Chapter 1- Memories.

Clara watched her parents nervously. For a nine year old, the scariest thing was watching your parents fight. Clara’s parent’s usually never fought, but ever since they moved to this new land, America, from Ireland, her parents have been fighting constantly. Clara hid her twin siblings, Alex and Ally, under her arms, trying to shield them from her parents argument. They were so young, only four.

“You are a witch! I should have listen to my family! Your part of the devil!” Father yelled.

“No!” Mother wailed back. “ I deal not with the devil, and I am not a witch.”

Clara hushed her siblings quietly and took them outside, away from the fight, in the woods. “Are mummy and daddy going to be ok?” asked Alex as he stumbled, trying to keep up with Clara pace.

“Of course Alex. You and Ally have nothing to worry about.” Clara answered. She led them down deep in the woods, by the creek. Ally squealed when she saw the creek. It was her favorite place. Laughing, she let go of Clara’s hand and ran for the creek. Alex looked at Clara, but Clara only smiled down at him “Go ahead. It’s ok.” Excited, Alex ran after Ally, and knocked her into the grass. Clara smiled as she watched her sibling play together. She sat at the base of the tree, out of the sun, and smoothed out her dress. Clara always had a thing to be neat. Alex ran towards Clara and hid in her lap as Ally came by laughing and smacked Alex on the head “Gotcha’.” she laughed. Alex looked up and grumbled. “Hey, you can’t win. You’re a girl.”

Ally responded what only a four year old calls mature; she stuck her tongue out at him.

“ Oh cool it, you two.” Clara complained.

Ally sat next to Clara under the shade. “Hey Clara, will you tell us the story of the mermaids.”

“Aye.”

“No!” Alex suddenly stood up. “Father does not want us to talk about such things. He says they are nonsense.”

“But mummy believes in them. Mummy believes in lots of things, doesn’t she Clara?” Ally responded.

“Aye. Alex there are such things. And yes Ally, mummy believes in them.”

“But Father says-.”

“Alex, Father is wrong.” Clara stated.

“No!” Alex yelled. “Father is never wrong.”

The tears slip down Clara’s face. How long has it been? Thirteen years? Clara looked out the glossy window. So much has happen since then, and none for the better. With a sigh, Clara picked up her needle work, her memories, sliding with each stitch a time.

“Mummy? Mummy!” Ally screamed. “Clara! Clara! Mummy isn’t talking!”

Clara ran in the cottage. With a sigh, she command Ally “ Ally, ye’ need to listen to me. Go get a rag, and dip it in cold water. Alex, help me carry Mum to her bed.” While Ally ran off, Alex helped his older sister to aide their mother. As they set their mother on the bed, Clara gently wiped Mother’s blond bangs out of her face. It had been two years since their father left them. Two years on their own. Ally came running back, out of breath. “Here ye’ go Clara.”

“Thank you Ally.” Clara whispered as she took the rag. Ally stayed and watch Clara dabbed Mother’s face. Clara began to worry. What if their mother was sick? She certain had a fever; that was a terrible omen alone, and now she was not responding. Clara looked at Mother had saw the resemblance. The twins had their mothers blond hair, but Clara, had the light brown hair; mix of her father’s dark brown.

“Clara! Clara!”

Clara snapped back into reality with irritation. “Yes?” she asked politely has she could.

A short, scrawny women, with a horrible plaid bonnet and fire red hair, stood there looking at Clara. The lady who interrupted Clara, stood quiet for a moment, “Ah, yes. I was wondering if my daughter’s dress was ready?”

Clara nodded and set down her needle work. Ever since being taken away, her adoptive family took care of her, and they saw Clara’s great skill in needle work, and set her to work in the family’s sewing business. Clara only enjoyed the sewing and designing the dresses. As Clara was in the back rooming, looking for the dress, she heard the bells on the door rang, “Oh hello Mrs. Pippet. How are you?”

‘Quite fine, Tessa, thank you. Just getting my little doll’s dress.”

Clara rolled her eyes. Mrs. Pippet’s daughter was not a doll. Unless you count evil dolls. Clara found the dress she’d been looking for and walked out of the backroom. “Here you are Mrs. Pippet.” she said sweetly.

