Cempasúchil

June 18th, 1899

NewLand Ranch

Nacimiento de Los Negros, Coahuila, Mexico

"There, that's the last one," Cempasúchil Jackson says, using her handkerchief to wipe sweat from her arched brow. Sitting down on the dais floor, Cempasúchil took a sip of her sweet iced tea and a moment to admire her handy work. For the past week, she had spent all of her free time hand-painting tiny little marigolds on 4 new "Happy Juneteenth" welcome banners for the upcoming Juneteenth celebration. Cempasúchil wanted everything to be perfect because this was the first year that her father had given her complete control over the festivities. In all fairness, Frank Jackson was happy to turn over the party planning reigns to his only child. Before his beloved wife, Rosalita, died 10 years ago, the town's Juneteenth celebration was chaired by her. When she died, the townsfolk asked if, as the largest landowner, Frank would mind taking over. So, after much thought, mainly for Cempasúchil's future, Frank reluctantly accepted, with the proviso that when his daughter turned 20, she would take over.

10 years later, Cempasúchil was chairwoman, and Frank was helping "Senorita Chairwoman" set up the last picnic tables and hail bails, being used as seating for the celebration tomorrow.

"So Papi, what do you think?" Cempasúchil asks, smiling up at her father, who had just hopped onto the dais, pointing to her newly painted banners.

"They're beautiful, Buho Nina!" Frank exclaims, using his nickname "little girl owl" for her. Throwing an arm around his beloved daughter's shoulders, he squeezes her into his side, kissing her on the top of her head. Frank was seriously in awe of his radiant talented daughter. He honestly thought everything she did was great and that these were the most beautiful banners he had ever seen.

"You really think so?" Cempasúchil asks, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, still unsure of her talent no matter how much he would tell her how talented she was. "Do you think it needs more flowers?" she asks cocking her head to the side for a different angle.

"No, I think it's perfect," Frank says in his thick creole accent, patting her shoulder as he looked around the barn, trying to see what was left to do. "So, what's next, boss?"

"Uh?" Cempasúchil says, mind still on the flower placement. "Oh, um, let me check my list," she says as she walks over to the table holding her clipboard and supplies. "Let's see, we've swept and mopped the floors, the guys have cleaned out the stalls, you put up the picnic tables and hay bales. So, it looks like all we have to do is hang the pinnacles, flower garland, and put the covers on the bails, then we'll be done." She says with a smile putting down the clipboard and pouring her father a glass of tea.

"Well, let's get to it," Frank says, downing the glass in one swig. "I'm hot, and I want to take a bath before dinner."

They were making their way towards the house, having just put the finishing touches on the barn, when the ranches border alarms went off.

"What the hell!" Frank exclaims as he runs back into the barn, Cempasúchil fast on his heels. Entering the switchboard room, he rings up to the sentries Crow's nest. "This is Frank, who sounded the alarm. What's happening? Is it a brush fire?"

"No, boss, there's a large band of riders coming in from the east, through the marigold fields. They seem to be riding fast and are not taking heed to any of our warnings. Signs. We've already picked off 5, but there's about 20 more coming towards you."

"Bandidos?" Frank asks nervously. For the most part, the people of Mexico had welcomed his people, who were all former slaves, black Seminoles, or their descendants, with open arms. From time to time, they would have a problem with some desperate bandits who didn't care for any type of foreign influence in their land, be they white or black. They were usually undertrained and not very deadly to other humans. Still, they had a knack for destroying crops and stealing cattle, causing the ranch hundreds of dollars in damages over the years. With the Juneteenth celebration tomorrow, the last thing the ranch needed was a raid. But the voice on the other end said the one word that could mean certain doom for them all "No boss, it's the KKK."

"Klan," Frank whispers as his heart drops with dread. He thought he left them in America 30 years ago. Still, it seems that their evil knows no boundaries. "prepare the machine guns and tell the rest to do the same!" is all he says as he slams the receiver back on its cradle and exclaims, "SHIT!"

"Get the guns. I'll set the animals free. Hopefully, they don't get close enough to burn the barns, but we can't be too safe." Frank says to Cempasúchil, and they both run out of the beautifully decorated barn and to their assignments.

Throwing the door to the house open, Cempasúchil runs to the armory room. Opening the case where her father kept his gun collection, she quickly grabbed 2 ammunition belts, 2 Carcano Modello infantry rifles, and 2 Colts revolvers. Running back outside, she had just reached the porch as her father hits the bottom step. She shoves his weapons into his hands as he tells her to "Take cover in the house's crow's nest." Cempasúchil doesn't hesitate as she climbs the ladder to the roof and then climbs into her post.

Frank Jackson and some of the older Mascogos (Afro-Seminoles) of their village had once worked for the Mexican government to protect the border from rival tribal raiders. Most families have since moved back to Texas, but her father and his brothers stayed and formed Newland Ranch. Which, over the years, has grown to be a prosperous and well-respected cattle and marigold producer in the area. Thanks to the Jackson brothers' military training, Cempasúchil and every person on the ranch was well prepared for the impending danger. Grabbing the telescope they kept in there for just this purpose, she focuses her gaze on the enormous dust cloud quickly coming in from the east. "They're coming in through the Marigold fields, but they're not burning them. I think they want us and not the crops." Cempasúchil yell's down to her father.

