November 22, 1900

Tombstone. 

This morning I walked down the street and waved to Mr. Joe who was sitting in front of the undertaker’s office. He barely grunted a hello and I told him, “I’m not gonna be buggin’ ya in the clinic no more.” 

“Why is that?” he nodded. “Not that I work there unless I have to.” 

“I’m gonna write for Jeff’s paper and be his star reporter! Maybe even some of ’emll make it to the big people paper!” 

“Hell is there nothing you can’t do?” he smirked. 

“Well it’ll be more fun and this way I can do it with other kids. We hear lots of things as kids you know. Did you read the Bee where I wrote about the fire in Benson??” 

“I live in Ghenna and have no real interest in other towns!” he shook his head. 

“Oh. Well it’s a real good story.” 

“Aafter all they have no interest in the people of Ghenna, so why should ?” Mr. Joe looked at me. 

“Ghenna? Who said anythin’ about Ghenna?” I asked, confused. 

Miss Pet came out and I hugged her tightly as she talked with Mr. Joe about some sort of food at Mr. Joe’s house. I told them I was goin’ to school and ran off so I wouldn’t be late. 

I greeted Jeff at the schoolhouse and we went inside and talked with other students as they came in and found their seats. We talked about the birds and how we should punish teachers for bein’ late like they punished us. Mr. Seth came in and I frowned, wondering why no one wanted to teach us. Jeff said that it was maybe because of the holidays and we noticed a woman outside with a big horse. We talked about how there would be class tonight but I knew it was always past my bedtime. We showed the lady Svetlana our schoolhouse. 

“I have a good lesson to teach!” I said then. “Everyone take a seat!” I giggled and stood on the stage where the teacher would stand. 

“Yay!” Jeff giggled. 

“We been talkin about art, right?” I looked around. “And how different forms. Like um... paintings and clothes and plays and stuff… In 1887... That’s just um... when I was born!!! Well… This man named Sherlock Holmes was created. Or written bout. Anywho… Mr Holmes was a detective and he helped the police solve crimes like my Ma does.” 

“Well what did he write about?” Jeff asked. 

“This one time… A lady came to his office and his best friend Dr. Watson was there… The lady was all upset because she was in love with some man. They were even gonna be married… So when they got in the stagecoach to go to the wedding… The lady got out to go to the church but the guy never came out of the vehicle!!” 

“Well why not? Was he drunk?” Jeff asked. 

“The fiancé, Mr. Hosmer Angel, is a peculiar character, rather quiet, and rather secretive about his life. Miss Sutherland only knows that he works in an office in Leadenhall Street, but nothing more specific than that. All his letters to her are typewritten, even the signature, and he insists that she write back to him through the local Post Office.” 

“And she gonna marry a man she hardly knows? Well that ain’t right.” 

“Well in theory yeah... but listen…” 

“In those days I bet they did that,” Soria said.

“The climax of the sad liaison comes when Mr. Angel abandons Miss Sutherland at the altar on their wedding day. Holmes, noting all these things, Hosmer Angel’s description, and the fact that he only seems to meet with Miss Sutherland while her disapproving youngish stepfather, James Windibank, is out of the country on business, reaches a conclusion quite quickly. A typewritten letter confirms his belief beyond doubt. Only one person could have gained by this: Mr. James Windibank. Holmes deduces ‘Angel’ had ‘disappeared’ by simply going out the other side of a four-wheeler cab. How crazy is that?!” 

“Pretty crazy!” Soria shook her head. 

“Well how you know so much about this Holmes guy?” Jeff asked. 

“After solving the mystery, Holmes chooses not to tell his client the solution, since ‘If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old Persian saying, ‘There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman,’” I quoted and looked at Jeff. “Cause I read him all the time, Jeff! In this, however, he can be accused of not fulfilling his professional duty for which he was paid – namely, to investigate the matter to which she set him, provide her with the results and let her decide what to do with them. Holmes does advise his client to forget ‘Mr. Angel’; Miss Sutherland refuses to take Holmes’ advice and vows to remain faithful to "Angel" until he reappears – for at least ten years. Holmes predicts Windibank will continue a career in crime and end up on the gallows.” 

“So he gets kilt?” Jeff asked. 

“Yeah! And that’s the story of Angel Hosmer and Mary Sutherland!” 

“Yay!” Jeff said. 

I told them that there was another story about the red-haired league and then Jeff said that Soria should tell a story. 

“I only have a funny sayin,” Soria said. “And think Jeffery wrote it in the Bee. ‘You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose.. but you can’t pick your friend’s nose.’.” 

