Sister Elena Superior
Enrique sat out in front of the old Spanish fort that was now being used by the Comancheros as a base of operations. Sometimes they used the abandoned adobes tha the ancestors of the modern day Pueblos for the same thing but that was more for hiding purposes while this was their market. Even though their primary customers were Comanches and other allied tribes along with tons of Mexicans like himself working there, there was also the occasional anglo though the hatred towards the tribes was everywhere and most were unwilling to deal with Mexicans but those that were, they traded with too.
He smoked a cigar as he stared out at the sky. It was just after dawn and he was up. Always a soldier. "Papa..." Elena arrived being helped down from her horse. "Elena, ¿qué diablos te pasó? ¿Qué animales hicieron esto?"
(Elena, what the fuck happened to you? What animals did this?)
"
Elena looked at the former soldier of Santa Anna's in agony. "Papá...eran gringos. Sabuesos. Querían matar a Diego."
(Papa...they were gringos. wanted to kill Diego.)
"Why didn't you watch out for her?!" Demanded Eneique as he grabbed Red Wolf by the throat and unholstered his Colt Army 1860. "You were supposed to have her back chico!"
"We did have her back..." Insisted Broken Arrow as he held up the scalp of the man in his right hand and his nose in the other. Lotsee came forward and held the mans severed genetalia that she had impaled on the edge of her knife. "This taibo thought he'd pull a fast one..." She spat. "Elena ended up letting us take care of it..."
"Where is my son? Why isn't he here to make sure his sister to get back here?"
"He made sure I was all right..." Elena stated. "He gave me some medicine...before I left. But he has to run. The law is after him.'
"Of course they are, Elena. He is a pendejo! He's in a gang when he doesn't have to be."
"Papa...por favor...I don'twant to argue..."
"Of course...but I can't risk the Rinches or anybody else like it coming here after a Comanche raid and finding you here..."
"Apa, I can take care of myself..."
"Clearly you can't...nobody can take care of themselves, miji...everybody has help...but right now...even though I know you want to fight and help our Comanche friends...right now..you have to stay out of sight while you are injured. We need to take you to La Mission...to rest..."
"You want me to return to the covenant...por que?"
"Not forever...these are our roles we have to play. We all have our roles to play to survive in this mundo...your mama's was the medicine woman mine was the dutiful soldado...Diego...he has fucked up. I failed him somewhere along the way..."
"Why do you say this, papa...?"
"Vaya conmigo..." He commanded. "Remember...we still have the sisters on our side."
"Papá, ¿por qué tenemos que practicar de esa manera? Has sido católico toda tu vida y has visto a tantos hombres y mujeres jóvenes desperdiciar cualquier posibilidad de tener una familia. Papá, siempre quisiste que México estuviera libre de todo el pedo. No podemos hacer eso mientras la iglesia todavía esté aquí."
("Dad, why do we have to practice like that? You've been a Catholic all your life and have seen so many young men and women throw away any chance of having a family. Dad, you always wanted Mexico to be free of all the farting. No We can do that while the church is still here.)
Her father, tired in his own right from a long day of trading with the Quahadis let a gentle sigh and then eyed his daughter. "Lo recuerdo, niña. Fui yo quien dijo que lo único que realmente trajo España a México fue la iglesia y la enfermedad. Lo dije en serio. Ya sabes... tu generación y la de Diego... sois más rápidos para disparar a los gringos. Y los Crillos. muy bien. Pero hubo un tiempo en que tuvimos que estar bajo su subyugación y en muchos sentidos todavía lo estamos. México ha tenido su independencia durante unos cincuenta años, pero todo lo que pasó es que muchos de los colonos vinieron aquí y se enamoraron de nuestro hogar. Y se olvidaron de los suyos. No querían compartir el botín de la victoria contra los virreyes de España. Es muy parecido a los gringos aquí que vencieron a los británicos pero luego olvidaron de dónde venían."
(I remember, girl. I was the one who said that the only thing Spain really brought to Mexico was the church and disease. I meant it. You know...your generation and Diego's..you are more quick to shoot gringos. And the Crillos. very well. But there was a time we had to be under their subjugation and in many ways we still are. Mexico has had her independence for about fifty years or so but all that happened is that many of the colonials came here and fell in love with our home. And they forgot theirs. They didn't want to share in the spoils of victory against the viceroys of Spain. It's a lot like the gringos here who beat the British but then forgot where they came from.)'
She was still sore from her wounds and would be for a long time to come. "Si es como los Estados Unidos, ¿cuál es el punto? Odian a los mexicanos aquí y en nuestra casa las élites nos miran como simples campesinos. La iglesia, siendo una monja, nada de eso cambiará eso."
(If it's just like the United States what is the point? They hate Mexicans here and down in our home the elites look down on us as nothing more than peasants. The church, being a nun, none of it will change that.)
He looked at her with anger of his own spurred by the fact that gringo outlaws had put hands on her in such a way. "Where is the man who did this to you?" He asked.
"He is NOT a problem anymore, papa..." She huffed with a breath of anger.
"I'm going to beat the mustache off Diego when I see him, Ela...I can't let this go. he abandoned his hermana...two Comanches..enemies of our gente as much as the gringos...and Uncle Eduardo and Raul you remember them?"
"Si..you said they died because of a cholera outbreak. When i was little."
"I wanted to tell you the truth but your mother made me swear not to. Uncle Raul was killed by the Comanches in a raid. And it wasn't in Tejas. It was in Sonora. They tortured him for days. And they let him die from an ant hill. And Eduardo?" He let a gust of air in a fft sound escape his lips. "The Apaches. they shot him down like he was nothing when he was working on a ranch. He wasn't the only Yaqui farmhand they killed that day. They sold some of the children as slaves in the El Paso market. And they took Yaqui women too.. So the next time an Apache or a Comanche gets self righteous with you, mija? Tries to tell you how Mexicans aint any good...because of what soldados did to them? Remind them of what they do to US..in our country. Whether we're Catholic or not. I've seen them kill healers too. Not just priests. These Texans wil tell you that Comanches are the worst Indios there are. They're not. As far as I'm concerned Apaches are."
"You hate Apaches, papa? You never spoke of this..."e
"I know. I tried to hide it. But they killed my uncle Eduardo. The Comanches...I get it to a point. They were doing that for horses. That was all they took the night they killed Raul. It turned out he had killed five of them in his time in the army. But Eduardo they scalped him. Chopped pieces of him off nd finally covered him in pitch and lit him on fire. For what? Because he was a Mexican rancher and they had cattle and women on that ranch."
He looked towards the horizon. "That's why I shoot them when they try to trade with me. I don't know if they would try and kill me because I am Yaqui or because i am from Mexico. I hate them because they hate me. That is the way it is. I do not look at every tribe in El Norte the same but that one?" He shook his head. "They are also enemies of the Comanches. And as much as we did not get along with the Los Comanches once upon a time, they are bigger enemies with each other than we ever were with Quahadis."
"It is that simple for you, papa? Atonwa saved an Apache girl not too long Comanches were going to violate her. Would it have been wrong to spare her?"
"No. It's never wrong to save a senoras honor. But he was also lucky. Some Apache women are as fierce as the men. Fuerte...but the hombres have kidnapped many Mexican women and taken them into their tribe."
"Do you hate them that bad? We have done the same with my gente. Mi y mama y tu. The Comanches took in Mexicans even while they war with each other. Why should it be a problem if an Apache is taken in?"
"They do not like it when other peoples take their women. Or their children. Just remember one thing about Apaches, Elena. You don't have to listen to los gringos when they call them savages. They say this about all tribes., Pagano? Chingada...all our ancestors were...but if there is one thing I do want you to remember, Elena isd that they are anti Mexican slavers, mija. My papa and his papa told me the true story of the Apaches. They did not come from these lands. This is Pueblo territory. Apaches and Navajos came from el norte..."
"De estados unidos? Lo se, papa..."
*From the United States? I know, father)
"No, Elena...from Canada. As far away as this far away place called Alaska. Full of Indios. But the Russian people have been the first white people to try and govern that place..." He held up a newspaper that talked about the United States Senate signing the Alaska Purchase. "You didn't have time to read all of the newspapers between here and the Comanches. But I saved them for you. This is where they come from. They were here before the gringos. But less time than my people or your mother;'s people. It is true before Mexico was a country people came and went across the Rio Grande. But they come into Mexico. They are invaders to Mexico. They want to raid and fight our people but still live in the Sonora Desert..."
She shook her head. "Still, how terrible about Alaska. They will suffer up there the way people do down here. I don't know any Russians but I do know Americanos will be much crueler. Did I read that right, papa?$ 7.2 millones ?"
He removed his hat letting the air cool his sweaty swarthy forehead and brushed his hair bangs from his vision before confirming with a nod. "I don't expect you to understand, Elena. but these raids were before your time. And they still happen now."
She inhaled and exhaled before saying, "But the Numunuu also use other people for slavery. We can't point a finger at the Apaches and ignore this."
"At least some Comanche bands trade with us and more importantly, they prefer to trade us over the Texans."
He sighed. "So..the blood I shed and the blood shed by the guns we give to the Comanches...it ends up being worth it in the end. We secure our own futures and take it away from our enemigas."
After a while, he turned to her and inquired, "Are you hungry?"
She nodded. He guided her to come with him. "Vamanos..."
He made beef tacos along with tortilla chips and salsa. He also got them each a cold bottle of sarsaparilla. "You still cook as the days mama was around..." Elena smiled.
He nodded. "Si. But sometimes Elena...when you are off on a journey and I am looking after the business, it saves time to eat out rather than a home cooked meal. But that is why I am glad you are home."
"What about Diego? Are you glad he is back in Estados Unidos?" She asked her father.
He shook his head. "No..." Even though she had thought as many women did, that all fathers favored their sons, it wasn't so much that he favored Diego. Whoever had been the oldest born would have been who he had bonded with the most but she and her father had always been close and even closer since mother died. But ever since he had become an outlaw rather than be a soldier in Mexico as he had, he saw his son as irredeemable.
"Papa...is there really any difference in what we do? Compared to Diego?"
"Ask that cabroncito. He's the empty chair to your left..there is a difference."
"Is there? We sell weapons to enemies of the Army. You fought under Santa Anna in the old days..."
"Comanches are a nation unto themselves. Diego and his pandilleros...they are robbers. Matones. They rob innocent people on the road."
"Apa...you know even in raids where the Numunuu showed restraint it was bloody. And they take loot from them too."
"I thought you and Red Wolf and Broken Arrow all though of yourselves as doing good? You met with their father when I wasn't around."
"You can't get as far with that tribe as I can, papa.."
"Because you're a woman?"
"No. Because they care about me. They know you are the one that runs our familia. You are the head of the household. But their father is for them. You, they see as a man who gets them their guns but you have a reputation for not dealing with Penetakas..."
"The reason is WHY, Elena. Why we fight. Diego and his amigos kill for no reason other than their next putita at the bar. Or their next fiesta and hangover. He's a selfish boy, not a man. I might fight and I might sell guns to enemies of the state of Texas. But at least we help some people here. The trade waits for nobody, mijita. The guns I've traded and sold to the Comanches help a people stay armed and able to defend themselves. To continue to live as hunters of buffalo. That is their way. That should be their destiny. But so much has already changed for them after statehood."
"It changed for you too..." Elena protested as she dipped some chips in salsa and took a bite. He took a bite of the beef in the corn tortilla shell. He chewed as his eyes fixed on his daughter. They've been hurting the Yaquis for a long time, apa...we checked in on ama's people. Maybe we should look in on our Yoeme relations?"
"We would have to go to Sonora. Or to Arizona."
"I don't mind, apa..."
"Right now, I need your help with the covenant. I don't support the church either, mija. Not in many years. But they are always wealthy. And they do it by stealing more souls. The Genizaros, Elena...when you know their history, you'll know mine and yours. We all have different pieces of the story but it's all ours."
"I'll do what you ask..." She agreed. "I will go in the morning. I will have the priest and the sister meet me there. We will go then."
She took a bite of the beef filled taco and added, ""Pero papá... hubo genizaros apaches... Sé que se esperaba que hombres como tú lucharan por el estado. Y se defendieran de los asaltantes apaches y navajos. Pero muchas de las personas que eran genizaros siguen siendo apaches y navajos. Incluso si perdieran sus almas por los españoles, por la iglesia."
("But papa...there were Apache genizaros...I know men like you were expected to fight for the state. And defend against Apache and Navajo raiders. but many of the people that were genizaros are still Apaches and Navajos. Even if they did lose their souls to the Spanish. To the church.)
Enrique looked outside towards the desert. "Lo sé muñeca. Pero hay, entre todos los políticos que hablan y los líderes, la lucha que se espera que hombres como yo hagamos. Y ha sido mi deber defender las fincas en México de las incursiones apaches. Nos ven como los invasores pero no son de México. Si quieren decir que estamos aquí arriba, eso es una cosa. Pero decir que estamos en México... eso es una mentira que no puedo tolerar. Puede que sea cierto que el ejército, que la iglesia, el estado, nos enfrenten entre nosotros, Elena. soy consciente ¿Pero se supone que tú o yo debemos morir solo por ese hecho? ¿Somos carne de cañón para su agenda? Chale... hacemos lo que tenemos que hacer para sobrevivir. Cualquiera que sea una amenaza para nuestra existencia tiene que ser tratado."
(I know doll. But there is, among all the speaking politicians and leaders, the fight that men like me are expected to make. And it has been my duty to defend the farms in Mexico from Apache raids. They see us as invaders but they are not from Mexico. If they mean we're up here, that's one thing. But to say that we are in Mexico... that is a lie that I cannot tolerate. It may be true that the army, the church, the state, pit us against each other, Elena. I am aware. But are you or I supposed to die just for that fact? Are we cannon fodder for his agenda? Chale... we do what we have to do to survive. Whatever is a threat to our existence has to be dealt with.
"All I am saying is there were Comanche genizaros too. And sometimes genizaros killed Comanches too. Not just Apache and Navajo."
"I know that too, mija. But that is why just like the Apaches, I do not deal with Penetakas. There is no way to know who certain men are when you erase their identity so any Genizaros that could have been Comanches would not remember what band they come from."