“Oh thank you dear. My I believe you are our town’s best sewer we ever had.” Mrs. Pippet thanked with a wink. “ Where did you learn such a skill?”

“My, husband, John, rescued her from those red savages.” Tessa spoke up. Tessa was a tall woman, with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. She was rather pretty, and quite friendly for the matter. However, Tessa would never reach Mother’s bar, and her husband, John, could rot in hell for all Clara could care for.

“Oh really?” Mrs. Pippet exclaimed. “ I had no idea. Clara is such a nice, polite, young lady, you would never had guessed. Is that why you have an accent?”

“No, I’m from Ireland.” Clara explained. Coming from Ireland was one of Clara’s proudest things about her, besides being her mother’s child.

“Clara says she learned sewing from the savages.” Tessa continued.

Mrs. Pippet looked up at Clara with wide eyes. “Now, is that so? My that is marvelous indeed.”

Clara looked down on the floor. True, she did learn her sewing skills from them, and many other things as well. “Yes, they were very kind to me.” she whispered.

“Isn’t she sweet?” Tessa said “Even though they were horrible to her, she sticks up for them. John said they killed his wife and his twins.”

Clara turned around. Her eyes stung as if Tessa blew salt into them, and not saying the words that she did, however, to Clara it was the same. Lie. Clara thought They did not kill Mum, nor Alex and Ally. Father ran away.

“Tessa, you must tell me this story. Would like to come over and have some tea?”

“Why, yes I would. Clara, would you like to come?”

Clara shook her head no. “No thank you ladies, but I have some work to finish.”

Clara walked back to her stool and took her creation. As she began to sew she heard Tessa whisper to her friend “ She is such a responsible lady.” Clara watch the two ladies walked out the store and down the street. She looked the dress she was sewing. Once again, one of her beautiful creations would be worn by another girl, not by Clara. Clara was sewing, when she accidentally poked her finger. As the blood began to bloom on her finger, the memory of her sewing, of the Indians, rushed back to Clara, like the blood that began to flow out of her body.

It had been two days since Mother fainted, and since then, she had not woken up, only moaning her and there. Clara sat next to Mother, dabbing her forehead with a cool cloth, trying to keep the fever down. Clara looked around and saw Alex by the fire, observed by his own thoughts, and Ally, sitting on a stool, staring at Clara feverously, then at Mother. Clara could tell what they were both thinking. It was the same as what Clara was thinking. Would Mother be ok? Would they be sick? Clara set the cloth down. “Alex,” she asked “ Will you to the garden and get some corn? Ally go get the pot ready. We’re going to eat dinner.” Without a sound, the twins followed their older sister’s orders. Clara took a loaf a bread out of the bread basket, while Ally filled the pot with water and hung it in the fire. Clara and Ally then began to set the table together. It wasn’t much, simple and plain, but Clara tried to make it homey as best as she could. They didn’t have and silver wear. Only wooden spoons and bowls. They also had three tin cups. Clara adjusted the wild flowers she collected earlier. She was about to get the bread knife when suddenly Alex ran into the cottage and slammed the door behind him; his eyes wide with fear. “In-In, Indians!” he gasped between breaths.

“Ally and Alex, go by mum.” Clara ordered. Clara grabbed the bread knife and held it before her. Her heart was pounding and her throat was dry, but Clara didn’t notice those things. Her aim was to survive. She never met any Indians before, but she had learned about gruesome rumors about them. Sure enough, two Indian men walked in. Clara gasped. They were tall, very tall. Their skin was red at all like Clara imagined, but a cinnamon color, the hair was raven black. One man had half of head shaved, while the other half still had hair. The man behind him was older, and his hair was white as snow, wrinkles outlined his face, but his eyes were what caught Clara’s attention. They were dark, mysterious, but full of wisdom. His eyes remind Clara of her grandmother who she left back in Ireland.

