A Powerless World | Book 3 | Defend The Homestead Hunt, Jack (read my book TXT) 📖

him the image. He hadn’t looked at it in many years. It was crinkled and faded. He’d folded it so he wouldn’t see it every time he opened the wallet. “In the weeks after her death, I contemplated throwing it away but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“It’s astonishing. I mean, the sheriff was right. She could have been my doppelganger if my hair was naturally dark.” There was a pause. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“What was I supposed to say? Oh, hey, you look like my dead girlfriend but sorry, I gotta take in you, regardless.”

“You have a point.” She tucked it back into the wallet and handed it back. “You haven’t told me how she died. What happened?”

He shook his head, not wanting to go back there. It hurt too much. It had taken years for the pain to recede. Just being back in the county and with Alicia had unearthed old feelings, ones he didn’t want to discuss, ones he’d thought he’d forgotten, ones he’d hoped he wouldn’t feel again.

“The events of that night change based on who you ask. To this day I still don’t think I ever heard the truth. You have to understand the dynamics of the way things were back then. Our family had been at odds with the Stricklands since they tried to muscle their way into the black market and take food out of our families’ mouths. There was no way Skye and I could have lived a peaceful life here. So I suggested we leave for L.A.”

“So that’s why you headed there.”

He nodded. “It wasn’t the same without her but I did my best to make it home.” Colby took a deep breath as they were getting closer to the turnoff for Loleta. As the horse wound its way along the road, the landscape of redwoods became denser. A bend in the road gave them a clear view of the bay in the distance. A bright sun spread its warmth over a sign for cheap gas that loomed up ahead. Someone had gotten up there and spray painted over it with the words NO LONGER FOR SALE.

“When Skye didn’t show that night, I headed into town. That’s when I saw a commotion. Sirens blaring. Cops. There were already EMTs on the scene. As I got closer, I saw that it was her. She’d been shot three times.” He exhaled.

“Did they catch who did it?”

“No.”

“Did you find out who it was?”

“Yes.” A pause followed then he said, “My brother. Jessie.”

“What?”

“I was told that she was planning to turn me in to the cops for a crime I hadn’t committed — the death of her sister’s boyfriend. Like I said, back then things were different, Alicia. I know it sounds extreme and doesn’t make much sense but if you grew up around here, you would understand.”

“Was she?”

“Planning to turn me in?” He snorted. “No. Of course not. My family thought she had thrown me under the bus and so they did what anyone might and lashed out.”

There was a long pause as she contemplated it.

“Shit. That’s harsh.”

“Welcome to my family.”

“Remind me not to cross them.”

He might have laughed at one time but not now. It was a sad but true reality. Now it just left a heaviness in his chest. They continued riding through the heart of Humboldt, his mind circling to the past as he saw landmarks that brought back memories.

“So who do you know in this tribe?”

“I have a friend there. His name is Dakota Moon. We go way back. He attended the same school as me. He was a new arrival and some didn’t take too kindly to him. One day I found him being beaten on by two guys, so I figured I would even the odds.”

“You helped him?”

He nodded. “I mean, he’d always say that he could have whopped their asses without my help, and he might have, but…”

“You’re not one for standing by and watching something like that happen.”

“Something like that. It probably helped that I was interested in his sister.”

She nudged him in the ribs. “Typical.” She laughed. “So what’s the deal with the Wiyot Tribe?”

“It’s a long story but their history is painted with tragedy. I would hate to see history repeat itself.”

As they rode, he thought back to the past, back to what he’d learned in school but more specifically from Dakota. He felt that their history was best told by Dakota, someone who knew it better than him. “What do you mean?”

Colby knew it would be hard telling Dakota about the accusations without dredging up the past. To avoid Alicia offending them, he figured he’d give her a brief overview. “To cut a long story short — the Wiyot Tribe was among several tribes in this area back in the late 1840s. Sometime in the early 1850s, the gold rush brought settlers here. They soon realized that the redwoods offered even more lucrative ways of making money so the settlers forced out the natives. Ultimately they wanted to remove them completely from the land. This all culminated in a massacre in 1860 on Tuluwat, or the place otherwise known as Indian Island out in Humboldt Bay. Every year the Wiyot people gather there for the World Renewal Ceremony. It usually lasts around ten days. Anyway, in the evening, men would go off to get more supplies, leaving behind the elderly, the women, and the children. Well, local settlers accused the tribes of stealing stock. They wanted the army to punish them. They wouldn’t. So, instead, they decided to do it themselves. They rowed over and while the men were away they killed upwards of 250 of them that night with hatchets and knives.”

“Children?”

“Yeah. Sick, isn’t it? But that’s what our ancestors did to expand. It happened a lot back then. It’s crazy to see what people will do to control others. It took them over 100 years to reclaim that land. Back in the 1970s, they tried to get the land