I was my own Lucifer who once sat upon my throne of trickery and lies.
I was once known as the gentleman trickster, the noble rogue, and the coyote in lavish attire whose eloquent tales, false poetry, and feigned etiquette were the key elements used in attaining my riches. Oh, how those methods summoned my victims! The moment my prey was where I needed them to be, swift and quiet I stole from them all the treasures that were nothing more than excess items and money. I am the type of "land pirate" or in other terms a highwayman, meaning that I do my business onshore, who only takes what I need and what shall earn me a pretty penny in the market.
I am the bard who has utilized my gift of the oral tradition to attain my stolen salary. Some may call me a survivor, some a sinner, but I have done only what I needed to in order to survive. That is all that this was: a means of survival.
Employment was scarce and remains to be scarce, especially for immigrants, my parents came from Ireland, and their children. Prejudice was still a driving force in America, but not all were as that, many were good unbiased folk. An elderly woman of the middle class attempted to assist my father in getting a job, but she died of natural causes before she could succeed.
My father struggled to put food on our table, going from one job interview to another, pleading for a chance to earn money. Finding nothing in San Antonio, in this Western town where opportunities were meant to flourish, we believed that there would be no hope for us, but then we heard about immigrants being hired by the masses in Chicago. Immediately, we packed our bags and headed out farther West. He soon attained a job at a factory, a meat-packing plant, but that occupation was far from heavenly. The fatal accidents, the diseases, the careless manner in which the workers, like my father, were treated. It was unjust! It was horrible! But my father always assured me that it was worth it in order for his wife and his two sons to live.
But soon my father began to grow ill, blood began pushing it's way through his lungs, making him gag and become weak. We needed a doctor, but money was once more an issue. So, Driscol and I decided to take charge and get money using an alternative method. We became highwaymen. We held up carriages with stolen pistols that traveled down my highway, we would put on street shows in the city and rob the audience by surprise, and we would charm the hearts of wealthy women by acting as the gentlemanly paupers and being brought into their home, earning their complete trust, before eventually snatching the rug from under them and fleeing with the valuable goods. In time, we caught the attention of the most notorious highwayman in all of Texas, Carey Gourley. Throughout those crime ridden days, gradually guilt settled into my heart, it consumed it, as I did these acts. It was not moral, it went against everything I stood for, everything I believed, but for my family I would sacrifice my soul. My brother on the otherhand no longer felt that way. He saw what we did and knew it for what it was. It did not phase him one bit, and that unnerved me.
Then after two months of our theivery, "WANTED" signs began to sprout up around every corner. A high price had been placed upon each of our heads for our capture. I knew we could not maintain this lifestyle for very long. We had to flee, but we was not about to leave our family to the merciless conditions of the city, so we remained, attempting to be as discreet as possible, rarely leaving our one room home.
But to our misfortune, fate decided to set us free. He came down upon our parents, his poison lips kissed them to their demises, leaving us alone in this world.
For two weeks I locked myself up in our inherited home, mourning the loss of the people who had assisted in forming my personality, who educated me and loved me, until the landlord, who had fortunately not noticed the WANTED posters, came and tossed us both out. We were then on our own. We had to become vagabonds.
We departed from Chicago and headed back out East to the Gulf of Mexico we settled in a small farm town called Somerset near our old home of San Antonio. We continued to do our little deeds, but soon our crimes back East began to crawl down Southwest, and suddenly our lives were once again at risk. We had to leave that town and disappear into the natural world, at times donning disguises when we had to enter the city. Now, we lurk in the woods, living off of the land and striving to survive. Every now and then, with a stroke of luck, a carriage comes along and we rob it. But it has become more perilous to do so for blokes as us. We must be careful, or in time we'll be swinging from nooses.
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