The young Indian walked towards Clara and held up his hand. Clara looked at him curiously, but not putting her knife down. She noticed how his moccasins covered his legs, and how loose they were! Beads dangled down from his shirt, his bow and arrow were slung across his back, and paint was covering part of his face. He indeed look terrifying. “What do you want?” Clara asked. The young man looked at Clara confused and asked his elder something in their old language. The old man looked at Clara, to the twins, Mother and finally back at Clara. “ Where is Father?” he asked. Clara was taken back. She did not suspect he knew English, but then why did she ask them? She shook her head “There is no Father.” The old man repeated her answer to the young one. The young one’s face expression did not change. Stone. The older man grumbled something and pushed the young one aside and walked up to Clara. He pointed to Mother. “ She is sick, no?”

Clara nodded her head.

He then pointed to Alex and Ally. “And they are you siblings, no?”

Clara nodded again.

The old man murmured again in his language. He looked around at the house, from the flowers on the table, the moon quilt covering Mother, back at Clara; and he looked in her directly in the eye. “Your family is not like most white people’s.”

“You mean because we have no father?” Clara asked confused. Her family had nothing. All they had was each other.

The old man shook his head and waved his hand in the air. “No, that is not what I meant. There is something, uh, um, special, about this home, this air.” He paused for a moment. “And it is coming from your Mother, but yet, I sense it in you and your siblings as well. Not as strong, no, but still there.”

Clara continued to look at him confused. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Mother moaned quietly, and turned her head. The old man quickly turned his attention to Mother. He walked over and touched her forehead. “Ah, she is sick, no?” he asked. The old man looked at Alex and smiled. Alex looked at Clara worriedly, but nodded his head yes. The old man walked slowly, but with a straight posture, Clara noticed, back to her.

“My name is Eyes of Hawk” he said. “Well in you tongue, it is.” Eyes of Hawk pointed to the younger Indian behind him. “ And he my son, Swift Deer.” Clara titled her head. “My name is Clara. And these are my siblings. They are twins. The boy is Alex and the girl is Ally. My mother’s name is Madrid.”

Clara went to sink and washed her finger. Eyes of Hawk welcomed Clara and her siblings into their family. They weren’t able to heal Mother, but Clara was grateful they tried. Eyes of Hawk’s wife was generous to Clara, and loved Alex and Ally like her own children. There, Clara taught her brother and sister, freely, Mother’s teaching, for the Indians did not mind. They were great people. Clara tore the bottom of dresses, and tied the small piece of fabric around her wound. Clara heard the door opened, and heavy footsteps coming towards her. “Hello Clara.”

“Hello Simon.” Clara greeted coolly. She did not need to turn around to know it was him. His deep voice, heavy footsteps said it all. Simon picked up a needle and slipped his between his fingers. Clara quickly turned around and grabbed it from him. “That is not a toy Simon.”

Simon laughed. “Tell me Sara. Why must you be so hard to please?” He leaned across the counter into Clara’s face. His curly bronze hair, gleamed in the sunlight, his hazel eyes full mischief. “ Did those Indians suck all the happiness out of you? I would love to get a couple myself.” he jeered. Clara turned her cheek. “No Simon. You’re just not as flattering as you think you are.”

Simon laughed. “Now I know that’s a lie Clara. I’m the most charming man in this whole town.”

Clara laughed too, but hers was heartless and cold. “Think as you wish, lad.”

“You know Clara, you are twenty two. You should be married by now.”

Clara didn’t say anything and only continued her sewing, praying he would leave her alone.

“And I am single.” he stated.

Please, please don’t go there. Clara begged silently.

“I think you would be love a lovely wife.” Simon said more seriously. Clara looked up him, her hazel eyes wide. “Oh, Simon. No I’m sorry.”

Simon looked down. “I figured you would say that. That’s what I asked your Pa.” Clara thought her stomach was about the hurl. “W-wh-what?” she asked.

“I asked your Pa before I asked you, and he said that I gladly could have your hand in marriage.”

“He can’t do that!” Clara cried.

Simon adjusted his cowboy hat on his head. “I know, but Clara, isn’t that the tradition in Ireland? The father chooses for his daughter?”

The color drained from Clara’s face. It was indeed.

