. "Terry, please take Miss Cunningham back to her hotel room and go over what she needs to know."

As Judge Jasper started to leave I grew even angrier with him. How dare he do this to me! Dressing me up in woman’s clothes was one thing, but stealing my hard earn money was another matter. If I only had my gun, I would teach them all a lesson.

"I’m not leaving without my money, you black-robe coward. You’re a thief, ALL OF YOU! I’ll…"

I suddenly found myself choking, as if someone had a hold on my throat. When I looked up at the Judge, he was standing there holding out his right hand with a satisfied smile. The others watched with dispassionate looks on their faces.

"This outburst is not what I expect from a woman of your upbringing, Miss Cunningham," he stated forcefully. "I suspect you’ll be a lot more careful from now on concerning who you call a thief around here. You stole the lives of five men. Don’t bother complaining to me about some worthless metal and paper you call money. In time, you’ll find things much more important to you than your pride and money. In time, you’ll act like the proper, young lady that you now are." Then he added carefully, "Just don’t take too long learning how."

He released his grip and I fell to my knees holding my throat. The rest of the crowd slowly shuffled out of the courtroom except for Terry. She ran over and put her arm around me.

"That was very foolish," she said in a low voice. "Don’t you ever do or say anything like that again to upset him, otherwise he may not let go. Do you understand me?"

I nodded my head and she continued. "Let me help you back to your hotel room. There’s a lot we need to go over before your meeting with Reverend Cupler."

She placed her arm around my waist and slowly lifted me off the ground with little effort. For a small girl she was incredibly strong. I continued to gasp for air as we walked over to my hotel room and she helped me up the stairs. It was only after we were in my room that I had the strength to talk again.

"What’s going on?" I demanded to know rather forcefully. "Who are you and what is this place?"

"I suggest," she said firmly in a tone that made me listen, "you change your tone from one that’s rude and demanding to one that is more civilized."

"The hell with what you want! I want to know…" I suddenly found myself choking again, only this time I suspected it was Terry and not the Judge causing it to happen. The grip around my throat wasn’t as strong as before, but it was still tight enough to stop me from breathing. After a few moments the pressure disappeared and I was able to breathe again.

"We can do it your way or my way," she said clearly and calmly. "My way is much less painful. All you have to do is treat me with the same respect you want to be treated with. I don’t believe you want me to be rude and demanding to you. Now, ask the question again when you’re ready – this time, the right way."

"Who are you?" I repeated more politely.

"See, that wasn’t so hard," she smiled sweetly. "I’m Terry, your guide here at Peace River. You’ve been given the honor to live the rest of your life out in our little town. I’m here to help you be happy and fulfill that honor."

"But I don’t want to live the rest of my life here, and why am I wearing girls clothes?"

"As for living here from now on, you really don’t have a choice in the matter. As for why you’re dressed the way you are, that’s a rather silly question. This is how all young ladies your age dress now days."

"BUT I’M NOT…" Terry gave me a warning glare that caused me to cringe in fear, and lower my voice. "But I’m not a girl! What is this, padding?" I began to touch the dress around the area where my breasts were.

"Does it feel like padding?" she smiled.

I had to admit, it didn’t. It felt like regular skin, and the more I touched them, the more a strange, sexual feeling rushed throughout my body.

"But they can’t be real!" I insisted. "First of all, I’m a man. Second of all, I still have the member to prove it."

"Are you sure?" she giggled.

A horrified look appeared on my face as I realized that I couldn’t feel it anymore. Perhaps it was all that padding surrounded my body. I wanted to find out, but did I dare try with her standing there?

"It’s okay," she reassured me as if she could read my thoughts. "I think feeling the truth, if you will excuse the expression, first hand, will help you accept what has happened. Go ahead, I’ll wait."

I gathered up my skirt and petticoats with one hand, which wasn’t an easy thing to do, and reached down with the other. My fingers brushed against the silk stockings, and then the equally silky underwear I was now wearing. I gasped in horror when I got there. Where I should have found something was now a void.

"NO!" I screamed while pulling my hand away. "He couldn’t have done that to me. It’s not possible!"

"In Peace River, everything is possible," Terry stated firmly.

"Who are you?" I asked in fright.

"I already told you," she replied back calmly.

"But who are you?" I repeated the question.

"Like I said before, I’m Terry, your helper and guide here in Peace River."

"BUT WHO ARE YOU?"

"I believe what you really want to know is, what am I? You must realize by now that I’m not like you, at least not in the regular sense. The answer to that question, I’m afraid, is something I can’t tell you."

