THE NIGHT OF THE MESCALERO APACHE CALLED WINNETOU
By Andamogirl
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6. THE BANDITS' ATTACK
Castillo halted his horse far enough away from the US Cavalry camp, out of range of the soldiers' guns. It was composed of two rows of long, white tent, which had been barricaded with wagons, buckboards, crates, etc., in the center of which, hanging from a flagpole, the American banner flew.
He glanced at his men, gathered around him and then at the other bandits he had paid to join him, promising them Apache scalps and Apache women as a bonus. There were about forty of them by now, more than enough to do what they had to do.
Gomez said, "They're ready for us. How did they know we were coming?" Then he responded to his own question and added, Henrique! He came here before we did to kill Winnetou, and he probably got captured and told all about it."
Castillo glared at Gomez. "I didn't know that! I thought Henrique had followed Winnetou and his friends and that he'd meet us here." He pointed his gun at Hank and cocked the hammer. "I should shoot you for that! You're lucky I need you!" Then he glanced at the fortified tent camp. "Let's attack them! It's not a dozen soldiers and a handful of Apaches who'll stop us!"
Gomez opened his saddle bags, taking out sticks of dynamite from them. "With this, they'll all be dead in no time!" he said and grinned.
Castillo smiled broadly and said, "You just got back in my good graces! Everybody who's got dynamite, take it! They're going to get a nice firework display!"
He waited until his men had dynamite sticks in their hands, then he shouted, "Vámonos! Let's kill every last one of them!"
Soon the cavalcade resumed.
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Standing on a buckboard, calloused fingers clutching his gun, all his muscles tensed, Artemus watched the bandits heading towards the camp, their horses galloping at full speed, in the middle of a cloud of dust. Shouts and gunshots could be heard from them in the distance.
Glancing at the soldiers and Apache warriors who were gathered around him, he cried out, "Be ready! Fire at my command!" And let the bandits move closer.
He lifted his free hand and waited, waited, waited... and when Castillo and his men were within shooting range, he lowered it. "Fire at will!" He yelled.
Gunfire erupted.
Hailstorms of bullets and arrows flew towards the bandits and most of them reached their targets. Horses collapsed and riders fell, injured, dying or already dead.
Castillo signaled his men and those he recruited to separate. Fuses were lit and the bandits holding sticks of dynamite came close enough to the camp to throw them.
Major Gordon swore under his breath. "Dynamite!" he growled, angry at himself for not considering it. "Shoot the bandits who have dynamite!"
Some of Castillo's men were shot down, either by soldiers or Indians, and they exploded with their horses – killing their friends all around them.
Explosions shook the barricade, destroying whole sections of it, followed closely by another and another and dead soldiers were thrown into the air.
Several Apache warriors were propelled to the ground, burned and torn to pieces, various debris hailing down all around them.
Old Shatterhand from his post in the mountain opened fire with his Henry rifle, bullets after bullets flying true at Castillo's men.
Still standing on the buckboard, Major Gordon took cover behind a pile of crates piled there, holstered his gun and then grabbed a rifle. He aimed at Castillo.
Suddenly there was a tremendous noise, which was instantly followed by a flash of brightness, and for a split second a wave of overwhelming heat engulfed everyone and everything there. The blast catapulted Artemus into the hot air, along with smoke, dust, dirt and a multitude of dangerous wooden debris – and he found himself flying towards the wrong side of the barricade.
His disarticulated body fell down like a stone, Artemus's head colliding with the ground on which he had landed, face first, hard.
The soldiers who were gathered behind Major Gordon were knocked down by the explosion – ending up amongst the burning white tents, seriously injured or burnt.
The impact left Artemus groggy, with a pounding ache in his head, his lungs burning, the world spinning around him, making him nauseous.
He coughed and spat blood to the ground, breath harsh and trembling. Then he clambered to his feet on shaky legs, using a rock as a support - not realizing that he had somehow escaped death.
