Chapter One

Her life started simple, or so she thought. Maybe the surroundings were simple, or perhaps simple is too simple a word. She preferred to call it common. Everything about this place was common, in order. Excitement happened, but not the kind she thought of. When new dust clouds crossed her path to wander the endless torment of cobblestone and dirt hidden conveniently in the darkness she found unbearable, it was always shrugged off with no true genuine thought. The young woman now twenty years of age wonders now how she coped all this time. This place seemed to want to enclose her desire to run wild into a neat and tidy pile within her heart with it's artificial lights through glass in square voids in wood or metal. She of course wouldn't let that happen. But she gets challenged, every day. It's not necessarily the location itself, but the inhabitants of man-made architecture of grey and brown. It's the disapproving glimpse, the slight turn of the head, or the sarcastic remarks made by the city folk.

She had been raised here, ever since she was an infant. But a young girl of her talented and naturally wild character built within her soul could of course picture the world outside this dust heap. City air was not what was destined to fill her lungs; her energetic and powerful legs were not pre-determined to walk over the patched streets; and her love for the animals and plants out there somewhere is what encouraged this further. She needed to go, this she knew for sure. But how?

"But how?" she would question herself.

Due to the lack of knowledge of how to get to these places by her self was limited. Even though young with the wild nature ready desperately to break free, logically, oh the dreaded brain gift, going into the unknown was risky. She doubted she could fulfil this dream without proper experience, or at least getting started on gaining the experience. But living here for so long restricted that too. The frustration was what was killing her inside. That's when she decided the day would come when a deep breath will be taken and she will catch the next train heading there. But it will cost money. Now that is what was the problem. Always had been the problem.

Her mother knew this a very long time ago, a subject she never talked about. It was a depression that would build on top of the presence of the city. There was mud and manure everywhere. And they planned to spread this horrible, disgusting site to the place she wants to be? Out there in the wilderness she knew they were travelling more and more, constantly at war with the Natives fighting so fiercely for their land.

The very thought of the wilderness made her think of her mother further. She was a wonderful woman by the name of Evangeline Jane, moved here from New England seeking opportunity here in New York. She met and married to a tall, strong miner who had gained a huge fortune after finding a gold mine within the wondrous wilderness the young girl craved for. Her father had come to visit every once and a while, he was six foot tall, with a large hat upon his red-haired head; the same fire-like essence in her own hair with a hint of aged grey. She unconsciously stroked the top of her head with a small sense of pride. No one else had hair like theirs in this city. It caused commotion from the envious but it was always ignored with a small grace. He always said it was nothing to be ashamed about.

"Take pride in what comes naturally," he'd always say, and how very right he was.

The more common taunts though are more severe. A gang of the most treacherous outlaws in the history of the West overran the mine before Jessie was even born. They went from town to town having ready bags of money thrown at them by the banks as soon as they approached all to save their own skin. They were a group of the most dedicated men ever known, dedicated to crime that is, rather than using their talents to restore order and peace. The most feared out of this group of men was their leader everyone called Tiger Town Teague. They called him Tiger Town because he was a wiz gambler. On the draw there was no one faster and in the wit there was no one sharper, a genius and cunning planner. That's how he was so successful with every plot he did. The redhead twenty year old admired him for just that. He was a wild cowboy outlaw out there in the West, tall, dark-haired and quite handsome in her opinion. But she never considered him ruthless just because he broke the law. He never went out of his way to shoot someone with his Navy Colt Revolver. He threatened the town showing the pure skill and power he and his gang had, avoiding killing if possible. But of course, the authorities over-exaggerated every crime he committed. There have been a couple of occasions when some hero-wannabe would stand against the plans and have been shot down in the blink of an eye.

