Chatto's lifeless body was carried back to the village and there was great mourning at the loss of such a young and important warrior. Although Kutli had not been head of the village, he was a well respected war leader and a knowledgeable fighter, and because of this his son was given the best last rites that could be offered. He was wrapped in beautifully woven red and white blankets and taken out to the old burial ground a few miles away, where songs of great ancestors and the great spirit were sung in celebration of a life and sadness that it had been lost with so few winters to account for it. Joey watched the whole proceedings with curiosity and smug pride, knowing he was the only one who knew the truth: how Chatto would have fumed to know he was now thought of as killed by a gringo woman.

Now that Kutli had lost his only son, he began to pay more attention to Joey, treating him with a kinder hand and lessening his chores. Joey knew that Kutli was grooming him to take Chatto's place and he made every effort to be obedient and grateful to the older warrior but to Joey it was too little too late. Joey hated him with a passion that was frighteningly intense, just as he had grown to hate all who dwelt in the village for taking away his freedom.

He watched Kutli when he wasn't looking, his bleak blue eyes searching for weakness, for a chink in the man's invisible armor… trying to find a way that he could kill him and not be blamed just as he had with Chatto.

The boy's death had awoken something terrible within Joey's soul, he had enjoyed it, reveled in having the power, of watching life flow from Chatto's body, knowing he had caused it to happen, knowing he was in control. But Joey's thirst for revenge could not be quelled so easily, he had to take Kutli's life too before he made good his escape and as each month passed and he was given more freedom, more respect, it grew an easier task to leave when he wished. But he stilled his mind, not until his task was done, not until Kutli lay dead by his own hand and looked into his face knowing it had been Joey who had stolen his life from beneath him, only then it would be over.

---

"Your rifle aim is the best of any boy or man!" Kutli exclaimed with pride. "You will be a great man, a great warrior!" He studied the young boy before him who now wore finely beaded buckskin clothing and had braids woven into his shoulder length blonde hair. "Soon you will be in your fourteenth winter and we shall begin the rites of manhood." He took the rifle from Joey's grip and laid it against the side of their tent. "You shall become Ciye" he stated proudly, "my son."

Joey gave him half a smile, Kutli had become used to the boys seeming lack of emotions, interpreting them as strength and courage instead of what was the secretly kept truth, raging anger and resentment that dulled all other feelings.

"Come," Kutli said with a grin, "let us eat."

Joey nodded and followed him into their home.

The days passed and autumn came and went and harsh winter again crept into the land. Joey waited patiently for a chance to present itself where he could use his skills. He thought many times of trying to poison Kutli's food but it carried too much risk, if he was discovered and if Kutli survived he would be killed and if he did manage to escape afterwards, no matter where he ran if he was known to the Apache as a murderer or an attempted murderer they would chase him to the ends of the world. His only real path lay with his skill with the rifle, he just needed the right situation, the impatience burned heatedly within him and his hatred grew each day, not only at the man he lived with but at himself for staying here when he need not, but he would not give up his revenge.

His day finally came; he was instructed to go out with Kutli and Taza, they were to gain supplies from a nearby trading post. Joey had ventured out there before a few times and the grizzled looking gringo that owned it was friendly enough to the Apache and more than willing to trade food and blankets for handmade clothing and pottery. They saddled their ponies and set out on the four hour ride that would take them to their destination. All three carried rifles and Joey had recently been gifted with a bone handled knife and a good strong coil of rope. The two men also had revolvers in their belts. They did not expect trouble as the pathway to the trading post was an ill place to hideout and ambush people but the threat from wayward gringos and vaqueros was still there, and no one let their guard down even on such a short journey.

Finally the old wooden cabin was in sight; it appeared to be empty of any other customers as no horses were tethered outside. Joey felt his heart beat a little faster, it was perfect. They trotted up to the tethering posts, dismounted and secured their horses before they entered the place. As was customary on these visits Joey waited outside on guard for any other men who may come riding by and mean trouble for them. But as the Apaches began to bargain with the bushy ginger bearded man within, Joey was not watching the road leading to the trading post, his attention was subtly directed upon the men inside.

As they talked in loud voices Joey cocked his gun and listened, waiting for his moment. He glanced over his shoulder and saw all three were engrossed in haggling, now was the time. His lips became a thin line as he turned and aimed with a certainty and boldness. His first shot took out Taza with ease and the irritating man fell down dead where he stood. Kutli was quicker and sensed the danger, he tried to move behind a table for cover but even the great warrior was no match for Joey's quick skills and he let another bullet loose, it hit Kutli in the stomach and sent him reeling to the floor. Joey made his move, with light, lithe movements he ducked into the store and moved from cover of table to cover of bench until he had come upon the body of Taza. He quickly removed his gun and once he was sure Kutli was no real threat he moved to where he lay. He was still alive and writhing in agony as he clutched at his bleeding gut, still trying in vain to push himself to safety, his gun lay in his hand and he tried to raise the weapon level with Joey's smug smiling face but the young boy brought his foot down easily upon the Apache's wrist, pinning him to the floor. Kutli grimaced at the pain as his last attempt at self preservation failed, Joey casually bent down and wrenched the gun from his useless hand, he pushed it into his own belt before taking Kutli's rifle and knife away from him. He turned, for now ignoring the mortally wounded man on the floor; he sensed other danger and his gaze fell upon the bearded man cowering behind the counter, a gun aimed directly at Joey's head.

Joey studied him with cool interest, gauging if he intended to pull the trigger, but it appeared the man was waiting to see what Joey himself would do, after all to his gringo eyes the Mexican boy before him had only killed two Apaches.

"You can leave without no trouble" he said finally. "I'll keep my mouth shut."

