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SHE WAS A BEAUTIFUL BABY. Samantha was born with a
full head of the brightest, most beautiful red hair anybody in North Eastern
Alabama had ever seen. Her deeply-set dimples, destined to later just drive men
wild when she smiled, showed up at a very early age. Samantha was born in 1847.
Samantha
was fortunate to be born into a very nice family, with an older sister and
brother. She was born with a smile on her face, and in her early years she
maintained that smile most of the time. Her brother and sister simply cherished
Samantha. Her parents did too. She never seemed to be in a foul mood, and
nobody remembered seeing Samantha cry.
She was destined to have a wonderful life, with her loving family…had it
not been for the Dudley clan.
*
The Dudley
clan had lived in the hills near Talladega, Alabama for generations. Nobody
seemed to know how long, for sure. They were not good neighbors, of that most
everyone in that part of the country was sure. Actually, nobody seemed to know
much at all about the Dudley clan. They kept to themselves, except for occasional
trips into town for supplies. They always seemed to have plenty of money,
though where it came from, nobody knew. The Dudley’s never seemed to be trouble
makers when they showed up in town. Just take care of business, buy their
supplies, and leave. They never spoke unnecessary words to others, and they
never smiled.
In each
generation, according to stories circulating around Talladega County, a few
unfortunate beings had been overcome with curiosity, and set out to investigate
the hills of the Dudley clan. Word had it none had ever returned, according to
the stories. But it happened so seldom, nobody could really put their finger on
whether this was really happening as a pattern, or was this just fodder for
campfire stories? It could well be that these curious ones had simply gotten
lost in those brush covered hills, and never been found. But by now everyone
had heard these stories, and nobody wished to be the next poor soul to
disappear into the hills of the Dudley clan. So, few alive knew anything at all
about the Dudley Hills. Except for the Dudley’s.
As time
went on, with all the scary stories about the Dudley clan, fewer and fewer
brave souls wished to risk a trip into those hills. Fear overcame curiosity. And, since the Dudley’s never seemed to harm
anybody in Talladega County, what was the point? They obviously wished to be
left alone, so Talladega County obliged them.
One thing
that had been noticed, and talked and gossiped about a great deal by the old
men setting out in front of the hardware store,
whittlin’ and spittin.’ One never saw a Dudley man who was not carrying
a .50 caliber buffalo gun. They never seemed to have a pistol strapped on, as
was very common at that time. And they all bought a lot of ammunition for that
gun. But the few neighbors of the Dudley’s who lived close enough to hear a
report from the big gun claimed they almost never heard a shot. Just an
occasional deer hunter, or the like. But soon a Dudley would be back in at the
store, buying another four boxes of .50 caliber ammo. Where were the Dudley’s
doing all that shooting?
By far, the
single most notable thing about the Dudley’s was, they were almost all red
heads. Persons who knew about such things just explained that away with “Well,
they been inbreedin’ up in them hills fer generations. Most all th’ first
families to move in up thare musta been redheads.” And, nobody knew of an
outsider who had ever married into the clan. But if constant inbreeding was the
answer, why were the Dudley’s so big, strong, and healthy looking? Everybody
knows, constant inbreeding takes a heavy toll, after a while.
In the
1850’s the study of genetics, the study of inherited traits, was just
beginning. Gregor Mendel, the father of
genetics, was hard at work growing his pea plants, cross breeding, and
recording the results. His work was first published in 1866.
We now know
that red hair is a recessive trait. So, both the father and mother must carry
that gene, in order to produce children with red hair. But if even one of the
parents carries a dominant hair color gene of another sort, it could be
generations before red hair shows up again. So, in a given population, red hair
is relatively rare. But in the Dudley clan, there seemed to be as many, or
maybe more, redheads maintained as other hair colors. Relatively intellectual
men had noticed. “That ain’t normal. It just ain’t how things are supposed to
work,” one had already proclaimed. But, very few even understood what this man
was trying to say. Of course, they all understood that the situation with the
Dudley’s was different, somehow. But nobody worried too much about it, as long
as the Dudley’s kept minding their own business like they had always done in
Talladega County.