We all laughed and I said, “Well you can but it be yucky. Your turn Jeff!” 

“Okay well today we gonna learn how to make a chocolate cake,” Jeff said. “You take flowers and salt and sugar.” 

We talked for a while about stuff and then Miss Misty told us a story. “My mom told me this story when I was little.” 

“Like our age?” I asked. 

“On the fourth Thursday of November, Americans celebrate Thanksgiving, a national holiday honoring the early settlers and their harvest feast known as the first Thanksgiving. The first settlers came by a huge ship.” 

“Wow! A pirate ship? Was they pirates?” Jeff asked. 

“Long before settlers came to the East Coast of the United States, the area was inhabited by many Native American tribes,” Miss Misty said and I started to act like the people in her story. “And yeah it was a huge ship similar to a pirate ship. When they got here they started seating up home. Does any one know where they came from?” 

I started to pretend to set up houses and said, “I’m gonna need a bed and food and drinks and..” 

“Um… God?” Jeff asked and we laughed. 

“They came from a far away country called England,” Miss Misty said. “But yes, Jeffery, you are right too.” 

“But we not speak like them cause i not speak like Skyler,” Jeff said. “How come we not speak like them? The English folk, I mean.” 

“God sent them here for this special event,” Miss Misty explained. “Well that is a good question Jeffery as time passed they married and had kids with people that was already here. So a lot lost the accent. You know when you are friends with someone real close friends.” 

“Were they injins? Or pilgrims?” Soria asked. 

“You tend to act and talk like them, or they you. Well there was indians already here, but they where pilgrims that came here in the boat. Well as they settled here, winter came about and they needed to prepare for the cold weather. So they gathered all the supplies they could gather.” 

I shivered like it was cold and started to move around. “I gotta get blankets and wood for the fire and…” 

“Is there gonna be any blasting in this story?” Jeff asked as he stood on his desk. 

“One day, Samoset, a leader of the Abenaki, and Tisquantum (better known as Squanto) visited the settlers. Squanto was a Wampanoag who had experience with other settlers and knew English. Squanto helped the settlers grow corn and use fish to fertilize their fields,” Miss Misty said. 

“Those are funny words,” I giggled. 

“Hmmm maybe next class we can put on a play so everyone can see what the settlers looked like,” Miss Misty laughed. 

“That sounds like fun!” Soria exclaimed. 

“After several meetings, a formal agreement was made between the settlers and the native people and they joined together to protect each other from other tribes in March of 1621,” Miss Misty said. 

“Wow really? But…” Jeff stopped. “I was always told us uhm Englishmen we came and kilt indians here.” 

‘One day that fall, four settlers were sent to hunt for food for a harvest celebration. The Wampanoag heard gunshots and alerted their leader, Massasoit, who thought the English might be preparing for war,” Miss Misty said.

“And I thought Indians said it their land. Now they steal stuff. Like that old lady I saw,” I said. 

“Yeah,” Jeff nodded. 

“Well the peace did not last long between the pilgrims and the Indians,” Miss Misty said. 

“Now we gettin to it Jeff. Fightin gonna start,” I grinned at him. 

“Yay and then the injuns they got mean faces and poked the english men and with spears!” Jeff said. “And the english men blasted em!” 

“You be a pilgrim and I be indian!” I said and ran up to poke Jeff and he giggled. 

“Soon after their visit, the Native Americans realized that the English were only hunting for the harvest celebration. Massasoit sent some of his own men to hunt deer for the feast and for three days, the English and native men, women, and children ate together. The meal consisted of deer, corn, shellfish, and roasted meat,” Miss Misty said and laughed. “Yes, it’s not gonna last long, but for now there all getting along and celebrating together.” 

“Oh. Well that ain’t fun,” I frowned. 

“So then that’s why we gots thanksgiving,” Jeff said. “But… Where did a turkey get in it?” 

“Anyone know what they did for fun during the feast?” Miss Misty asked. “They played ball and danced! Much like we do today. Next time I teach class I will tell you the story of how the war between the indians and the pilgrims happened.” 

“But miss Misty how come we eat turkey and not cow for Thanksgiving?” Jeff asked. 

“Well some of those same things where eaten then too. We eat what we have available like they did.” 

We talked about our favorite foods for Thanksgiving and I told Miss Misty that I had to go to follow payroll so I could write articles about it instead of having to worry about healing the soldiers. I told her that she should be a teacher. 

As soon as I rode outside I saw arrows burning at the Apache village and the chief shouting, and remembered that there was a celebration on today at the village so payroll had been canceled, so I headed home.