"Well, the ravine should slow them down, but I want you to shot anyone coming over that ridge and do not give up your position, no matter what happens. DO YOU HEAR ME?" Frank says sternly because as talented as his daughter was at painting, she was even better with a gun and as stubborn as a mule. He had no doubt that if they came close enough to the house, she would most certainly face them head-on, and if something happened to her, well, he would lose his mind.

"Yes, Papi." Cempasúchil calmly says as she takes her shooting stance and aims at the riders in the dust cloud.

Seeing she was prepared, Frank dons his weapons and ran towards his already armed ranch hands, many already on horseback ready to fight. Seeing Jedidiah, the ranches steward holding the reigns of his Palomino, Frank climbs on, quickly thanks him, and asks that he join his Buho Nina. He then quickly turns his stead in the direction of the riders, ready for the fight of his life.

Climbing the ladder of the Crow's nest, Jedidiah greets Cempasuchil. "Hey Buho Nina, what do you see?" he says, using her father's nickname for her.

"First of all, Jedi, no one but my father is allowed to use that name, and I count about 17 riders. The sentries got a few from the north tower just a moment ago." Cempasuchil says, not once losing her focus but still smiling, happy to see the man who was soon to be her husband.

Standing next to her, Jedidiah takes the telescope she had just put down so that he could get a better look. "Damn, Klan," he says dejectedly once he sees the tell-tale signs of the white hoods and dixie flag. "Why can't they just leave us alone!" He yells in anger, slamming the telescope down. He was tired of running from these evil men. He was only 26 but had spent most of his life fighting the Klan back in Texas. Until 8 years ago, when the Klan killed his parents and burned down their farm, he came here to live with his father's uncle, who was the ranches old steward until he died of old age last year. Jedidiah honestly thought all of that was behind him, but it seems the Klan had other plans.

"I don't know," Cempasuchil says as she watches her father and the other riders race towards the danger. Stiffing her spin for what was to come, she repositions her rifle as Jedidiah prepares the long rang machine gun. She hoped they wouldn't have to use it because its aim was unpredictable, and they could easily hit one of their own, but it was better to be ready than not.

They spent the next few minutes scanning the horizon for other groups trying to sneak up on them from another side. Fortunately, the ranch had a natural defense, the Sierra Madre Mountains. Cempasuchil's father and brothers had developed the property so that it was only horse or carriage accessible on 1 side. The essential buildings like the barns, stables, grain silos, and main house were deep in the back of the property, surrounded by a ravine on 3 sides, with the mountains blocking off any access from the west.

This still didn't settle the nervous feeling Cempasuchil had in her stomach. Something about today just didn't feel right. Why now, why today? Putting her focus back on the riders and not on her fears, she sees that one of the riders holding a torch has broken off and was trying to climb the ravine from the south side. Leveling her gaze and rifle on him, she waited for him to crest the top of the embankment before she let off her first shot, hitting him in his right shoulder. Rendering his arm useless. "That's one down." She thought.

"Good shot," Jedidah says to her as he lets off his own shot when a second man crested the same embankment only to be shot in the chest for his efforts.

"Not too bad yourself," Cempasuchil says with a smile. She did not know how she could smile at a time like this, but something about Jedidiah made her smile any time he was around. The smile didn't last long because soon after, the fight was on. She and Jedidiah spent what felt like the next hour shooting down or scaring off what seemed to be an endless wave of riders.

Meanwhile, her father and the other ranch hands were fighting a battle of their own. For the most part, they kept the other riders at bay with their gunfire. A few did manage to get through but were quickly dispatched by one of the rances fighting men. It seems the Klan only came prepared with guts, a few guns, and some fire. They didn't expect the ranch to be so fortified or protected and were in way over their hands but did that stop them. NO! When you mix a server superiority complex and stupidity, you get unyoked bravery.

When the wave finally stopped, Cempasuchil was disgusted by the number of dead and wounded bodies lying around the properties' ravine. This is no the life she wanted for her and Jedidiah. This was supposed to be the promised land, but it's was becoming a nightmare. Her father and his brothers fought for and built up this land with their blood, sweat, and tears. There was no way she would allow anyone to destroy it. She was just about to turn to Jedidiah to ask what they were going to do with the dead when a single shot rang out in the now still quiet of the ranch. Cempasuchil had a feeling of dread and quickly grabbed the telescope to scan the area where the shot had come from. At first, all she could see was the back of a white hooded figure standing still looking down at something until he moved, and she could see that something was her father. Not believing her eyes, she adjusts the telescope's focus in time to see a large red circle form on the front of her father's linen shirt. He wasn't moving, and everything in her screamed. Not realizing she had actually yelled out loud, she got the attention of the man who turned in her direction and smiled. Waving, he went climbing back onto his horse to ride away, but Cempasuchil was faster than him. She picked up her rifle, took a moment to aim, and shot, hitting the man in the back of his skull, blowing the back of his head completely off, and then the world as she knew it went black.