Kentucky. The 15th state is mainly known for its finger-licking good fried chicken and horse races, but the state is also known for growing tobacco as well. After separating from Virginia to become his own state, he inherited her talent to produce tobacco. The bluegrass region's rich soil allowed the state to capitalize on the cash crop's growth up until the 20th century.

By the beginning of the 20th century, monopolies had dominated various industries across the country. One such monopoly included the American Tobacco Company. The A.T.C. was able to sell their tobacco products for cheap, competitively beating out local farmers who couldn't risk lowering the price of their tobacco without going broke. Such struggling businesses ended up in the hands of the A.T.C. who were able to buy their businesses and farms, thus grow bigger while local farmers suffered.

Furious with the monopoly's malicious practices, some of the local farmers in Kentucky and Tennessee rounded up into militant group known as the Silent Brigade or Night Riders. They committed various acts of destruction and violence for a brief period of time against those who refused to join their cause. For farmers who refused to cooperate with them, the Night Riders would destroy their crops, machinery, livestock, and warehouses. They even captured towns in midst of their civil unrest. From 1904-1909, the Black Patch Tobacco Wars was one of various conflicts that involved local businesses and laborers protesting against the rise of corporations. Although a serious conflict, Kentucky and Tennessee took this with a grain of salt, and had "fun" defying the greedy tycoons from controlling their tobacco.

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There it was. The first flames to set alight in the dark night. A strong breeze blew over the crops, waving off the scent of burning, toxic leaves that would make an addict go wild. Even though it was only the two of us, we did more damage than we expected. Sure, the farmer of this property was going to be pissed, but it was all for a good cause. I think...

"Hurry up, Kent! We need to burn this last row before the cops show up!" Tennessee hollered from his horse as we galloped with our lanterns through the rows of tobacco crops.

"Where to next after this?" I called as I threw my torch into the field, setting ablaze a column of tobacco to wither and droop within minutes.

My fellow state rejoined me at the back gate. Just in time, we heard shouts from what I guess came from farmer. Hopping off my horse, I rushed to push the gate open, allowing our horses to pass through without hassle. Tennessee went ahead as I hurried back onto my horse. Sat up on my leather saddle, I held the reins, and whipped Viceroy to gallop ahead. I glanced back at the farm, catching a hefty man in his late forties in front of the flaming fields. He raised and shook his meaty fist at us, aggressively stomping his feet against the ground in a stream of curses coming out of his grizzly beard.

'He'll be okay,' I thought to myself. 'He'll lose money either way... At the very least, he won't lose to a business tycoon...'

I rode after Tennessee into the night, tracking his dimly lit lantern in the dark forest. Galloping down a winding path, we rode through acres of oak and elm until we made it back to a dirt road. There was a commotion not far behind us. We didn't waste time splitting up. Tennessee went west, and I went east. Afterward, I put out the fire in my lamp. From that point onward, I rode in the dark, taking various short-cuts and alternate routes in the dark.

At one point, I halted my horse in the brambles of the forest. I waited, carefully listening to the sounds of the forest. The owls hooted. The raccoons tittered. The crows were silent. The clopping hooves were not heard. I finally let out a sigh of relief.

"Good boy." I patted Viceroy's neck.

Viceroy shook his head as though he was saying, "You're welcome."

I softly chuckled. "It's not over yet. I still need to meet up with Tennessee. Hopefully he didn't get caught. I'll be disappointed if he got caught," I muttered.

I whipped Viceroy back into a trot, leading us through the forest once again. Once again, I lit my lantern. I raised the small light in my hand, scanning the forest as I tired to find a marking. It wasn't long before I stumbled upon a large, charcoal 'X' on a cashew tree. I went north of the tree, finding more markings like that along the way. The thicket of trees grew taller and thicker as I kept going deeper into the forest. Until finally, I stumbled upon a small clearing.

The area once belonged to an elderly farmer. He had a wife, five kids, and some grandchildren. After his kids grew up, they left the farm in favor of city life. His wife would later die, and he would later follow suit. From what I heard, his children weren't interested on wasting their money repairing the property. At the same time, they didn't want to sell it just yet. As a result, this property was currently in limbo, stuck in a grassy, weedy forest that should've been chopped down by now.

