blacksnake hills
The sun bounced off the river, saying goodnight to the flowing water before it disappeared behind the horizon. Joseph was tired, he had been for a long time.
The sunset was the moment when he allowed himself the thought of time. Time passing, time that had already passed.
He thought back to St. Louis, his childhood.
His siblings, his parents.
The people.
Time had made the memory of people strange.
His new home had no people.
They would come to the trade post of course, but no one lived here. There were no families. No one thought of picnics or leisure.
Fur trading was his family legacy.
It was natural, it was normal.
It was how a Roubidoux made a living.
But sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder.
About time.
His youth, his present, his future.
He wondered what this place looked like when he was young, what it would look like when he was old.
Why the present seemed so heavy.
When he was young everything seemed so important. Now it mostly seemed silly and light.
Everything in the present felt important, felt vital, felt heavy.
The future seemed nebulous and fanciful. A luxury not allowed to those in the present.
The Sun dipped behind the horizon now, leaving the only his lantern and pipe glowing in the fresh darkness.
And the stars.
The stars that had seen so many lives, so many pasts leaking through the present and racing into the future.
They had seen his prior settlements.
They had seen his past successes and failures.
And now they bore witness to him now, standing on his latest fur-trading settlement, watching to see if this would be a success or failure.
And he and the stars knew that every beginning is just that; nothing more.
A beginning is guaranteed an end, and promised nothing else.
The path is fractured and unknown, belonging to the luxury of the future.
A beginning could lead to the path of legacy and prosperity, it could lead to ruin.
But worst of all, and what Joseph feared most, was a beginning that led to the path of no real importance. A dead end of nothingness, neither a spectacular failure or a long lasting success. Just an untold story with no real interest to anyone.
He had learned that you can never judge a beginning until you reach the end.
The land itself held promise, but not without risk.
His slaves were in direct violation of the Missouri compromise and the territory was not technically open for settling.
But in the expanse, was safety.
The law is only as good as its enforcement, and who was here to enforce?
The money, the profitability, was worth ignoring bureaucratic fiddle-faddle.
No one was coming to enforce a treaty, he knew this well.
As long as his fur-trading post was profitable, the world would look the other way.
The world has always looked towards money, and away from that which would hinder it.
Joseph grunted and stood as his pipe was empty and the night had taken over.
As he turned to enter his cabin, he allowed a flash of flourish, a vision of the future. He saw a city, he saw rows of homes and buildings. He saw his legacy.
Smiling, he shut his door. Separating himself from the wild.
Goodnight.
