Wild West
Chapter 3
Among the turtle tribes, the children earned their names. Until they did they were all referred to as ‘little one’. Donatello had earned his name earlier in life than most. It was apparent before he was a year old, that he was smarter than all the others.
The tribe elder was the one to give him his name. She was drawn to him and watched him as he sat playing with his toys. A soft smile spread across her face and she simply said, “Donatello,” meaning ‘The smartest one full of curiosity’.
He lived up to his name and loved to work with his hands. He studied under numerous specialists within the tribe. In fact they encouraged it.
The tools used by the craftsman fascinated Donatello and he modified them all to make their jobs easier. He learned spin the yarn made from the sheep’s wool and how to color it. Then he made a device that would make spinning easier, one to extract the lanolin, and another to help with weaving.
His favorite thing to do was to make the different alcoholic drinks. It was something that his tribe was already famous for but he managed to improve upon them. They would trade their drinks for goods with other tribes and settlers alike.
As the settlers started to move into the area they tried pushing the natives off their land. But, one year, the settlers’ crops didn’t do well and the people in the small town didn’t have enough food. They foraged the nearby forest for food and came across a berry that was slowly poisoning them.
When the tribe noticed what was going on they stretched their own resources to help the town’s people. The healers used herbs to combat the poisonous berries and gave the people in the town eggs, cheese, and dried fruit.
Despite the hardships the settlers had imposed on the tribe for years, the tribe saved the village. After that the town’s people saw the tribe as a valued commodity and instead of running them off their land, worked alongside them, treating them like a large family of farmers. The town flourishes with prosperity and the surrounding farms thrive.
This had all happened before Donatello was hatched. The tribe elders would tell the stories around a fire at night and Donatello would listen with undivided attention.
As the years passed, the tribe also grew. As other tribes were driven from their land, they would seek refuge in the safety provided by the understanding town’s people. As a result, they became the most prosperous county in the land.
People from the town would frequent the village as well, mostly for medicine. The town doctor exchanged medicine with the healers who knew the surrounding herbs. The village healers also had ways to combat the many poisons that were found in the forest from both plan and beast.
As much as the town relied on the ancient knowledge of the tribe it was the advanced tools of the settlers that pulled at Donatello’s curiosity and he frequented the town often. At first the settlers would laugh at him, thinking that a simple native would not be able to grasp their sophisticated ways. But in time they came to be impressed by his ability to comprehend and improve. It wasn’t long before his name was well known among the settlers.
It wasn’t perfect. New settlers would display their prejudices and even some of the seasoned citizens openly hated the tribe but the vast majority was kind.
Donatello and an older turtle named Matteo pulled a cart full of items they had to trade through the town. They had the items that were reserved for their regular trades along with a few extra just in case there were other town’s people interested in trading.
As they pulled the cart a rat approached them. He looked to be a farmer and had a cart of his own just on the other side of the road with a mule hitched to it. The rat bowed to them as he approached, a custom that is not a common trait among the settlers. Donatello figured that he must have been from another land than the rest of them.
“Do you have items for sell?”
Matteo looked at Donatello, “His accent it too strong, I do not understand him.” The common language among the settlers was not Matteo’s strong point which was one of the reasons Donatello was asked to accompany him.
Donatello nodded to Matteo then returned the bow to the rat. “My name is Donatello. We have items to trade. I do not know what it means to sell.”
“Forgive me,” the rat apologized. “My name is Splinter. I am a farmer with land not too far from here. I have heard of the items that you provide to the people of the town and I was hoping to get it directly from the source in hopes of getting a better price.”
He reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a small metal disk. “This is currency. We use it in exchange of goods and services.”
Donatello accepted the coin from Splinter and turned it over in his hand. “What use do I have with this? I cannot eat it and it doesn’t look like it would be a useful tool.”
“I give you coins in exchange for some of your items and you can in turn use the coins later for other items.”
“Why do you not just trade with me something from your farm?” Donatello asked as he continued to examine the coin.
“Let me see if I can better explain this,” Splinter pondered out loud. “I got this coin from a carpenter. He was in need of some of my grain but I was not in need of his services. So instead he gave me this coin.”
“So I can take this to the carpenter and he will build me something?”
“Not for one coin,” Splinter explained. “The carpenter’s work is valued much higher than a simple bag of grain so it takes several coins to pay for his work. If I had given him the amount of grain that his services were worth, I would be out of grain.” He ended with a chuckle.
“I think I understand,” Donatello nodded then handed the coin back. “I thank you for your offer but I will need to do more research to truly understand the value of the coin before I can agree to how much I can trade for it.”
Splinter smiled. “I understand. Then instead, would you like to trade?”
“What are you offering?”
“My wife has a wonderful way of preserving fruits and vegetables, a technique brought over from our homeland. I would trade them for some of your mead, wool, and lanolin.”
“We preserve our fruit and vegetables by drying them,” Donatello said.