Fortunately for Tennessee and I, this place was an excellent hideout from the cops. While the nearby farm house became a infestation of wasps, roaches, spiders, and warblers, making it completely useless to us, the barn on the other hand was the perfect place for us. Sure, the barn could've been in better shape. Mildew was replacing the white paint, and the wooden exterior was getting moldy. And yeah, there was a hole in the roof, quite problematic during rainstorms. Still, it mostly shielded us from the elements while hiding us from the cops. Even the raccoons would've agreed with me.

I noticed Tennessee was standing against the closed doors of the barn with his horse standing close by. His face peered up upon my arrival.

"Took ya long enough," he grumbled.

"Ya got the key?"

"If I did, I wouldn't be standing here."

I went through my pockets. I pulled out a key from my shirt pocket, and tossed it to him. He took his lantern off the ground, holding it over the iron, chained locked that held the door handles together. He used the key, and the rusted lock fell to the ground. Tennessee pulled the chains away from the door handles before sliding one of them open. I hopped off my horse, and led Viceroy into the shadows of the barn.

"Damn. I could barely see in here," he said as he, too, led his horse inside the dark barn.

"No kidding," I agreed, holding my small lamp in the air. I stopped in my tracks as I raised the lantern around the area. "Do you have matches on you?" I turned to him.

He proceeded to dig through his pockets.

"Here."

He tossed a small box of matches toward me.

"I'll put the horses up while you get a fire going."

I nodded. "Will do."

While Tennessee got the horses into their stalls, I got busy getting a fire going. I traced my steps around the barn, moving the lantern around me until I stumbled upon a fire pit. What remained of the pit were a circle of stones the size of my fist and the charred remains of hay. I placed my lantern down by the spot. I spotted a heap of chopped wood by the haystacks. I grabbed about six of them, and placed them by the pit. I also grabbed clumps of hay from one of the empty stalls, and added it to the pile. After organizing the pile in the fire pit, I took one of the matches out of the box. I slid the red tip across the rough side. It took me three tries before I was able to get a fire going. I lit the hay, and gently blew on the flame, allowing the small flame to grow. It didn't take long for the flame to swallow the wood, lighting every corner of the barn with an amber glow.

Feeling content with the job, I sat myself down on a nearby haystack. I took out a small, tin case labelled "Tiger Chewing Tobacco" out of my shirt pocket. I opened the lid, and took a pinch of it, stuffing the black gunk into my mouth. Like chewing gum, the snuff was sweet with an addictive spice that sparked my tongue on occasion. I heard footsteps, and looked up to see my friend with an unlit cigarette between his teeth.

"Mind if I have my matches back?" he asked with a nonchalant smirk on his face.

The corners of my mouth curved upward. "Nope."

"You know. I think we should've harvested the tobacco for ourselves rather than burn it down. Seems like a waste, you know?" I spoke.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth, breathing out a cloud of smoke. "I mean, you're not wrong. But it wouldn't feel right stealing from a poor farmer."

I scowled. "Still, don't you feel kinda bad for him? We did burn his source of income."

He shrugged. "Either way, he wouldn't be able to make much thanks to those corporate assholes. If he wanted to protect his tobacco crops, he should've banded with the rest of the farmers. As Night Riders, our job is to protect poor farmers from selling their product at a value less than the price of their hard work. If we don't unite the farmers against those fat cats, many lives will suffer, and our economy will be in the control of greedy tycoons."

Singed with determination and justification, his words, however, didn't match the fear in his sapphire blue eyes.

I slowly chewed my tobacco. The rush I had earlier was nearly nonexistent. My jaw started to ache, so I spat the gunk into a nearby metal bucket. I picked my teeth, getting a bit out from the back of my molars. Smacking my lips, I was in the mood for a drink. I looked around, and saw my bag was placed next to the hay. I picked it up, and rummaged through my belongings.

"Hey!" I got Tennessee's attention. "Want a drink?" I raised a bottle of moonshine out of my bag.

He smiled. "You didn't have to ask," he chuckled.

We passed the time passing the moonshine around, taking turns drinking out of the bottle. We both grew red in the cheeks as we talked about a lot of things. We laughed and sang merrily around the fire. It made me wish I brought my banjo along instead of leaving it back home.