I started to cry, partly out of being turned into a girl but mostly out of my own frustration of not being able to threaten or fight my way out of this situation. This couldn’t be happening to me; I didn’t want it to happen to me. Terry sat down and put her arm around me.

"It’s okay Samantha, it’ll get better, I promise. You’re going to have a wonderful life here in Peace River. It’s not so bad here."

"You called me…Samantha," I sniffed.

"Of course I did," she smiled while pushing the hair out of my eyes. "That’s your name now. I didn’t have time to tell you that before, but now that you know the truth, you can accept what has happened to you and move on."

"I’LL NEVER ACCEPT WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME!" I screamed out in a hysterical, high-pitch tone. "NEVER! Do you understand?" I started crying again.

"I hear you, but I don’t believe you," she replied while reasserting her position. "We’ll help you, Samantha. We want you to be happy."

"Then change me back and let me go."

She shook her head slowly and smiled. "That isn’t going to happen my dear. You see, we need you for our project. Remember the story in the Bible about the cornerstone that the other builders rejected? Well, that’s what you are to us. You’re the cornerstone that we’re going to build our town with – the stone that the rest of the world has rejected. You’re our future, Samantha! You should be honored to be the first one selected."

"Let me go!" I sobbed. "Just let me go."

"There, there now," Terry said while pulling my head to her chest. Her breasts felt so warm and comforting; and she gently started rocking me in her arms while patting me softly on the back. "Have a good cry and get it all out, Samantha, you’ll feel better afterwards."

I started balling my eyes out, feeling both embarrassed by my actions and also relieved at the same time. Each tear seemed to release a little bit of the stress, fear, and anxiety I was feeling inside. My captor continued to hug me tightly, and I began to feel a bonding towards her.

"I’ll be your rock, Samantha," she whispered in my ear. "You won’t have to face your new life alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way."

The words struck a chord with me, and I slowly found my fear and anger towards Terry disappearing, being replaced by a sense of love and security. I felt like a little girl being comforted by her worldly mother, who knew the pains and heartaches her daughter would have to face, and who was going to do everything she could to make them as painless as possible. Somehow I knew everything would be all right.

******************************

The rest of my morning was spent going over the many rules that I was expected to follow. The most important, I learned, was not to try and leave town. Terry told me if I did try, Judge Jasper would be most displeased with my actions. In time I may be allowed to venture outside the town to a nearby lake in the company of a male escort, or even to Peace River that flowed nearby. For now, however, I had to stay within the city limits.

There were many other things I learned, like how to act like a proper young lady, especially around men. There was a code I had to live up to; I was to be pure and proper due to my position. Terry told me I was to hold a very important job in Peace River, although she wouldn’t tell me what it was. That would have to wait until Monday, when I met with Judge Jasper again. After a quick lunch at the hotel, Terry ushered me outside and down the street.

"You’re going to love this, Samantha," she exclaimed as we went into a store that had the sign, "Vickie’s Emporium" over the door. There I was greeted by one of the loveliest women I had ever seen. She gracefully lifted up the skirt of her pink, southern belle dress and sashayed over to us with a smile that could’ve melted the hardest heart.

"Welcome Miss Terry; Miss Samantha," she greeted us with an inviting, southern accent. "What can I do for y’all today?"

Terry giggled and said, "As you know Vickie, Samantha is new here. I’ve been assigned to teach her everything she needs to know about being a proper, young woman."

"And what a fine job y’all been doing, Terry," she complimented her with a heartbreaking smile. "But I understand there is a tiny little problem."

"That’s right, Vickie. First of all, Samantha needs a complete wardrobe and second, she needs to learn about the many different things women wear now days."

"Yes, I understand," she replied with a southern twang. "I was just checking over your records, Miss Samantha, and it shows you have a credit line of $125. Mr. Merrick was so kind as to drop the money off here an hour ago. As you can see, we have a large selection of dresses and petticoats to fit your every need."

I felt nervous, even a little sick, at the thought of wasting good gambling money on girly clothes for myself. "I’m not really sure what I need," I told her.

"Well," Vickie smiled, "that’s were I come in."

The southern belle grabbed my arm and firmly pulled me over to a wooden cabinet. She turned the knob and opened the doors for me to see inside. It was filled with all sorts of silky, lacey things nicely stacked on top of each other.

"Why don’t we start with some pretty undies," she declared. "I didn’t think to ask…are you married, Samantha?"

"Not yet," Terry replied for me with a wink. I cringed a little at the thought. What would it be like going to bed with a man as his bride? The idea scared the hell out of me, more so than being in this town surrounded by all these strange people.