Close by, another series of explosions rocked what was left of the wagons and buckboards littering the ground with chunks of wood and pieces of metal.
With effort the Major raised his Remington, trying to blink away his blurred double-vision. His ears were ringing, his whole body was shaking and in pain and blood was dripping down his forehead, from his nose and between his lips.
He ran a hand over his of face, smearing blood everywhere in the process and noticed through a haze that dozens of splinters were embedded in his body.
He forgot that two seconds later.
Gomez, recognized Winnetou's friend standing in front of the broken and burning wagons, smoke blackening the sky, and kicked his horse, moving towards the other man, with lightning speed, gun in hand, hammer cocked.
He fired and a bullet whizzed past Artemus's ear – who, still stunned because of the explosion he was caught in, didn't react.
Leaning against a rock, Old Shatterhand noticed what was going on, quickly put a new magazine in his automatic rifle and aimed it in the right direction.
He pulled the trigger and two seconds later the bullet hit the Mexican bandit straight through the heart, causing Gomez to fall backwards.
His head pounding, sick in his stomach, Artemus's now foggy vision went black for a second. He lost his balance and his knees buckled, feeling on the verge of losing consciousness.
More explosions sounded and echoed through the green valley. More soldiers and Apache warriors were killed and badly wounded when the bandits managed to break into what was left of the barricade.
Castillo, in turn, spotted Artemus Gordon and charged at him. He cocked his six-shooter and fired – and missed his target.
He was ready to pull the trigger a second time when a loud gunshot resounded and he screamed, feeling an intense burn in his right shoulder and he almost fell from his horse.
He glanced to the side and saw that Winnetou was heading towards him, rifle aimed at him and knew it was the Indian that had wounded him.
He had the reputation of having a sharp eye and a steady hand.
Castillo noticed that Winnetou had brought reinforcements. About thirty Indians followed him, armed with bows and arrows and even rifles.
His teeth bared, he switched targets and turned his horse to attack the Apache Chief. He fired twice, and the Indian dodged the bullets by leaning over the side of his horse.
Winnetou straightened up, shouted 'Ah-i-ha!" and then used his double-barrel rifle again.
Hit in the left leg, Castillo slid from his saddle and collapsed on the green grass, slid on it and ended up against a rock, unconscious.
Seeing the Indians heading their way at full gallop, shouting cries intended to frighten them, the bandits, frightened, scattered all around.
Most of them were captured by the Ute warriors and others managed to escape, firing blindly to cover their retreat. They fled up the mountain and the Apache posted there riddled them with arrows.
Not one of them survived.
The explosions; the sharp cracks of gunshots and the whine of arrows abruptly ceased and all that could be heard was the loud crackling of the flames burning the broken carts and tents, and the cries of pain and the groans of the wounded.
Then, suddenly, the soldiers who survived the attack let their joy burst out screaming, and the Apaches and the Utes did the same thing.
Sliding off Iltschi, Winnetou caught Artemus's arm and helped him to sit on the ground – noticing that the other man's face and neck, and clothes were covered in blood, and spotted wooden shards embedded in his flesh, here and there.
He knelt down beside Artemus and said, "Artemus is going to be all right. A doctor will take care of him. The battle has ended and we won."
Both dazed and confused, his head swimming, Artemus rasped, "Ba-battle? Don't… remember… I don't know… know wha… wha… happened…" He mumbled in a slur, then head rolling to one side, he whimpered. "Head… hurts. Feel dizzy, nauseous… gonna be sick…"
Concerned Winnetou asked, "Does my friend Artemus thinks he might be able to stand?"
In response, Artemus tried to move his legs, just a little, and hissed in pain. Then his vision blackened and he lost consciousness.
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Later, under the medical tent,
His lips pressed into a hard line, jaw tightened, Old Shatterhand couldn't help but stare at the old military physician with a withering look.
He was the man who had declared Winnetou dead. Dead! Dead, while he was still alive and in a coma, he thought, his fists tightened in barely restrained rage.
