Chronicles of The Slayer: Ancestor.

[whoever_i_need]

She had been absorbing the diaries for weeks, going through them, transfixed by tales of past Slayers, even if the writing of most of the Watchers left a lot to be desired. Ninety-nine out of a hundred were written in a sterile, unimpassioned style that implied that the assignment to their Slayer was nothing more than a job to them. But those one-

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[whoever_i_need]

The Deckard farm sat several miles outside of town, and like the town the farm was small. Henry had lived there for twenty-four years and raised his daughter there for the last fifteen, mostly keeping to himself, only going into town for supplies.

Alfred rode up to the ranch on the brown and white horse he’d purchased in Boston, along with the small cart he’d used to carry his belongings across six states. He did not see anyone as he dismounted and tied the reigns around one of the posts of the fence surrounding the house. He called out for Mr. Deckard as he walked toward the house and almost reached the front door when a voice stopped him.

“Can I help you?”

That simple question was filled with suspicion and weariness with just a hint of a threat. Alfred turned to see a tall, middle-aged man with longish sandy-colored hair, mustache and beard standing at the corner of the house. He was wearing tan trousers and a light blue shirt, both of which were dirty and ragged.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred smiled, hoping to allay any mistrust Deckard might have. “my name is Alfred Reynolds. I’m terribly sorry to bother you but I’m the new teacher in Plains Creek and I was led to understand that you have a teenage daughter who does not go to the school with the other children; I simply wished to inquire as to why. You see, I have dedicated myself to giving every child a proper education and was hoping to offer the same for you daughter.”

Deckard eyed him for nearly a full minute before responding. “Mr. Reynolds, I appreciate you comin’ all the way out here an’ makin’ the offer, but I’ve done a fine enough job schoolin’ my girl. Sorry you had t’ waste yer time. Goodbye.”

“Please, Mr. Deckard, while I’m certain that the lessons that you provided your daughter were beneficial, there are many things that she could learn in a proper classroom that you could not teach her. The modern world is a fast-changing place and I have all the latest books from which she could learn.”

“Mr. Reynolds, just what did the people in town tell you about my daughter?”

“Nothing, really. Just that she was in her mid-teens and had never attended classes at the schoolhouse.”

Deckard smiled but there was little humor in it. “Well, my daughters different, Mr. Reynolds, and doesn’t quite fit in with the other children. That’s why I’ve had to teach her myself.”

“Different? How so, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“She’s a half-breed. Her mother was Cheyenne Indian.”

“Well, I’m certain that wouldn’t be a problem if she would like to attend. I certainly don’t have any problem with it and I would ensure that she is treated fairly by the other students.”

“Mr. Reynolds, yer obviously not from around here. She knows how t’ read and write and do basic math and that’s ‘bout all she’ll need.”

“But surely-“

“That’s my final word on the matter. Good day.”

Alfred sighed and nodded, consenting defeat. For now. He would find a way to become the girl’s teacher.