"So, Georgia. You know Georgia. She... So, I showed her this song of mine I had written. I put all my heart and hard work into writing this song. And...you know what she said to me?"

I shook my head, sipping out of the bottle. "No. What she say?"

"She told me it sucked!"

"Whaaat?"

"Uh-huh! She told me it was too loud, or too all over the place whatever that means. That girl too stuck-up to admit I write good music."

"You said it, boy!"

We laughed.

Eventually, the bottle of moonshine was nearly empty. I noticed Tennessee was growing sleepy, slouching back against the hay bale. I yawned, and rubbed my eyes, getting a little sleepy as well. I stared back at the haystack I was sitting on.

"... I sure miss sleeping in a bed..." I mumbled.

His ears perked up. "Me, too. It's too bad we can't go storming into an inn without someone snitching on us." He sighed.

"Have you thought about going home?"

He sat up with an astonished look on his face. "Going home? I mean, it's nice and all, but we still have a job to do. Not until those businessmen know not to mess with us."

I frowned. "We could barely feed ourselves. Sooner or later we're going to get caught."

We waved me off. "We can always get more supplies. I'll even buy you some whiskey if it makes you feel any better."

"Trent, we're broke."

He shrugged. "So?" He breathed in and exhaled his cigarette. "We'll make do. We'll keep this war going until they recognize our demands-"

"And then what?" I questioned.

He was taken aback by my question. He turned his eyes away, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. "We'll go home, of course."

I grimaced. "Why can't we go-"

"We're not going to give up!" he loudly interrupted me.

The fire crackled across his tanned face, revealing the dark spots under his eyes.

I stared down at the ground in silence. "... It's over, Trent. We can't keep doing this anymore."

"Not with that attitude," he scoffed.

I furrowed my brow. "I'm serious. We're already in enough trouble as it is."

"I don't care. What matters is protecting our peoples' welfare."

"You say that after burning a farmer's farm down," I reminded him.

He gritted his yellow teeth. "What's wrong with you? You're the one who persuaded me to join the Silent Brigade. You're the one who was all against the American Tobacco Company. We've been doing this for, what, five years? And you're going to chicken out now? Don't tell me you're afraid-"

"I'M NOT AFRAID, DAMN IT!" I immediately shut his mouth.

Outbursts were rare for me. They wasted too much energy on a man. It wasn't worth getting all fired up over a comment I disagree with. As quick as my anger came, I was quick to calm down. All that came out of my mouth was a heavy sigh. I was about to lift the bottle of moonshine to my mouth, but I hesitated.

"... Here." I tossed the bottle to Tennessee. "You can finish it."

He looked down on the bottle with a perplexed expression. "... Thanks," he muttered.

The Tennessean chugged down the bottle. Once it was empty, he placed it down on the ground, and laid himself down on the hay bale with his arms behind his head. He quietly stared up at the ceiling, uttering not a word to himself or I. All he did was suck on his dying cigarette.

I slouched against haystack, staring into the fire, feeling the exhaustion get to my tired eyes. It had been a long night for the both of us. Accepting defeat was something we both struggle with. We had been doing this for about five years. It was a fun protest against a controlling, evil force. The amount of destruction we did was something to be proud of at first. But then, five years later, the war drew to an end. We were one of the few who continued the protest. However, we didn't have the protection of the Silent Brigade anymore. We were now on the run from the authorities without a clue as to what we were doing.

Wanted posters with massive rewards for our capture were plastered everywhere across our homes. We couldn't step a foot in any town without someone pointing at our faces. We couldn't go to a general store. We couldn't stay at an inn. We couldn't even go to a local saloon for a drink. Our only safe haven was the woods, notably our multiple hideouts like the abandoned barn we were staying in. Our friends didn't bother to help us, telling us many times to grow up, and turn ourselves in before things get out of hand. As for the members of the Silent Brigade, most of them ended up getting arrested. We were two out of a few Night Riders to fight against the monopoly. We were basically on our own.

"Hey," I spoke up. "What were you doing before I asked you about the Silent Brigade?"

"... I think... I think I was rounding up horses on a ranch... And you?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Farming."

"Ah..."

