Short Story: Pecos Bill: The Birth (Part #1) . . . #WesternWednesday
Pecos Bill: The Birth
The story begins at his birth, the last of nineteen. The trail was hard and the desert wanted its toll. Mother screamed and cursed at the birthing pains, but let out a smile as father came into the light. Father sat and mother leaned against him. She cried with resolution as father sent us away.
Father was a pillar of hope and strength, though the only help he could offer was support and compassion and a guiding hand bringing the tequila to her lips.
“I’m ready”‘ she said, tear falling.
The knife was pulled from his belt and placed mothers sweaty hand. Another drink to calm the pain and harden the spirit . . .
A deep slice from left to right, giving light to the unborn, and from the wound came Bill, on his own, just a smiling and laughing as the happiest child could possibly be.
Never was such a child seen.
“You are born to do great things Bill”, mother said while bleeding from the heroic wound. She held him and simply looked. Love and adoration filled her eyes. Mother then died.
Bill, sat in the comfort of the dead mothers arms, chewing fathers Bowie knife; and father sat with death and new life both looking for support. He weeped for joy and sorrow looking at the desert dawn.