Leaning over Artemus, who was laid on an examination table, still unconscious, Captain Garrison cleaned his patient's blood-soaked face and neck with a rag and warm water.
Feeling shameful and remorseful, he couldn't look Winnetou and his companion in their eyes. Focusing on his patient's pale face, he said, "The symptoms you described to me, dizziness, nausea and memory loss are very common in people with concussions, especially on battlefields, after soldiers were near an explosion or caught in one, I've seen it dozens of times," he added." He finished what he was doing and then looked closely at Artemus's face which was covered with scratches and bruises, then surveyed his neck and scalp, splinters-free, finding dozens of small cuts there, fortunately superficial. "His injuries are not serious, and his nose is still intact," he announced.
Getting back to the subject, Arching an eyebrow in concern, Old Shatterhand asked, "So you think he has lost his memory, doctor?" questioning the Captain's diagnosis.
The Captain dropped the bloodied rag in a bucket and sighed. "We won't know for sure until he regains consciousness." Using scissors, he cut Artemus's Indian clothes away leaving him naked save for his breechcloth. He probed each limb carefully and then finished by the bruised ribs. "I don't think he has anything broken. He's very lucky." He took a tweezer and started removing all the fragments of wood embedded in black and blue skin, one by one. After that he soaked a cloth with disinfectant and cleaned the puncture holes with it – and Artemus's right hand twitched involuntarily and a half-moan crossed his split lips.
Even unconscious he reacted to pain.
Dr. Garrison saw it and said, "Major Gordon is not in a coma, he just reacted to the sting of the disinfectant on his wounds. He's unconscious, because of the severe shock he received. He'll wake up at some point, but I don't know when." He finally looked at Winnetou, heaved a long sigh, feeling really, really bad. "I'm really sorry for what happened, Winnetou," he said, looking apologetic. He swallowed hard when Old Shatterhand gave him a black look and added, "I should have examined you more closely before I pronounced you dead. I apologize. What I did was totally unprofessional. I promise I won't make that mistake again."
The Apache nodded. "Apology accepted, doctor." Placing a hand over Artemus's chest, he said, "Artemus Gordon saved Winnetou's life. Winnetou wants his friend back."
Garrison nodded. "I want that too, Winnetou. But don't worry, he'll wake up. then we'll see if he's suffering from amnesia."
Winnetou nodded, then he took Artemus's limp body in his arms and carried him to an empty bunk, where he gently laid him down.
Old Shatterhand joined his blood brother and like Winnetou, sat on an unoccupied camp bed, wincing, as his body ached in different places.
Captain Garrison said, "I've got other wounded people to take care of. I've got to go. I'll get someone to bring you some coffee. I'll come back later." And, on this, he left the big tent.
Old Shatterhand yawned widely and lay down on the bunk feeling like he had run miles and miles non-stop, for days. "You should take some rest, my brother, you need it," he said. He stretched his aching muscles. "I'm going to get some sleep…" and closed his eyes.
The Apache stood. "Not yet, Winnetou needs to talk to his people about several important matters and take care of the dead braves." He smiled when he saw that his brother was asleep. "Sleep well, brother." Then he left the long, white tent.
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The next morning,
Old Shatterhand opened his eyes when he heard a groan, and looked in the direction of the sound. Surprised, he discovered Artemus sitting on the bunk, scrubbing his face with his hands.
He smiled broadly, "You're awake!" and he moved to the side of his bunk, sitting there, then grabbing the other man's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Welcome back."
Looking at his friend Artemus nodded, a gesture he immediately regretted having done, as the pounding pain in his head intensified tenfold. "Since I thought I was dead, yes, that's very good news," he croaked, voice thick. "If I wasn't killed during the bandits' attack, this mother of all headaches will certainly kill me." Then he rubbed his fingers over his pulsating temples, every throb squeezing his skull achingly. "Ow! My poor head is going to explode," he said and shivers ran down his spine as he remembered the explosion he was caught in and miraculously survived. His blurred vision came into focus and he surveyed his almost naked body, covered with bruises and dozens of reddish dots and realized it was dried blood. "No wonder I'm hurting all over… I look like a giant pin cushion. What happened?"