“Yes.” she whispered.

“Good night Clara. I’ll see you tomorrow.” As Simon left the store, Tessa came back in. “Oh hello Simon.”

“Hello Mrs. Durbin.”

Tessa walked behind the counter and looked at what Clara was sewing. She lifted the pearl-colored gown. “My, Clara, I believe you’ve out done your self. Anyways, darling, it’s time to close the shop and come home.”

Clara nodded her head, folded her dress, and places it underneath the counter. Tessa closed the curtains, and counted the money. “We’re making good business, Clara.”

Clara didn’t say anything, and only continued to help close the store for the night.

After they were done, Tessa locked the shop, and tugged her shawl closer. “It’s a bit chilly, isn’t?”

Clara looked at the setting sun. The light poured down their valley like blood river mixed with orange and pink. The bloodlike light gave Clara a chill.

Women were screaming, holding on to their children. Shots could be heard in the background.

“Pa! pa!” Clara cried.

Father grabbed Clara and ran. Mother already had Alex and Ally.

“Madrid. This is it. We are moving out of Ireland. I can’t take these English anymore. We’ve already lost so much. We are going to America.” Mother looked at the earth. She did not want to leave her home, but her children’s safety was more important.

“Clara? Are you alright dear?” asked a concerned Tessa.

Clara stumbled back a bit. “Yes, sorry. I had a flashback.”

“Of the Indians?”

“No, of Ireland.”

Tessa left it at that. Clara tugged her white shawl closer. “And yes your right. It is a bit chilly.” she whispered.

The walk home wasn’t long. As Tessa and Clara opened the door. Tessa’s children ran towards her. Two sons. One was named Jim. He was six, the oldest. The other was John Jr. , but everyone called him junior. He was four. Both boys could easily be mistaken for twins, with their light hair and light eyes. They clearly gained their looks from there mother. Clara set her shawl to the side and went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. It was a fancy kitchen than what Clara grew up with Mother. Instead of a dirt floor, this kitchen floor was made out of marble, white walls, and china set dishes. Clara’s father certainly had gained wealth while he gone. And a new wife with children. Clara carried the salad out onto the table, while Tessa carried the turkey. John sat down at the head, his son’s next to him, following Tessa and Clara last. Clara cast her eyes down. She’d never looked at John in eye, he deserved nothing. After they said grace, John cleared his voice. “I have announcement everyone.” Tessa passed the turkey around.

“As you our country has a new state--Oregon. It is said to be beautiful, with rich fertile soil. Tessa, your shop is going well is it not?”

Tessa nodded her head. “Yes is it. Everyone loves Clara.”

John nodded his head. “Good. Do you think you have enough money to open a new shop?”

“Oh John, you don’t mean- , are we-,” Tessa stuttered.

“Yes we are. I want to leave Ohio. Time we move on.” John nodded his head.

Clara felt her mouth drop. They were moving again? Wait, does this mean she won’t have to marry Simon?

The boys yelled with excitement. “Does this mean we get to see buffalo?”

“Yep.”

“And Indians?”

“I’m sure we’ll see some.” John eyed Clara carefully as he mentioned this. Clara showed no emotion except how interesting the salad was to her.

“Can we shoot some?”

“I see no reason not. They’re just some heathens.”

Clara almost spat out her food. They’re not the heathens. You are! she screamed in her mind. Clara gently placed her napkin on the table. “May I go on a walk?”

“No,” ordered John. “ Clara, Simon asked me for your hand.”

Clara injured Tessa squeal of joy and started at John. The coming words seemed to be coming so slow out of his mouth. “I said yes. And he is coming with us. You are to get married out there, have your own home, start a family.”

Clara’s vision began to blur has the tears began to build up. “What if I don’t want to marry him?”

“You have no choice. Now sit down.”

Clara sat down, but her anger was rising towards the ceiling. One day she will brake free, and she will never come back. Ever.

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A/N : alright i know my prolouge was crap, and i might delete it, but help, advice will greatly be appreciated. I know not much is happying now, but there will be plenty later ;) and the italized parts, in case no one realized, but they are memories, or flashbacks