Joey stayed still, watching him with icy blue eyes and as he made no move to use his gun the man lowered his, a look of relief crossing his features.

"I don't blame ya boy, Apaches ain't no good."

Joey walked a few steps forward and felt a ripple of pleasure to see the man backed away a few steps as he advanced. A grown man retreating from a young boy of only just fourteen was surely something to be proud of. Joey again studied him, letting his steely eyes glance over his weighty form; he could tell he made this large man uncomfortable.

"Senor," he finally said, his voice held a dead tone to it, "neither are gringos." Before the man could register what was happening and lift his gun Joey had drawn his newly found pistol from his belt and in one swift movement it was cocked and fired, a bullet finding a snug resting place in the man's heart.

With all witnesses dead Joey's plan was now complete. Who would contend his theory that the trading post owner had turned angrily upon them after hearing of Apache raids on gringo homesteads. He smiled a smug smile and walked with lazy steps back over to where Kutli lay still struggling in his last battle with death, it was more than obvious who was winning. Joey crouched down beside the dying man and waited patiently until he noticed he was no longer alone. Kutli turned, his breathing coming in pants as his brow dripped sweat from the pain that ripped through him.

He stared at the young boy before him, his gaze shining clearly with betrayal. "Why have you killed me?" he finally blurted.

Joey gave him a cold glance over. "Because you treated me like a slave… and because I wanted to." His voice was lazy in its simple tone. He paused, a smile curling upon his lips. "Just as I wanted to kill your son."

As his words sunk into Kutli's mind the man gave out a roar of frustrated anger and raw rage. "Gusano!!" he cried, but his body was too weak to lash out or to do anything to the young boy that had not only taken his own life but his beloved son's as well.

Joey laughed in a low chuckle at the man's displeasure and torment. "My vengeance is done" he whispered, leaning in close so that Kutli had no choice but to look at him directly. "Look at me as you die and know that I ended your line." He grinned as Kutli glared at him with fierce hatred. Kutli coughed once and blood appeared wet and glistening upon his lips. He shuddered and his body became still, his eyes staring unseeingly into the room.

Joey continued to watch him for a moment, his eyes narrowing in curiosity as death worked itself fully over the scene with its icy cold fingers. After a few moments of silence had passed and Joey had had time to process his victory he got fully to his feet and scanned his surroundings. He placed the gun that had been dangling limply from his hand back into his belt and went over to the counter; he did not bother to walk around it but pulled himself up and over. He studied the many jars and after deciding upon what he wanted, he skirted around the dead bearded man and helped himself to a few foodstuffs. He pushed himself back up onto the counter and sat cross legged as he partook of his meal, surveying the wonderful chaos he had caused around himself.

When he had finished he picked a few small items that he wanted for himself and took a good amount of money from a wooden box before stowing it all in his saddle bag. He drew his bone handled knife and studied it, stilling himself for what he knew must be done, but he knew to go back to the village unscathed would cause distrust and the name coward being linked to himself, he had to make it look as though he had fought alongside the other Apaches. He gritted his teeth and drew the blade in a shallow cut across his forearm, the blood ran quick and bright, soaking into his shirt in a blooming pattern. He then added another cut to his leg and a last to his cheek allowing the blood to run freely down and soak into the material at his shoulder. He glanced at himself in the mirror checking that he looked suitably injured before he went outside and quickly lay down in the dust, rolling himself from side to side until he looked dirty and well travelled. The grit stung into his cuts and he winced at the sensation. He glanced back once more into the trading post and threw the handgun carelessly into the room; he pushed his rifle up his shoulder and mounted his pony. He could not help but smile as he began to ride away from the massacre behind him, even if the action did make the wound upon his cheek smart a little more.

---

He arrived back in the village suitably exhausted; he had pushed the pony to its limits for the last hour so they would both look convincingly tired and haggard. As he neared the village he heard the cry sound that someone was approaching and soon a band of men stood awaiting him. As he neared, Joey let his grip go upon the saddle and reins and let his body give in to gravity; he slipped easily sideways and landed upon the ground with a dull thud. The men were soon rushing around him, asking him in hurried words what had happened. Joey looked at them as if he were dazed before he spoke in a cracked whisper.

"Trading post, man ambushed us… all dead" he managed, before wincing as his cuts again gave an angry throb at being untreated for so long.

They soon picked him up and carried him back to Kutli's tent where women bathed his wounds and cleaned his body, dressing him in fresh clothing; he was given good hot food and plenty to drink. It was not until the following day that several of the elders paid him a visit to find out exactly what had happened.

Joey pulled a blanket tightly around him and acted as if the events were hurtful to speak of.

"When we arrived, as soon as we had dismounted….four gringo men came out and held us at gunpoint." He paused, "They shot Taza without a word and made me and Kutli watch." He paused again, "They taunted me and told me they would cut my throat but they just cut my arm, leg and face….Kutli managed to escape for a short moment, he got a gun and shot the red haired man, in return they shot him… they were distracted so I ran and I rode, they did not follow" he finished, his eyes downcast.

The elders nodded to each other, "The white men will be long gone, you were lucky to escape with your life boy."

Joey stared into the flames before him, trying to keep his composure, it was something he was finding easier to do with each day, his face becoming like a calm mask that hid everything he was thinking and feeling from those around him - only if he wanted an emotion to show would they even see the slightest flicker.

As the days passed, winter turning slowly to spring, Joey knew his time was soon at hand. All he had to do was give the events of Kutli's death time to settle and then he could escape. The people of the village would think he had run away distraught with losing first Chatto and then Kutli, they may give chase for a while, but they would leave him alone if he ran long enough and if he covered his tracks, these were both things he was certain he could do.