“That kills the flavor,” Splinter said with the wave of a hand. “My wife pickles the vegetables and the fruit is cooked down and then sealed in jars. The technique helps them last through the long winters. But you must eat them after they are opened because they will not last long afterwards.”
Donatello turned to Matteo, “He is offering a new kind of preserved food in exchange for mead, wool, and oil.”
“Are animals harmed in the process of preservation?”
Donatello turned back to Splinter to relay Matteo’s question. Splinter shook his head. Looking back up at Matteo, Donatello awaited his decision. After a slight nod, Donatello smiled at Splinter, “We can trade.”
Splinter turned and walked back over to his cart and returned with four jars of preserved food. Donatello accepted a jar and studied it. It looked like it contained cabbage in a liquid. He held it up to Matteo who accepted the jar. The other jars had root vegetables and peppers and another was filled with a purple substance that Donatello assumed was the fruit.
In turn they gave Splinter a few balls of colored wool, a flask of alcohol and a container of lanolin. Splinter tilted his head and looked in the cart. “You have animal hides. Why do you have them if you are concerned about the wellbeing of a lesser beast?”
Donatello nodded. “We skin the animals after they have died of natural causes. We use their bones as tools but dispose of the meat. The birds and lesser beasts eat it. We treat our animals well and they give us milk for sustenance and cheese.”
“I see,” Splinter nodded. “Thank you for the trade.” He turned to go but paused and considered the young turtle. “Have you ever thought about opening a store of your own here in town? Instead of trading the items, you can sell them for coins then use the coin to buy whatever you need.”
Donatello thought about it, “I would have to talk to my tribe’s elders first and then the town council.”
“It is in my experience that the town council is kind to natives. I’m sure they would be more than willing to let you build a store.” A soft smile spread across Splinter’s face. “You remind me of my son. He is about your age. Maybe one day I will bring him into town so that the two of you can meet. My wife and I have been considering it for some time. He has been asking to come to this year’s winter festival.”
“My kind also celebrates the winter solstice.”
Splinter chuckled, “Maybe I will take him to visit your tribe instead.”
“You would be welcome.”
“It is something to be considered. Thank you again,” Splinter bowed and took his leave.
“Thank you,” Donatello called out after him.
“I really need to learn the common language better,” Matteo said as Donatello moved back to the front of the cart to start pulling.
“I’m more interested in getting a mule to pull our cart for us,” Donatello replied. “Let’s make our first delivery.”
They made their way through town, stopping a few more times to trade with a few other people. Each time Donatello inquired about the value of currency and made mental notes on how people answered. When the town mayor approached, Donatello took the opportunity.
“Mayor Porter, do you think the town’s people would object to my people opening a store so that we could sell our goods instead of trade them?”
The portly man with a mustache and thinning brown hair looked down at the young turtle through his spectacles. “I would have to hold a council meeting and put the matter to a vote. Bring me the details of what you have planned and I will bring it before the council. To be honest, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to.”
Donatello felt his excitement grow. “I will bring you the details in a few days, sir.”
“Very good,” the man nodded. “Now, if you will excuse me. It seems that I have been summoned by Mr. Oroku, yet again, over some matter or another. Good day to you.”
“Good day, sir.”
Donatello spent the next few days convincing the tribe’s elders to agree and then drawing up his plans. He spent a great deal of time in the town itself, learning the value of currency and researching the different possible stores and locations.
Most people enjoyed the mead and other alcoholic drinks that the tribe made so Donatello decided that a saloon would be the best option. But he wanted to sell the other items his tribe had to offer as well. He also noticed that the town was in need of more lodgings for travelers and their beasts.
In the end he drew up plans for an inn with a saloon and a store in it and a conjoining stable for the horses that the travelers would ride in on. His mind raced with all the possibilities. He took into consideration everything he had learned as he laid out his plans. After a few more days, he had a pile of papers prepared for his meeting with the council.
He delivered the papers and was told that the matter would take a few days for them to consider and that they would call him when they were ready. The day of the meeting he was a nervous wreck. Three of the tribe’s elders had agreed to accompany him to show that he had the backing of the tribe.
The council consisted of the mayor, the town doctor, the sheriff, and a couple of lawyers. They gave him a chance to speak and the men sat, listening as Donatello made his proposal. When Donatello was finished Mayor Porter stood. “This is impressive, young man. You came up with all of this yourself?”
“I did sir,” Donatello nodded. “I spent the last week researching all that I would need to make something like this work.”
“I can see that,” Doctor Chaplin chimed in. “What you have planned would be a great addition to our town. Would you be willing to hire town’s people as well or will you have just members of your tribe work there?”
“If someone wants to work there and if there is a position open, I’m sure I could work out a fair wage.”
“Does anyone else have any questions for the boy?” Mayor Porter asked. The men on the council all shook their heads. “Okay then. I say it’s time to put this to a vote. All in favor…?”