She bid her father farewell in the morning and made her way to the mission getting changed into a nuns getup. The color black was that much hotter and in a place like Ariza or Arizona, was the hottest place she had ever been even parts of Mexico and Northern Mexico where it was desert at that, was cooler than Arizona. She enjoyed the heat but not the kind of heat Arizona had and for that reason had always preferred New Mexico.
But she knew that Arizona and not New Mexico were where both her tribes were from. She was being driven there by one of Enrique's men, Vincente Cerritos. Vincente was a New Mexican man of indigenous descent but like her father, had been genizaro but unlike her father, had never learned his specific tribe so he was just classified as a Mexican. He stood five seven without boots and had a handle bar mustache and hazel eyes and carried a double barreled shotgun in case of bandits.
"Como esta, Elena?"
"Bien. Y tu?"
"I cannot complain, senora. It is a nice day for a ride. So...you've joined the church, eh? You wouldn't be the first Yaqui girl to go to church..."
Elena shot him a dirty look. He blushed a bit with embarassment. He took the reins and began to drive them out towards the church. "Your father is a good man, Ela...but I can;'t understand why he doesn't have you go to a closer church. I don't mind the ride but it's a long time to ride around in a hot black cloth."
"I've done it before. I'll manage..." She assured.
As they rode, he shifted uncomfortably. "Come to think of it...I don't know how the padres stand it...maybe it's to remind themselves they'll burn in hell in the next life if they don't wear that pinche cloth and collar. The white collar is probably the only cool part of the padres getup and that is going to be covered in sweat too."
"You saying you're not hot now?" Elena asked.
"No. This, I can manage I have dealt with similar tempuratures back in Jalisco. But if I were wearing any black clothing I would't be able to take it. It's a good thing those churches are drafty, at least."
"You don't believe in hell I thought, senor?" Inquired the Southwestern Native woman.
"I don't anymore. But there was a time when I believed in it all. cielo, infierno y purgatorio."
She chuckled. "Cielo means sky but also heaven. This is what the church never understood. We are already in heaven. the Aztecs learned this. So did the Mayans. We are already in heaven. But it's already hot like inferno. And as for purgatorio? You and me have both waited in lines before...what is purgatory but a long line?"
"It's a little more than that, senora. They purge the soul of sin. That is what the priests and the nuns did when they beat me with rulers. That is why I am such a shining example now..." He gave her a twisted grin.
"Mi padre had the same thing happen to his padre and their sisters. My father had sisters back in Mexico decided to break the chain. With me he always told me he didn't want that for me. He wanted me to learn the old ways but he said the church has a lot of our sacred item. Some tribes have done raids on churches but for other things, we can only take back what is ours little by little."
"It will work. Until it doesn't. The church still stands by the inquisitions centuries ago. I am sure they have people who can see through our act."
"There are also people who have evaded detection by playing good Catholic boys and girls.
"Mexicans used smoothebore flintlock muskets, pistols, savers, short swords, lances and out of date cannons. In general their weaponry was older, heavier and less reliable than that of Americans. Mexico had no armory to make weapons so they bought theirs from Europe, often settling for the weapons the Europeans no longer used or wanted, purchasing at a discount. Muskets and rifles from the 1830s were common. They used the Griveaubal cannon of different calibers, which were often defective, but ammunition was limited. Bad powder and wrongly sized balls, made their musket shooting inaccurate."
March 6, 1867
6:00 AM
Elena rose and got dressed the next morning after breakfast and after a bath, she was dressed in her nun getup and on her way. Father Armando and Isabella were there to greet her when she arrived at the covenant. They could see the friendly Catholics waiting about a hundred yards ahead. He gave his daughter a hug and then told her, "Recuerda, Elena... sé obediente pero observadora. No puedo decirle con certeza quién hasta que sea seguro hacerlo. Algo que solo tú sabrás. Hay hermanas allí que también son como tú, no lo que parecen. Son tus aliados en la iglesia, pero en secreto siguen las viejas costumbres. Han sido retribalizados. Todavía hay muchas almas perdidas que son Genizaros que deben ser liberadas."
(Remember, Elena...be obedient but observant. I can't tell you for certain who until it's safe to do. Something only you will know. There are sisters in there who are also like you, not what they seem. They are your allies in the church but they secretly walk the old ways. They have been retribalized. There are still many lost souls that are Genizaros who must be liberated.)
They ceased conversation as soon as they got within earshot. "¡Bienvenida, hermana Elena!"
(¡Bienvenida, hermana Elena!)
Armando greeted. They got her inside and she began to unload her belongings. Her father stopped her and handed her a extra bible. "Just in case, mija..."
She checked the extra bible to see that she had a revolver inside the false bible where a barracho might have snuck in a flask of whiskey, her father had a gun in there. There were only six rounds for it but she imagined that at least here, it would be more than she would need.
The truth of the matter was that whenever there was a raid that the Comanches toiok part in or the other way aron
"Sometimes I do not like what I read of the chcurch and what was done here. I know we have to save almas from hell. But did the church have to be so cruel about it?"
"Si..." Armando stated. "The church was only doing what it had to in order to defend itself when they brought the word of God to the heathens and the men attacked the missionaries. We briught them the word of God and they attacked us."
"Why do you say 'we' Armando? You have the same sangre in your heart as me. You descended from Otumbas."
"Si but I am also descended from Hernan Cortez the man who helped many other Empires resist the Mexica. In the end...we won our independence against Spain when they became unjust to us. But we had to find Jesus first."
"And the gringos? You think they are right?"
"You have to understand, mija. There was a time when los gavachos worshipped false Gods of their own. Greeks, Vikings, Romans, even the English worshipped idols. The only reason we were not the soldiers of christ first converting their paganos to the Faith is because they came here from a land that shared the Meddieteranean sea with Israel. Of course they would beat us to the punch!"
He then added, "There is a group of what they call the white indians of the canary islands. Some of those men are still naked savages who hunt and gather but do not cultivate. Even now even when all nations will bow to him there will still be souls who have not yet heard of Jesus Christ and it will always be that way until he returns. This is so his children could do the good work, Elena..."
The nun nodded. "Rembember ghow Santa Pablo arrived on the islands of the Greek and Romans? They were wicked cannibals and they worshipped demons as Gods."
Armando nodded. "Mars, Neptune, Zeus, these are all demons and false gods but they were not real until the foolish disobedient humans rebelled in the days of Noah."
Armando looked at the sky as they rode on. "I remember when only the Catholic faith was permitted in Mexico. But these protestants come from El Norte and they think they can erode the relationship between Parishioners and us. They have views on divorce that are the opposite of what Jesus preached. Has your papa ever remarried?" Inquired the priest.
"No. He was heartbroken and he said nobody else would compare to her. Sometimes they argued. But he was always kind to us and he never raised his hand to mi madre the way some husbands do. He only hit any of us when we were bad."
"Spare the rod spoil the child," The nun nodded in agreement.
"Your papa will go to heaven. He is trying to fight for Mexico too..." Armando added. "Don't think we don't notice this. Remarriage would have made him an adulterer. If he hasn't remarried already it is your duty as his daughter to make sure he never remarries. It is the form of adultery most people commit every day. He will see your mother in heaven."
She knew that they hadn't known her mother and to spare his daughters and sons the trauma of having to hear the catholics say that their mother was in hell because she did not accept Jesus as her lord and savior, Diego had lied on her behalf and said that his late wife had already been baptized long ago when she was a girl, had studied the bible in depth for the remainder of her teen years before being married to him.
"That is what I am hoping for..." Elena stated. "And I pray for their souls but not for my own. Papa told me that when we pray we should never pray for ourselves but only for other people."
"Your papa is a good man and a patriot,..." Isabella added. "But I disagree. It is never wrong to prau to Jesus for yourself if it is for guidance or forgiveness but as a general rule your father is right. He has raised you with good morals."
"Yes but I worry about my brothers and my sister. They have all fallen into sin one way or another. My brother who is still in Mexico he is living a rightous life and he has children, a wife a family of his own but I worry about my other brother and sister. Because they have children of their own I knew that our family name will live on. And that is why I knew I needed to be married to Christ. The closest to being a mother i will ever be is hopefully one day here/. and as a tia to my nieces and nephews. i wanted marriage and children of my own but that is why I knew what a big sacrifice this is."
"If you don't mind my inquiring sister miranda, why did you decide to become a bride of Christ?" Isabella asked.
"In truth? I have seen my father and brothers dodge bullets and they have survived the dangers of war but my older brother Diego keeps putting himself in danger. But with my own sins in the past I have fornicated before I took my vow of celibacy. Mexico is an easy place for a woman to lose her way. Whether she wants to or not. The same with Arizona. I have seen so much sin that i thought that while it is right for others to marry, I decided to gurantee my place in heaven."
"That took a lot of courage to make a choice such as this..." Armando applauded her. "Especially a young woman. But it is never to late to turn away from sin."
Lying in wait, Diego, and nine more Culebras lie in wait in the night,. The moon was out and big in the sky and he knew in texas this was what was called a comanche moon. Enough moonlight for them to go raiding at night. He spotted the church caravan and began to ride towards them as he put a red bandanna over his face. "Orale, wey, you do all the talking. It's been years since I've been to a confession but I don't want to take a chance on one of these senoras de Dios recognizing my voice."
His second in command, Cedro Gonzales a tall scrawny dark skinned Mexican man with a handle bar mustache and slanted eyes like that of a coyote wearing a red dress shirt and a black vest over it with spurs on his boots and a sombrero. They rode towards Elena, pistols and shotguns mixed with repeaters aimed at the men and the women of the cloth. "If you value your lives you will hand over all your valuables! jewelry, the collections, todo!"
"We are children of the lord..." Armando begged. They had not taken their own weapons seeing no reason to do so since they were headed on a mission to the Papago Indians who had not conveted. It was quite a ride west they would have ahead of them.
"And I'm a child of El Diablo y los demonios..." Snarled Cedro as he pointed his 1860 Revolver at the forehead of Isabella. "When you think about it, mija we are saving your souls! Did Jesus not say it is easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven? We are saving you from damnation. What is a few dollars here and there compared to paradise?"
"You are not servants of the Lord..." Armando insisted. "You serve Satan. Your mother would not have wanted this..."
Diego growled in a gruff voice deciding not to remain silent after all but he tried disguising his voice as best as he could. "You did not know our mothers, puta. You stole gold from Mexico. She lost her gold to the church, senor. We just want to redisrtribute the wealth to the poor and needy and to help you enter the kingdom of heaven!"
Cedro warned, "You have two ways you can go to heaven senor..." He pointed his shotgun at Armando's gut. "This is how it will be, cabron. The Papago are going to miss church and you pendejos will be missing collection this Sunday. It is your choice whether or not you survive."
They gave up their loot and the money. "We must send for the law!" Cried Armando. "Elena, did you not bring a rifle?"{
"No, senor. You said this was a mission to spreadt the word of God. We are only going to convert not kill."
He exhaled. "This is a good thing. Maybe this way we can be more meek as we were meant to and we can turn the other cheek..."
Isabella was in tears.
"I have a sister too..." Isabella stated. "I often worry about her soul as often as I pray for mine. We will go back to the church and pray. This is all we can do. With God all things are possible."
"Where is she now?" Asked Elena. "Your sister?"
"I do not know. I havem't seen her in more than ten years. I miss her everyday but i have heard she was up to no good. Her and mi padre.
Elena and Armando got to the Sheriff;s and he sighed. "I think it is better that if a Mexican has to talk to the law that it be a man..."
Even though Elena had said she had no weapons, she was lying. She had dual pistols under her nun getup. With full loads and ammunition to spare. She would back him up if the law tried anything.
She waited ten minutes before the priest and the lawman were speaking. Normally the anglo settlers tended to hate Mexicans as much as Apaches but they were still Catholic some of them at least out here where Spanish culture was more dominant so priests were not usually bothered. Usually. Before long, the Sheriff came out with three of his deputies and began deputizing another six townsmen. They mounted their steeds and began to ride west in the direction her brother had gone. He was already five miles away by the time the Sheriff and his men went to the desert but they were hot on the trail of the bandits.
They began to head back to the scene of the crime. "We should have armed guards..." Elena stated. "It's one thing to convert others to our way but the banditos know who Jesus is and they still rob us."
That night, she was given a room and a bed in the nunnery and she slept for four or perhaps five hours before waking up and putting her nun getup back on. She needed to sneak off grounds. She would need to ride back and be there when she was.
Three Hours Later
She headed out to the rendevous point. She had woken an hour ago and slipped out and had packed clothing into her bed to make it seem as though she was there. She had been riding about a half hour to where they were to meet. it was a point just outside of Santa Fe. "'Papa is angry with you for not taking me back to the trading post yourself."
""Red Wolf y Broken Arrow te tenían con ellos. Además, ya no eres una niña, Elena. Eres una mujer. Pero sabes cómo manejar un arma. No necesitas mi ayuda más de lo que yo necesito la tuya."
(Red Wolf and Broken Arrow had you with them. Besides, you're not a girl anymore, Elena. You are a woman. But you know how to handle a gun. You don't need my help anymore than I need yours.)
"Yet here you are robbing the Catholic church with tips I gave to you. It is a good thing you took my crucifix. It had to look convincing."
"We're doing that so my compadres can eat. And you? You take your loot and do whatever it is you do. Papa never needs to know."
"He wouldn't be against it..." She insisted. "Other than danger if we're ever caught. But he was friends with Juan Banderas. He wouldn't have went against it. We are genizaros at the end of the day, right? At least on his side. Most genizaros either don't know who they are or they know and they destroyed their own people's pueblo."
He shook his head. "He's too much of a soldier, Ela. Plus he still deals with gringos instead of shooting them. See, i remember papa telling me about Juan Banderas in fireside stories. He attempted to unite the Pima, and the Yaqui and other tribes against the Mexican government. The same government papa would FIGHT for just three fuckin years later. After his so called hero was executed. See that's why I couldn't stand mama. She trusted the gringos or at least her tribe did. They made peace with them. Ours is not at peace with them. I refused to be part of it. I still do. Papa can act like the Mexican soldiers aren't just as bad as the Americanos but I know they're both the enemy."
"And you are two much of a gang member, Diego. I fight too. I don't claim to be a great warrior. But I don't rob nuns."
"Are you buying into papa's bullshit, Elena? He's supposed to be excommunicated but he still wants back in the church or he misses it...those nuns are beating Yaqui children for speaking Yaqui. Those senoras are lucky i didn't put bullets in their cabezas. Same with el padre."
