Joey had lived in the Apache village for just over nine months of his life. His daily chores were arduous and most of the people of the village ignored him or treated him in contempt - as nothing more than a slave boy. He was beaten and punished for small offences such as taking too much food, not doing the job he had been set thoroughly enough for overly keen eyes or sometimes for what appeared no reason at all. But thankfully not everyone treated him so badly, Kutli and his son of fifteen, Chatto, treated him with some respect. Not kindly it was true but they held a grudging respect for Joey's strength, that he did not break down easily or lose the fire in his soul and defiance against his captors. Joey always took the beatings without crying out, his lips becoming a thin line as he took each blow, the Apache people valued this kind of bravery.

Joey bore it all, he had no other choice for the moment but his thoughts never strayed too far from the prospect of being free, of waking each morning without the fear of what this new day would bring and how many cuts and bruises he would retire with. His will would not break and for the first few months the thought of the people he loved kept him warm when everything around him was callous and cold, but now he only had himself to rely on, he found it a hard and cruel lesson.

Kutli had begun to teach him how to use a rifle and other firearms; Joey found great enjoyment in this small amount of free time learning how to become a good marksman, for that is what his job would eventually be, he would accompany the hunters as a lackey of sorts when he was old enough.

Joey found the lessons and tasks set before him simple, the targets easy to hit. Kutli had graced him with a great compliment by telling Joey that he was the fastest learner he had come across and that his gift to shoot so well must be from a higher power. When Joey was given a precious moment of rest Chatto would sometimes race with him, teaching him endurance and speed, how to breathe when he ran to outlast his pursuer and how to track and not be tracked. The lessons taught were never play, Chatto enjoyed departing his knowledge and boasting about his own accomplishments, in short Chatto liked having a younger boy to boss around. Joey also watched with curious eyes anything that was demonstrated to the young braves in the tribe, ways of ambush and silent killing were all played out. The Apache language slowly but surely turning into something he could pick out understandable words from. All of these lessons Joey took in carefully, processing what he had learnt and storing it within his mind, mulling slowly over how best he could use his new skills and how they could perhaps one day help him escape. A few of the women and young girls of the village were also softened towards him, drawn by his blue eyes and blonde hair which stood in startling contrast to his bronzed skin. Many of them told him he was a beautiful child and would be a beautiful man, they sometimes snuck extra food to him when he had not been given enough to eat.

But these small acts of kindness did nothing to soften the blow that Joey was still a slave, that he had been sold by his own family to these people for hard labor. He knew full well that his mother had not wanted this to happen. After Joey had been in the village only two months she had sent the old scout Billy Williams to try his luck at buying Joey back. The grizzled old man spent a long time talking with Kutli, explaining how the money he now offered was all of the Garza family's savings that they had scraped together over the hard years. Joey watched through a small split in the tent as Billy jingled the small bag as if proving his point, but it was to no avail. To Kutli Joey was his, he had bought him fairly and the young boy was a good worker, he had no reason to want to sell him or give him back no matter the tears shed or the sadness caused. Kutli had allowed Billy a small amount of time with Joey, Billy said that Kutli should at least let him give Joey news of his family. Billy met Joey by a small fire outside Kutli's house. The old scout studied the skinny young boy and tried to smile, but already his heart was heavy, he knew that this would break Maria's heart and he never wanted to see that sight, in fact he dreaded it. He had pondered snatching Joey in the dead of the night but Billy Williams had spent too many years out among Indians and hard men to know that if he did take Joey they would give chase and kill him, perhaps kill Joey too. Surely Maria would be more comforted having a child that was alive than one that was no more.

Billy told Joey that Juan was no longer living with Maria. Maria now knew he was not a good man and she would never forgive what he had done to Joey. She had made Juan leave and Billy tried to reassure the frightened child before him that he would soon be back with his family and they would be happy. Billy didn't know if these words soothed the child at all, he just stared at him with blank eyes as if waiting for him to say more, to explain what would happen and when he could go home. But Billy had no knowledge of what would come with time all he could do was leave the young boy in the Apache camp and ride the long journey back to Ojinaga, his news and heart weighing upon him heavily.

