Fanfiction based on the History Channels Hatfields and McCoys.
[Book is a rough draft - needs heavy editing]
Chyna is a young ex-slave girl, she had been property of the McCoy's but now that the Civil war has ended she is free to go. After another n...
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Chyna and Chastain laughed as they watched Dawn and Clay crafting paper, wooden, and foil ornaments on the floor. "that's not a dog! it looks like um, um, it looks like a cow with a beaver tail!" Dawn shouted at Clay. Clay's cheeks puffed out in anger as he had been very proud of his paper dog. "what you know any how? at least my stars ain't look like stick bugs!" Clay shot back.
"are we going to end this or let it keep up?" Chastain asked Chyna from her place stringing up a garland of popcorn, leaves, and pinecones. Chyna gave her head a shake, "let 'em alone. theys happy at this moment. let them have it." Chyna laughed quietly, she passed the garland to Chastain, "I've never made these before." she admitted. "Mama showed me how. She used to decorate our little room when I was small. Scrunched up in that old shed and makin' things from whatever we could get our hands on, some of the best memories I got." Chyna said.
Chastain watched the fond wistful smile cross Chyna's face. "What was she like?" Chastain asked quietly. "I have some memories, but not many. They faded when I was sent away." she admitted. Chyna's smile grew. "Mama was a quiet woman. She never said too much to folks she ain't know. Obviously, she was good at keepin' her head down, she was what they liked to call pristine, an' she didn't have many scars. But she was a cut-up when she did speak. Mama had the kind of humor that made the worst of things seem brighter." Chyna said.
"She liked working with her hands, makin' stuff all the time. She was good at seeing into people. If you was a bad one, she would know quicker than thought. An' she was smart, she couldn't read or write, but she was smart. Good with numbers before Harmen went off to the war he and Randal used to have Mama do the figuring for their crop numbers." Chyna spoke with pride and Chastain could hardly keep the smile off her face as she perked up, "I've been told I got a real knack for numbers myself!" Chastain cheered.
Chyna giggled at the shimmer in her sister's eyes, "Lucky thing. they make my head hurt." Chyna mused. "But you're good with your hands," Chastain said, Chyna nodded her head. "You had to be out here, was worse once she was gone," Chyna murmured.
Outside of the front door, Cap lingered quietly listening to the faint conversation inside, between the giggles of the children. "Cap it's cold out." Cotton protested. Cap held his finger to his lips, "shhh, they're having a moment, can't just waltz right in." Cap whispered. Cotton rubbed his hands together with a frown, "But the soup's probably done, an' we skipped lunch helping Uncle Anse." Cotton continued.
"How'd she die?" Chastain asked.
Chyna's eyes dulled and faded off into someplace far away, Chastain held her breath. Was it a question she could have left alone? Chyna cleared her throat and looked down at her hands, starting a new string of Garland. "infection, Papa was kind of infamous as far as the negro fighters in the war out here. We did live right in the heart of confederate lands after all. Mama and him, they was well known 'round the places we could gather safely. Our folk treated him like a legend. " for a moment a smile fluttered onto Chyna's face.