They divided up the loot. "You disrespect your sister..." Broken Arrow snarled at the Yaqui outlaw. "You don't act like a Yaqui or a Zuni. You act like a genizaro just like your father used to be. Or a tribeless mestizo praying to a white Jesus with long hair as he cuts our long hair. You even have your hair short like a white man. You dress like them you speak like them. Can you speak Yoeme anymore? She can. But I bet all you've spoken in years is English and Spanish. You couldn't hunt a deer without that long rifle of yours. You are a pathetic fat bastard."
"Hey, I've killed Comanches before, puto..." Diego insisted pulling his pistol on Broken Arrow. Red Wolf drew his bow. "Drop your gun or I'll put one threw your face."
"Basta! All of you!" Cried Elena. Broken Arrow sneered but told his brother, "Do not shoot unless you see my body fall, brother."
"I don't use arrows because the tribes that still do lose every time they fight gringos."
"You never met this viejo we met back in the Texas Panhandle. He could outshoot you. And papa. And he still uses traditional weapons sometimes."
"I don't give a shit about a viejo, Elena. This is my family now. You're my old familia. I'll never go to war with you or papa but if it was ever a choice between Los Culebras and the two of you, I can't turn my back on mi carnales. They've gotten me out of more life and death situations than either of you did. With your Comanchero bullshit. And playing nun. At least I'm honest about who I am, hermanita."
The weapons were lowered. "Let's start over..." Red Wolf began. "We kill taibo soldiers and Mexican soldiers same as you. The Yaqui are not the only nation to resist both. Maybe walking in their world is what helps you survive. But I went to a white man's school in Oklahoma. I escaped. I learned to read and that is the only good thing about the white man's cuture."
"Your papa and his warriors have had gunfights with me and mi compadres. I don't have any problem with you waging war on the gringos. Pero somos Indios too. You try raiding Mexicanos we're gonna kill you. Simple as that. The Comanches tried to get me. I got an arrow wound right here..." He lifted his shirt up to show the wound from the arrow wound he had received two years prior. "Last hijo de puta to shoot me didn't live to tell about it..." He growled.
"What about you?" Inquired Cedro. "You had nothing to do with our robbery and you clearly are not Christian."
"That's because Christianity is for taibos..." Red Wolf growled. "I remember their schools. They taught me to read and write. On the one hand, it is good that the taibo taught us to read..."
"The Mayans had their own writing system..." Cedro insisted.
"But what they did to us there...it's the reason we do what we do to them..."
Diego looked at his younger sister with skepticism. "Bueno hermana Elena superiora me pregunto qué pensarían las hermanas de tu pacto de que tú y estos vatos maten a una iglesia entera llena de texanos."
(Well, sister Elena superior I wonder what the sisters in your covenant would think of you and these vatos killing an entire church full of Texans?)
"Diego, you weren't there. And you didn't see what they did to Red Wolf. When he was a boy. They beat him and Broken Arrow for speaking Numunuu."
She kept silent about the molestation that had also taken place. They had confided in only a few people. Broken Arrow didn't talk about what happened to him but Red wolf had confided in Elena and his parents. His father always the warrior, had not judged his son or seen him as any less for he had been just a boy but he had taken him on a raid with him against that very church at a young age.
With Broken Arrow, she suspected the same happened but he wouldn't talk about it. The only thing he acknowledged when speaking of those days was that they had in fact beat him and tried to get him to stop worshiping their Jesus.
"We have to keep fighting..." Broken Arrow finally broke his silence. "We'll help your brother with raids on the Catholic church. There are warriors that want to sign another peace treaty with the taibo. They have lost their spirit. Their courage. We cannot. There are other churches that do not wear the black robe. They are the ones who practice the religion of the Texans..."
"Protestantes..." Elena realized aloud more to herself than the present company.
(Protestants)
Broken Arrow nodded. "The Puuku band has suffered greatly at their hands. The Baptists especially. They used to have many numbers but I remember they were one of the bands that had their people sick from disease before they ever saw a taibo.."
"In the meantime..." Elena began. "What are you going to do with the loot?" She stared directly into her older brothers eyes.
"We have a big camp of people to take care of. What we can sell to fences will keep our gente fed on both sides of the border."
She crossed her arms. "If by La Gente you mean Los Culebras..." There was a coldness to her tone that was not lost on the two Comanche brothers present.
He sneered. "You just want me to be like Cedro. Or like you. Following papa everywhere. Or him...fighting for the Mexican government. That would be like me joining the Americanos. Or maybe like mama? Confined to a tiny piece of land in Arizona and left to die."
"Don't you go there!" She growled. "We just want you to come back to us, Diego. That's all we ever wanted..."
He exhaled. "Mire, no estoy en contra de todos en la iglesia pero estoy dispuesto a recuperar lo que la iglesia robó de México. Pero ahora estas iglesias tienen un trato con los gringos. Ya que Nuevo México y Ariza tienen la categoría de estados. Y sus escuelas residenciales dicen que tienen que cambiar quiénes somos. Aunque la iglesia nos hizo mal en México, al menos las hermanas de allá hacen algo de bien para ayudar a los pobres. Donaré parte de la plata que tomamos y la daré a las iglesias de allí. Ayudan a los pobres porque son pobres."
(Look, I am not against everybody in the church but I am willing to take back what was stolen from Mexico by the church. But now these churches have a deal with the gringos. Since New Mexico and Ariza have their residential schools say they have to change who we are. Even though the church did us wrong in Mexico at least the sisters down there do some good to help the poor. I will donate some of the silver we took and give it to the churches down there. They help the poor because they are poor.)
She knew what he was getting at. Even though the Spanish had also cracked down on Indigenous spiritual practices in Mexico, what they called New Spain but they were not as thurough as the anglo protestant immigrants seemed to be. The protestants were starting to outnumber Catholics in both states.
She knew he hated the church but that he also understood most of the people,were Catholic but he saw it as being able to help some of the poor down there especially those still recovering from the war with the United States as well as those suffering now because of the war with France.
"Maybe that will get us some good will..." Rodrigo nodded. "But the gringos...the Rangers will chase us all over the Southwest. Not just Tejas. We can't go back there anytime soon. The bounty on is higher than it ever was. Those Rinches defeated the Comanche nation. In many fights. And they helped Sam Houston beat Mexicanos."
Diego sneered at his friends words. "We've gone against them and their posses before, hermano. Rangers, soldados, Comanches, Apaches or even federales from the other side of the river can all try to get me but we're still here and we don't have a noose around the neck."
"Just because you survived encounters with Los Rinches before doesn't mean you can keep thinking you can always do that..." Elena warned. "Your luck can always run out."
He held his twin pistols with gold grip handles. "This is my luck, hermanita. This is no place for you. Go back to Enrique. You and him have to function on that side of the law. But I can't. You already proved you can fight, carnalita but there's times not to fight."
She scoffed. "Usted debe estar bromeando. ¿Tú precisamente vas a sermonearme sobre cuándo pelear y cuándo no?"
(You must be joking. You of all people are going to lecture me about when to fight and when not to?)
"Al menos me ocupo de algunas de las amenazas que plagan a la raza en este estado. Los sabuesos de antes por ejemplo. Los Texas Rangers son nuestro mayor enemigo pero también están esos putos. Los guardabosques, mierda, ni siquiera el gobierno federal está haciendo nada cuando matan a mexicanos. Por eso depende de nosotros. Quizás no podamos evitar que disparen a gente, pero podemos responder y asegurarnos de disparar a los bastardos que disparan a nuestros compadres," He countered.
(At least I take care of some of the threats that plague la raza in this state. The bloodhounds from before for Texas Rangers are our biggest enemy but there's also those putos. The rangers, shit not even the federal government is doing anything about when they kill Mexicans. That's why it's up to us. We might not be able to stop gente from getting shot but we can shoot back and make sure we shoot the bastards that shoot our compadres.)
He then added, "There are stagecoaches coming between El Norte y Mexico tambien. No trains yet."
Elena nodded. "Because of the war..." She paused a moment looking out into the night illuminated only by the moon itself and the oil lanterns the gang members carried with them. The men had opted to sleep out under the stars with a cold camp. Luckily, this part of the Sonora Desert was sparsely populated. There was little chance of an army convoy coming near them and if they did, they would make themselves.
She had a feeling one day her brother and their gang might turn to the trains that were more and more common in the west but for now, she hoped that both the Comanches and the Mexican Comancheros would not go after any trains any time soon. Army or otherwise. She didn't want to take that risk in the offchance that there was a Gatling Gun. The Comanches were not her peope but she didn';t want to get them killed.'
"Maybe..." Broken Arrow started to say. "Maybe we can...convince our father to meet some of you. He met with Elena before and it did not go well. My father is a proud man but he is a friend to your father. They had an understanding but if you can convince him that your men have hearts in the right place maybe our alliance with your father and Elena can extend to you."
"Brother, with criminals? We are warriors they are bandits. Father would not want us to be allied with them."
"Father will not be chief forever..." Insisted Broken Arrow. "And to the taibos there is litle difference between them who they call bandits and us. We have taken our share of scalps from south of the Rio Grande. Some I'm proud to have taken. Others...was excess,. We had enough and did it simply because we were angry. I would much rather strengthen our alliance with the Vargas family. The Quahadi band is already a better friend to him than even our own band..."
There was some truth to that. The Vargas Family as long as they had been Comancheros and genizaros before that, had been a mix of those whp had practiced old Yaqui and other ways but other times, they still were the second friendliest band the Yap Eaters, were but they got most of their trading business with those two tribes. Enrique also made a point of not trading with Comanches who had already agreed to live on alloted land in Oklahoma.
She wasn't 100% certain of this at least not as much as her fathers hatred of anglos and Apaches but she suspected her father disliked most people from Texas or Oklahoma. Arizona and New Mexico and Mexico proper he tended to make more friends in those areas but he had come to associate Texas and Oklahoma as states that belonged to the anglos now. While at least in New Mexico and Ariza, there was a chance. There were enough Indios both from here in the four corner regions and Mexicanos who had lived in these areas. They had outnumbered Anglos in California and she had known this.
This was why they had started classifying Mexicans who were not definitivley part of a Meso American tribe as "White" to make it seem as though the anglos were not as outnumbered as they actualy were since Mexicans and Chinese in California outnumbered Anglo settlers and they did this to include not only the Mexican citizens of strictly Spanish or mostly Spanish ancestry but also genizaros. It was easier to do in the case of Mexicans since most were already Catholic due to Spanish colonization where as china was mostly heathen.
For this reason between the two groups it was easier to just classify the Mexicans as white than to simply acknowledge the truth. But even if they were the majority down here, Elena was seeing that with the end of the civil war in America that was going on at the exact same time as her other brother was fighting the French, this meant that even where Mexicans, much like Comanches could have taken advantage and rolled back the frontier border such as in places like Texas and Oklahoma, the problem was that they were involved in their own war which was already costing many men on both sides of the conflict down there. She had not talked to her brother in at least four years but she hoped that he would be alive and would not lose his life in this war that had already claimed the lives of more than twenty five thousand Mexicans and that was just on the federalist side.
Far less of the French had been killed as well as the puppet state soldiers of the Mexican Empire but she had been read a letter two years ago that he father had recieved from him and it seemed he had killed quite his fair share of the enemy but that he was not handling the loss of the friends he had lost in battles well. Much to both of their surprises, her brother had said he had seen more European soldiers on the enemy side than just the French.
He also had encountered German, Austrian, Belgian and Hungarian soldiers and even some Egyptians. What Mexico had failed to do in the Mexican American war, it seemed it had a chance in fighting the French but they were taking so many casualties. She felt conflicted. On the one hand she knew why her father hated anglos and Apaches and distrusted some Comanche bands. She also knew why Red Wolf and Broken Arrow's father hated Mexicans. She had also heard of a terrible massacre of Apaches decades ago in the Mexican countryside that had brought with it an Apache vengance unheard of.
A name had started to ring out among it. Geronimo an Apache man who had lost his wife and mother and baby to Mexican soldiers of both Spanish and mestizo ancestry. Now the Apaches were also at war with the United States especially since they had just killed Cochise but she did not want to see her brother killed by Apaches arrows or French or American bullets for something other soldiers did.
She could see her lovers father the chief making a temporary alliance with herself and Enrique. Possibly even the Culebras but not with her brother who was an official soldier. he was too official. But he saw it as his patriotic duty and he did live down there.
Day 1
July 1, 1863
Gettysburg, Pennysylvania
Joshua Camberlain stood in front of the disbanded men from the Maine regiment. "his regiment was formed last summer in Maine. There were a thousand of us then. There are less than three hundred of us now. All of us volunteered to fight for the union, just as you did. Some came mainly because we were bored at home — thought this looked like it might be fun. Some came because we were ashamed not to. Many of us came because it was the right thing to do. And all of us have seen men die."
The men in blue uniforms were silent listening to him speak.
"This is a different kind of army. If you look back through history, you will see men fighting for pay, for women, for some other kind of loot. They fight for land, power, because a king leads them or — or just because they like killing. But we are here for something new. This has not happened much in the history of the world. We are an army out to set other men free. America should be free ground — all of it. Not divided by a line between slave state and free — all the way, from here to the Pacific Ocean. No man has to bow. No man born to royalty. Here, we judge you by what you do, not by who your father was. Here, you can be something. Here, is the place to build a home. But it's not the land. There's always more land. It's the idea that we all have value — you and me. What we're fighting for, in the end, we're fighting for each other."
He paused a moment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to preach. You, you go ahead. You talk for awhile. If you — If you choose to join us, you want your muskets back, you can have 'em. Nothing more will be said by anybody anywhere. If you choose not to join us, well you can come along under guard, and when this is all over I will do what I can to see you get a fair treatment. But for now, we're moving out. Gentlemen, I think if we lose this fight, we lose the war. So if you choose to join us, I'll be personally very grateful."
On the southern lines, Dalton was uncertain about the people in this small Pennsylvania town. They had been kind enough to the likes of him, Taft, Robert Patterson, Sid Winthrop, Jeremiah Sanford and George Crocks but just like the people of Georgia, of Mississippi, of Alabama, Louisiana, and of course Virginia, saw Lincoln's Northern Army as an army of invaders doing the will of those sons of bitches in Washington. Surelym, the people of the north would see a rebel army coming through there.