*
Great
grandpa Will and his wife Serenity had first brought their family to Talladega
County many years ago. He was the mastermind. He laid out his plan for the
future of the clan they would establish. Both Will and Serenity were redheads,
and this trait had been passed on to three of their four children. He was a
highly educated man. He held a high teaching position at a respected
institution of higher learning in the East, but he had been dismissed when it
became common knowledge that he had a tendency to do things not acceptable for
one placed in such a high station in life. He was forced to gather up his
family and move west, out of the state. This had to be done quickly, as the
rumors were spreading that a farewell party was being planned for him involving
tar, feathers, and a rail.
Once a very
remote, untraveled plot of land was obtained and a cabin was built, he laid out
a plan for the future of his Clan. His rules, which must be followed by all,
was destined to make the clan rich…
***
Millie
explained. “As we get older, and deal with big men, men who know how to fight,
all the tricks I’ve shown you with the boys won’t work. And we can’t beat them.
They’re stronger. All these people around us from the outside want to hurt us,
even kill us.”
Samantha
was getting a very bad feeling about this.
“Every one
of us, even a girl, must get very accurate with this gun. So that when bad men
who come onto our land, planning to hurt or kill us, they will know that we are
able to take them out long before they can get close enough to hurt us. Most of
these bad people surrounding us already know that, so they usually stay away
from our land.”
Samantha
burst into tears. “But I don’t want to hurt anybody! I hate guns! I never want
to even hold one! All they are good for is hurting people!” Please don’t make
me touch that thing!”
Millie put
the gun aside, and hugged Samantha. Millie realized this was not going to be
easy. “We have many needs for this gun, and this skill. Don’t you like the meat
you eat back at the compound? How do you think we get that meat? We Hunt! And
we all get very good at it. When we get good enough, these mean people around
us realize they must never come here. If you work hard enough with this gun,
and get to be the very best around with it, people will soon know, and you will
never have to shoot this gun at a man. It’s just like fightin’ with the big
boys at the compound. Don’t you remember how they’re afraid to wrestle me? They
know I can hurt them, and they leave me alone. They’re even beginning to leave
you alone, simply because they know you know all my tricks. All you ever have
to do, mostly, is bluff. Isn’t that true, Samantha?”
Samantha was
still sniffling, but she had to admit, that was true. It did seem that the more
the boys respected her abilities, the less she had to actually wrestle one,
which Samantha completely detested.
“Let’s go in the cabin. There’s always snacks and
drink there. We’ll rest a bit, and I’ll show you how this gun works.”
While they
ate snacks and rested, Millie started showing her the mechanics of this gun.
Samantha was thinking about all this. She did not know if she could ever get
good with this gun, but it was seeming like that may be her only means of not
having to shoot at a man, like her family
seemed to be all about. And what about her name? Her family seemed to act like
they considered Samantha to be a
sissy, girlish name. Would people respect the abilities of Sam more than Samantha?
Must she always be a Sam? Deep in her
heart, she knew Samantha was more like the real
her.
For her demonstration,
Millie chose to shoot from two hundred yards.
Millie
braced the big gun on a post, got in position to fire, then wet her thumb,
sticking it up in the air. “You have to learn to sense the wind blowing on your
wet thumb. You have to know how much to allow for wind. This new buffalo gun is
made to shoot a long way. You have to learn how much the bullet will drop in
two hundred yards, or however far away your target is. See those three pumpkins
I set up out there?
They’re about
head sized. Watch that middle pumpkin. You need to learn to do this. Just
watch.”
Millie
carefully sighted the target in, held her breath, and slowly squeezed the
trigger. The big gun roared so loudly, it scared Samantha, and hurt her ears. The
middle pumpkin exploded. “Okay now, Sam, it’s your turn. We’ll move up to the
hundred yard marker for today,” Millie said. “A good place to start.”
