Tomorrow's Woman

The buzzard lifted its head and danced back in surprise at seeing the figure of a man so close. It flapped its wings and in a flurry of movement was soon airborne and fleeing the grim scene that lay bathed over the rocks of the high desert plateau. Pedro Martinez’s worry lined brow reflected a deep sadness as he beheld the twisted and mangled bodies of over forty of his sheep. They had been herded over the cliff above and to a one they had fallen to their deaths below and now lay bloated and torn apart by buzzards upon the rocks at the base of the cliff. The old but still capable bodied man scanned his eyes over the bodies of the sheep with only a passing regard for them. He had more sheep. He had only one son, though. A son that had been missing for two days. Moving through the uneven terrain of the gorge he searched about in a task that no man should ever have to do in terms of looking for the body of his son. He did not find him. Brief hope lit up inside of his heart, but the question remained, where was his 12-year-old son? Gaining in elevation he climbed back up onto the plateau that the sheep had been herded off of. If his son wasn’t with the sheep, then where was he? His son was no coward. He would’ve tried to stop the ones who had done this to their flock. Had they taken him with them? That was unlikely. Passing a shaking hand over his damp brow, he scanned about even as he begged earnestly within his soul for a sign, anything to hope for. He saw it then. A bit of white cloth across a clearing in amongst some tall weeds. He rushed towards it fearing what he may find. It was his son and he was yet alive! Pedro fell to his knees and lifted his son’s sweat dampened feverish head up off the ground. The boy’s leg had been broken and he had dried blood on his scalp from a head wound. Hurriedly Pedro brought his canteen to his son’s sun blistered lips and let cool water flow slowly upon them. His son’s eyes flickered open and the boy croaked out in Spanish, “They took the sheep. I tried to stop them, but they ran me down with their horses.” Pedro shook his head, “Never mind about the sheep. You are all that is important to me Dion. Here, drink!” The boy did as his father said, even as his father vainly wished that he could take away all the pain that his son was in and somehow save him from the experience of ever having had to feel it. “It was riders from the Rolling R. They were going to shoot me, but one called Curly that hunts Sessina, when she’s in town said not to worry as I’d be dead soon enough. He said they might as well leave me alive to enjoy the process of dying, then end it too quickly for me.” Pedro could do nothing to shield his son from the horrors he had experienced, but consolingly he held onto him trying to will both peace and strength into his son. “We need to go now. You need care.” With fervor the boy said “Don’t take me to town father! They’ll take the ranch if you do that.” His father nodded grimly and picking his son up, he began to walk doing his best to stow away the horror it caused him to hear his son’s tightly restrained gasps of pain as he did his best to show his father that he was strong. It was nightfall, when they reached the house. Breathing heavy Pedro rushed into the house and noticed with appreciation how his daughter stepped away from a window with a repeating rifle still held in her hands. She set the rifle down quickly and went about caring for her little brother’s needs in an entirely stony faced fashion. Her face betrayed nothing, but with Sessina it was the eyes. The eyes always told the truth. Within her gaze, her father saw the imagery of fires burning from within that were for the moment just barely restrained. Together they set the boy’s leg and soon after that the boy passed out due to an overdose of too much pain and the weariness brought on by the comfort of simply knowing that he was home. Mopping at the boy’s sweaty forehead Sessina spoke for the first time, “Papa I will keep the watch. Go lay down.” Pedro rubbed at his eyes wearily. He didn’t want to lay down and yet he was not a young man anymore. He’d had both of his children later in life and carrying the boy had taken a lot out of him. He nodded and stood up wearily. He squeezed Sessina’s shoulder and her hand came up to press down on his for a moment in a silent statement of joint commiseration over the state of the boy laying in the bed. “Go to bed, Papa. I’ll keep the watch.” Pedro nodded and moved on into one of the bedrooms down the hall.   ************   Sessina sat very quietly as she took in the sounds of her father undressing. The clunk of his boots landing on the floor and then soon after that the sound of his snores. Every vestige of quietness that had been about her left almost instantly and with a swish of her skirts Sessina stood up. Nostrils flaring wide, even as all the repressed anger she had been bottling up suddenly let loose caused her to begin pacing back and forth. The situation as it had been for several months now was untenable. The insults to her father. The growing number of missing sheep from their herds and now this! Her little brother beat up and left to die by grown cowards. One coward in particular, she focused on more than any other - Curly. She spat onto the floor viciously. How she loathed that man! She glanced at her brother. Papa had forbid her to give the man what he deserved for the many indecent passes that he’d made at her along with even brazen attempts to grope at her and to the best of her ability she had obeyed her father, but this…… this was different. This time it was her little brother and hell would need to freeze over before she could ever forgive the man for what he’d done to her brother! Sessina stopped pacing. Her hands gripped into fists. There was only one answer to this situation - they needed to fight back. Situational outcomes such as this simply could not be tolerated. It was bad enough to see the fear that lurked in her father’s eyes daily, only for her to have to experience the dread of it too out of concern for both him and her brother. She had not known that things would come to this. They had though, and now someone was going to pay and tonight she knew exactly who it would be too. Becoming one with a singleness of purpose she quietly checked on her brother’s breathing once more. It was steady. As quiet as a mouse with the grace of a cat, she exited the room with only the slightest hint of a swish of her dress to tell the tale that she had once been present.