Billy came back many times in the next few months but as the Apaches still refused to give Joey up each time, the visits became less frequent as Billy had to work and Maria began to despair, unable to leave her younger children to even pay her son a visit now her little daughter was growing older. The message to Joey was clear the visits would soon stop, there was nothing more that could be done. Each time the gnarled old man rode into the Apache village Joey's heart leapt and then fell sickeningly into his stomach as he saw the scout was once again alone. His mother it seemed valued his siblings over seeing her eldest son… Billy still came now and again, passing by on his way to somewhere else but he was always turned away and finally he no longer came at all anymore.

The months passed, turning to a year. Joey was kept in barely livable conditions, given only enough food to survive, his existence had become wretched and happiness was a distant memory. He could not help the bitterness that slowly crept into his soul; he could not help the thought that his mother had abandoned him, choosing her other children. The venomous thoughts crept in tangled, tight vines around his heart, soon they would devour it fully and a shell would be all that remained…

---

It was the cold winter of his second year living in the Apache village, Joey had been carefully storing food, hiding it from view for the past few days, tonight he would escape, he had to… His body felt stiff every day from the many beatings and punishments, he could not seem to gain any kind of comfort for his joints and the cold wind bit down to his very bones through the insufficient clothing he wore. The light was slowly dying from Joey Garza's eyes, being replaced by something dangerous, a new flame that only held promises of anger and resentment.

He knew he had to get away, it was his only chance. He waited patiently until the sounds outside quieted and the crackle of the fire was all he could hear. He rose, his movements lithe and practiced, slipping from under his fur blanket slowly, glancing up every now and again to check no one was awake. He gathered his food and picked up a spare folded blanket, this would have to be all he took with him; he hoped that it would be enough to see him through the journey back to his mother's. His thoughts lingered upon the image of the familiar face of the woman who claimed she would never give up on getting him back, the lies that had spilled from her that Joey would soon be free of this place… his lips twisted in disgust as he shouldered the blanket and tucked the food into his belt… it was now or never.

He crept carefully out of the tent and glanced around, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he took in his surroundings. With light steps he began to move, keeping to the shadows. The wind was bitter and he found himself wondering again if the one blanket would be enough to keep him from freezing. He shook himself from the thoughts, silently scolding himself, he had no time to dwell upon such things, he needed all his wits about him to get away… but it was too late, his mistake had been made.

He felt a large hand grip his shoulder and pull him backwards, sending him tumbling to the cold, hard ground. He regained himself from the shock of the fall and looked up into the angry face of Kutli; his eyes were blazing with displeasure. Before Joey could move the man had hit him hard and painfully across the face, sending a burning sensation through his cheek.

"You ungrateful whelp!" Kutli roared and dragged Joey to his feet, marching him without pause towards the fire, Joey glanced up at him fear tingeing his gaze but the man's face was set in thunderous rage. He did not glance at Joey but began to strip the young boy of his clothing until he stood naked before the fire that still burned in the centre of the village, a few elders smoking pipes around the flames watched on in amusement.

"You have proven you do not deserve the gifts I have given you!" Kutli spat, throwing the clothes upon the fire.

Joey watched in despair as the flames licked at the material, devouring them and leaving him with nothing against the freezing winds. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing in hatred at the Apache man; again Joey was dealt a harsh blow that knocked him to his knees.

Kutli's anger did not abate and Joey's small show of defiance had made him lose face in the presence of the elders, without halting he grabbed the boy's forearm and pushed it into the flames. Joey gave a surprised yelp at the unexpected action, and as the fire began to burn into his flesh he gritted his teeth, trying to bite back the all consuming pain that flashed before his eyes in bright sparks and heated spots. But it proved too much and finally Joey let a scream of agony rip from his lungs.

