It was lunch time.

It was also a good time to start explaining our new story. This is a story we would all take turns telling, telling it over and over again at every meal. This was the story which would make up the first of the kids writing and math lessons. We would repeat this story until even we believed it to be fact.

Luckily the kids were still fairly young and that would make it easier, but this was still something we needed to get handled anyway. Starting with them would make it a lot easier to get our own story straight, as well. To get them to focus on the most important part, I started the story on the Barbary Coast.

I tried to keep the story as close to our backgrounds as possible, it would be easier to avoid mistakes that way. So to start the story I was, and am, Sergeant Zachariah Ebenezer Narrater recently of the United States Marine Corps; having served under Lt. Presley O’Bannon on the USS Argus. I had participated in the March on Tripoli and the Battle of Derna. I mustered out after that campaign and took a commission providing personal protection to Señor Abello and his family. The Abello Family Trade House was a minor trade endeavor moving goods between Spain, the Barbary Coast and the Spanish Empire in Central America; they also made occasional runs to the Orient; Sonya Abello was the treasured daughter of Señor Abello. There was a grain of truth to both of those back stories, Sonya’s father did work at the Port of Los Angeles and I had been a Marine who had fought in campaigns in that part of the world.

Sonya had been headed to Veracruz on a sensitive business matter and I was escorting her; so far so good. Sonya did have a vacation scheduled for Veracruz later that year. We purchased Esther and Amos at the giant slave bazaar in Algiers to serve as personal servants during the journey, and that was where I bought Michelle also.

The purchase of Amos and Esther was fairly straight forward, they were young, healthy and ready to be trained as personal servants. The trader was proud of the fact that the whip wasn’t required with these two young ones. Back in the real world, Sonya didn’t like this at all and protested quite loudly, I told her to ask Amos.

Amos only had to relate his and his families experience briefly. “T ‘ain’t no fun being a slave ma’am,” he quietly said, “the massa he liked the drink and the cards. When he’d lose at the cards he’d whip my pa fer sure the next day. When he drank he liked to do mean things to my ma.”

Tears were on Sonya’s and Michelle’s cheek and Matilda sat in stony faced silence; I had expected a story something along these lines.

Amos went on, “Massa lost us to the trader man playing the cards, he was surely angry about that. Ruth and me run one night when we was in St. Jo with the trader man.”

I interrupted then, “That’s not the story any more Amos, you can remember that and we’ll teach you how to write it down but this new story is important. You can’t be run-aways anymore, we purchased you in Algiers which is far across the ocean. Remember only the new story for it’s important if you want to stay free. You may never speak the true story again until you are an old, old man, your Momma and your Papa want you to be safe and be free; this is how you can give them their wish.”

Conflicted feelings raged on Amos and Esther’s faces but they nodded their heads in agreement.

We took a bathroom and drinks break, I had hoped to make this quick but it was apparent that the rest of our day would be spent on grinding through this. Matilda picked up her sewing, I think she was finishing up the clothes for the kids. I grabbed a beer.

“So,” I continued, “Amos and Esther we bought in Algiers. They had been taken from their village during a raid one night. They walked a long way in a line with other people from other villages until they were put on a ship and taken to Algiers. They don’t know what happened to their mother and father.”

I stopped and quizzed each of the children on that until they got it right. Amos, bless his heart, seemed to understand and he promised to help Esther.

I motioned to Michelle and she took over telling her portion of the tale, we had discussed this at length in our tent at night and did a lot of research to back up our story.

Michelle began, “I’m from Pennsylvania, I was raised on my father's horse ranch there; we specialized in those fine Morgan steeds you see in the corral over there. We sold our horses at auction and to private parties in Philadelphia and New York City, we had an excellent strain and we trained them well. We got top dollar with many sales overseas, usually to England and France; we delivered in person to insure the health of the animal. The delivery fee was always part of the payment collected up front.”

She paused for a sip of tea before going on, “This particular delivery was going to Constantinople…”

Another interruption from Sonya, “It’s Istanbul, everyone knows that!”

“No,” I replied, “it didn’t become Istanbul until 1930, that’s one hundred and ten years from now.”

Sonya still refused to fully accept our situation; I’m not sure any of us truly did, but we were a lot further down that road than she was.

Michelle restarted, “This particular delivery of one stallion and three mares was going to Constantinople. We never made it there, we were taken by pirates before we could make it safely to Ibiza; head winds slowed us. We were boarded; some of the men including my father tried to fight and were killed. The rest of us were chained together and put in the hold. The young women were kept separately and nobody touched us, but horrible things happened to the other passengers.”