"Well, I guess we can go with something a little plainer for now," Vickie grinned. "But watch out Samantha, I’ll whip ya up something special for your wedding night."

The two ladies laughed, and I joined in, but mostly out of panic and not knowing what else to do. I was beginning to think everyone in Peace River was crazy. Suddenly a man’s voice dominated the room.

"What’s so funny, ladies?"

He was a tall, hansom man with a nice build wearing a ten-gallon cowboy hat. The boots he wore must’ve cost well over $50, and his clothes looked equally expensive. The man looked like a picture perfect cowboy, and his smile was sure to break more than a few hearts. Both ladies frowned at him.

"It’s a female joke, you wouldn’t understand, Gerald," Vickie said somewhat sternly. "What do you need?"

"My father wanted me to give this to you." He grinned at me like a hunger cat eyeing a mouse while handing Vickie a brown package. "And who is this lovely lady?"

Terry stepped in front of me and said, "She’s my special project, Gerald…and don’t you try to ruin it for me."

"Why Terry, I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. Now step aside so I can meet her."

Suddenly Terry was jerked off to one side as if she had been pushed. That’s when the delicate, southern charm of Vickie Mars disappeared, and she stepped up to take Terry’s place.

"Don’t try that stunt with me, Gerald," she threatened with a wicked glare. "If you do, not only will I make you wish you hadn’t, but I’ll let your father know about it as well. You know what kind of charm I have over him."

"Wouldn’t you like to try some of that charm on me?" he grinned. "I’m younger and much more willing."

"You’re also the biggest maco around. One step above the Titans – barely."

"Oh, that hurt, Vickie," he smiled. "Do you talk like that to the sheriff when you’re alone?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know," she almost snarled with contempt. "Your father should’ve kept you in stasis with the others until it was time. Now apologize to Terry and get out of my store before I lose my temper."

He grinned at my helper and said, "See you later, Terry." Then he turned and walked out of the store, his spurs digging into the floor as he left.

"Stupid maco," Vickie swore under her breath. At least it sounded like she was cussing even though it wasn’t a four-letter word I had heard before. Then her foul mood turned back into the sweet disposition she held before Gerald walked in, as did her southern twang. "Well, let’s not let that unpleasant moment ruin our afternoon. Shall we, ladies."

"Who was that?" I asked.

"His name is Gerald Rogers, and trust me Samantha, he’s not someone you want to get involved with," Terry replied.

My mind was spinning from the encounter. I knew Gerald was one of those people by the way he had pushed Terry aside without actually touching her. Up until now, I had suspected that these people were working together toward a common goal in harmony, but Gerald proved that wasn’t so. So would it be possible to enlist some of these disgruntled servants to get me out of here?

I looked back at Vickie who was pulling out some lacy things from a pile. The thought of learning how to dress like a woman was starting to overwhelm me. The idea of wearing those silky under-things against my body was frightening. What petrified me even more was the thought of wearing these things and not having it bother me anymore – maybe even enjoying it.

"Perhaps we should do this another time," I suggested while placing my hand to my head and feeling a little faint. I wasn’t faking; I felt so light-headed all of the sudden. Vickie and Terry each grabbed an arm and sat me down in a chair.

"It must be from the transformation," Vickie told Terry while getting me a glass of water. "It must have depleted her energy level. Just rest for a moment Samantha, you’ll feel better soon."

"I’m so tired all of a sudden."

"We know, dear," said Terry. "I know you feel like going to sleep, but we really need to finish what we’re doing first. Otherwise, you won’t know what to do when you wake up tomorrow."

"The water will help," Vickie said handing me the cup. "I put an energy pill in it."

"A what?" I asked while taking a drink. Suddenly I felt a surge of renewed energy within me.

"It’s something to give you extra energy for the next couple of hours. You’ll sleep good tonight."

"I wish there was a way we could give them the knowledge to know what to do." Terry suggested.

"Maybe there is," Vickie pointed out. "We should be able to put the knowledge of how to do certain things into the transformation process. All we have to do is create a special program for the computer."

‘Com-pu-ter? Pro-gram?’ The words were unfamiliar to me. The two ladies were talking like I wasn’t even there.

"Excuse me. Can that be done to me? Can whatever this com-pu-ter thing is…teach me what to do?"

"I’m sorry, dear," Terry answered while turning back to me. "I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn things the old fashion way – through trial and error. But Vickie and I will be here to help and answer any questions you may have. Maybe we should start with the dresses first. What type of style do you think she would look good in, Vickie? A northern lady or a southern belle?"