But the day came when he overrun the gold mine of her father. He spent a lot of time away from home after that; he had left with blood thirst in his eyes. Her mother had the redhead girl born then, and she didn't see him for roughly three years. But the night he returned was a troublesome one. Her father carried a body over his shoulder with a cold dead stare in his eyes, the body of the famous outlaw himself. He placed the body down on the table surprisingly gently and stared quite closely to his face intently with a vicious grin. Almost as if the robbery had been the most personal insult that could have happened. Teague was a very tall man, taller than her father. She remembered seeing his eyes peacefully closed, but a few blood splattered stains on his black vest and white shirt. Upon his head was a black hat, which matched his vest, trousers and boots. Jessie still remembers the light shimmer off the spurs that still held its dignity, along with Teague himself, even in death. His face is a blur to her now that time has continued. But for some reason, that has and always will be her earliest memory. The face of her role model, the man who had the very same wild spirit as she has in her, lying there dead. Now she was older and understood whom he was, her heart sunk at the memory. Her father had gone out to hunt for Teague after he stole his mine leaving him broke. Even though it was an act of vengeance on his own behalf, the redhead couldn't help but whimper at the man's death. She admired him for everything he did, and she was convinced he did not have a true evil heart. The West rejoiced after the death of the most feared outlaw in their history, but it actually fell into chaos ever since. Teague and his gang had been a threat throughout the West. The Americans moving to claim more land feared them and halted their progression in fear of running into them by accident. Even other villains didn't enter towns out of cowardice. They would threat over being on the wrong end of Teague's gun in another accidental meeting. This is because he and his gang never stayed in one place for too long. They would run wild and free, the life the young woman wanted. Not a life of crime of course, but just for the feeling of freedom.

But seeing his face peacefully and eternally asleep, her spirit felt crushed and deeply broke her heart. This reminder is what always stopped her from just grabbing a horse and running there to continue the legacy of Teague, the greatest cowboy she knows. Her lost inspiration left an open hole in her heart since, leaving her spirit partly broken.

Throughout her life, she had grown up in her mother's farm uptown of New York. The smell of the city still lingered about the place but it made her feel more at home than anywhere else. She took the time to pick up an accent from the Western traders that came to the city. After her father had killed the outlaw, and since the mine had been looted to it's last vein because of him, he stayed at home helping with work to meet the bills. The reward for the death of Teague was a fake one, a desperate act to just get rid of the outlaw. That mockery fired Griffith's blood to a large extent.

School wasn't mandatory so she never went but stayed at home to work with all the 'critters' at her family's farm. Being in the presence of orderly children never satisfied her, after she insisted staying with the animals, her parents reluctantly agreed. She also giggled to herself internally; it made her feel wilder. Why not fulfil the dream in little bits and pieces?

One quiet and serene evening, the sun gracefully began to set filling the sky with bright colours of blue, pink and orange. The young redhead was lying atop a stack of hay with her hands acting as a comfortable pillow for her head underneath her free flowing coppery hair. Her legs were crossed and a content smile spread about her lips. She was a very tall woman, nearing six foot but she was proud of it as her father always told her to. She was wearing a set of dungaree clothing, top and bottom with a white and yellow striped shirt underneath her top. A breeze drifted a feathery scent to her nose, and it tickled her sense with sweet apple. She guessed it was her mother making apple pies again, her speciality and favourite. Inhaling deeply she stretched her toes from her barefeet into the hay and exhaled slowly. Further peace could have happened had it not been for the sudden burst of shouts and yells from a drunken crowd in the distance.

"For darn sake!" she exclaimed. "The policy against peace and quiet has risen!"

"Jessie! Round up the chickens and head in for tea, dear!" her mother called from inside the house.

"My favourite pass time!" she called back with a slight hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Then again, she would rather chase chickens into the pen than clear out her horse's manure again. Her father thought it would be funny to make that a punishment for sleeping on hay at night. Jessie of course wouldn't pay much attention to that. With a giddy little jump, she made her way to the chicken pen where the group were scattered about. One white speckled chicken named Doris was the most stubborn of them all. Jessie eyed her from the side secretly as she led the rest back inside. She smirked at her and turned her head back to the group as if she was ignoring the stubborn hen.

Jessie and Doris liked to play a game of some kind, a showdown. They would stare off; both determined to reach their goal. Doris absolutely hated to be crammed up, what right did these humans have over a delicate grace such as herself, and with lesser chickens at that. In fact, she was the first out and the last in. Jessie made sure she would get in. It was her goal in the game, Doris' was to make it as difficult as possible; with a little hope of getting her point across to the hairless ape.