She paused to take a breath and then continued, “We were off loaded in Algiers and taken to the bazaar, traders come and bid on us as groups. I was with the slave trader for two nights, he was a skinny black man and had a large black wife, she wouldn’t let him touch us because ‘we were too valuable’. At the end of those two days you guys purchased me. It was a blessed relief.”

Sonya interrupted again, “Everybody knows that the slave trade was only black people!”

“Your flat out wrong,” I stopped her, “Slaving raids in Europe were a constant thing up until about the 1850’s. Up to a million white slaves were taken and traded in each century before that point. They would simply raid a village, take who the wanted and sell them at market; sometimes their own royalty did it just to raise money.”

“But,” she moaned, “they told us in school…”

“They repeated the lie they were told; the cold hard truth is that pretty much every person in the world is the descendent of both slaver and slave. Slavery and brutality are color-blind and have been everywhere forever.”

Michelle added in gently, “I’ll show you the research this evening sweetie; it’s harsh.”

We took another break; Sonya looked exhausted and Matilda looked bored.

Reconvening, we prepared to move on; Michelle had produced some chocolate bars from somewhere and shared them around.

The kids were shocked when they took their first bite. We just sat and watched them eat. Michelle had to warn them to go slowly and enjoy. It was quite obvious and not surprising that they had never tasted chocolate before. There was going to be some fun having them around, I thought a kite might be in order.

I took over on the restart.

“First thing we did was take Michelle for a proper meal. Over that meal she told us her story and the fate of her father; she bemoaned the loss of the horses she had raised as well. I couldn’t help her with her father but we could see about her clothes and horses. We managed to find the horses waiting in line to go to auction, I paid too much but purchased them out right. We also found the chest with her belongings waiting to be auctioned as part of a grab bag lot, we managed to strike a deal for both her and her father’s travel chest.”

I paused here to light a cigarette and take a pull on my beer.

“The money I was spending was from my saved earnings and the prize money I won in the Battle of Derna, but it was going fast. Senor Abello was willing to give me an advance on my salary so I could book Sonya and her horses on the same ship to Veracruz as us. I would try to see her home if possible. The house servants took Amos and Esther in under their wings and gave them good clothes, they even taught them a few things. Sonya’s mother, who was from the Orient even looked in on Michelle.”

“We left a week later and sailed for Veracruz.”

It was time to quiz the kids again, I had each of them tell their story and we corrected them where needed; extreme repetition was needed. When the kids started to embellish the story on their own we’d know they had it down.

“In Veracruz we found that Sonya’s uncle had left for Chicago and we should meet him there; we were also instructed to bring some merchandise with us. The merchandise happened to be the three llamas. We met Matilda at the inn where we stayed in Veracruz. She asked the girls if she could come with us, the girls told me that she was coming with us so I purchased Matilda as well.”

Well this set Sonya off again, “Matilda, you tell him right now that you can’t be purchased you are a person.”

Matilda spoke, “Si, purchased.”; and then quietly, “again.”

Both Sonya and Michelle were stunned; I had expected that was the case.

Sonya tried again, “Matilda, we didn’t purchase you.”

“No, he save.” She said pointing at me.

Damn it Max, was my thought.

I ignored her and finished it up quickly, “We travelled north along the coast via boat until we came to a trading post. At that trading post we joined with a trader who was returning north to his Wichita squaw wife and was happy to have our company. From the Kansas territory we travelled through tribal lands to here.”

“We have been travelling a long time and are resting nearby here; we will continue our journey later.”

Now the afternoon was fleeing us and it was time for a bourbon and a cigarette.

I sat and thought.

I asked Matilda to teach the kids the dog cart; that got them out of my hair.

I called Sonya and Michelle over.

“We need to educate the kids,” I led off with, “I want Sonya to do it.

“We need them to be able to read and write, and they must know this story from their point of view.”

Sonya started to object but I merely looked at Michelle and walked away to get the drone; I had scouting to do. I could hear the girls in combative conversation behind me. I launched my drone and ignored them, focusing on surveying and surveillance.

Chores got done and dinner was eaten. After dinner the story was retold again by me, this time without interruption, and Michelle recorded it.

We got Esther settled in the top bunk and Amos into his tent, heating rocks and all.

Emotionally it was a draining day.

I collapsed into bed and Michelle crawled over me to the tent wall side of the bed; sleep came quickly.

Matilda came to my bed later that night, Michelle skootched over and made space for her between us.

I sleepily assumed it was a scared child and I simply put my arm over them both and went back to sleep.