---

The winter had been harsh, Joey had not only had a nasty burn upon his arm to slow his labors but he was only given a pair of old, thread worn buckskin britches to wear after his clothing had been burnt. They were too big and despite the makeshift belt he had fashioned from some old cord, he constantly had to pull them back around his waist when they slipped. The burn was thankfully healing well and was not in danger of infection, it had been painful but not deep and he even doubted if he would be left with much of a scar.

The mood in the village had soured quickly against him as talk of his attempted escape had circulated and now even most of the women that had been kind to him did not spare him a look if he walked by and if they did it was to hurl insults or show him some form of violence. Joey found that with each day that passed the anger within him grew a little more, glowed a little brighter. He wondered often how long he could keep it contained and what would happen once he did not have the strength to keep it locked safely away… the thought frightened and excited him.

Finally and thankfully the spring came and with it warmer weather, Joey found he no longer shivered at night and that the days were more pleasant. He also found that as his twelfth birthday approached he began again to linger upon his family, upon his mother. His memories were clouded by beatings and hurtful words from both his mother and Juan, he found that he had slowly but surely come to hate Maria and that all the love and comfort he had once cherished and thought was never ending meant nothing to him, she meant nothing to him, she had left him here to rot.

"Joey." The deep voice broke his thoughts and he looked up at Kutli. "You will come with us today, we are to search for those that have hurt our people… you are a good shot and if you do well perhaps you will be rewarded."

Joey looked him over with an uncertain glance before giving a nod of confirmation that he had understood.

---

A large band of men from the Apache village were camped upon a hill overlooking a large gringo homestead. Kutli was in command of the raid and briefed everyone upon what was about to befall the unsuspecting people that lived at the ranch.

"The men of this place killed three of our men, two women and a child… they shall pay for it and we shall leave none alive" Kutli said. This was met by strong agreement and cries of joy at the prospect of getting justice. "We shall go as near as we can and our two best men with rifles will take down all that are outside." He glanced at Joey and then his son. "Joey and Chatto, you will be positioned with rifles, Joey you shall have Taza with you." He cast a wary glance at the young boy, telling him clearly that he trusted him no less.

They went to their positions and Joey rested down in the long grass, preparing his rifle as Taza took his place next to him, his eyes already wanting to see bloodshed. Joey spotted a small movement and raised his rifle; Taza glanced at him as if he were a fool.

"That man is too far, wait until he comes closer, you will miss and alert them to us." He said his tone stating that he hated even being near Joey.

Joey paid him no heed and cocked the gun, he took another swift look checking his shot was clear and before Taza could stop him he pulled the trigger. The shot rang out loud and echoing, Joey glanced up in time to see his target falling to the floor, a perfect shot to the chest had taken him out. Joey slowly glanced at Taza and gave a small, smug smile before turning back to the situation at hand. It was moments before two more men ran out to see what had befallen their companion; Joey again took aim and again easily picked one off from the same distance before the other had even had time to realize he was in danger. Joey again cocked the gun and for a third time shot, the man fell back, although his aim had been a little off and the bullet had not killed him. A war cry was sounded around them and the band of Apache burst from the grassland, descending upon the surprised and now greatly outnumbered remaining men in the house. Within moments the white men lay dead or dying and the victors rejoiced. Joey was given many pats on the back and warm smiles, even Kutli gave him a proud look while his own son Chatto looked on in envy, he had not even let off one shot.

This great victory led the path for Joey earning some of his respect back in the village, to be so young and such an accurate shot was rare and Kutli told him that he hoped one day he would be able to accept him into his home and treat him as his own son. Joey smiled at the news, hiding behind that turn of his lips the burning passion of hatred he held for the man and all the people of the village.

But he knew if he just concealed himself for a little longer he could find a way out, no matter what it cost…