Honestly, I would rather burn a field of tobacco than farm it. It was hard work. It was also very boring. While I sweated my ass off in the summer, some Northern tycoon was playing golf while another sipped lemonade by a humongous swimming pool. Upon learning the actions of the Silent Brigade, I was determined to join them against such money-grubbing men. But now, the excitement I once felt raiding storehouses and burning fields was no longer there. I felt...pointless.

"The last of our beef jerky is gone," I told him. "We don't have anymore ammo to hunt animals, or protect ourselves. We have no more money. Our clothes are beginning to tear, and we probably stink of opossum musk."

He sniffed his armpits. "I don't smell anything."

"Exactly."

He frowned. " When was the last we bathed?"

I tickled my nose. "I think...three days ago." And it was in a river by the way.

"Do you think we're going to be tenant farmers after this?"

"Probably."

He groaned. "For once, can you lie to me? Tell me we'll go home without getting punished."

"Oh... Never mind. Our bosses will greet us with open arms and give us lots of food when we turn ourselves in. Any better?"

"Slightly." He sighed as he spat his cigarette into the fire pit. "I... I know they'll punish us. But I hate to go to prison or get a serious whipping. I mean, there's no way I'll last very long. Surely, they won't put me and a lunatic in a same cell. That'll be a nightmare."

"I doubt they would," I mumbled. "Most likely they'll cut our salaries, and extend our work hours."

"... I can't believe you're acting so calm about this."

I shifted my body across the hay bales. "I'm not afraid. I'll admit. I did have fun vandalizing property. But all good things must come to an end. All wars must come to an end..."

"... Yeah. I guess you're right..."

The fire slowly burned itself out as we drifted off to sleep.

~

"What in the world were you thinking?! Twenty fields! Four warehouses! A single town for Christ's sake!"

I had to admit. What my boss said was pretty impressive. I mean, twenty fields! I swore I burned fifteen of them!

"Aw, gee! Thanks, boss!" I rubbed the back of my neck.

"That's not something to be proud of! Do you have any idea how much money it's going to take to pay all those farmers and businesses? Tobacco is essential to the agricultural sector, and your reckless behavior nearly ruined that!" My boss continued to rant on how careless I was, and the amount of trouble I caused for him and the people.

Tennessee, too, had his own problems since we decided to turn ourselves in. I hadn't heard from him since we were separated at the train station when he was escorted home. Hopefully his punishment was tame in comparison to mine. My salary was cut in order to pay for the damages done. As expected, my boss sentenced me to hard labor on the fields, working fourteen hours per day, six days per week, until all my debts are paid. It was awful, especially during those hot, summer days. But like I said, no regrets.

I was disappointed to hear my boss and the public weren't on board with my actions and the Silent Brigade, but I guess they were right in a sense. My actions to stop the American Tobacco Company went a bit too far, I guess. In fact, the vandalism was completely unnecessary.

Much to my relief, the American Tobacco Company was forced to dismantle thanks to the U.S. Supreme Court who ruled it to be a monopoly, thus violating the Sherman Anti-Trust Act of 1890. I wanted to say this was the end, but then again they're still large businesses gaining the profits while local farmers struggle to earn enough for their families. Times were changing, and I honestly didn't know how I felt about that.

Sigh. At least I get to drink more moonshine again.

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+ The Black patch Tobacco Wars (or the Great Tobacco strike) was a long, violent conflict in parts of Kentucky and Tennessee that lasted from 1904 to 1909. Many tobacco farmers were in conflict with the American Tobacco Company's monopoly on tobacco. Their solution was the Planter's Protective Association as a counter force against the ATC. However, not every farmer cooperated with the PPA. Consequently, farmers who supported the ATC or didn't join the PPA faced violence from The Night Riders.

- The Night Riders were originally known as the Silent Brigade. They were a vigilante force who used illegal violence to force farmers to join the Planter's Protective Association. They burned acres of tobacco, they destroyed warehouses, they broke machinery, they were also known to raid towns and attack people, especially Black farmers and workers. They even elected their own into government positions as a way of securing their control. Their violence eventually came an end when police arrests were finally being made. By the end of it, the ATC were willing to cooperate to the PPA's demands.

+ There's a lot more to the Black Patch Tobacco Wars I didn't show. This chapter mainly takes places near the end of the violence. Maybe in another story I'll explain more about the conflict.

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