Horses moved slowly along, carrying their tired and hungry riders through the harsh summer heat. Their hooves kicked up dust around them and it stayed in the air, making some of the men cough. One of the men swatted at the dust landing on his uniform, trying without success to keep his uniform looking semi-decent. In the distance one of his fellow soldiers called out that there was a village up ahead. The colonel turned his men in that direction so they would hit it dead on.
Finally, I thought, a possible decent meal and a place to rest. I looked over to my commanding officer. The guy was old with his gray hair, but he moved with a purpose that no man should question. After watching the colonel take to a dark colored bottle a couple of times, I started to grow suspicious as to why the man was acting different. Years riding together, I knew this man well, and even owed him my life when he saved me from the damned Yankees, but now he acted like he was haunted by something.
Turning back to look ahead, I noticed that the village we were approaching was run by Indians. My hope for a day of rest was dashed then and I went back to trying to get rid of the dust on my jacket.
The village looked to be in the midst of celebrating when we rode in, and I didn't miss the small group making their way up into a house amidst the rocks. An old Indian man with white hair took up position in front of his people. Other elderly people watched further back, and I saw the occasional darkie among them. The hairs on the back of my head stood on end and I sat a little straighter in my saddle.
"What is this place called?" I asked, my southern accent no doubt making the darkies worried.
"We are Seminole. This is our home." Answered the old Indian.
Darcy, on the other side of the Colonel, chuckled and turned to his commanding officer. "We ran into a bunch like this out in Florida." He spat rudely into the ground, "Before the war, bunch of half breed trash, Colonel. Filthy mix of outlaw Indians and runaway slaves."
I kept my disgust of the Sergeant Darcy's words from showing on my face. The man was just bitter about our loss, and continued to think that he was better than everybody that didn't look like him. Sighing, I heard the calm voice of the Colonel address me.
"You know what to do Captain."
"Yes sir," I spoke softly with a tip of my hat. I turned a little to address the men, and taking a deep breath, gave orders, "Company! Dismount."
"Take food and supplies." Ordered the colonel, "I respect no man's law but my own." He pointed to the Indian chief and fixed him with a sneer, "You can thank your Yankee Carpet Bagger government for compensation. And you tell 'em. The ghost of the Confederate will not die."
I walked around with the reins of my horse as I watched my fellow soldiers roughly pull weapons from desperate Indians trying to defend their property. Animals squealed as they were snatched up and tossed into cages before being thrown into the wagon. Wiping my face with a wet handkerchief, I tried to get rid of some of the dirt on me. It was only a distraction so I wouldn't have to see frail structures torn down and the face of the little children as they cried. A woman, I saw earlier, had went into a house and was followed by one of my men who I knew was nothing but trouble. He even rode his horse into the wooden structure. I made my way over to make sure he was following orders. As I approached, I could hear someone struggling. The colonel appeared and put his hand up for me to stop. He walked inside and there was a little more of a scuffle before I heard the colonel say something before a shot was fired. When only the colonel walked out with the fleeing darkie woman, I knew who was dead. He ordered for some men to bring something out of the house and soon, an old piano appeared.
It reminded me of times when I was back in Saint Louis, before the war.
The sound of the grand piano was playing in the background, as the musician tickled the ivories. I sat at a felt covered table with four other gentlemen, playing for a nice size pot. When they called, I presented them a full house and didn't bother to hide my smile as I raked it all in. That was the night I had lost my tooth. In the fight right after the card game.
When I returned to the boarding house I was renting, my mother was astonished.
"My dear boy, how many times have I told you that appearances are everything." She said with more concern then for my well-fare.
"No worries mother. I will make an appointment to visit a dentist." I said with a little grimace. I hated the dentist like a lot of people, but after one bad trip when I was little. I would rather have some drunk pull out all my teeth before letting a dentist near my mouth. However, my mother expected things to look perfect, and taking the other route would probably have her not associating with me for the rest of our lives. Not that we spend that much time together.
The next morning, I went to see the dentist in town. I requested for a new tooth to be put in, seeing how the oaf that had knocked out the original, decided to keep it as a trophy. After deciding what I want and a couple of hours of pain later, I was walking out with my new tooth. Gold. I actually think that my mother liked the new look, but she warned me of smiling too wide and showing it. Someone might think to knock that one out and take it for the money.
My tongue ran absent-mindedly over my gold tooth as I listened to the colonel force a darkie old man to play the piano for him.
Another soldier nearby pulled a clay pot from an elderly Indian woman and looked inside. "Ain't nothing but a bunch of dirt." He spat.
He smashed it into pieces when he threw it on the ground.
Why? Why must you act so barbaric? Are we not supposed to be better?
The gasp of the Indians made me understand that, though it was dirt, it must've been sacred to them.
"Colonel!" called Sergeant Darcy, waving a weird mask, "Look what I found." He ran down to show off his find, but the colonel stopped him with a raised hand until he finished singing his song with the piano. When he was done he turned to the one eyed sergeant. "Is that what I think it is, sir?"
The way the colonel's fingers ran over the mask made me think he wasn't appreciating the craftsmanship of the piece.
"This is the face of our new land." Explained the chief.
"Gold." Colonel said almost in reverence, "Ancient alchemist thought that they could turn lead into gold, but I know I can turn gold into bullets." He walked with determined steps and ordered for the cannon to be brought around. I followed him, ready to stop him. A single shot was fired, destroying an adobe house on a hill. The village people all huddled in fear.
"Reload." Ordered the colonel before stepping up to the chief. "I'd appreciate it if you told me where your gold is coming from."
"There's no more."
"No, of course there isn't. I guess we need another demonstration." He nodded to the men and Sergeant Darcy ordered for them to swing the cannon around.
They turned it to a group of innocent people huddled by the piano. A woman was carrying her screaming baby, ducked behind the man she was standing next to.
Stepping forward, I took the risk of trying to stop there from being any blood from being spilled.
"I'm afraid I must insist on an answer." Said the colonel, losing his patience.
"We have no more gold." Said the chief desperately. He was now being restrained by two confederates.
The colonel shook his head and gave the order. I put my hand up to stop them from lighting the fuse.
"No, wait. What if, sir, these people are telling the truth and there isn't anymore." I said, trying to reason with the man.
"If we have money for arms, there are thousands, living under the heels of the Yankees who would be willing to join us. Now step aside captain. We will find that gold."
The fuse was lit and only seconds stood from a group of innocent lives from being blown apart.
"There's a mine!" called the chief, trying to move the cannon, "There's a mine in the hill."
The colonel shifted the cannon just before it went off, sending the ball into the dirt. A cloud of dust rose and I squinted, trying not to get any of it into my eyes. The colonel seemed pleased with himself as he placed his hat back on his head and turned to the sergeant.
"Alright men, mount up."
My fellow soldiers climbed on the back of their horses and packed the rest of the stolen goods in the wagon.
The colonel looked back at the chief, "We will return in seven days. That hole," he pointed to the box we left, "better be filled with gold, or we will fill it with your blood."
The chief turned his gaze at me and I looked away, "Company! Move out!" I ordered. I turned my horse away, following the others.
The only thing I could do was pray that those people were wise and left before the colonel had us return.