9 – Good Boy

Draft 1 – Updated 23 OCT 2025 (C009/D001)

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Emmett Dawson had a plan. He and his best friend would go to the New World and establish farms on adjoining claims. They would live together with their brides on one claim, clear the land, and establish a working farm. When that was done, they would start work on the second claim. Eventually, they would have two working farms side by side and their kids could grow up together.

It took nearly two years to talk Bill and their wives into it. It took another year to sort their affairs, book passage, and cross the South Sea, but the day had finally arrived. They were the first off the ship and first in line at the land office. When it opened a short while later, they were the first through the door.

Emmett and Bill had spent dozens of hours pouring over maps in the past six months. They had read every account of the colony they could get their hands on. They had interviewed everyone they knew who had relatives in Wetheran. They had no idea which parcels of land might be available when they got there, but they had one clear goal. They wanted their plots to be on the Colony Road, or as close to it as was reasonably possible.

That road, they knew, was the key to success. It was the backbone of the slave trade. Without it, the Company’s success in the colony could not be guaranteed. So they knew it would be maintained and they knew the Company would keep it open no matter what.

Bill Stockton, his friend and partner, had made that point early in their discussions. Farming, he said, was an add-on to the Company’s activities in the colony. People back home preferred the harder, shorter grain rice that could be raised in the colony’s mountains. But the Company wasn’t in Wetheran for the rice. They were there for the slaves. So their interest in roads for rice farmers would be subservient to their interest in commercial slave roads. If they were going to Wetheran to grow rice, they must be on the Colony Road.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” the land agent said, serving them at the counter. “There’s nothing on the Colony Road.” He shook his head. “Hasn’t been for a few years now.”

Emmett’s guts sank into his boots. “What about something close?”

“There are some claims about a league off the Colony Road in Snowfall,” he smiled. “Some people have found gold on their claims out there, you know.” He raised his eyebrows to emphasize the temptation he was offering.

Emmett looked at the map in front of him. They had landed in Siouk on the Bay of Bondage. The black line leading straight south to the fortress in Snowfall looked harmless enough. On paper, it didn’t look any different from the much longer line leading east to Eastbranch at the far end of the colony. But he knew from his research that this was a trap. The road running south from Siouk was significantly older and passed through territory infinitely more hostile than the Green Valley to the east. South Valley was for prospectors, not farmers. It was for single men, not families.

“What about existing farms?” Bill asked. “Surely somebody is selling.”

“Of that, I have no doubt, sir,” the clerk agreed. “But this is a colonial land office. We deal with claims here. New land. Yet to be cleared. If you want to buy a farm directly from a farmer,” his jowls swayed below the line of his chin, “you’ll have to go find one with land to sell.”

Emmett wasn’t giving up. “What’s the closest we can get to the Colony Road in the Green Valley?”

“In central? A claim? Three…three and a half…up in hollows north of Eastbranch.”

Emmett felt like crying. Three leagues from the Colony Road might mean never getting his crop to market. Snow. Rain. Heathens. Wildlife. So many potential obstacles. Then there was the isolation. The further they were from the Colony Road, the further they were from help. From companionship. From…everything.

“We want to be closer to something that matters to the Company,” he said, revealing his strategy in the hopes that this stranger might help him find a solution.

“Have you considered a pasture deal?” the portly man asked.

“What’s that?”

“The roads here are hard on horses. On account of the mountains. All of the up and down tuckers them out,” he explained. “The Company pastures horses in a number of places just in case. If you agree to share your land and pasture horses for them, they give you a deal. And they own the best land, so you get access to some of the best land available.”

Emmett was ready to jump at this, but Bill was a cautious man.

“What’s involved in a deal like this?” he wanted to know.

“You get a bigger claim, bigger piece of land, but you have to clear the pasture and get that set up before you can start work on your farm.”

“You mean we can’t even build a cabin first?” It seemed outrageous to him.