"Northern, I think," Vickie thought out loud. "However, it wouldn’t hurt to have her try on a few of the silk dresses to be sure. I suppose once we pick out her dresses, we could start matching them up with the undies. Oh Miss Samantha, we have a special shop where you can take your special undies and get them clean. They use a washing machine and it only costs about a dollar a week."

My head was spinning. My idea of cleaning my clothes was taking them down to the river and beating them against a rock. Now I could take my clothes to a shop and put them in a…a washing machine? What in the world was a washing machine? What other strange devices did they use here? That’s when I noticed danger above me. Hanging from the ceiling were a number of glass tubes with what looked like a small fire inside.

"The place is on fire!" I shouted while pointing my finger upward. I started to lift up my skirt to run but Terry stopped me before I had a chance.

"It’s…it’s a light bulb," she said calmly. "It’s sort of like a kerosene lamp, except it doesn’t use fire. These lamps run off electricity."

"What?" I asked.

"Electricity. It’s…" she sighed hard, "it’s hard to explain. Let’s just say it’s much safer then the kerosene lamps your civilization uses. Now, let’s get back to these dresses."

Vickie and Terry both led me over to a rack of silk dresses and started pulling some out. They discarded several of them, but found a few they felt would look nice on me. I was then quickly ushered into a small room where Terry proceeded to help me take off my dress. In the corner I spotted one of those firelights sitting on a table with a shade over it. There was a cord running from the lamp that went into the wall. Suspecting that the electricity was on the other side, I reached over and felt the wall with my hand.

"What are you doing?" Terry asked.

"I’m trying to see if this e-lec-tric-i-ty is making the wall hot," I explained.

She giggled at my comment and told me to step out of my dress. Moments later, I felt the cool touch of the silk dress rubbing against parts of my skin. The dress the two ladies had picked out was cherry red, with white lace around the sleeves and down the sides. It also had a rather low bust-line.

"Judge Jasper wants you to dress respectfully, but not too respectfully," she giggled. "Why don’t you look at yourself in the mirror."

I did and was stunned. This was the first time I had seen myself since the transformation, and I looked every bit like a young woman like Vickie or Terry did. I stood about 5’7", with dark brown, curly hair and pretty brown eyes. My nose was small and feminine, my lips full and puffy. I looked down at my bust, which moved slightly up and down as I breathed in the tight dress. I put my hands up to them, and saw my reflection do the same. The girl – the lovely young woman in the mirror – was me! Where was the real me, three-finger Jack, the notorious outlaw? He had been shot down, not by some bullet from a hot-handed cowboy; but by a bearded judge in a black robe.

"That’s me?" I asked.

"That’s you," Terry smiled.

It was too much for me to handle. Suddenly I found myself crying again at the loss of my identity. Terry grabbed hold of me and held on tightly as if she understood – not saying a word. It occurred to me after I was finished crying that I had cried more today then I had in my entire life since my mother died.

"This new life will take some getting used to," she told me in a smoothing tone. "Don’t fight it Samantha, it only makes it harder to deal with the truth."

"I want to go home," I sniffed feeling sorry for myself.

"You are home," she replied forcefully. "You’re a resident of Peace River now, and will be for the rest of your life."

Hearing the words caused me to start crying again.

*********************************

Later that evening, after hours of clothes shopping and trying on new dresses, Terry and I had dinner at the hotel. As I sat there in the dinning room I noticed several of the men politely staring at me. This raised my curiosity a little, and I decided to ask Terry about this.

"If I’m the first person here, then everyone else must be just like you. Isn’t that right?"

"Not everyone," Terry informed me. "We brought about 200 people along with us from our last location. It’s sort of complicated to explain Samantha, and I’m not allowed to tell you even if I could."

"Can I talk to them?"

She giggled at my question. "Of course you can. Just don’t expect them to give you any answers about Peace River or where they’re from. Most of them don’t remember anyway. You see they’ve been with us now for several centuries and their minds are a little faded. It always happens that way. This time we’re trying something new. Oh Samantha, I’m so glad you’re accepting your new life here."

I nodded my head like I was agreeing with her, but inside my feelings were very different. I knew that when I didn’t show up at our designated meeting place, my brothers would come looking for me. They would backtrack over the route I had taken and keep searching until they found this place. It may take a month or two, but they would find me. While I may have been trapped in this woman’s body, I was sure I still possessed the skill to shoot a gun. With three guns pointed at the judge’s head, I was equally sure he could be persuaded to return me back to my original body. Heck, I may just shoot him afterwards for all the trouble he had caused me.