Once all the chickens settled in their nests, Jessie came out and held her arms stiffly at her sides pretending she had a holster with a gun ready to draw. Doris had made her way quietly inside the barn beside the pen while she was busy. She stood there with a bemused expression watching the farm girl approach slowly with a confident grin on her face. She stopped and they both fixed their stare at each other. Having a stare down for several seconds, Jessie broke the silence with a loud yodel sending Doris into hysterics over the outburst. Jessie grinned madly and chased the chicken all over barn. The other chickens watched the two go up, down, upside down and all other ways they could possibly go. Feathers were flying everywhere and Jessie was laughing so loudly. It was crazy moments like this that was all worthwhile.

"Yeehaw! You've been practicing Doris!" Jessie exclaimed. Almost like a response to what she said, Doris clucked with a slight smile.

"What are you doing?" a voice came from the entrance of the barn.

Jessie tumbled over Doris. She got close enough to grab her, but the voice came as a bit of a shock sending both to the ground with a slight skid to a halt. She raised her head spitting bits of dirt out to see her father with his hands in his pockets looking quite unsatisfied. Even if the mine was now gone, he wore a black business suit to make himself feel professional. Jessie personally thought it was a bit silly to wear it, but this man wasn't very rational when worst comes to the worst. She knew he loved his wife and daughter more than anything in the world, but when it comes to money, greed can be a little challenging to his true character. Jessie sometimes wondered if that was one of the reasons he left for three years to hunt down Teague. She'll never forget the ice infested look in his eyes. It was the first time Jessie ever saw her father and she feared him more than anything that moment. She never did know what he did with his body. She briefly remembers him taking a photo of Teague as proof to the authorities, but kept it for himself as a personal trophy. He refused to let them have a copy as payback for no reward at the end. After Doris struggled in her grip, she was suddenly convinced that capturing the outlaw was much more difficult than catching the chickens. But what if he hadn't managed to find Teague, how long will it have taken then? Would he have come back at all?

"Well?"

"Well what, pa?" Jessie asked back snapping out of her line of thought.

"What are you doing?

"I was just, uh - catching the chickens of course!" Jessie motioned to Doris beneath her chin. Doris clucked at her father with a questionable tone.

"And it caused you to have half the barn feathered?" He gestured behind her and she followed his finger to look. Haystacks had been broken up and feathers were scattered everywhere. A wooden ladder had fallen over at the back, Jessie didn't even remember climbing that. She must have been too lost in the game to notice.

"I wasn't thinking about that pa," she said.

"Hmm, maybe we should have sent you to school. Your mind is always somewhere else," he commented. "Now come, put that chicken away and let's head to supper."

Supper was a simple mix of ham, cheese and salad with bread and butter. All made at the farm, Jessie took great pride in helping to churn the butter because it tasted darn good. Afterwards of course was her mother's apple pie she smelt earlier. When they had finished, Jessie very politely took the dirty dishes to the kitchen ready to be washed. But when she returned to take the dishes holding the leftovers away, her father spoke up.

"Jessie when you finish, sit back down here. I have an announcement to make, but I wish to tell your mother first," His face told Jessie he truly did as well.

When she returned to the kitchen and began washing the dishes, she pondered over that expression. He had a certain glint in his eye that could either mean one of two things: the first being an opportunity to gain more money for the better. Jessie remembered when he had the same look when she first revealed that she could paint. He encouraged her that she could become a very famous artist some day and earn some really good money for a career. Internally she cheered, maybe she could do that in the Western since she had already seen some beautiful concepts of what it looks like out there by other artists. She remembered one with the great canyons with eagles soaring high and wild horses racing on the prairie. She continued to do it in her spare time that was until she ran out of paint and they hadn't enough money to buy some more. It was a bit down-heartening but she tried to convince herself it was farfetched anyway.

Now, the second was the one Jessie dreaded. An opportunity to gain more money for the worst. This usually involved giving up something in the process on getting a higher income. Her mother had to give up her dream job of becoming a famous musician by working more hours on the farm. Eventually her whole life was devoted to the farm and her guitar had gathered dust in the cupboard in the corner over the years. It was her father's idea, and this was one of those moments when he was discouraging instead of encouraging. He tended to have a change in moods depending on how the financial side was going. And because it wasn't too good presently, she predicted it to be option two.