General Lee had ordered them to stay away from the town for the most part. They knew the Union soldiers were going to be here but Taft had explained to them that thy were to take a northern stronghold. The Yankees had captured positions in the south so it was only right they do it i the north. Taft had told them that Lee planned to defeat the blue bellies here and force General Grant to have a treaty with him.
Dalton carried his Springfield, which they had captired off Yankees in previous battles. Crocks carried an Einfeld but Taft had a rifle similar to Dalton's. He had a Henry. Sandford had an Evans. Taft turned to the young soldier. "Sgt. O'Hara you always wanted a chance to meet General Lee. We are at the calm before the storm. You might just have a chance to meet your hero."
"I thought you were my hero Colonel Taft..."
"Ahh sarcasm, bot. The bitter sister of communication. Lucky you're like a son to me. I might think you were being insubordinate..."
"It would be a honor to meet the General. But I'm not so sure as to why he would want to meet somebody of my rank..."
"Don't sll yourself short. You represent the every day soldier. The farmer back home. Our way of 'll remind him what all of this is for. The Yankees villify him son..."
"Oh that I remember..." Dalton replied. "I recall reading a newspaper calling him both an instigator and a traitor. Slanderous lies..."
"Winthrop, you sure are one big son of a bitch..." sanford observed. "Not fat mind...no you got height. Seems to me like your mama fed you good..."
"She fed me enough..." The 25 year old man of Irish and English descent insisted. "Besides...aint no famines where I'm from."
"They don't never have famine out in Georgia?" Asked a corporal from Richmond.
"Oh they do but God's been good to my family. My family came to this country 130 years ago and they were poor. This wasn't even a country yet in those days. Was just colonies. Both sides of my family got sick of the English so I'm proud to say my family was early revolutionaries. My grandpa killed eleven redcoats in the war."
"Why didn't he kill more than that? No disrespect intended to your grandfather and all, Sid..."
"He was killed in battle. Battle of Concord. I never even got to meet the man and believe me there were still people from his day fighting against the crown still alive when I was a boy."
Dalton's friend Stephen Whitaker a blonde haired wiry man with neck length hair and a burnside for facial hair standing at five six and weighing perhaps 140 lbs at best, he sat down next to Dalton feasting on the can of beans as they awaited their orders. "I don't know, Sid..." Whitaker began. "Seems like it aint much point to any of this. We been fighting these Yankee bastards for what, two year now?"
Sgt. Winthrop warned him, "You are out of line, private. Don't you go starting on killing our morale. We can whip these union boys we been doing in the last two years like you said. There was Northerner saying how we couldn't win. That we'd be beaten in a week. We showed them...and we're gonna show these blue bellies a thing or two about southern pride today. General Meade. We need to try and captuere him. Cripple the Yankee leadership out here."
"One general aint gonna do it, I reckon..." Dalton fretted. "These bastards if this fight gets away from us they could capture General Lee. All we'd get is one lousy general..."
"You could still negotiate from a position of power with a Yankee general, Dalton..." Corrected Taft . "They don't want to see one of their own generals hanged. They wouldn't stand for it. We could certainly force the north into a treaty with us here of we did capture him..."
"I don't want to capture him..." Sanford admitted. "I want to kill him. And killing him would destroy morale for the enemy. Meade is quite the catch. The man fought in the war with Mexico. And against the Seminoles. He fought in the Penensula Campaign...And in Maryland. They don't call him old snapping turtle for no reason."
Taft warned him, "You may not want to capture him and you may want to kill him but you will stand down, Major Sandford. That is an order."
"Sgt O'Hara, get your men ready..." Ordered Robert Patterson. "We're about ready to move out."
"Come on, boys..." Dalton commanded, He turned to his three friends who he outranked. The first of which was Michael Kelly who was a man with a brown Flying Dutchman facial hair style who was in his mid twenties. He stood five foot nine and had brown hair and brown eyes and hailed from Savanah Georgia and had been a Methodist preacher before the war one of the youngest in his church. The second was Ethan Dupont from Athens Georgia a red headed man with deep blue eyes and what had been curly hair that he'd had to cut short. He had a mercantile shop in his hometown but he'd left it in the care of his younger brother who was just below the acceptable military age.
Ethan was a rather cheerful fellow who had a way with people and had even managed to slick talk the cooks into sneaking him more desert and booze, something Dalton had thought they would never have the luxury of in the middle of a war. He had a wife and two young children at home just old enough to start school. Lastly Gordon Shaughnessy a man with sandy colored hair and gray blue eyes and pale skin that had a sunburn on the nose but he otherwise tried to keep it covered with his own hat. He was at least a corporal which was better than he had started in the war but he was very much the disillusioned type.
Like Michael, he was a devout Christian who advocated for the biblical verses that condoned and encouraged slavery but unlike Michael, he believed the world was coming to an end and the war between the states was the first stages of an apacaylyptic war. He had told Dalton over the camp fire one night that he expected to be raptured any day now and that unless Dalton was a true believer, he would wake up one morning to see his and Michael's clothing empty and he would be left behind. Of course, Dalton was familiar enough with the story and discussion of Revelations as his own preacher back home had discussed it at great length.
But he knew that even if that happened it wasn't considered too late to repent it just meant that he would be among those tortured in the name of Jesus if he didn't have the mark of the beast. He believed it would all happen the same as Gordon and Michael did but he didn't believe it would happen in their lifetime. He was no less devout either. He had prayed every night even before he ever came to war. Any good son of the south did and even though he had been born and raised in Loiusiana and had only come to Georgia later in life, it was his new home. Loiusiana was too wild and too coruupt for him. There had been too many slave revolts in the past for him to be comfortable anywhere he was outnumbered by slaves even if his own family didn't have any.
"There is no reason why you would be raptured and i would be left behind you dumb rube..." He'd told him. Now, for the last several months, he had been the one. There was also Captain Franklin Barry from Pooler Station, Georgia. The men mostly liked him though some feared him. He was a battle hardened veteran with a scar across his right jawline all the way up to his cheek courtesy of a nasty gash from a Yankee officers saber. He had greasy brown hair and brown eyes which he had received at Antietam. Just before he shot the man in the gut and finished him with the butt of his rifle and the barrel of his smoking gun.
He'd been a Lt. himself but he'd been promoted when his own skirmish line had collapsed, he still kept fighting and had only narrowly missed being shot because he had been crawling and stabbing and screaming on the ground even as he had slipped and fell his vision obscured by blood.
He could tell Lt. Patterson didn't like him but many suborninates often didn;t like their commanding officer. It was nothing new.
He was also a practicing Mormon. "You're not wrong about the people, corporal Shaughnessy. They are indeed heathens. Savages...maybe but the ones who have returned to the lord..."
"They aint got souls, Captain...how could Injuns be saved by God?"
"They used to be white skinned like you and me. they were the twelve tribes of Israel..."
This earned laughter from the Corporal. "if you say so, Captain..."
"You getting smart, boy...?" Demanded the Mormon Captain. "They must be converted but they must not be killed. They do have souls but they have been lead astray by Satan. This is why their skin is red. I have no doubt in my mind mine would be too were it not a fact my ancestors turned to god long ago..."
"But before Joseph Smith..." Chuckled Sandford. Taft and Sandford both had irreverant attitudes about the new religion. "I don't know, Captain...it would seem as though men from your own home state were none too fond of the church..."
"That is why I intend to go west after the war. Brigham Young took our community out there. Our own promised land."
"Where out west?"Inquired Taft. "Would that be California, sir?"
"No sir. Utah. Salt Lake City..."
"And what about the darkies?" Asked Sandford.
"Why, they bear the mark of Cain, of course. But those that repent and accept the true scripture can become white in heaven."
Patterson shook his head with disbelief but Taft bore it good naturedly and he told him, "What about what ya'll say about where the Garden of Eden was. Where was that again? Missisippi?"
"No, Missouri, sir/, If you would like to learn about the Lamanites and the Hamites it is more than possible but more important is our dedication to the Lord..."
They soon began to march farther through the farm town. The cannons roared and the Confederate and Union forces were already trading shot and insult. A skirmish line of blue bellies were nearly upon them with only a baseball fields distance between them now. The blasts of gunsmoke were seemingly as anxious as the men firing them to get the battle started already.
The skirmish line met in the field. The rounds came back their way. The Captain fell with a round in his chest, he fell, his eyes staring up at the skies as the blast hit him and the two lines closed in towards the fences around the farms. The cannons blasted away at the lines as the Yankees advanced. Dalton could see General Lee near his tent. He wanted to meet the man personally but he was far too low ranking.
He preferred the fighting style of Nathan Bedford Forrest and so did Taft since it was guerilla warfare. Even though Johnny Water had not known who that general was, he had known of Lee and Stonewall Jackson. Indeed for a white man, Nathan Bedford Forrest fought closer to that of the Confederate Indians as they had in their days of guerilla warfare. But Dalton was also aware that skirmish lines had existed since at least ancient Rome.
Confederate soldiers fell all around him their own shots going wide and missing or hitting some of the enemy but they themselves were killed moments later. Dalton wished he could crouch to reload but he couldn't as most soldiers on both sides had to stay standing to reload as had been the case in older wars like the Revolution, the war of 1812 and the Mexican American war. Dalton's hat was shot from his head just as he managed to get the round home and fire it at the enemy. He saw a flash of red in the face of a Union soldier from the other side but he wasn't sure if that was his shot,
He was noticing what Taft had warned him about regarding skirmish lines and pitched warfare. If one had to use these outdated battle techniques they had to be as effective as possible. Sandford noticed a weakness on the northernn line of soldiers ahead of them. Taft had explained to Dalton only two weeks prior that often the difference between victory and defeat where skirmish lines were in play was whether the average soldier could get off four shots per minute rather than one or two and whichever side lost the most men.
Dalton was able to fire four rounds a minute but the problem was even as the technology of weaponry had increased over the years, now Yankees had rifles capable of letting ten shots per minute. Dalton fell slipping in the blood of his own comrades and fell. A round narrowly soared over his head just as he hit the ground. Dalton realized they'd been fighting already a few hours and already the locals of Gettysberg were making their homes into makeshift hospitals as the streets of the city were starting to run red with blood.
There was a woman who was helping any soldiers who needed it from either side. A round hit the window of her home as the Confederate forces rounded the corner. The Yankees formed an ad hoc skirmish line. Dalton felt his heart pound, the air thick and hot with humidity. He hated the Army of the Potomac. He wanted to shoot Meade himself. He was angry about Chancellorsville. They had been in Virginia on the 30th. "i thought we were just here for supplies?!" Cried his friend Michael.
"We'll sort out what's what, later, son! These are just Pennsylvania militia, boys!" Taft stated.
"It's both, Colonel!" Major Sandford replied. "They got the Army of the Potomac working with them, they aint militia at all! They're Potomac..."
Ethan's rifle let off a burst and it struck a Polish immigrant with the Pennsylvania infanty. He struck the large Slavic man in the stomach and the round buried itself in his small intestine. Ethan fell as a round from the Army of the Potomac's skirnish lines hit him in the right nipple and he fell to the dirt with his might and energy stolen from him.
"
The rounds crashed into bodies as skirmish line took on skirmish line. Dalton never liked the idea of skirmish lines and in a war where they were outnumbered and they didn't have as advanced of weapons, they could not afford to fight the old fashioned way. "Come on, boys! Let's push these goddamn Yankees to Canada!" Bellowed Sandford. He fired his Springfield into the ribcage of a Yankee Captain from Sweden. He grinned as he watched the man fall sideways.
Taft fired his Rifle and commanded, "Get the twelve pounder! Blow these Federal pieces of shit to hell! Meade! We're coming for your throat you son of a bitch!" Crocks drove his bayonet into the stomach of a corporal, Corporal Reginald White from Minnesota. Crocks growled driving the blade deeper into the man's guts. "Let's turn these blue bellies into red bellies!"
"advance!
"But you know better, And you're with the 11th Georgia Infantry Regiment. Sgt OHara! Take cover! Use the trees, boy!" Taft warned.
The dismounted troopers resisted stoutly, delaying the Confederate advance with most firing their breech-loading Sharp's carbines from behind fences and saw Ethan hit yet agai even as he tried to stand up and continue the fight. The blood from his mouth painted the pale man's face a darker shade of red.
till, by 10:20 a.m., the Confederates had pushed the Union cavalrymen east to McPherson Ridge, when the vanguard of the I Corps (Major General John F. Reynolds) finally arrived.
General Reynolds was shot and killed early in the fighting while directing troop and artillery placements just to the east of the woods. Shelby Foote wrote that the Union cause lost a man considered by many to be "the best general in the army." Major General Abner Doubleday assumed command. Fighting in the Chambersburg Pike area lasted until about 12:30 p.m. It resumed around 2:30 p.m., when Heth's entire division engaged, adding the brigades of Pettigrew and Col. John M. Brockenbrough.
"Get those son of bitches!" Dalton roared as he and Gordon and Michael fired from behind the fences and struck each of them, one Union enemy.
"They got defensive positioons all around us, Colonel!" Cried out Sandford. "What are your orders, sir?!"
"Keep pushing through! We aint letting them Yankees come out of this victorious.."
Dalton reloaded and another shot struck a soldier from Maine. They'd been at the Maryland/Pennylvania only days before. On the 30th they had been in Virginia. Dalton and the rest of them attacked with bayonet charges and Dalton screamed with fury as he and Gordon and Michael made it through. By afternoon, there were seventeen Confederate brigades with 27,000 men were facing about 22,000 federal troops. The problem was that the 11th Corpse was stretched too thin and it was overwhelmed by mid afternoon.
The soldiers fled with the Confederacy hot on their tail. "Where you going ya fuckin Yankee coward?!" Dalton bellowed as he saw many blue uniforms turning tail through the streets. He could also see some making a fighting retreat with some taking cover behind wagons. He saw five of them behind a wagon that had no horses hitched to it. He fired the rifle and struck one of the men in the right ribcage. To his left, George Crocks did the same and he had run dry on his rifle and had withdrew his Navy Revolver and began firing shot after shot and he managed to drop two of the blue bellies in the street.
Sandford fired a shot in the right temple of a Sgt from the Union side. They advanced and the remaining three men were swept up by shots from the Confederates coming up "'the street. Dalton, Taft, Sandford and Crocks as well as Patterson roared with rage and their bayonets jabbed into the guts of the dying men.