When dinner was served, I reached down to pick up my fork then stopped. I put my hand up to my face and blinked hard.

"What’s wrong, Samantha?" Terry asked with a slight smile that indicated she already knew.

"My hand!" I exclaimed. "I’m using my right hand. But I’ve always been left-handed."

"Jack Houston was left-handed," she corrected me. "Samantha Cunningham has always been right-handed."

"But I can’t shoot a gun right-handed!"

"So," she smiled while taking a bite of her chicken. "You’ll find other uses for your hands, like knitting and sewing."

"Sewing! But that’s woman’s…" I stopped myself short. I didn’t want to say too much and blow my cover.

"I know what you’re thinking Samantha," Terry giggled knowingly. "You’re thinking that maybe you could force Judge Jasper to change you back at gunpoint. Let me assure you young lady, that that will never happen. First of all, Sheriff Mars and his men would never let it get that far. Second, there are no guns in Peace River except for the ones the sheriff and his deputies’ wear. And when they aren’t on duty, their guns are locked up in a very safe place. You can’t get to them unless you have certain powers."

My heart sank. Terry knew exactly what I had been thinking all along.

"I know you haven’t fully accepted your situation," Terry went on in a matter of fact tone. "That will come with time. However, I do feel we’ve made some great progress today. Now eat your food before it gets cold.

I grimly put my fork into the salad in front of me and took a bite. Its taste was unappealing to me, just like my current situation. Well, at least now it was. Why was it that there were times when I was accepting my current situation? It wasn’t like I was happy about it, but I was learning to live with what had happen to me. In my heart I knew I would rather live as Samantha Cunningham than blow my brains out. But was that me thinking this way or them placing the thought in my head. I felt my brain turning to mush, and I dropped my fork on the plate. Terry looked up at me with some concern.

"We need to get you to bed," she said rushing to my side. "You’ll feel better after you sleep."

I didn’t reply; I just closed my eyes as I was helped up the stairs and into bed. The last thing I remembered was the sounds of voices coming from several people standing around me. After that I fell into a deep sleep.

*****************************

I woke up in bed with a mild headache. For a moment I wasn’t sure where I was, then I saw the dress I had worn the day before hanging on the door. I shook my head; yesterday wasn’t just a bad dream. I tried to sit up but felt stiff, and my body protested vigorously. There was a short knock on the door and Terry came in carrying a tea tray.

"I thought you’d never get up," she smiled. "I’m afraid you’ve already missed church services."

"That’s okay," I moaned weakly. "I never attended church anyway. They hold services on Saturday here?"

"It’s Sunday," Terry informed me while handing over a cup of warm tea. "You’ve been sleeping for almost a day and a half now. Here, drink this, it’ll make you feel better."

"Sunday!" I gasped. "How did that happen?"

"The transformation process took a lot out of you. Not to mention the fact that the energy pill Vickie gave you only weakened your condition. Don’t worry; you were never in any danger. Your body just needed to rest a little bit longer to get over the strain of what it went through. Like I said, this is a learning process for us."

"I'm not sure I like being used by your people this way." I complained. "In fact, I know I don’t like it. When are you going to…"

She cut me off in a stern fashion. "I’ve already explained young lady, that you’re not going to be changed back or be allowed to leave Peace River ever again. This is your home now, Samantha. Jack Houston, or three-finger Jack if you prefer, is gone."

It was a pointless argument and I knew it. I drank my tea down and listened while she rambled on in a bubbling manner about what we were going to do today. There was a social church picnic this afternoon that I was going to attend, as well as a scheduled meeting with Reverend Cupler. I wasn’t looking forward to either one of them. Terry pulled out a lovely, light green silk dress that we had picked up yesterday and helped me out of bed. While she was charming and helpful, I couldn’t wait until my brothers show up so we could turn the tables on her.

After a visit to a place called a restroom, a room with a cold, white thing Terry called a toilet; I got dressed and was rushed over to the church just down the street. There Reverend Cupler greeted me at the door. He was a short man, about 5’4", with sandy brown hair that curled in the front. The man looked like a young boy, and he couldn’t have weighed more then 90 pounds soaking wet. Judging from his size I was sure I could take him even in my current state. He clasped both of my hands with his, and I felt a slight surge of tingling running up both of my arms. He smiled at the result and sat me down in one of the pews.

"Miss Cunningham, I’m so glad to finally meet you."