The blond man explained. "Your body was covered with splinters, and the doctor had to remove them one by one."
Brow creased he said, "What? I'm half deaf, talk louder please."
The annoying ringing in his ears was still there, but Artemus knew it would vanish with time. It wasn't the first time he'd been near an explosion a little too close for comfort.
The tall man raised his voice. "You have a concussion from the shock of the explosion, so we were afraid you might have amnesia. You told Winnetou that you didn't remember what had happened when he found you, talking about the bandits's attack."
Frowning, Artemus rasped, "It's a light concussion then, because I remember everything very well, especially flying up in the air for a few seconds and landing hard. Is Castillo still alive or dead?"
Old Shatterhand responded, "He's alive and injured, and under guard. Winnetou captured him – and all his men are dead. It's over."
His brow furrowed against his massive headache, Artemus closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Then we have no more reason to be afraid. That's good news."
Captain Garrison entered the tent and smiled when he noticed that his patient was awake. Raising the volume of his voice, knowing that his patient's hearing had been affected by the sound of the explosion, he asked. "Major Gordon, how are you?"
Running a hand over his tired face, Artemus responded, "Like I almost got blown up and I'm damn lucky to be alive". He paused and then added, "I have a horrible headache, I can barely hear a thing because there's a loud buzzing sound in my ears and every inch of my body hurts like hell. Other than that, I'm perfectly fine." Then he rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
Garrison showed the other man three fingers and asked, "How many fingers?"
His vision still blurred, Artemus hesitated and responded, "Two? Three? … Maybe?" Then he sat on the edge of the narrow bed.
He tried to stand but a wave of nausea deterred him.
The Captain frowned in concern. "You can't see straight yet and judging by the color green of your face, you're nauseous. It will pass, but you' ll have to be patient. Lie back, you're not going to leave this bed before tomorrow morning. You're in no condition to do that, Major." Noticing that Artemus Gordon was giving him a 'don't count on it!' gaze, he added "That's an order."
Major Gordon's eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a hard line. He was clearly upset. Raising his chin - that simple movement starting a wave of dizziness – he said, "I'm not taking orders from you, Captain, but directly from the General of the Armies, Ulysses S. Grant."
Captain Garrison shot Artemus an unimpressed look. "Not anymore, Major," he said, flatly and paused seeing surprise in the other man's eyes. "From now on, as the Chief Medical Officer of Fort Niobrara, I can give you orders, if they are necessary and justified, and they are."
Major Gordon was about to ask the Medical Officer for an explanation when Colonel Frederik Merril, Commanding Officer of Fort Niobrara entered the tent.
He stood, legs trembling, felt bile rising in his throat and saluted, swallowing it back.
Colonel Merril saluted back and said, "Sit down, Major, before you hit the ground." And watched Artemus collapsing on the bunk before continuing, "I heard what Captain Garrison told you, and I'm going to add this, you are now under my command."
Old Shatterhand intervened with a, "What?" as stunned as his friend.
Merill headed straight to Artemus and added, "We haven't met yet, Major Gordon, but I heard about your latest exploits."
Feeling a little bit better, Artemus replied, "I wasn't alone Colonel. Winnetou and Old Shatterhand fought at my side."
The Colonel nodded. "Of course, I know that, and I'm grateful to them. I was also talking about everything you've done since you jumped off that cliff. Old Shatterhand here told me everything, emphasizing that you saved Winnetou's life and that you fought bravely against that Jicarilla warrior." He sat on the bunk opposite the Major's and said, "I received a message from General Grant this morning informing me that he's placing you temporarily under my command. For example, he wants you to stop the smuggling of guns and money between ex-Confederates and Mexican banditos in the whole territory and put an end to the stealing of gold nuggets from the mines at the border with Mexico and Texas, both destined to feed the former rebels', I quote the General, 'plans to disrupt our grand nation's restored, but still fragile peace' and to arrest these men and bring them to justice – and more, and with the help of my men."