"Halt!" Taft hollered. "What's going om Colonel?" Inquired Captain Patterson.
"We've been ordered to halt our advancement!" The sound of bugles filled the air and the Confederates let the Yankees run. "We just a mistake letting them sum bitches go!"
"I agree..." Taft said softly to his surrogate son. "But I don't want to hang for disobeying orders. i fully intend to survive this war and make it back home. Keep your mind on that, Dalton but only at the end of this. For now, we must keep our minds on the mission. And follow orders. General Lee is a good man and a leader among men,. If he is suggesting we wait then we must wait..."
Robert E Lee had instructed them to take the heights in the south only if possible. The sun was going down and both sides began to settle in to their respective positions and awaited the bloodier battle that was sure to come.
"This is why I don't want to be infantry truth be told..." Taft admitted to Dalton. "I have fought alongside Forrest and cavalry warfare is the future, son. This skirmish line nonsense is going to get a lot of good men killed..."
"But Lee is a good general..." Dalton
By the end of the day fifteen thousand men had perished and the Confederates had been bloodied to such an extent that their leaders did not want to pursue.
1867
Collision Course
As they rode through New Mexico the horse bucked Crawfish and Sid from it. Crawfish got to his feet attempting to calm the over encumbered horse. "Whoa, there boy!"
"Goddamn horse...if it were my horse it could have carried three men...if you wasn't such a hog of a man..."
"My nag can carry one man and that's me..."
"Yeah but you're the size of three men!"
"You lost your horse, Sid..." Dalton stated. Crawfish nodded. "Walk or ride it makes no difference no more."
"Huh? No...what are we gona do?"
"It was your horse, Sid..." Dalton informed him with regret in his voice. "I can't do nothing...mount up, Crawfish...do it..."
"You aint just gonna leave me here is ya?" Demanded Sid. "You can't just leave me here. After all we been through..." Dalton didn't want to but in terms of what he had done, getting rid of the money only for it to not matter and Dalton having to put Marshall out of his misery, the unspoken understanding between them was that while none of them wanted to leave him, his giving the money up had jeopardized the group.
Dalton rode forward towards Sid. "I can do this for ya..." He handed the curly haired outlaw a handful of shells.
Sid looked at the rounds in his palm. "Well, I guess nobody lives forever, right?"
"Good luck..."
"I'm done..." He said softly, seeming to accept his fate. He looked at the three horsemen. "Done...but I'll tell y one thing. I'm gonna take a couple of them with ya'll ride hard and fast. Crawfish you make it down to Mexico... you a kiss a couple of them pretty senioritas for me..." He smiled at Crocks saying, "But at least we had some good times...shit...fifteen banks...in two years..that's a lot of banks."
"A lot of banks, man..." Crocks smiled back.
"And Dalton...you tell you find yourself a good woman. And you tell your kids and grandkids Sid Winthrop died a strong man. That'd be good..." Dalton nodded in agreement. "You gotta go..."
"So long, Sid...say 'hello' to Milo and Marshall for me..."
"Why don't you just fuckin go?" Sid saw the posse coming over the hill. "Go!" He readied both revolvers. He counted out the lawmen coming. One...two...three...four...five...six...seven...eight...nine...ten...
He began to sing to calm his nerves.
Oh I'm a good old rebel I am And for this yankee nation
I do no give a damn
I'm glad I fought against her
I only wish we'd won
I ain't asked any pardon
For anything I've done
I hates the Yankee nation
And everything they do
I hates the declaration
Of independence too
I hates the glorious union
'Tis dripping with our blood
I hates the striped banner
And fought it all I could
Still, they were coming even after he had counted ten men. "Three hundred thousand Yankees are stiff in southern dust we got three hundred thousand before they conquered us...they died of southern fever and southern steel and shot..." He sang as the gun chambers clicked as he loaded up. The posse had spotted him and were riding towards him kicking up dust. "And I wish it were three million instead of what we got..." He fired taking out the first posse member a white male in a dirty straw hat and a brown duster jacket. He knocked the man from his horse with two shots to the chest.
The next shot hit in the right thigh. He was trying to also get Taft but he couldn't hit him. A shot came back and hit Sid in the right hip and the right ankle and the left ribcage. He felt the rage, the anger, the hot desert sun and the wet blood of his shirt mixing with his own sweat as the rounds tore into him.
They heard what had to be at least twenty four shots as they stopped. The Lematt he had given Sid carried nine plus another six. He had heard enough gunshots to suggest that perhaps Sid was holding his own.
In witness of Taft where he was, , they put the bloodied man on the back of the horse. His face was still intact unlike Milo but he was hit in every other part of his body. His right leg had been blown off at the tibia courtesy of a buckshot blast at the knee and just below it turning the joint into spam. He had also had his stomach opened up by a similar blast and his chest had at least seven rounds from a Evans. His throat had also been ripped open with a round tearing through his larynx. In addition to that, he had six rounds of .45 shot in him in his waist and his right leg. His band hand had also been shot to pieces, with his fingers blown off as well as the hand itself being reduced to three bloody chunks with flayed palm skin bleeding against the desert ground.
War's finally over for you, Sid... Taft thought as he took a puff of another cigar as he observed the mayhem his former subordinate had caused before the posse had prevailed. He had to admit he was impressed byu the ability
"Three down..." Taft spoke before they began to ride off. His bloodied hand was still bleeding but it wouldn't be for long.
Ten Minutes Later
Dalton, George and Crawfish continued to ride away. They stopped at a cliff area and got behind a boulder. They got into cover and Dalton suggested, "We dig in here and wait for them to ride by. We hit them from cover like they been doing us..."
"Oh bullshit!" Crocks protested. "Let's just go to Mexico, Dalton! Let's cross that big river into Mexico. We'll be safe in Mexico..."
"Not from Taft..." Dalton insisted. "Aint no place on Earth we're safe from Taft. We got to kill him."
"He can't be killed...it don't make no difference..." Crawfish lamented. "We all gonna die..."
"Would you shut up?!" Crocks growled. "Just shut up!" Crawfish did as he was told. The three men stayed put. "Where the fuck are they?" Asked Crocks.
"They was right behind us..." Crawfish stated. "Appear and disappear. Disappear and appear..."
They heard a hawk screech and a horses neigh. "They aint coming..." George finally said.
"Then we go to them. Same drill. Inventory. I got a full pistol load and two rifle shot..."
Crocks checked, the chamber of his gun clicking as his large blue eyes eyed it. "I got four in pistol, got two in my rifle..." Hearing the amount the man had brought to him, stress. He was already kicking himself regarding his own amount of ammo. Taft had been right.
Crawfish did the same checking his and the look on the colored man's face did not bring confidence to Dalton. "Two rounds..." Crawfish stated as though that in of itself was a death sentence. It pretty much was. Unless they were resourceful and tactful. "Then we spread out. Crocks, you ride ten minutes west, Crawfish, ten minutes south, me I'll go ten minutes north. Regroup here in twenty minutes. If you spot Taft, stay put. Anybody aint back in twenty minutes, the others go where he went. If you get a clean shot at Taft, kill him. Otherwise, don't fire."
Crocks spat inside the gun chamber to clean out the dust that had gathered from riding through the desert. "Dalton...you know which desert we in, partner?"
"This here is the Chihuahua desert..." Dalton said as he brushed a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Goes into Mexico too..."
"That's good."
The three men separated and began to ride in their respective directions. Crawfish took it slow as he headed south while Dalton kept a steady pace until he reached a cliffs edge. Crawfisg on the other hand kept stopping and going turning his head every which way as he trained his rifle on every direction not wanting Taft to catch him by surprise. I aint survive Gettysberg and goddamn Petersberg just to die in some New Mexican shit hole. I want to die in some old Mexican shit hole!
Suddenly a hiss startled him and he aimed at the source of it only to see it was just a gila lizard. He muttered, "Fuck..." As he knew the New Mexican sun was getting to him. He knew it wouldn't be any cooler in Mexico but there was plenty of ways to keep cool. They had resterauns, places to bathe, whorehouses and bars plus churches which to his recollection always had a nice draft in them. He knew Mexico was mostly Catholic and mama had warned against papists but she wasn't here anymore and to him they were still a branch of Christianity all though George wasn't too sure that the church was the only truth in the world.
Still, he would have taken the draftiness of a good church now over the sun that was now over 100 degrees. Meanwhile as Crawfish came around the side of a cliff with a great amount of cover, he heard a horse neigh. He looked up and saw Taft along with the posse.
Dalton headed back and met up with Crocks at the rendezvous point. "Whew...didn't see nothing..." The young outlaw reported to the older one. "Me neither..."
They dismounted. "Give Crawfish a few minutes..." Dalton suggested. They heard hooves nearby and Crocks called out, "There's a horse...shit that's Augustus..." They checked the horse and saw a holster on it with a name engraved in it indicating it had belonged to Marshall Hastings. A pang of guilt hit Da;lton's gut. They heard another horse and drew on the source of the sound only to see Crawfish. They lowered their weapons. "You didn't see him?" Asked Dalton.
The black man shook his looked around. "What's wrong, Crawfish?"
"Nothing...just...hard ride...just a little uneasy is all..."
"We got plenty now..." Dalton insisted as he showed him a handful of shells courtesy of Marshall Hasting's horse. "Taft I guess..."
"Taft?"
"Aint you gonna reload?" Asked Dalton.
"Yeah..."
"Reload, Crawfish..." Dalton ordered.
"Don't push me, Dalton! You the leader, okay? You the leader. That don't mean you own me, here? I'll do it on my own time..."
"That's all right..." Dalton said softly. "It has been a hard ride. But we can't crack now. We can't lose our heads. We don't know where Taft or that posse is. They could be seconds away. Reload now..."
"I.." Crawfish smiled. "I don't have to reload I..I got a full one..."
"You had two rounds..." Dalton corrected. He remembered. It hadn't been that long and it was hot out but it wasn't that hot.
"Yeah but I..I found...four rounds in my pocket. I just disremembered..."
"You had two rounds."
"This jacket...theres too many damn pockets..."
Dalton started unloading the rounds from Crawfish's gun. "These for me?"
"What you talking about, Dalton?"
"These bullets...are these meant to kill me with?:
"You turned on us..." Crocks said.
"Crawfish..." Dalton started.
"Go on, now you turned on us!" Barked Crocks.
Dalton insisted, "Taft knew I'd be keeping track of the shells. That's the way we always done it. Don't you see? He knew I'd find out you turned."
"No...I..."
"That was the lesson...that one of my men was gonna turn on me. But you?"
"Damn it, Dalton. We're all gonna die...he's not human anymore you know..." He grabbed Dalton's right sleeve on his jacket. "You know! You killed him and he came right back! And he keeps coming back!"
"You made a deal with Taft..." Dalton handed him back the pistol.
"You saw the way he killed Marshall..you wat to die like that? I'm your friend, Dalton! There are better ways to die.:
"Go ahead, then. Do it, Crawfish..." The black man lifted his pistol and Crocks aimed his rifle at the turncoat. "We trusted you...maybe Dalton didn't but I did...all them fuckin banks!'
"I trusted you last year. And the year before that when we first started running together..maybe not at first and definitley not all the way butr I at least thought youd never betray us to the I guess that's over now..."
Crawfish was sweating profusely both from the heat and the guilt.
"Do it..." Taunted Dalton. "Save your own hide! DO IT, CRAWFISH!" The Negros hand was shaking as he had it pointed at Dalton but he turned his gun on himself and his shaking hand pulled the trigger. Dalton approached the fallen black man whose head was hidden halfway under his hat and under the shadow it cast. Blood ran down the side of his head and he had blood running from near his eye but Dalton couldn't see through the shadow and then before he could get another look at his eye, he noticed the man was still shaking but he was not responsive as they called his name.
They even called him by his given name known to few in the world besides the people in this gang and spoken by even fewer and in the past many more people had known his real name before the war. Crawfish had been just a nickname. Dalton looked down at the bleeding man and then back to the sky. "Wake up, you fat bastard..." B ut there was no response.
"TAFT!" He roared.
Taft heard it from the other wise of the canyon. He came to Crawfish's body and unloaded all of the ammunition from it and palmed the rounds. "That's four..." Before he and the posse began their pursuit again. Dalton meanwhile,rode hard with George Crocks. They were no longer headed east. They were headed south. "We keep losing people...!" Dalton cried out. "This is bullshit!"
"Dalton, Taft always was a self rightous son of a bitch! I loved him and I loved Patterson too but they're both men that let rank go to their heads! You'll be a better leader cause you don't want it! Fuckin turncoat son of a bitch!" He growled and Dalton knew he meant Crawfish. "By the way...I'm sorry about back there, amigo! Just this hot sun is getting to me. You didn't exactly bring back nothing to drink!"
"We're down to our last shells, George! We got things we need more than booze...
"Hey it aint just for getting drunk, Lt. O'Hara! It's also for killing the pain, remember? We used a lot of that shit in the war to kill the pain. Lot of amputations..."
"I'm sorry too...it's water under the bridge. Forget about it, Georgie boy! I'll buy you whatever kinda booze you want down there..."
"They take American money down there? I hear tell they're friendly to Confederates in some parts. Some folks gone down there!"
Dalton was glad at least that one of them was in a lighter mood despite all that was going on. He knew they had to get to the other side of the border. Sure, there were plenty of outlaws down there both local as well as American but Taft wouldn't have the same clout down there. Sure, there were Neo Confederates but the men down there, for the most part weren't looking to launch another war against the United States from Mexico.
"They got pesos down there. They take Yankee money..as for Confederate...we'll see..." Dalton shrugged. "We aint got as much money after that stunt Sid pulled! Taft has it now! And he don't even care about money!"
"That bastard has lost his mind. He was a great man during the war but he's a liability now. Even Sanford wouldn't want to deal with him. Taft forgets. Just because he outranked Sandford in the war don't mean nothing to him! He aint even out here for this wherever he's at now he missed the worst of this."
"Maybe he could have stopped this before it started. At least the infighting. But he's a mean bastard himself. His mean streak is deeper than Taft's. For all his anger and hate for what the Yankees done to him I don't think he'd hurt children even to this day. He'd have burned down men and women, sure but his love for his own son and daughter survived even through all the hate and anger."
