Freedom renamed himself on the run, in 1865. No one would ever call him any other name ever again.
He took América, his baby daughter, wit him. They lit out in the dark and hit the trails. No other ways out.
América grew up on them trails, on their ways Out West.
Baptized by her Father in The River, she came up hard and strong, eyes open, in what folks used to call The Natural World.
She knew her Good Book back-n-forth, just like her Father did. Just like Freedom taught her.
“Still,” she thought to herself “God should do the forgiven,” so she didn’t mind sending folks
on their way to Him for Him to sort ‘em out.
Freedom preceded his daugher in Death, the way it should be.
She was good and grown, so he went ahead and crossed The River underr The Moon.
She said her goodNights, then carefully laid him to rest in the hardground.
A solid night of digging. A quiet mourning.
Her Sun fully risen alone that day, América rode out,

innto 鬼鎮 (Ghosttown), where América met The Young Miss Nancy Moore
at Silverror's Saloon, an their everlast’n lives would never be the same.