Old Shatterhand gave Artemus' shoulder a friendly pat. "And with Winnetou and me, if you need us! We'll be happy to help you, my friend."
Pleased to hear that he would have further adventures with his two friends, Artemus saluted his new Commanding Officer again, "Yes, Sir."
Then he vomited in his lap.
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The next morning,
Holding the reins of a painted horse with a plain white coat, save two black spots above his eyes, as if he had eyebrows, Winnetou headed towards Artemus who had just been released from the medical tent.
Dressed in a uniform, the Major greeted Winnetou the Apache way and then said, "I'm happy to see you my friend. I thought you'd already gone back to your people, to your new camp."
The Apache Chief replied. "Winnetou went to the Apache new camp located near Golden Eagle Lake, to see wickiups being assembled there and then he has come back here with a stallion he chose from his vast herd," he said and handed over the reins to the white man.
Opening his eyes wide in surprise, Artemus asked, "For me?"
Placing his free hand on Artemus's shoulder, Winnetou said, "Yes. After what Artemus did to protect Winnetou's people from the bandits, Winnetou decided to give his friend this horse as a gift, to thank him and celebrate his bravery in battle. A warrior needs a warrior horse."
Reddening with both pleasure and pride, Artemus bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Winnetou, I accept this gift with gratitude, and great pleasure."
Rubbing the painted horse's neck Winnetou said, "His name is Naaki, which means 'two' in my language, because of the two black spots. His father is Sháa, 'Sun' and his mother Tł 'é'na'áí, 'moon'. Now Naaki belongs to Artemus. Naaki is a powerful horse, strong and tireless."
Grinning, Artemus ran his fingers though the horse's mane. "T hank you again Winnetou… " then he frowned realizing something. "Should I talk to him in Apache?"
Mounting his black stallion, Winnetou smiled and then said, "It's an Apache horse, Artemus.." Moving his hand from his heart to the right, drawing a quadrant in the air, he added, "Artemus is welcome at the Apache camp anytime. We will meet again, my friend."
Raising his hand in a good-bye gesture, Artemus replied, "It will be my pleasure." And he watched Winnetou move away through the tent camp.
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Two days later, in the afternoon,
Old Shatterhand joined Winnetou on the rock bluff, and moved Hatatitla beside Iltschi, then, and like his blood brother, he looked down at the Mescalero Apaches' new camp, down below.
He said, "My brother Winnetou chose a very nice place for his new camp," and observed the large spearhead-like piece of fertile land which was bordered by a vast lake, with one horseshoe-shaped creek on each side, where the Mescalero Apaches were beginning to settle.
He noticed that the place formed a huge W – and he wondered if Winnetou chose this place on purpose or if it was just a coincidence.
He noticed too that there were no tepees there yet and remembered that the Apaches didn't bring them as they fled from the bandits and White Buffalo and his warriors They had left them at the pueblo, destroyed and turned into a pile of rubble and now occupied by a group of Jicarillas.
The Mescalero Apaches now lived in wickiups which were simple circular, dome-shaped brush dwellings, with the floor at ground level. They were made with wooden frameworks covered by a matting of sun-dried rushes, a smoke hole was an opening above the central fireplace and colorful blankets were suspended at the entrance, closing the doorway.
Everything was quiet, calm, peaceful and the tall man sighed in contentment, a wide grin on his face. After everything he'd been through lately, it felt good.
He said, "The place my brother chose to settle with his people is perfect."
Looking at his white brother, Winnetou said, "Yes, the place is perfect. Winnetou is very happy to have found it for his people."