"Course it did, Dalton! That never goes away! But I don't know about Sanford stopping anything. I known the man for years. Even a little longer than you knew either of us and that bastard's got a mean streak. He didn't even lose a wife or children in Sherman's March. He lost some friends and his farm to the war and his pa went and had a heart attack when their farm was burned. I guess that's what turned HIM sour..."
"As long as he keeps a long ways away from us! Then again we're on our own! It's just you and me now, George! We may not even need to go back for the gang. They were willing to let us come out here and take all the risk just for them to sit back at the hotel with their feet up!"
"I don't think they're relaxing, Dalton. I think they're in there wanting to be able to venture out and get more free fresh air but it's hot out back in Arizona too. They can't go nowhere in town no time soon, not all at once. They was in this with us same as anybody that died here today..."
"It don't seem that way!" Dalton went on. "None of them even know how many of us just got bushwhacked so they could sleep safe tonight. Excuse me if I'm done wanting to fight for people who aint willing to lift their feet up. It's like the ladies from our camp too! They're cute every last one of em but none of them even knows their way around a gun cept Salali."
"So why don't you ask her to go hunting or riding on a stagecoach or bank with ya sometime? She can pull her weight then."
"That's all up to her and Tsani Ama. It don't matter no more. He's back there. We're here. We're going to Mexico and we don't have to answer to nobody anymore. Not Taft or Patterson. I know you got loyalty to them boys for years and I know you been sticking it out with me when it could mean certain death. I just wanted to say thank you, buddy! The rest of the gang don't matter cause they aint here. Half of em didn't even witness what Taft did that caused this split in the first place. They can continue pretending they're ever gonna get their own country in the west. That plan was doomed from the start!"
"I don't want to kill nobody from the gang even if we don't go back, Dalton...I'll kill Taft if I get the chance to draw on him first but I aint looking to kill nobody else. I served with them like I served with you and they aint turned on me. You ask me we need to go back after a while we'ee better off together. But if this IS it, amigo, then we can you and me just live down there. Land of outlaws, cheap cold beer and senioritas. Plus the food aint bad. I been in Texas before ya know..."
"Definitley can't go to Texas...can't chance running into Texas Rangers. They make the other states rangers and posses look like a joke. Sooner we're in Mexico, the better. And you're right...I don't want to kill nobody else from the gang either. But as far as I'm concerned you and me are our own gang. We survived this. We're almost there! Mexico's only a mile away! We're home free!" He stole a look over their shoulder at all the adjacent cliffs and lookouts to see if there was anywhere Taft and the posse could possibly be. It looked for now like they were in the clear. "But that being said, amigo?" He repeated the use of the word for friend knowing what little Spanish he knew he would have to keep his ears open to be immersed so he could learn it as needed. "Even if I aint drawing my iron on nobody from the old gang, I'm done riding with them. Done talking to em."
He didn't know how to explain what he felt. He was still feeling the loss of Sid Winthrop. He didn't feel much for Crawfish on the other hand. He had betrayed them. "They wasn't out here, Crocks. They don't get it. The few of us who went out to deal with this threat...we understand each other. But we're the only ones who do. Any one of those cowards back at camp could have come help us..."
"They didn't betray us, Dalton. They just wasn't there. Crawfish is the one who betrayed us. You know I heard him talking one night when I was hungover few weeks back,..heard him talking to Sandford last time he was here. Said he was the one who killed Lovecraft. He did it when nobody was around and then made like it was the law. I would have plugged that fat yella bellied pig in his gut. Lovecraft was Tsani Ama's friend from the old days. He wouldn't like hearing that shifty piece of shit killed him in the night like a sneak coward. He's the coward. And Sandford just listened to it with a grin on his face."
"Why didn't you say something back then?!" Called Dalton over their horses beating hooves.
"I was drunk like I said. And I might have been having a bit of the ole opium! So I wasn't even sure I really saw what I saw but after what we just saw today it all makes sense now! Fuckin Crawfish...yeah i'll give ya a crawfish. Put a hook in his mouth and yank him by the face then we skin him alive and have him for dinner. What do ya say?"
"We're gonna have to make new friends in Mexico, George. We aint going back!"
"If you don't wanna tell em that's your choice! You don't wanna let em come join the party with us that's your right too. Might be a good idea for a year or two but you can't stop me from letting folks know we're alive."
"You gonna tell em what happened to Crawfish, Winthrop, and Marshall? On top of Milo?"
The blonde haired man shook his head. "No need, partner! They can read about it soon enough in the newspapers.."
He and Crocks stopped as they reached a cliff. In front of them flowed the Rio Grande. He couldn't help but think of the lives lost in Gettysburg.
Cahoila Mexico
Atonwa approached the leader of the soldiers. "Bonjour messieurs! Que puis-je faire pour vous aujourd'hui?"
Hello, gentlemen!Hello, gentlemen! What can I do for you today?)
"Qui es-tu?" Demanded the Frog commander, a white male with reddish hair and brown eyes. (Who are you?)
"Je suis Little Elk de la Nation Kickapoo," Atonwa replied.
(I am Little Elk of the Kickapoo Nation.)
"Votre français est atroce. Je suppose que tu ne parles pas mieux l'espagnol ?"
(Your French is atrocious. I don't suppose you speak Spanish better?)
Atonwa nodded. "Soy mejor con el inglés y aún mejor con Kickapoo... Puedo intentarlo. Pero... aunque tengo más práctica con el francés, ha pasado mucho tiempo desde que lo escuché o lo hablé. Viviendo en Oklahoma antes de esto... Aprendí algo de español, así que sé algo para cuando nos mudemos aquí."
(I am better with English and even better with Kickapoo...I can try. But...even though I've had more practice with French it has been a longer time since I've heard it or spoken it. Living in Oklahoma before this...I picked up some Spanish so i know some for when we moved down here.)
"¿Eres compañero del hombre que buscamos? Tiene nietos en edad militar."
(Are you a companion of the man we seek? He has grandsons that are of military age.)
"Sus nietos tienen exención militar. Se han unido a la tela..."
"Se han unido a la iglesia. Están exentos del servicio militar."
(They have joined the church. They are exempt from military service.)
(Since Maximilian was a descendant of Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Spain when the Spaniards conquered the Aztecs (1519–21) and brought Mexico into the Spanish Empire, until Mexican independence)
"¿De qué hablas, viejo tonto? Estamos aquí en nombre de Fernando Maximiliano José María de Habsburgo-Lorena. Descendiente del rey Carlos V. Ese es el Imperio Romano. Si estuvieran con la iglesia nos habríamos enterado."
(What are you talking about you old fool? We are here on behalf of Fernando Maximiliano José María de Habsburgo-Lorena. Descendant of King Charles the Fifth. That is the Roman Empire. If they were with the church we would have learned of it.)
"Maybe you're right, senor. But you clearly havent heard of me."
"Who are you that we should know you? Are you an old war chief? There are many of those. And many just like you, they sold the land from under them."
"I never agreed to any deal..." Atonwa stated. "Do you mind if I smoke my cigar?"
"Oui. Light it if you have one. Depending on how this conversation goes...it could be your last..." Atonwa feigned a submissive conquered Indian old man look to the Frenchman before lighting a stick of dynamite. He then lit two. "You know, my eyesight is good for a man my age. My father always said I had the vision like Akweks. Eagle. Entiendo? Auigular.? But even with me, my vision just isn't what it used to be..." He tossed them towards the group of men before backing up unholstering his Navy Pistols.
He let the commander have two shots to the chest and he saw the bright red of his wounds that all though dark, was still bright against the backdrop of the French uniform. He ran to cover. "How can that savage run at that age?!" Cried one of the regulars as the men were hobbling and crawling, screaming, bleeding, clawing and praying to their God. He got to cover firing the next few shots their way but they managed to wing him in the right hip. "Ah!" He cried out as he took a single shot but ducked into cover to buy time to reload.
The Cherokee Mexicans including Noriega as well as the Elder of the Kickapoo began to fire upon the soldiers. One of the men from the village was also armed with a shotgun and he fired striking one of the soldiers and he hit the soldier in the back of the head blowing his skull apart and he watched as the man's knees and legs crumpled to the ground as though he had always been inanimate.
The villager took two shots from a rifle in the right ribcage. He fell over in the dusty street. Atonwa unstrapped his Rifle from his back though he had doubts about his ability to use it at the present moment. He rested the Rifle on the four foot wall as he stayed beneath it. He fired a shot and struck the soldier who had shot the young villager who couldn't have been much older than eighteen or nineteen at most. He hit the man in the stomach but the man was not dead.
"Was three wars not enough foir you?!" Growled Atonwa as he fired again, blindly firing from cover and while two rounds missed the next hit a corporal in the right calf. The French. After another nine shots, every French soldier lay dead or dying. The boy went to take a scalp but Atonwa stopped him. "Do not give them a reason to suspect you. Or the People. As long as there are guns, this can look like the republican forces."
The girl had fired as well having let off nine shots. The total amount of Frenchmen dead was sixteen. Pavati ran to help Atonwa to his feet. The old man did his upmost to not make much noise despite his gunshot wound. He'd been fighting most of his life even though there were intervals of peace. He thought back to when he lived in the Smokey Mountains.
He then began to think to back even before that. He held his manhattan revolvers both of which were Series IV's. He heard they were coming out with a new model later on in the year. Itr made him think about how unreliable firearms had been when he was a youth.
Grand River, Six Nations
July 18, 1812
Atonwa had returned from , Dilategi and Kariwase had caught quite a few . Some of the people who had been around since before the days of the Revolution missed the Mohawk valley but Atonwa liked it up here. There were unfortunatley Frenchmen and Anglos here but they were weaker up here. In the 17 fires, the six nations were surrounded by either tribes that had already surrendered or who were unwilling to fight the white man. But now Tecumseh's confederacy was on both sides of the border. Tecumseh needed more support than he had and that was why he was trying to get more support from the people here.
"It's a hell of a time to be fishing like it's a normal day. The war is on..." Kariwase stated.
"Yes but even at war we must eat. And the people must eat..." Atonwa replied. "But I wouldn't mind finding where the blue jackets are fishing. And where they're resting their heads."
"Prophetown..." Dilategi spat suddenly with venom in his tone. "I still can't believe that happened. I never thought Tecumseh's village would be burned. He had so many tribes with him..."
"Even the Cherokee...You know he had a daughter with one, right?" Chuckled Kariwase, ribbing the Seneca warrior of the tribe he had come from before being taken in by the Onondowaga. "Until the little people took her away..."
"I miss Prophetown too..." Added Atonwa. "Ohio has great hunting grounds and beautifil nature. "
"And the women!" Chuckled Dilategi. "I love Shawnee women..."
"Joseph Brant was born out there. Quite afew of us were. I wasn't but when me and rakeni'ha visited so often and went hunting with our Shawnee brothers, we first got to hunt buffalo. It's been many years since there was buffalo in our own lands. We once took Ohio from the Shawnee about fifty years the Tiorhensaka thought that because they were allied with us, that land should be theirs. We played stickball out there with nations we made treaties with. And went swimming. Kawitha loved it out there. The lakes out there will revive the spirit especially on a sunny day..."
"This is true..." Agreed the Cherokee born Seneca. "The winters are harsh but they are not as bad as Michigan. And even that was conquered by us during the winter time. There is no Nation under the sun that we could't conquer if we wanted to."
"If you say so..."
"Hey, it is true. Just because none of the Tiohensaka and O'serroni conquered us as a people and put us in bondage the way they have other tribes, you forget before the great law of peace was reintroduced to the people when we lost our good minds and started fighting each other.
They had caught smallmouth, pike and walleye, and big river fishing for anything from rainbow trout to crappies.
"O tsi seksa'tí:io," Kawitha cooed. (You are so cute)
As they looked down at their baby Atonwa stated, "Tsi ken'niwà:a ne óhonta..."
(The ears are so little)
His wife smiled. "Tsi ken'niwà:a ne ohiakwí:ra...
(The toes are so little)
They began to embrace and before long their mouths were one. She smiled against his mouth as their heated breaths melted into each other. He had missed her and the children being on the warpath.
He removed her deer skirt and briought her to his lap as their tongures darted playing with each other before melting back into a kissing mostly of the lips as the busy woman mounted him. He rubbed his hands up the side of the Seneca born Mohawk adoptee feeling her silky flesh as he caressed her hips and slid his hands to her back and he felt her mouth pulsating against his as he let her hair fall into his and he kissed her stomach biting the lower cormer of her cat eye shaped navel.
She moaned at the mixture of pleasure and pain. Her eyes rolled back in her head until they were just white slits her pupils having rolled back into her skull. He cupped her supple left breast in his right hand and let his mouth fall to her bosum flesh pressing her breast to his face and his tongue darted out tasting her light brown nipples and he could feel them get erect in his hand feeling each goosebump prickle against his touch.
He pulled her skirt up and let his free hand rock against her quivering womanhood stealing a cry of shock from her supple lips. He grabbed her and pulled her in. She mounted him her luscious stawberry lips against his, her eyes fluttering open peering into his reminding him of a deers eyes or perhaps a rabbit. But not the albino ones with red eyes. They remind me of the white people.
He ran his fingers through her hair as his hands trailed up her side, his touch light as a feather but enough to induce goosebumps on her arms and nipples. She bit his bottom lip and dug her nails into his chest digging in. He cackled with a wicked grin at the pain that was mixed with pleasure. She had accidentally drawn a little bit of blood. She sheepishly apologized but he touched the blood with his left index held it out. She sucked on his finger tasting his blood as though it were his manhood.
Her right hand brushed against his left thigh. She scratched the flesh slightly as the two Mohawks kissed exchanging fluids and he had her legs wrapped around him. Sometimes in the longhouse couples engaged in sex without as much privacy as a colonial house would have but they were always free to find their own spots and couples often had found their own spots. The forrest that had once seemed big enough for all was now smaller and smaller every day but at least here it felt the way his father had described the way the land used to be. But luckily the men were out fishing and the women were in the fields tending to the crops.
Kawitha mounted him. He let his lips taste the sweetness of hers, her lips tasting like the berries she had eaten earlier. He devoured her scent as he took her in closer to him. He brought her to him and he bit her lower lip as she had done with him many times. He let her tongue wrestle with his feeling her heat and her lust. The blanket hung around her and over him as she rode him. The warmth of the blanket as well as her was enough to make him appreciate the little things.