"I didn’t really have much of a choice," I replied uneasily. This man of the cloth was a little too cheerful for my taste. I knew there had to be a purpose to this meeting other than just a friendly get-together.

"Not really," he agreed honestly. "Why don’t I just tell you why you’re here? I’m been told to evaluate and find a husband for you."

"WHAT!" I shouted standing up.

"Calm down, Miss Cunningham. As I’m sure you already know, you’re the first new resident in our fair town. So it’s not like I have a number of suitors waiting outside the church. We want you to be happy here, and one of the keys to being happy is having someone to share your life with."

"I’m not marrying anyone," I told him in a resounding tone.

He smiled and said, "You’ll change your mind. As I said before, there is a severe lack of suitors so any marriage won’t take place for at least a year or more."

 

"It won’t take place at all," I firmly stated.

"It will," he said back equally, if not more firmly. "One day you will walk down this aisle in a full wedding gown and say ‘I do’. After that happens, you and your groom will go off on your honeymoon to start your new life, and a family, here in Peace River."

"That’s NONSENSE," I snorted loudly. "None of what you just said is going to happen."

"We’ll see," he smiled. "In the mean time, I’ll be in charge of your spiritual condition. I’ll expect you to attend church every Sunday, as well as all the other church functions. You and I will become very close, and I will carefully guide you toward a new and wonder life. In a few months, you’ll forget all about the old Jack Houston.

"You may think I will," I countered, "but I’ll find a way out of this madhouse."

"Do you really think we’re going to let you walk out of here, Mr. Houston," Reverend Cupler chuckled knowingly. "We’ve put a lot of time and effort into your training so far. No, you’ll stay and live your life out as Samantha Cunningham – and you’ll be happy doing it."

"If I only had a gun!" I threatened.

"It wouldn’t do much good. However, I see we need to prove a point here. You seem to think you can take me, even in your present condition. So go ahead, do what you’ve been aching to do ever since we met…take a swing at me."

"I tried that once at the bar. Your people seem to move too fast for me."

"I won’t move, I promise. Now go ahead Jack, give it your best shot."

My eyes narrowed on the man, and I stood up to face him. Even though I was now shorter than I had been, I was still several inches taller than he was. "You asked for it."

I put all my might into the punch, and even though I was a woman with weaker muscles, it was a hard hit. My punch caught him near his jaw, and I felt my own knuckles crack as they made contact. It felt good. His head twisted as I struck him, but then shoot right back as if the impact hadn’t even fazed him. He smiled brightly.

"See, I told you that you can’t hurt us," he explained while pulling me back down to the pew with amazing strength. "We’re impregnable to your bullets and punches. All you did was hurt your own hand in the process. The only choice you have now is to do as we say, otherwise your stay here in Peace River can and will be most unpleasant. Now, let’s get back to discussing your husband. I’m going to find you someone who is…"

I didn’t hear what he was saying. Instead I was feeling a massive blow of failure inside myself, a first for me. My punch, weak as it was, should’ve had some effect on this midget of a man. I now knew it was impossible to beat them – whoever they really were. A feeling of hopelessness began to overcome me and I got very sad. Reverend Cupler stopped talking and looked at me gently.

"Oh my, this will never do," he said. "We need…I mean, we want you to be happy here, Samantha. I thought by showing you the truth that you’d be more open to this, but I see I was wrong. Here, let me help."

Something flowed from his body into mine, and suddenly I felt happy, even joyful about being here.

"See, I can make it easier on you if you let me. All you have to do is visit me anytime you feel down and I’ll make it all better." He smiled lovingly and patted my hands. "Why don’t we discuss this matter at another time. Right now there is an entire town out back waiting to meet you. Come my child, I’ll take you to them."

He took my hand and lifted me up out my seat. My skirt got twisted and he waited while I pulled it straight, as if I had done this a hundred times before.

"You look lovely, my dear," he commented. "You’re going to look even lovelier on your wedding day."

I giggled slightly, although I don’t know why since I didn’t find his comment something to laugh about. He led me out the back door to where the community picnic was taking place.

*********************************

Monday morning I was rustled out of bed before the sun was even up. I protested about it being so early, but Terry insisted I didn’t want to be late for my meeting with Judge Jasper. The picnic from yesterday was still reeling in my mind. The people I met were friendly enough, but you could tell the real people from the ones running this place. The real people talked strangely. I don’t mean that they spoke with an accent, just that they phrased their sentences differently and had no idea what the world was really like out there. Some of them even asked if I came to Peace River by chariot.