Old Shatterhand nodded at that, 'for his people' yes, but for him… well not much at any rate, because Winnetou spent most of his time travelling throughout the Indian Territory, at his side most of the time, to settle the conflicts between his red-skinned brothers and white men, and there were more and more of them as settlers, gold diggers, bandits, adventurers, and buffalo hunters encroached upon Indian lands, and as a result, he was very rarely with his people, he mused.
Oblivious of his blood brother's musings Winnetou continued, "There is pure water to drink and for cooking, fish to eat, wood to make fire, trees to make poles for the tepees and sculpt totems. There are berry bushes, and many herbs and roots to add to our food and others that the medicine man will use. There are reeds, rushes, and willows to build the wickiups and prairie for the horses. The hunters will be able to shoot deer and buffalos. I saw herds coming to drink on the opposite bank."
Old Shatterhand nodded. "It's perfect. Will my brother Winnetou be going to the pueblo to collect the tepees from there?"
The Apache responded, "The women will fetch them as soon as the warriors have killed the Jicarillas that have settled there, on Apache land."
Old Shatterhand remembered that Apache women were responsible for the construction, maintenance, and repair of the wickiups and tepees, as well as the furnishing and the arrangement of everything in them. "I hope they will have an escort?"
Winnetou nodded. "Yes, they will. The Jicarillas could come back and kill them in revenge for being forced out of Mescalero Apache lands."
The two men heard a horse coming in their direction - its hooves pounding on the stones of the pathway leading to the camp -. and they both looked to their right – and gasped in total surprise.
Ribanna, dressed like a white woman, with black boots, a long black skirt and a yellow blouse, but with her long, black hair braided in the Indian way, was heading towards them, riding a white horse.
The young woman waved her hand above her head. "Winnetou! Winnetou!" she called, grinning from one ear to the other.
From being very surprised Winnetou shifted to being utterly miserable and Old Shatterhand noticed it and felt for him.
He knew that his red brother had been unable to get Ribanna out from his mind and heart, since she married Robert Merill, despite all his efforts to forget her. He was still in love with her and seeing her again was bringing back many bad memories and his poor heart was breaking – once more.
Feeling nervous and jumpy Winnetou lost his breath – holding ltschi's reins so hard hat his knuckles were turning white.
Old Shatterhand pressed Winnetou's arm in a brotherly support and said, "Breathe! Breathe my brother, and relax. Winnetou the great warrior, can bravely face anything. Right?"
In response, Winnetou nodded distractedly and, his heart aching in his chest, said, "Winnetou's heart is heavy like a rock and it hurts."
The older man nodded. "I know, but my brother's grief will go away with time, because time heals everything, even the most terrible sorrow, believe me. Then all you'll think about is the good times you spent with Ribanna and your heart will be as light as a bird's".
Curious, Winnetou asked, "Is that what happened to you after Nscho-tschi died?"
The blond man nodded. "Yes", he responded, and placed his hand over his heart. "And Nscho-tschi will be here, in my heart, till the day I die."
He remembered that Winnetou had not mourned the death of his father and sister at Nugget-tsil, and at the time he didn't understand why.
Did Winnetou had a stone instead of a heart?
It was afterwards, after having learned many things from Winnetou, about the Mescalero Apaches way of life, death and religion, that he knew why his blood brother had reacted the way he did. After Intschu-tschuna's and Nscho-tschi's death, their souls had passed into a better world called the Happy Hunting Grounds, Indian Heaven, which resembled the living world, but in an afterlife perfect version, where there was no sorrow, pain, or hunger, where the weather was always beautiful, where all the animals from rabbit to buffalo, were both plentiful and easy to hunt, where they would spend an eternal happy hereafter in hunting and feasting. A place where white men couldn't go. It meant he had lost Nscho-tschi forever and would not see Winnetou again after his death, in the afterlife...
Old Shatterhand ended his musing when Ribanna, daughter of the Assiniboine Chief Tah-Sha-Tunga, stopped her horse beside Winnetou's and looked at him.