The fire in the center of the longhouse was also keeping them more than warm but it was summer yet the day was not so hot as New York summers had been. The land they called Kanono. She rolled his foreskin back and forth before mounting him yet again. Her hair touched the top of the bunk as they were in the lower bed. His manhood slowly explored her wet entrance and she slowly rode his member and she was already sweating. The blanket was more for just in case anybody walked in.
He was enoying the mixture of her heat and the fire mixed with the summer breeze from outside. She turned to him and blinked her eyes. "My warrior...will you see if there is anybody coming towards the longhouse?"
He smiled wickedly and took the blanket from her earning a gasp and leaving her bare. He silently snuck to the east end of the longhouse. "All good on the Kanienkehaka side..." He smirked. He went to the other end of the longhouse. He looked out. "You take my blanket and leave me bare?!" She growled but she wasn't all the way irritated. He took the blanket and tossed it back over her and flashed his pearls. "We are safe on the west end as well. There should be no Senecas coming to distract us."
She giggled as he pounced on her and reentered her and took her hands in his. "Was that a joke about my people?" She demanded feigning anger.
"I beat Seneca men in the creators game. But as far as Onondowaga women? I wouldn't dream of it..."
She chuckled. "You had better not my bear. I have strong medicine too..."
"Yes I know our children are turtle clan. But we're still the creators favorite..." He chuckled.
She wrapped her legs around his back as though to seize him in this way and she pulled him into her. She let her hair fall into his, her dark locks brushing against the bare skin on the sides of his head. It was a welcome feeling like a light breeze on a hot summer. He kept his hair short and would continue to do so until it was time to fight. They wrapped up in the wolf fur as they made love to each other.
She kissed him. She met his lips again and she ran her tongue inside his mouth wrestling with his like lovers dancing together and then returning to opposite sides of the room as the kiss became more of their mouths and their lips than tongue and her womanhood kept him warm on top of his chest which was filled with heat. He could see her breasts flushed as she rode him. He turned her around laying on top of her driving into her deeper but slower earning a slow hiss from his wife.
She grabbed his manhood and let his shaft go deeper into her sex. He kissed her left ear his chin bumping her earrings she had not taken off, turquoise in color. She had murmured against his lips as she kissed him again but his exploring tongue found her ear again and her goosebumps began to spread up and down her arms and she felt them spread to her breast as well. The half Seneca half colored woman whimpered as he entered her and his face was just inches from hers.
"I missed this..." She moaned feeling a mix of pleasure and pain in her cunt even as the pain started to merge into the pleasure and became the pleasure. "You smell like the river..." Her eyes were wide as she kissed him taking his girth between her legs and his tool edged her labia as he reentered the slender woman. Her choker bounced as be began to take her and he lifted her legs in the air. She moaned slowly looking into his eyes as the windows of their souls reflected light into each other.
He grinned wickedly loving the sight of her naked breast, her taut belly glistening in the firelight as well as the way her breasts and her hair and the rest of her body looked as the shadows of the fire danced over them as well as their own shadows engulfed in their own embrace. The way it looked with her jewelry. She also wore a stove top hat smiling at him naughtily as she was stark naked now aside from it.
It was a style of hat that had been invented in 1797 in London and had caused a riot. He knew that whatever the man looked like who had made this hat, she looked much better in it. He couldn't imagine the kind of riot she would cause if she wore it her way. She could cause a riot anywhere she walked with or without this hat. With or without clothes.
He scratched the sides of her thighs raking it as he thrust into her but he did not draw blood. He simply left white nail marks on her flesh. She straddled him and got on top of him and her breasts bounced and was already slick with sweat. They'd only been at it for ten minutes but the air was humid even at night. He loved the way her breasts glowed with sweat and how they felt in his hands. He buried his face into her neck and kissed her there grabbing her butt cheeks in hands now as she rode him.
She was like a mountain lion riding him. He was like a bear still, the power of which was coursing through him as he growled into her lips and she bit him yelping as they made love. She cried with passion as her hair was in his face again like he loved. She began to increase the speed in which made it hard for him to not explode but he closed his eyes and took in her right breast even as the left breast bounced against his face and he grabbed her hips and she smiled with her eyes closed as he thrust deeper into her.
The disturbance of their post coital bliss was cut short when he was awakened to the sound of musket fire. He had awakened.
"I am afraid for you. That one day we will lose you to the battlefield."
"You'll never have to see that. This I promise."
"That is not a thing you can say."
"Have I ever lied to you?"
"There are times when you don't tell me certain things and I wish you had."
"That is not the same as lying. Have I ever lied to you?"
"Yah yah.."
(No)
"So believe me when I tell you this. I don't have to swear pledges or solemn words. We are Rotinisionni. Breaking ones word is something that white men do."
"But that is another thing I fear. Some of our people are divided. Some Kanienkehaka are standing once again with the colonies. Just like Joseph Loius Cook did. And now this new religion, Gaiwiio is infecting the minds of my people because all of the people are tired and sick from oppression. Their minds and bodies. And he knows just enough about the old ways to convince the desperate he is a voice for the creator. But his teachings are inspired by the white man. The quakers."
"If we see our brothers in the Longhouse on the other side of the battle we will do what we always have. Avoid them. My father was one of the warriors at Oriskany. That was the first time we fought each other since the Great Peacemaker came."
"But war is chaos, Atonwa. You can't control such things."
"I can't. But the creator is good to us. We have to be there for our people. We were once numbered like the stars. Then the diseases came. We have to beat them. Tecumseh is right about this."
"How are you and him getting along?" She asked.
"He's...not in the good mind when it comes to the way he has related to his marriages. I have tried to offer advice and there are times where i think he has heard me but,...yet he remains unmarried. He would be happier if he could stay at home and not be at war. But we don't live in that kind of world..."
She was at his back and he felt her breath at his neck as she leaned on him. "But the Great Peacemaker hoped that all human beings, all Nations would one day put aside war and be part of Kayenerekowa..."
"I know that is what he wanted. But the best he can hope for is that we unite all the Onkwehonwe tribes. But we have to stop fighting each other. Not just of the Onkwehonwe..." He let out an exhale but admitted, "Even that may be too much to ask. Our people are quick to turn to emotion."
"And what about the Prophet?"
"I have never liked that man. He and Tecumseh started drinking at a very young age. As children. Tecumseh and him both. This is not a well known thing but it is something that was going on. I know he is ashamed of that past. But
The Hunter and The Hunted
As they drove the team up country towards the pan handle, making a detour for some of the people who needed mail delivered in Texas. "Mighty ironic..." Willie broke the silence. "Here we are with all them letters we carrying to people but don't neither of us got nobody to read or write to."
Lemuel pondered the words a moment before responding. "I'm the only one in my family can read anyhow anymore. My father knew but he's gone. I don't even know if my mama and the rest of my family are alive or not. Could have gone north to Canada or maybe Massachusetts."
"You sure they don't know how to read? I know twasnt that long ago you was in bondage but it's been a few years since the war ended. It might be your mama picked up the ability. You never know."
"Now who is gonna teach a middle aged Negro woman how to read when she don't know how?! My pops taught her as best he could and she got a few letters remembered but that's about it. Wasn't enough time to teach her more before we got split up. Besides Ui'm sure you already know DIXIE boy...we weren't supposed to know how to read."
"You wasn't supposed to get outta bondage neither but you did and went and fought for the North. Your mama might know how to read better than she did when you seen her last."
"what about you and your family? "
"Nuh uh. We're talking about you, shithead."
"That's a mouth on you Willie. It's a good thing it's just us out here cause Cyrus would be giving you an earful about now if he was here. So would anybody else at the Pony Express. Come on, boy. You know my life story already. Where's the rest of your family? They sour about reconstruction?"
The Pony Express driver sighed. "You might say that, Lemuel Freedman. And they don't want me around. I was tired of Missouri as it is. I wanted to see other states. I knew there was a chance of Indian attacks too."
"They aint all hostile to the United States..." Lemuel said matter of factly. "But you're right. They see you and Cyrus out there on the prairie by your lonesome then yeah the Lakota or some other tribe was bound to get ya sooner or later."
"I'm from Missouri, man. Only Indians I know about are the Osage and that's it."
"So you'll talk about your neighbors but not your family?"
"It don't matter none. Lay off it. You got all that money off me so I'd say we're more than square. We're out getting these letters delivered to what folks can read out here. We'll be making money. i can always try and get us more money but I don't owe you no family history."
"If it's slaves you can say so. I've met plenty of Confederate slavers on and off the battlefield. All wars come to an end eventually. Even the Indian wars will. And I don't think it;s gonna be good for them."
"Yeah maybe the reservation is for the Indians what reconstruction is supposed to be for us. Punishment."
"If that's the case when I was working at the Foster Plantation I was being punished for something an ancestor did. Maybe back in Africa. Or maybe here. Or maybe on the ships. All I know is it aint fair for a son to pay for the sins of the father."
"You just now realizing that life aint fair, kid? You'd think you'd have known that by now,..." The kid remark caught him off guard,. He was older than him by several years but not quite a decade.
"I never said it was fair but it don't make sense either. They say some slaves came here cause of being sold by enemy tribes or sometimes it'd be criminals. Maybe I descend from criminals I don't know but when I'm not getting people their letters I'll be going after criminals. I aint one."
"You don't gotta go getting your head shot off just to prove that..." Willie tried calming him down. "But it aint exactly as simple as owning slaves. Sure, my family owned em but the other half of my family felt different. That's about all I'll say on the matter."
"Fair enough..." Lemuel stated and they rode in silence a while. A good twenty or so minutes passed before either of them said anything but Lemuel broke the ice this time. "I worled with a US Marshall round these parts, Billy. We went after some Irish and German bandits. He wasn't able to pay me but that was how we got you out. we had to sneak up on the sos of bitches and take them down quiet but then it got loud."
"Wish I could say I was seeing anywhere near that level of excitement. Was they Confederate sympathizers?"
"Nah, nothing like that. They were just an immigrant gang came west and killed and robbed a bunch of folk. I think we got em all too and their leader Declan is in a jail cell now. He tried to talk me into letting him go."
"Well however you did iy I'm glad it's done. Those bastards tried to take our livlihood."
"I might come back another time just to see if he needs help again or if there's bounty work i can take on."
"If we found a safe place to keep our mail wagon some nights can I go with ya?"
"Maybe but that aint something we can do no time soon. One of us has to guard it especially after what i had to do to get it back."
"I know. I'm only saying you normally ride shotgun messenger with me when we're driving place to place to drop off and recieve mail. I'm offering to be your shotgun messenger some of these times."
"Maybe..." He began,. "But you can't be any kinda shotgun messenger if you got a busted wing. You can do some bounties with me and we'll split the re
ward but your arm has to be better."
"I understand..." Willie slowly replied and added, "I aint in no hurry to be getting in shootouts no time soon. My goddamn nerves are shot from thinking they was gonna kill me over that horse. Top of that, even though I been in some shootouts getting shot like I did last year changes you. I might have pulled the trigger a few times myself but it don't get no easier. Make no mistake it aint gonna be eas y for you."
"I aint had an easy life up till now, Willlie. You know that much. But..I know what you mean. Even though I hated slavers it took getting used to. I never felt bad for it but...it was a different kinda worry. Like I wasn't going to get away with it. Hell, I'm in Texas now. It still could go that way."
"Hey my arm may not be good to go but if some of the boys down here that came from places like me can't accept that the law is different and they try anything while I'm here...I might not be able to handle a shotgun but I can still fire muh pistol."
"It's better if we just stay out of gunfights while you're getting your bones healed up. I'll still do these bounties with ya I gotta have you with me as it is make sure nobody cheats me outta my share and they're less likely to pull that if you're with me. Then again there's also the Marshall Josiah himself and seems like they need all the help they can get. This aint the kinda job I would envy. They're trying to bring law and order to a place it don't exist and to bring reconstruction to a state that was a battlefield after the war."
"I'm no fan of the Federals, Lemuel. You know that much about me. But I also don't like the way some of the men from the south conducted themselves. Even these boys who are still raiding and robbing they's only gonna get more good ole boys killed when the war is supposed to be over."
"That's just it. The war aint over! Not for me. And not for a lot of these dixie boys that don't like Federals in their cities. They look at me the same way they look at Samuel and Moses and Captain Valentine. Either this war aint over for me and won't be till Crawfish is in the ground or this is just another war."
"Well it is another war aint it? You got these boys escoprting our mail route and I appreciate the extra muscle and all but it could make raiders think we got something worth taking."
"Yeah but I only fought in the war. And I do what I have to do to get Crawfish but I aint the Army's boy not no more but them dixies look at me just the same as if I was still wearing federal blue."
"It can't be helped, Lem. Fpolks is always gonna see somethings a certain way only...I just hope it aint today that any dixies see us. I only meant that they's hunting Injuns again aint they? Instead of the south. I know the James Brothers is bad news and some of them bastards like Sandford you told me about. But most of us is licked and most is tired of the war. Folks might not like reconstruction but they'll get used to it. And if they don't like it they can always move west like we did. Isn't that what this is about? A fresh start?"
"Sure..." Lemuel nodded as he lit a cigarette. "It sounds good, partner but I don't know how well it';s gonna be out here. Even if we get past the Indian raids and the dixie boys who aint want to surrender there';s still plain old bandits out here too. We're lucky we're not in the northern plains right now. That's where these boys are all supposed to be now. Once they get back on up north."
"Red Cloud, right?" Willie relied. "I can't read as well as Cyrus could takes me a bit longer but I do like reading. Least till my head hurts. I try to read the bible by firelight but I reckon it's better in the day when there's more light. He was always the better reader..."
"I'm about the same. Got a few years of openly reading during the war and since then. I've known how to read here and there since I was about thirteen but I couldn't read all the time..."
Willie nodded. "Then again, you may not always want to go to bed when it turns dark. I don't always. I got thinking to do when it's nice and quiet. And the sound of horse hooves makes ya relaxed."
"I'm just getting used to the idea of horses and dogs being a good thing. up until a few years ago if we ever heard dogs or horses that weren't no source of comfort..." He saw the sorrow in Willie's eyes at his words but knew he couldn't fully understand. He then added, "But having one of my own now..it's starting to get that way. I don't know about no mongrel dogs but horses...yes sir..."