After breakfast, I was taken to a small room in the courthouse containing a desk and several large filing boxes. Terry knocked on the door behind the desk and motioned me inside. It turned out the door led to the Judge’s personal chambers. His office was very well decorated, with several expensive chairs and a black couch in one corner, and a massive desk in another. Judge Jasper was dressed in a suit that could only have been tailored made, as it fit him like a glove. He gave me a warm smile and beckoned me to sit down on the couch. I noticed Terry turned and left, leaving me alone with him.

"Would you like some tea before we get started?" he asked me.

"Do you have any coffee?"

"I’m afraid not," he frowned. "I’ve been meaning to try this drink your countrymen find so popular, but haven’t got any in stock yet. I’ll ask Mr. Merrick to pick some up the next time he goes for supplies."

"Then I guess tea will do." He smiled and handed me a cup.

"Terry has informed me you’re doing quite well with your lessons, Samantha. I hope that earlier nonsense of wanting to be changed back into who you once were and leaving our nice little town is out of your system." His smile was friendly enough, but his demeanor indicated he wasn’t in the mood to hear my protests.

"Yes sir, it is," I said, knowing it was the safe answer.

He chuckled softly. "Good, because we have a lot of work to do today. As you know, we’re just getting started and I’m in desperate need of a good secretary."

"But my writing isn’t very good." I told him.

"Yes, well, we’ll make sure that improves. However, it’s not your writing skills that interest us. We want you to record everything in your mind so it won’t be forgotten."

"I’m not sure I understand."

"Let me explain," Judge Jasper said as he took a sip of his tea and leaned back in his overstuff chair. "A long time ago, our enemies sought to deceive your people by changing the truth about how things happened. It worked – too well as a matter of fact. In time everything became so jumbled up that our history was lost forever. It is therefore important to us that we keep a record of everything that happens from this day on, so it won’t be lost again. That’s where you come in. Instead of storing these records on paper, in books, or through some other means, you will keep them in your memory. There will be times that we will access these memories, so we can adjust to your society around us. Nothing will be lost or mixed up as before. And when you get married and retire, since it’s not proper for married women to work according to your society, I’ll have all those memories transferred to my new assistant.

"But…what about me?"

"You’ll be well taken care of my dear," he reassured me. "While your life won’t be without struggles, it will be far easier than most people living here. You’ll never get any older than the age of 30, and until you die your body will be kept free from disease and impurities. Now, I need to make some other calls, but when I get back we can discuss your duties some more. Until then, I want you to familiarize yourself with everything in your office. Do you understand?"

"I…I guess, Your Honor" I replied back in a shaky voice. This was all like a bad dream.

"Very good. I’m glad you’re with us, Miss Cunningham." And with those few words he followed me out to my desk and left the room.

**********************************

I stood there at the edge of town, staring out at the trees in the distance. Never again would I be allowed to go past them into the far open areas that I had once roamed. I was a prisoner in this pleasant little town until my brothers could find me. It was tempting to step off the wooden sidewalk and make a run for the trees, but I knew it was useless. The dress I had on made running practically impossible, and I knew they had to be watching my every move. I stared at the sun setting in the sky and wondered if my brothers were doing the same thing.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" Sheriff Mars said, as he strolled up behind me. "There’ll be many more sunsets to watch and enjoy."

"But not from the open desert, or San Francisco, or the Rocky Mountains," I thought, with tears in my eyes. They were all gone to me now. The town of Peace River wasn’t a just a bad dream; it was a nightmare.

Sheriff Mars seemed to sense the sunset meant more to me then just a bunch of pretty colors in the sky. He cleared his throat and said, "You need to get going back to your hotel, Miss Cunningham. A lady working for Judge Jasper shouldn’t be out on the streets after dark. Do you want me to walk you home?"

"No thank you, Sheriff Mars," I replied coolly. "You’ve done quite enough for me already."

He smiled and tipped his hat, then walked away with his spurs clicking on the wooden planks. I made a wish to the dying sun that my brothers would show up soon, and turned to head back to my room.

********************************

Things slowly faded back into place as the dream ended. I looked over at Ashlee who was looking tired from the episode.

"I shouldn’t have made you show me," I spoke in an apologetic tone.

"It’s okay, Linda. It felt good reliving Samantha’s life again."

"I noticed that some of the people acted a lot different back then compare to today, like Vickie Marshall and Mark Merrick."

"Yes, I noticed many of them changed over the years," Ashlee pointed out. "They would try something and if it didn’t work, they would drop it and try something else. As you can see, Vickie and her husband even changed their last name from Mars to Marshall. As people became more educated, their last name raised too many suspicions among the newcomers."