“Oh, goodness, no,” the clerk assured him. “You can build a cabin and get your living situation set up. That’s all well and good. But before you can sell your first crop, you need to clear a minimum amount of pasture land. Once you do that, the Company will pasture some horses there and you’ll have to look after them.”

“We’ve never heard of this,” Bill said leaning in, signaling his interest. “Is this something new?”

“The governor started it last spring. It allows the Company to move their slaves faster. Instead of walking them everywhere, they can move them by wagon. Camp to camp. They change the horses instead of stopping to rest them.”

“Smart,” said Bill, while Emmett nodded, impressed.

“Can we get something on the Colony Road?”

“All of the pasture deals are on the Colony Road,” the clerk assured them.

“Something close to port…here?” Emmett stipulated, waving his hand to indicate the port city surrounding the land office.

“We need two claims next to each other,” Bill clarified.

“The closest I can get you to Siouk—”

“In Green Valley,” Bill added, taking South Valley entirely off the table.

“In Green Valley?” The clerk’s brows knit together. “I’ve got two…right across the road from each other in…Township…nine.”

“Where’s that?”

“On this map? Right about…here…and the other is here…across the road.”

Emmett could not believe his eyes. Nor his luck. For the first time in his life, his timing was perfect.

The dot representing the port city of Siouk sat on the intersection where the Colony Road turned at a right angle from east-west to north-south. To the left of Siouk, the very next dot, was a mark indicating the Company’s colonial headquarters. The clerk’s pencil tip was pointing to a spot just a bit to the left of that.

“That’s close,” he remarked.

“You couldn’t be any closer to the colonial headquarters. Those parcels are just down the hill from the Chateau. You’d be the first pasture in the Green Valley. Right next to…here…let me show you”—he turned to shuffle through maps on the table behind him before laying a new one out in front of them—”You’ll be right here,” he said, pointing to a spot next to a squiggling blue line, “on the north bank of the river.”

Emmett’s eyes tracked the Colony Road east from there. The next dot was marked Milton. He knew about Milton. He never dreamed he would get land this close to Siouk. 

East of Milton was a settlement named Old Mill. That must be new, he thought, it wasn’t on the maps he’d seen back home. 

All of the other marks on the map were familiar though. Long Lake was a big blue stain in the center of the valley. There was the junction with the road leading south into the mountains, toward a dot marked Two Bears.

This particular map stopped somewhere in the middle of Long Lake, but he knew what lay east of there anyway. The Colony Road extended all the way to Eastbranch, the final Company fortress before The Wood, the edge of the human world.

The deal seemed too good to be true. Bill was hesitant; he wanted to inspect it. The land agent agreed to give them a week, provided they put down a deposit. The next morning, they hired two horses from a livery and set out in that direction. From Siouk, it took most of the day to climb the road into the mountains. At the top, they passed through a towering palisade where wagons entering and exiting Green Valley were inspected and taxes were collected.

They camped that night in the pass, within sight of the Company’s colonial headquarters—a stone chateau built into the side up a steep granite cliff. They quizzed the deputies stationed at the palisade and were excited about what they learned. First, the colony was growing. Directly across the road from the Chateau (the deputies pronounced it Shadow) they were building a second chateau. This one was to be made of marble and would serve as the governor’s personal residence.

Second, and more important to them personally, the pasture at the bottom of the hill, on the land they were considering, was to be the largest in the colony. The road leading down from the pass into the Green Valley was treacherous, hard on horses, and was impassable for most of the winter. Whoever partnered with the Company to manage it would surely be noticed, provided they did their jobs well. Bill thought it might even lead to extra contracts, particularly if they could breed some horses to sell. And, of course, the Shadow—soon to be Shadows—would need meat, produce, and fresh dairy as well.

The following morning, they passed through a second palisade on the other side of the mountain pass and descended the steep zigzagging trail into the Green Valley. They caught glimpses of the terraced rice fields through the trees during their descent, but nothing prepared them for the verdant fields that greeted their eyes when they emerged from the forest and the cleared land opened up before them.