“This gun
will kick, but the stock is padded. Hold it tight against you shoulder. There’s
almost no wind now, and the bullet will drop less than half the length of your
little finger. Squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk it. Aim at the left pumpkin.”
Samantha
was scared. She was shaking. This gun was far too big and heavy for her, but
she tried. The first try nearly kicked her down. Dust was kicked up four feet
or so to the left of the pumpkin, and was way short.
Millie’s
instruction went on and on, with each shot being evaluated, and corrections
made. Samantha never hit a pumpkin that day, but she was slowly getting closer.
“OK, Sam.
That’s enough for today. Your shoulder will be sore for a day or two, but we’ll
come back in a few days. You’re getting better.
And you will get better each time. I’ve got confidence in you. Good
Job.”
Samantha
was thinking, I’ll work as hard as I can
with this gun. I will get so good with it, I will never have to shoot at anyone. And I will show everyone how good I
am, every chance I get, so they will
all know, and leave me alone. It’s my only way out.
***
When she
found this man, it was sudden. And
shocking. Samantha was coming back into the hospital late one afternoon from
talking with the constable. She was completely worn out. She was heading for
her room, planning to catch an hour’s
sleep, before she started walking the halls that night. Once again.
She turned
the corner close to her room, and there stood Jeff.
Though this
man looked half starved, wore ragged clothing, a beard, appeared to be very
dirty and exhausted, there was no doubt. This was her husband, the love of her
life.
Their eyes
met. He did not run, as Samantha had always expected he would, if and when that
moment ever came. He appeared to be even more shocked than Samantha. He could
not take his eyes off her red hair. Or maybe it was her dimples. Or, most
likely, both. Slowly, Confusion seemed to replace the shock in his eyes.
Samantha knew she could never catch him, if he ran. She did not know what to
say. All she could think of, for the moment, was smile, and talk gently to him.
She did not try to approach him. She just talked quietly and softly.
“Jeff, I’ve
missed you so much. I love you so. It’s time for us to go home. I know you
don’t know who I am, right now, because you’ve had an injury. But I want to
take you to our home, so you can rest.”
Samantha
thought she detected one, very brief, flash of recognition in his eyes, as he
stared at her red hair. He slowly took a few hesitating, short steps toward
her. He was almost close enough to touch her now. He slowly, very hesitatingly,
reached out and touched a strand of her beautiful hair. Then he took two short
steps back. A word seemed to form on his lips, but no sound came.
“Yes, my
darling, it’s me. I know you don’t know just who I am right now, because you’ve
been hurt. But that’s okay, because you will soon get better. I’m your wife.”
Maybe she was moving too fast. The confusion seemed to intensify in his eyes.
“Come with me into our home. It’s right over here. There, you can rest. I can
see you’re very tired.” Samantha took three very slow steps toward Jeff, held
out her hand, and he hesitatingly placed his hand in hers. Slowly, she led him
to her room. She led him to the patient’s bed, gently sat him down, pulled his
worn shoes off, and lifted his feet onto the bed. She sat beside him, stroking
his hair. He didn’t try to resist: he just looked at her face with wonder in
his eyes. As she stroked him, she sang gently.
“ Everything is
going to be all right, my darling. I’m here, and I will always take care of
you. Go to sleep, now, sweet Jeff. And rest.”
Slowly, his
eyes closed. A peacefulness seemed to wash over him; a peace he had not
experienced in many, many days.
Samantha
pulled a quilt over him. He seemed to gradually relax. Soon, he was in a
peaceful sleep.
As Samantha
sat beside him, stroking his hair softly, words
came gently to her lips. Words long forgotten. Words from far back into
her dark past, words that could only have come from the beautiful lips of her
sweet, loving, mother…
Hush
little baby don’t say a word,
Mama’s
gonna get you a mocking bird,
And
if that mocking bird don’t sing,
Mama’s
gonna buy you a golden ring…………
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