Before anyone could say anything more, the doors to the council chambers burst open and Oroku Saki came storming into the room. “I object to this!”
Mayor Porter rolled his eyes and glared at the rich tycoon. “Mr. Oroku, this is a matter for the council to handle. Once again, you are over stepping your bounds.”
“It is an atrocity that you allow those heathens to stay on land that should be open to the town and farmers wishing to settle it and that you let them peddle their goods. I still question the legality of you letting Splinter leave his farm to that native bastard of his. But now you are considering letting them open a business. Next thing you know, you’ll be letting them vote.”
Donatello had heard of Oroku Saki before but had never encountered him. His accent was similar to that Splinter’s but his demeanor was far from as pleasant. This man lacked the courtesy that Splinter had displayed. His voice was harsher and full of anger. Peace was the furthest thing from Mr. Oroku’s heart.
Donatello was also fascinated to hear that the son Splinter had mentioned a week before was a turtle. The story behind how the turtle had become the rat’s son was one Donatello looked forward to hearing one day.
“You’re objection is duly noted, Mr. Oroku,” Mayor Porter stated. “Now we will commence with voting. All in favor?”
It was a unanimous vote with all of men saying “Aye,” in unison.
“There you have it,” Mayor Porter smirked. “It seems that Donatello and his tribe will be allowed to open a place of business within our fair town. I believe that his meeting is adjourned.”
Mr. Oroku stood fuming but he managed to keep himself from saying anything. His eyes fell on Donatello and it made the young turtle’s blood run cold. He had never seen such hatred in one person before.
With a click of his tongue, Mr. Oroku saw himself out.
The building Donatello had planned was going to be two levels with rooms on the upper level and a large area for tables on the lower level. The bar will have shelves displaying the items for sell and plenty of storage space for the drinks. A separate room in the back will have a place for Donatello to sleep, a desk, and a safe to store important documents. Any food sold at the saloon would be prepared by the tribe so there was no need for a kitchen.
The man who was going to oversee the construction of the building came to visit Donatello in the village. Donatello knew him well and would sit and listen to his stories of his home land. He was a rhino named Calhoun from a land where the winters were harsh. His accent was thick with a harsh dialect but his words were kind. “I still can’t believe that one as young as you managed to get all of this worked out.”
Donatello shrugged, “I get that a lot even from my own people.”
The large rhino laughed, “A mind like yours is a rarity in any culture.” He looked down at the plans Donatello had drawn out for him. “I went over your plans and I want you to know that this is going to take a while to accomplish and a lot of resources.”
“I am well aware of that,” Donatello nodded. “I will not be able to pay you all that you require up front. But you will get all that you are owed and you will be a valued customer whenever you come in. Your first drink will forever be free.”
Calhoun burst out laughing. “I trust your people to stay true to your word.” He glanced over and saw some of the nearby little ones playing. His eyes narrowed for a moment and he stood up to get a better look. “What is this they are playing with?”
Donatello looked over to see what he was talking about. “It is some useless rock that we find in the mountains. It is too soft for us to make anything useful out of it. The children like it because it is shiny.”
“This stuff here,” Calhoun held up the rock for Donatello to see, “is called gold and is highly valued by most of the people settling this land. It is the reason they started to settle here in the first place. Mr. Oroku makes his fortune mining for it. He also mines for jewels and coal. If he knew that there was gold here, he would do anything to get it from you.”
“We cannot make anything useful out of it and it is not something that can be eaten, so we have no use for it.” Donatello shrugged, “If Mr. Oroku wants it, he can have it.”
“You don’t understand,” Calhoun said. “He would tear up this land to get all of the gold from the ground. He has coal, diamond, and gold mines throughout the region.” He looked Donatello in the eye. “You find this stuff, you keep it from sight. He already has it out for you and your tribe as it is. Out of all the things you sell, don’t get into the market of selling gold. This town will not be able to protect you once the word gets out that there is gold in this area.”
“I understand,” Donatello nodded, accepting the small nugget. “You are a good man, Calhoun.”
“I have seen too many men lose their lives over this stuff. I detest it myself.” Calhoun shook his head. “I have no need for that kind of wealth. It corrupts. Just look at Oroku Saki.”
“I would rather keep my distance from Mr. Oroku,” Donatello stated as a matter of fact.
“You and me both,” Calhoun laughed. “Sadly I don’t think the bastard will be leaving town anytime soon. He’s after land in this area.”
“I will make sure to warn my people about the gold,” Donatello said.
“And I will get to work getting all I need to build your establishment,” Calhoun replied.
Donatello smiled. He knew that nothing was easy and he was fortunate that the men of the town were, for the most part, good and that men like Oroku Saki were the minority. He looked down at the gold in his hand.
He felt his curiosity peaked. He wanted to know what it was about the golden rock that had men tearing up the land to find it.