This was to be their view. A wide green valley guarded by picturesque, snow covered peaks to the north and south. The sheer peaks fell down to tree lines which curved and widened into easier slopes. Where the slopes fattened into shelves, the trees ended and the terraces began. Step by step they led down into a broad valley broken here and there by stony outcrops and rude bluffs pushing obstinately into agricultural space. 

Their parcels along the north shore were sloped, elevated above the flood plain. Once cleared of trees, they could be terraced. The mountain’s face behind them would provide melt water for their rice fields. A creek descending from higher elevations, ran through a corner of the southern parcel before joining the Cold River. Milton, the closest settlement, was visible across the river. It looked like a peaceful village on a finished canvas bearing the name of the homeland’s greatest master of oils. Three days later, after exploring every corner of their parcels and after interviewing every neighboring farmer and every merchant in Milton, they returned to Siouk and signed the papers.

*****

Fifty years later, Emmett Dawson still lived there. He rose with the sun, put on his overalls, picked up a milking pail, and headed out onto the stoop. His dog, alerted by his master’s movements, greeted him with goodboy enthusiasm and accompanied him to the cow shed. Once he was comfortably settled into his milking, the dog would return to the house to accompany Mrs. Dawson on her way to the chicken coop.

On this day, though, as Emmett and his companion crossed the yard toward the cow shed, the dog stopped dead in his tracks: ears up, stock still, and stiff as a board.

“What is it, boy?” Emmett asked, exaggerating his enthusiasm. “What do you see?” Emmett followed the dog’s line of sight and found the rabbit, ears laid back, crouched in a form. 

“There he is, Hank,” he said. “Go get him!”

Permission granted, Hank shot toward the rabbit like an arrow from a bow. The rabbit, born on this land and familiar with all of the animals who lived there, bolted straight for the low brush bordering the Beard.

Both animals knew this game well. Hank was not fast enough to catch the rabbit nor was he dexterous enough to manage the underbrush. So the chase would end a few yards into the Beard and the dog would return to his daily routine, happy for a bit of fun.

On this day, however, something unusual happened. The rabbit actually slowed a little when nearing the forest. He did not immediately dive into the underbrush as was his custom. Rather, he stayed tantalizingly close and led the hound farther from home and deeper into the woods than the unaccompanied animal had ever been before. Then she vanished.

Hank stopped. He raised his ears, searching for sounds of his fluffy prey. Hearing nothing, he began sniffing the ground seeking a fresh clue. Her scent was present, but he couldn’t establish a trail. After searching for a few minutes, he gave up and decided to return home. It was at that point that he realized he was not quite sure where his home was. His chase had led him to a place deeper into the Beard than he had ever been and it was not immediately apparent to him how to get back.

“Look at this good boy,” a voice said, seemingly from nowhere.

Looking around, he saw nothing but grey and smelled nothing but forest accented with a hint of rabbit.

“What’s the matter, honey?” the voice continued. “Are you lost?”

Now while dogs are enthusiastic listeners, they are not known to have large vocabularies. They can understand some words, like “out” or “walk” or even the odd phrase such as “go get him” but under normal circumstances, they would never understand a person who asked the very simple question: “Are you lost?”

Yet on this extraordinary day, that is exactly what happened. Not only did Emmett’s dog understand the question being asked, but for the first time ever, the person who spoke to him was able to understand when Hank answered: “Yes”.

“Well no need to worry,” said the creature, who moved just enough for the dog to finally spot him. “Bun Bun and I will take you home.” It was petting the rabbit it held in his arms. “Won’t we Bun Bun?”

“Yes,” said the bun. “As long as he promises not to bite me,” she added, looking at the dog.

“OK,” the dog agreed. “But can I chase you? Oh please, can I chase you?”

“You can chase her all the way home as long as you promise not to bite her,” said the creature, stroking the rabbit. “Do you promise?”

“I promise. I promise. I promise,” swore the dog jumping and running excitedly in circles.

“Good boy,” said the creature. “Before we play, though, I want to talk to you about some very bad men.”

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