Stealing Joy

"Joy! Get up!" Hannah's frantic cries woke Joy out of a peaceful slumber. Joy sat up in bed only to see that she and Hannah were trapped in their little bedroom by flames creeping up the walls. The flames were beginning to climb up the walls and sear into the ceiling.

Hannah's face was streaked with tears and she clutched her rag doll, Victoria, to her chest. Her voice was becoming hoarse from her continuous screaming. Joy could hear her father yelling to get out. She could hear banging on the walls, and her mother sobbing for her two trapped babies.

"Mama! Papa! We'll get out, we'll meet you outside, I can handle this!" Joy screamed to her parents. She hoped she sounded reassuring to her sister. Joy knew that her ripe old age of sixteen made her the one in charge.

Joy sprang out of bed, pulled Hannah away from the flames, and pulled the chamber pot from under her bed. "Grab a blanket and wrap yourself up in it," Joy instructed the crying girl. She was trying to mask the sheer terror she felt inside. She hoped her voice was calm and reassuring. The last thing she needed was to have her sister panic more than she was already. Joy knew that Hannah was frightened, but she was too, and in this situation, they both needed to remain calm to stay alive.

Joy threw the chamber pot with all her might out the window. "Grab my neck. I'll carry you out the window. Hold on Hannah, we're getting out of here now."

Joy knew that Hannah needed fresh air desperately. The younger girl was beginning to choke on the black smoke emanating from their house. The smoke was starting to become more acrid, the flames bursting with energy at the fresh air from the newly broken window. Joy picked up her sister and climbed through the window, glass tearing Joys nightgown, leaving some of her flesh exposed to the flames that were coming nearer and nearer to the girls only hope of escape. The girls had just left the house and hand begun running in the fields as the rest of the house became engulfed in flames.

Once outside Joy breathed a sigh of relief that she and Hannah were alive. They ran around the fields heading to the town center where Joy knew that her parents would be waiting for them. While running, Joys momentary relief was shattered with the piercing whoop coming from an Indian on horseback. Her eyes darted around quickly. She counted fifteen, maybe twenty, young warriors. Apache, she surmised. Two of them were pulling arrows from their quivers and shooting at the townspeople as there were running in blind panic from their burning homes. Joy was shocked to see that the Indians were standing around laughing at the chaos of the town. She also noticed that every house in the tiny town was aflame. Joy scanned the pandemonium for her parents, becoming depressed that she could not find them.

"If you see Papa or Mama, don't you go running to them. Stay here with me, we're protected in this brush. I don't think the Injuns can see us here."

"Who are they Joy?" came a scared little voice. Hannahs' usually bright brown eyes were tearful, and her voice was shaking. She was small for her age anyway, and being frightened made her seem more like six years old than her actual nine.

"I don't know, Injuns. I think Apache."

"Why are they burning our house and everyone elses?"

"I don't know, be quiet! You don't want them Injuns to hear us do you? Just hold Victoria and keep your mouth shut. Remember, stay here, don't go running if you see Mama or Papa." Joy snapped at her little sister in a frantic whisper.

Hannah nodded silently, stuck her thumb in her mouth and hugged Victoria close to her chest. They waited for what seemed like hour, but was probably more like minutes. Joy could smell the houses burning. If she closed her eyes she could almost pretend that the fire was coming from a bonfire her father built last winter. Then the screams from her neighbors and other townspeople and the war whoops coming from the Indians, and a strange whizzing sound flying over their heads made Joy return from her reverie back to the grim reality of their present situation. Suddenly a strong hand clamped over Joy's mouth. Her eyes opened wide as she stole a quick glance at her sister. Joy noticed that Hannah was fighting her attacker with all the strength that her nine year old body possessed. Joy only wished that she possessed the inner fortitude her sister was showing, but her body simply refused to move.

Joy couldn't understand the words coming from the two mens mouths. They seemed to be yelling, making disgusting comments about the young women. Joy's hands slapped at the men, grabbing at the intricate beadwork on their buckskin tunics. She grabbed five or six porcupine qills dyed bright blue with symbols that had no meaning to her. She tore the quills free from the clothes, and gripped them tightly in her fist. She poked the quills into her captors side. He flinched in pain, but did not loosen his grip on her. If anything, he held her tighter.

Hannah bit into her captors hand, forcing him to pull his hand away in pain, when Joy kicked our her leg and connected her foot with his soft flesh right through Hannah's nightgown. Hannah's captor dropped her to the ground, leaving her in a crumpled heap on the cold earth. Joy hoped that her sister understood her silent pleas coming from her eyes to run and go as fast as her feet could carry her.

At first, Hannah hesitated. Then, as a shadowy figure approached, she ran, still clutching Victoria in her hand. Joy heard voices. What was going on? What were they saying? Were there three or more? Her head was beginning to become fuzzy and she started to drift into unconsciousness. However, she didn't care what the men would do to her as long as they didn't go after her little sister. Hannah was too young. It was so hard discerning among the Indian braves that Joy stopped listening to the words that meant nothing to her and kept on struggling to break free.

As the shadow in the darkness approached Joy could swear that she was able to smell a hint of wild flowers among the burning wood reminding her of the field she had been in that afternoon picking luscious flowers for her family. She watched as the shadowy figure walked closer to Joy and her tormentor, when the young brave who had been holding Hannah dropped to the Earth, unconscious.

Joy's captor reacted differently to the unseen person. The warrior who held Joy was older than his fallen kin, he was stronger, more adept, more agile. By sheer weight, any man who chose to fight him would certainly have is work cut out for him.

Joy struggled valiantly against her captor and succeeded in breaking free from his poisonous grip when her kicks met with his shins and the porqupine quills connected with the tender flesh of his sides.

Terrified, Joy ran through the brush, burrs sticking to the tattered remnants of her nightgown. She had just reached a few of the townspeople when she spotted her parents.

"Mama! Papa! Did Hannah get to you?" Joy practically shouted, running toward them.

"No child, we thought that she was with you."

"Mama, we got held by some Injuns and we kicked and fought and Hannah got free and started to run." Joys voice began to crack as she related the story to her parents.

Joy's mother, Edith, sank to the ground, trembling with fear for the safety of her baby girl. The family, fretting over Hannah's fate, was oblivious to the eerie silence that had befallen the village. The villagers began to walk toward each other, uniting as family in the face of terrible adversity.

Without warning, arrows flew toward the villagers, striking and felling many of them. Joy and her parents began to flee, but Joy's father fell to the ground with a thud as an arrow landed directly in his back. "Papa!" Joy's scream echoed in the night air as a pair of strong hands from somewhere above picked her up easily and swung her onto his horse.