Jessie returned to the dining table after she was finished. Her mother and father were quiet once she entered, both looked like they were in deep discussion before she came in. Something inside her went on edge, and things suddenly didn't seem right. After making herself close to comfortable on the chair between her parents she waited expectantly.

"Jessica, you know how low our funds are at the moment?" her mother started finally.

"Yeah," Jessie simply said.

"Well, your father has discovered a way for our troubles to be over," her mother's tone was confusing. It sounded like she was enthusiastic about what they had been discussing, excited even. But there was some caution to how she was wording things, almost like she knew Jessie wasn't going to react well. This made Jessie feel more nervous.

"Oh?"

"You see dear, work has been hard to find recently. Your father and I have been looking around the city to find a job that could pay us money that wouldn't leave us bare at the end of each month. The farm is providing us with everything we need, but it's exhausting to do it every day. And now we can't even pay the bank notices we're starting to get," her mother continued. Jessie swallowed a gulp quietly.

"But the bank knows me better than anyone. My previous fortune meant benefits for the both of us. Now the bank manager happens to be a very old and good friend of mine. He's offered me a job at the bank to see our profits up which can mean we can finally get back on our feet!" her father said. Hints of excitement increased with every word said. It didn't ease Jessie at all. Her conscious was telling her something.

"Really? That's wonderful pa!" Jessie said with as much enthusiasm she could muster.

"There is a catch dear," her mother pointedly ruined any hope she had. "It means we'll be moving because the job is located in New England."

"What!" Jessie exclaimed. She raised her voice a little louder than she intended. She knew she was going to hear something she didn't want to hear, but she didn't know it was this bad. Her parents had been taken back by Jessie's outburst that they straightened in their chairs. "We can't! I don't want to go!"

"Listen to me dear," her mother tried to calm her down by reaching a hand out. Her tone had lost its confidence. "It will mean we can have a fresh start. A new beginning! You will even be able to buy all the paint you wish dear."

"No," Jessie muttered under her breath. She couldn't believe this was happening. All her dreams of visiting the west had been trampled on in only a few seconds. "I can't go."

"Why are you being so selfish?" her father suddenly said with strong angered irritation in his voice.

"Pa! There's still stuff I want to do here! I can't go yet, I just can't!"

"I don't understand why you want to stay here so much. You're always the one who doesn't like this city, you remind us every day."

"Like you remind us every day that we don't have enough money!" Jessie accused. She didn't mean to make this discussion a personal argument but the shock and anger that suddenly came to her was exerting the frustration from within.

"How dare you," her father hissed.

"I can't go! I want to go and see the West!" Jessie blurted. She froze in her tracks realising she accidentally entered dangerous territory. She knew her father's extremely personal hate for the west because of the deceased Teague, and now she just revealed something she's been hiding ever since she was old enough to dream.

Her father's eyes widened dangerously and he stood up to his feet, towering over Jessie who started to shake a bit. He had that same look in his eye after he murdered and captured Teague's body.

"The West?" A cold shiver went through Jessie, she felt every confidence leave her and now she was truly scared. "You disgusting child Jessica for wanting to go to that wasteland. There's nothing out there but slaughtering of good men by those savages of which I spit on. I always wish to the Lord that their despicable race suffer by their own arrows. Not only that, but the culture of cowfolk betray each other out there." He had leaned down and was only inches away from her face. "You'll be lucky to have one true friend out there. They're all really cowards and will use you and leave you in the first sign of trouble. They thrive on anything they get their hands on, taking from others if they have to. You really think a pathetic little girl like you could survive in the west?" Jessie's will broke and she sat there, her mouth open and her eyes stung with tears. "We're leaving in three days time, and that's that." After having it firmly said, Jessie dashed out of the room as fast as her legs could carry her to her room. She shut the door behind her and went face first onto her bed letting all of the pains come out through her tears and cries. She grasped her pillow for dear life, being the only comfort to her. Her heart tightened as she cried, she had never felt so much sadness before and nothing around her could give her any comfort apart from the presence of the pillow.

Out of desperation, she muttered under her breath, "Someone take me away from here."