"That makes sense," I nodded. "It’s strange that Samantha died so young."

"Not really," Ashlee shook her head. "Most of the people in the 1800’s didn’t live to see their 50th birthday. She actually lived longer then the norm."

It was clear Ashlee didn’t understand what I had meant. Samantha had been given a healthy, diseased-free body just like us. So why hadn’t she lived as long as the people in Peace River live today? She was only 59 when she died, hardly old under the circumstances.

Reverend Cupler had let it slip out that they needed us to be happy, but apparently living a long life wasn’t part of the plan. I looked at some of the other tombstones close by and realized that those residents had also only lived to be 55 to 60 years old. Why the difference back then compared to today, when the average life span was around 80 years old?

"Can you tell me what happened to her, Ashlee?"

"Well, Samantha continued to work for Judge Jasper for almost three years, until she got married. She kept hoping and praying her brothers would show up to free her. After two long years she gave up on them and accepted her fate. I later learned that one of her brothers was killed in a bar fight and the other fled toward Mexico only to disappear into history.

"Anyway, Mr. Cupler played matchmaker and Samantha married a man by the name of John Adams. They lived a happy life and had seven children together. Like other siblings here, once the parents died Judge Jasper moved them out of Peace River and gave them new memories. I think he does something in the transformation process with the parents that make it easier to reshuffle their children’s memories. Oh, their children still remembered their parents and everything they learned while growing up; only they remember growing up in another town and have no desire to go back there. I understand they adjusted well after the move and lived normal lives."

"You feel close to Samantha, don’t you Ashlee?"

"I guess I do," she said absentmindedly. "We’re so much alike. Even though she learned to be happy with her new life, she missed her old life terribly. She was also close with her brothers and yearned to see them again. That’s what makes this tale so sad."

I realized that Ashlee had told me something she probably didn’t want anyone else to know – her true feelings about being here. I could understand where she was coming from. On one hand she was given a very secure life, one that had been designed to make her happy. Add to this a family that she wouldn’t dream of giving up. On the flip side, she missed her old family dearly. After all, she had grown up with them for some twenty odd years.

It occurred to me that this must be the reason why the Judge preferred new citizens who had no real families. If they didn’t have anyone to hold on to, it made it easier for them to accept a new life here – especially if the new life was better than the one they were living.

Once you accepted your new life and had a family, Jupiter and his friends knew they had their hooks in you for good. Why would anyone want to give up all this peace and security when they knew the real world was a much different place? It was a very clever plot, except sometimes the Roman Gods screwed up and brought in someone who would never accept their new place in Peace River no matter how appealing they made it.

Of course Ashlee was the exception to the rule and this puzzled me. Why had the Judge picked Ashlee in the first place? I knew from past conversations that she had three brothers and a sister. I also knew that both of her parents had been alive at the time of her arrival. Did this mean that people like Samantha, Ashlee, and myself were more rare then the other people brought here? Maybe the Roman Gods couldn’t just pull anyone off the street to do this job. I looked back at Ashlee who was still sitting there in a slight daze.

"Are you okay, Ashlee?" I asked carefully, hoping she would open up some more.

"If I wasn’t, Mr. Cupler would be stopping by to see me," she smiled, coming out of her trance. "Besides, I love my life here. I’ve very, very happy."

I felt the words were said more to convince herself than they were to convince me. I was seeing a very different Ashlee today, one that wasn’t totally committed to this plan the Judge and his people had put into place. I just wondered if Judge Jasper knew it. For some reason I didn’t think he did.

"If you need to talk or anything," I offered.

"I’ll give you a call," she reassured me, standing up. "Your number is already programmed onto my cell phone. Well, I better go home and take a nap now. That story took a lot out of me."

"I’ll call you later," I promised.

Ashlee waved and headed for home pushing the baby stroller. I sat there for maybe a half-hour replaying everything in my mind. Why would the people back then live 20 years less than the people here today?

Another question that I couldn’t get out of my mind was why they were so selective? Was it because those who had no life to speak of were easier to sway into accepting the life the Romans Gods had chosen for them? Something inside me told me no. If that where the case, why not pull some forgotten homeless person off the street and bring them here. No, the Roman Gods were very selective with who they brought here, which told me this plan of theirs was bigger than I first imagined. It meant that only certain people were useful for their purpose. The ten thousand dollar question was, just what was that purpose?

Fade out…

Next week – The mailman

 

 

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© 2001 by Kelly Davidson. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.