She smiled and then said, "It's good to see you again, Old Shatterhand, Ribanna has missed you."
Old Shatterhand bowed his head in a polite salute and then said, "Hello Ribanna, I've missed you too. You two have a lot to talk about, so I'll leave you to it. I'll see you later."
He winked at Winnetou to tell him 'everything was going to be alright' and then he headed to the new Apache camp, leaving Winnetou and Ribanna together.
Looking at Winnetou, the young woman said, "As soon as Ribanna knew you were dead, Ribanna left St. Louis to come here!"
Curious, the Apache Chief asked, "How did you lean that Winnetou was dead?"
Ribanna dismounted and stroked Iltschi's neck. "Winnetou is very famous, not just in Indian Territory, but in all white man's territory too, even as far as Washington, where the Big White Father lives. That is why there was an article in a newspaper called the Saint Louis Herald about Winnetou's death, saving his white blood brother's life and Robert read it to me… and my heart broke."
Winnetou slid off his horse and was tempted to reach out and caress the cheek of the young woman he still loved, but didn't. "Did Ribanna cry for Winnetou?"
She nodded. "Yes, a lot. Ribanna should have been happy that Winnetou had joined his father, his mother and sister and all his ancestors in the Happy Hunting Grounds, but Ribanna could not. No. Ribanna was very sad, because she had lost Winnetou, and she cried a lot." She took a step forward wrapping her arms around Winnetou's middle, she nestled her head against his chest and added "Ribanna only found out that Winnetou was still alive once she was at the fort, after Colonel Merill told Ribanna everything – and where to find Winnetou." She looked up, smiling broadly. "Ribanna was so happy, she thought that her heart, so light with joy, after being so heavy with sorrow, would fly out from her chest, away in the sky, like a bird."
Winnetou's throat tightened with emotion to feel Ribanna so close – feeling their hearts beating in unity as when
they were in each other's arms, in love, kissing, talking about marriage and love and children. - and made an attempt to hug her back, but finally relinquished the idea. He just stood there, arms at his side, motionless, his heart bleeding.
Ribanna was no longer his, and she never would be again and touching her would only deepen his immense heartbreak, he thought. "How is…" He was going to say your 'husband' but the words burned his tongue with loathing and resentment – Robert Merril had 'stolen' Ribannna from him! And forced him to sacrifice his love for Ribanna for peace - even though by marrying Ribanna he had prevented a war between all the Indian tribes and white men, he thought, and said, "Robert Merril?"
Ribanna parted from Winnetou and touched the hole and the large stain of dried blood that marked Winnetou's war shirt, at the level of his heart.
Her fingers trembling, she touched it and said, "I almost lost Winnetou."
He mouthed, "Winnetou lost Ribanna," but, she didn't hear it.
Remembering the question, Ribanna responded. "Robert is fine. He is with his father at the Fort right now." She noticed that Winnetou looked like a beaten dog and, concerned, she took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers, and asked, "Is Winnetou alright? Is Winnetou in pain?"
Regaining composure, the Apache shook his head. "No. Winnetou is alright," he responded, even if he wasn't. His shattered heart would be in pieces forever.
Ribanna glanced down at Old Shatterhand who had reached the camp, Hatatitla walking among the wickiups, and watched him move towards a group of three totem poles tied together with ropes.
She took Winnetou's hand tin hers then said, "Winnetou has a lot to tell Ribanna. But before that, could Winnetou show Ribanna the new Apache camp?"
Winnetou smiled. "Yes, with pleadure"
He leaped on Iltschi's back and then reached out his hand. Ribanna grabbed it and then joined Winnetou, sitting in front of him.
The Apache Chief wrapped one arm around his lost love's waist, and holding the reins in the other, he began the descent to the new campsite, slaloming between the grey rocks.
The end, for now.
Second part of the trilogy, "The Night of the Golden Bear Legend."
Thanks for reading!