"What I want to know," Mercer asked, scraping out the stolen canned corn with a spoon, "is why you kissed that old woman more fervently than that of all the others?"

"She wasn't that old." I said dismissively, tossing a stick into the fire.

"The woman had clearly seen many moons," Raven commented, her eyes on the wood she was shaping with her knife, "Mr. Tyler."

Miguel leaned back and yelled, "Eyy! Antonio! Are you done pissing yet?!"

"Don't rush me!" Antonio came hobbling back from the bushes, "You fools call me Santa Anna for a reason!"

I smirked at him as he approached, "Whatever Demon, you find some ants to preach to?"

He sat down with a huff and straightened his hat, "Boy, I heard about all that-" He quoted in falsetto, "the gods that be nonsense. Don't mock Providence little man, I didn't like it."

"Reverend," I said in mock pain, "you're preaching to the choir."

"Uh-huh, right," he said unconvinced and he glanced at Waya, "word was three people were scalped?"

We glanced at him and his sister as well.

"What?" Waya stated, not an ounce of guilt on his face.

"You scalped someone else?" Mercer asked more like a statement.

"¡Jesucristo Waya! Who was it?" Miguel laughed.

"The guard at the colored car said something offensive to my sister."

"His partner," Raven chimed in nonchalantly, "also fell under the train."

"You threw," I laughed incredulously, "two people under the train?"

"What of," Mercer asked, "that dame you were kissing up on before the party?"

I grew quiet and Waya added.

"You also told us not to rob her when we went through the train."

"She," I answered, "reminded me of my family in Atlanta."

"What happened in Atlanta by the way?" Antonio asked, and I grew cold, distant even. "I mean, I told you all the story of my experience at the Battle of Camarón. Was it glorious like that?"

I looked at the burning wood, my face twitching at the sound of distant screams that I knew weren't real.

"No, no it wasn't glorious at all."

*~RDR3~*

About eight years ago...
Sometime during 1858...

I paced back and forth again and again. They had taken her, again they had taken her. I raked my hands through my hair and mumbled prayers to the Lord. Is she going to be okay?

Is my wife going to be okay?

I swear if she's hurt I could break a sledge over someone's head. I would rip my hair out and scream until the sky fell. God, anything but my wife!

Please let it be another false alarm, please!

Or...
Or...

A smile twerked at my lips.

Or let it be a girl.

My nephew, Clyde Tyler, burst in through the door.

"Is the baby out yet?!"

"I don't know!" I said raking my hands through my hair. "The midwife kicked me out because I was stressing her to pieces!"

"Relax, you're shaking and swaying like a corn-stock in a tumultuously windy field. Sit down, read something and rest assured that the midwife is doing her best."

I plopped into a nearby chair, scratching the wooden armrests in anxiousness.

"Is father coming?"

"Cole he's 66," Clyde stated, "and he's out working on the roads. You know how serious he is about everything he does. I sent one of the lads on horseback for him."

"And mother?"

"She's thirty six-"

"I know how old they are!"

"And on her way, once she gets word nothing will stand in her way."

"Why isn't she here?"

Clyde, my brother's son sighed, "Town, she was in town."

I sighed, why is he helping make roads? His political nemesis's in the Whig Party gave him that job to mock him and what does he do? Instead of neglecting the minor office he did the roads with such rigor that his neighbors who assigned him there were asking him to stop. How far he has come, former President now overlooking the digging of roads and ditches.

I still get sick-fire mad whenever I hear the derisive name they gave him. They would hiss, "His Accidency". It wasn't his fault that he happened to be Vice President when the President died only a month into his term.

"Your still stressed, here," Clyde handed me the paper, and I tried to read. It was last weeks paper and I read something about John Brown meeting with Harriet Truman at a Constitutional Convention and Minnesota being admitted as the 32nd State of the United States.

I groaned again, "Wait till we see Dad's ole' friends, no doubt they'll be talking about how Minnesota tipped the balance in the Senate."

"Ugh," Clyde coughed, "I guess the paper's not helping?"

"Power, power, power," I started, "all this bickering for power! If they want our slaves so much why don't they buy them and gradually emancipate them?"

"Oh boy..."

*"Or ship them away like that politician's wife believed... who was it, Abraham Lincoln? Father told us slavery was evil but James DeWolf I think still trades slaves and he helped make it illegal in this country!"

"Uncle, you need to stop reading about politics. And DeWolf is dead, long dead. Mark DeWolf Howe is some civil rights leader though."

I sighed deeply and chuckled weakly, "I got distracted didn't I? All this bickering, generalization and hate, I wouldn't be surprised if some Abolitionist picked up guns and started killing people."

History footnotes/sources+A/N
A/N: I had a historical hiccup there, I'm the school of thought that believes historical correctness trumps political correctness and have an opinion book for that sort of thing. If you're mad we'll debate like gentlemen *points at opinion book* over there. I thought about adding more but I tried for a more resounding ending that leads into the next bit of backstory at the sacrifice of an emotional attachment opportunity.

Also right now, Wilson lives with his father in Virginia at the Sherwood Forest residence. The name was inspired by Robin Hood since Tyler felt quote "outlawed" by the Whig party. I'm making Wilson as I go and learn more in my studies.

I got a little scavenger hunt for you as well: find out the approximate date Wilson's daughter (yes it's a girl) was born. First one to answer correctly will be recognized here and I will write a chapter of the gang in a historical place of their choice. Whether or not it will be canon depends on the event and place asked.

*Note: John's Brown's raid at Harper's Ferry, Virginia, happened in 1859, the next year.

*https://www.mtlhouse.org/slavery
The Todd house owned slaves, her grandmother was of the school of thought for gradual-emancipation and her father, her and Lincoln in some quotes could be considered a colonist, one who advocated for sending blacks away to colonies abroad of West.

*In 1808 the international slave trade was prohibited in the US and although DeWolff was a notable politician he was trading slaves in other markets. He also became one of the richest men of his time in this manner. He also died in 1837, being the second richest man in the US, Cole is still ranting about hearing about it sometime before 1858 when he was being raised.