"Eh you'll probably end up loving them sheep dogs someday you get land of your own. That homestead act applies to coloreds too ya know."
"I spent enough of my life farming..."
"Soi did a lot of people like you but they got a chance to inherit some of the lands. Not all mind but still...it shows things that was not possible yesterday is possible today."
"You know...I used to think whe I was real little that we were all in bondage. It wasn't till I went to the city for the first time years ago when I realized there was always freedmen and some of em owned slaves. So it was possible even back then as long as they was willing to overlook the suffering of their own people."
"Well a farm out west wouldn'tr be the same as the south..." Willie shrugged. "Even I'm from the Ozarks and many a folk called St Loius the gateway to the west but ya ask me it aint far enough west. You want to get clear of your past as a slave. I can't blame you for that. But you can surely understand why I wouldn't want to live in Kansas or Missouri nio more?"
"You're talking about them Union red leggers aint ya, Willie?" He looked out at the riding column of black soldiers and then turned back to him. "I can't speak on Kansas or Missiouri cause I wasn't out there but it's natural to want to be free. That's why your people fought the English a century ago aint it?"
"I don't know, Lemuel. I wasn't around back then. I don't think anybody from Missouri was involved in that. But you're right. I know why you, why any colored woiuld want to be free. And to your way of thinking the Jayhawkers must have been in the right and Border Ruffians was wrong cause they supported slavery. You must be right since we lost. See that's what I see that most folk where I'm from can't. I know twas divine intervention why we lost. But Bleeding Kansas well I lost some uncles to that. And if you seen what was done in Kansas you'd see it was just the start of what was done in Sherman's March..."
"John Brown was a good man..." Lemuel stated. "I learned about him and Nat Turner during the war. From some of the older soldiers from the 54th. They told me all about John Brown's raid on Harper's Ferry. To hear white folks that was part of Bleeding Kansas tell it they made it seem like we didn't participate. That we were just the spoils of war. But there was another brother there. Shields Green and he survived that battle without a wound but they ended up lynching him."
"It's funny. Within just a few years the rebels...that would be John Brown they was the outlaws and the United States Marines was sent after them. General Lee was there. But within just a few years the north wins and the south becomes the outlaws. Funny how times change..."
"
Pottawatomie massacre happened too. Wasn't just Harper's Ferry. They killed a friend of mine. Marais des Cygnes massacre..I patrticipated in that too but in the end Kansas was admitted to the Union. A good buddy of mine William Griffith was hung for his role in the Marais des Cygnes massacre. We shot unarmed people that day. Only one of em got away."
He sighed. "I guess when we look at it that way...we really was more like gang members. Hooligans than soldiers. This was something the James Brothers was part of too."
"You keep mentioning these James Brothers. What did they do?"
"They're against the Federal Government and they aint gonna reconstruct. That much I can gurantee They're small time compared to some of the other men I seen in war."
"To be fair that fight you talked about. The pottawotimie massacre was revenge for ya'll sacking Larence."
"There's a difference..." He growled. "Only one of the Yankees got wounded and we lost a man that day. The retaliation they did was greater than what was done in acted like Missiouri boys was evil for going into Kansas and pretending to be residents just to get the state to be more pro slavery. But Lawrence was started by carpet baggers from Massachuesetts. Aint that juist as bad? They come from farther away than we do."
"I suppose I aint never looked at it that way..."
"Lemuel!" Barked Samuel. "You sympanthizing with this here dixie?"
Lemuel ignored his friend. "If I am so are you. You protect the Pony Express and that comes from ole boy heres state..."
"I was in some of the battles in the war that happrened after that..." Captain Valentine added. "It may not have been bleeding Kansas proper but your little insurrection out there ended up being all over the nation. And as much as folks hear about battles like Shiloh and Gettysberg, a lot of battles were fought in the west. In a way we owe the men from Kansas for starting the idea."
"I respected John Brown as a tactician. Nat Turner too..." Valentine said softly. He adjusted his hat as Samuel followed his pace. "If they had been alive at the same time as each other and met each other they may have both avoided the noose."
"You think about the war a lot captain?" Inquired Lemuel.
"Every so often. It wasn't that long ago, Mr. Reeves. But at the end of the day both men failed. This is why it often takes a proper army rather than militia. Why...even now as uch as men love to talk about the good old days fighting the British...as much as they glorified militias that fought the English it was proper soldiers that got it done. We never needed any para military to win the war for us two years ago and we don't need them now."
'
"So if the dixie outlaws ya'll been hunting or them Comanches open fire on me how do I know any of ya'll will lift a finger to save my bacon?"
"What's the matter, suh? Afraid a Negro aint up to the task? Or was you thinking we might just 'accidentally' shoot you?"
"Truth be told, even one of them..." He gave a jerk of his head pointing to some of the white soldiers on the march. "I aint so sure even Valentine would help. Bad feelings from the war..."
"If you and me was able to put that aside to deliver the mail and make money from it I think they can too..." Lemuel stated with a scratch of his goatee.
"The war is over..." Valentine stated. "We're gonna get this country back together again and there's only a few Confederate holdouts at this time even worth paying any mind to. The only war going now is the one with Red Cloud and I hear he's tired of the fighting. So before long we'll win."
"So you'd rather be up north about now too then..." Willie suggested.
"Sure. The weather suits me better. Closer to West Point. But the Sioux are attacking people left and right up there. Even other Indians. Them bastards in Washington DC don;t know what life in the west is like. Even other Indians. They're preying on Blackfeet, Crows, and Mandan. There's been all kinds of alliances around this country between red men and whites. We have Indians in our army. Such as Snake Killer. We are an Army of many nations. But these Injuns in the west are holdouts. I will see this Red Cloud hang for his crimes."
"Something about fighting folks with bows and arrows don't seem right..." Lemuel admitted. "When we got repeaters and shotguns."
"Why?" Sneered the Captain. "Because they are stone aged and did not use iron or steel? Even the people in Africa uses those weapons. Not the bloodthirsty Sioux. They got rifles but they get them from trade with us."
"Because they were using bows and arrows in battle in the bible, Captain..." Lemuel answered honestly. "I only read the book of Revelations once but I remember them talking about horseless chariots and weapons that were worse than guns. This is something else entirely. I just think God would judge us for attacking them."
"They attacked plenty of people around here. They don't see you as much different than us. You will see that. Besides, victory always goes to the strongest and smartest and our weapons will be enough to stop em. People need to stop viewing it like we're killing the Siux and stealing their land. In reality, we are preventing them from preying on weaker tribes."
"If they hadn't shot Sammy Jones the sacking of Lawrence would not have happened..." Willie softly stated as he lit his cigar.
Suddenly one of the wheels came loose and the wagon had to stop. They got out and Lemuel and Samuel began to fix it. "We gotta be more careful..." He warned Willie. "These roads can get a bit bumpy."
"Yeah well...Captain Valentine always says patience. Ya'll wanna go out west and we gotta get back north but for now we both aint going nowhere near where we need to be.." A burst of gunfire erupted and Sandford and ten other men began to open fire on the Army wagon train. "Smoked Yankees!" Barked Sandford as he let two shots from each revolver explode and two men from the 9th cavalry fell from horseback as the shots hit the two men.
Lremuel and Willie got down from the wagon as the rounds flew at them and there was no way to cut the horses free and get them to safety.
"We aint letting you go without a fight!" Barked one of the gang members as he fired his shotgun. Another soldier, this one a white man who was a Lt. named Eugene Cogburn but he was hit in the left ribcage by the Neo Confederate. Sandford had fired the critical shit and the wounded soldier tumbled from his horse with his right shoulder blown out.
Lemuel fired striking one of the gang members in the neck and he saw red and as the man tried to stay on his horse he took a shot at Lemuel but the puff of smoke went wide and the man fell from horseback as he was woozu from the bloodloss. Willie also managed to hit one and he hit the man with a shotgun blast to the stomach and knocked the gang member from his mount. the blood from his belly wound stained the dirt road.
Willie's arm was not fully healed yet so he could only fire the revolver but he got to cover behind an oak tree. The rounds hit the tree trunk but the Missiouri born Pony Express driver stayed behind it.
Captain Valentine charged towards the gang members and with three deadly shots two out of the three gang members he was aiming for were blown out of their bodies. Sandford fired from the cover of the trees bellowing, "Give it up, Billy Yank!" He was talking to Valentine. "We don't want to kill all yall. But we need whatever is in that mail wagon! Valentine fired a shot and winged Sandford in the right hip. The gang member returned fire with the shotgun twice and he managed to drop two of the Sandford goons from their saddle.
Valentine got back to cover and sat near lemuel;.
Samuel fell with a round to his right side of the chest. "You got nothing coming to you!" Barked Captain Valentine as he fired his repeater twice and the second round met the neo congeferate gang member in the stomach.
"Ya'll bastards been holding out on us and attacking our boys! Can't let that happen!"
The return fire dropped three gang members and the remaining ones seemed to be heading out away from the fight and they galloped away on horseback. "After them!" Growled Valentine.
"They're getting away!" Cried Samuel. He and four more soldiers that Lemuel did not know tore after the remaining men. Samuel fired his repeater striking the horses from behind. This stopped the remaining outlaws from going any further. They approached the downed outlaws with caution who then returned fire. One of them was limping as he had broken his left leg.
The man, a white male with blonde hair so pale it almost looked white and pink skin with a beard that was thicker than his receding hair. The smoke puffs in the air showed the man tried making a final stand. Samuel laid him out with one pull of the trigger and the hit him in the waist just an inch above his belt buckle. The blood and pieces of ruined flesh fell from the man as he collapsed in the dirt.
The colt 1855 had struck the man and had lodged into his spine. Valentine fired his Colt 1860 striking one of the other survivors even though the Neo Confederate bandit had put his hands in the air, Valentine let him have two in the chest. There was only two more left alive. "Now...we got a choice...that is to say you do..." They began to hogtie the two remaining Neo Confederates.
"You aint no man!" growled the wounded Sandford gang member. "You shoot an unarmed man surrendering...?"
Lemuel was almost posotive the Captain was going to shoot or at least beat the man. "You're gonna talk.,. The both of us. For now, Corporal Warner. Put a gag in this bastards mouth. I really don't like the sound of Confederate accents. Even before the war..something about it always sounded foul."
"We was born in the south too, sir..." He said ads he put a rag in the mouth of the man. "Hope you don't feel that way about us."
"The Negro way of speaking is a bit different. Though it is still southern. But ..and i don't know how to say this any other way, you're around civilized whites now. Not southerners. We aint gonna let Johnny Reb hurt ya. I might not be able to stop the lynch mobs everywhere in the south because we can't be everywhere. They expect us to do too much at once."
"You're a coward!" Continued the other confederate. "Emmit surrendered you Yankee cocksucker!"
Captain Valentine pistol whipperd the man. "Now why did you make me hit ya? You were at least going to get a nap before we give you a last meal and hang you. That is unless you're willing to talk. Now i canyt even let you fall asleep lest you die on us."
"You did..you shot an unarmed man. I captured Yankees before and i treated em fair! We aint all the way it was in Andersonville!"
"And so you expect similar treatment here, do you?" Valentine chuckled and then beckoned to Willie. "Well what about him? Suppose he didn't have Lemuel here as a shotgun messenger. Or any of us. He'd be in a world of trouble from toothless southern trash. And you know what the irony is? That's a Border ruffian you tried to rob. What if he had not given you any resistance since he would have been outnumbered? What if he wanted to put his hands up?" he then looked at Willie's still healing arm that had a couple more weeks to go. "I don't think he can even put both hands up. What do you think, Mr. Reeves? Do you think they would have spared him?"
"Not a chance..." Lemuel answered.
"Of course the darkies gonna say that!" Growled the man. "If i'd have known he was from Missouri we would have let him on his way!"
Lemuel dug a finger into the man's wound earning a scream. "Looks like our mercenary friend here is impatient for ansers..." Laughed Valentine. The Tonkawa scout who Lemiel had seen before was with him.
"Well this bastards forefathers couldn't wait to start raping women on them slave ships. I don't reckon I should have to wait to start digging my nails into this sum bitch..." Lemuel insisted. "ARGHHHH! YOU BLACK SON OF A WHORE!" Lemuel punched his wounded leg since he had also broken his leg. "Your leg had a clean break. Don't make it more than one place..."
The other Neo Confederate who lemuel had not heard anything from but had a gag in his mouth was trying to say something. "I think this one wants to say something..." The Captain chuckled.
Lemuel took the gag out. The man glared at Samuel. "You fuckin shot muh horse!" Samuel took the gag from Lemuel and got ready to put it back. "No...no damn it don't put that fuckin gag on me! You coulda shot me you aint have to shoot our horses. Learn to fuckin aim!"
"It got ya;ll to stop didn't it? If we did it my way all four of ya'll be shot on the spot.
The whizzing sounds of arrows filed the air and one of them managed to hit Lemuel in the left wrist. He cried out in agony as the horseback onslaght began. A volley of rounds were fired at the soldiers. Captain valentine took an arrow in the back of the shoulder and it poked out of the front of his chest but by some miracle, even though he was in a world of hurt,he let his anger carry him.
They turned in the two confederate gang members to the fort. "Lemuel Reeves this here is Captain Michael Johnson. Second platoon. Lemuel here is the bounty hunter helping the Pony Express."
Michael was a white male with brown hair blue eyes and thick brown stubble. He was twenty five years old a bit young in Lemuel's eyes to be a Captain but he'd overheard some of the other soldiers speaking about him getting his rank from being a Lt which he had been promoted after that due to his Captain dying at the Battle of Chickamagua. He had won a medal posthumously.
"You were with the 54th?" Inquired the younger Captain.
"Yes sir."
This was met with a semi sad expression in the eyes of Captain Johnson. "Robert Shaw will be missed...he was a good man and he trained his men well. I'd heard they had killed everybody in the 54th in one battle."
"Fort Wagner. And we didn;t lose everybody, sir. We lost half our numbers."
"Still not good...but..we licked Johnny Reb. Even if it took us a few years. Now we just gotta get back on the trail to California..." The Captain stated. The soldiers of the 9th brought the two wounded gang members into the army fort. "We'll question him..." Stated Johnson. "But if we fail to get results we'll ask you to step in..." He said looking at Valentine.
"You fought at chickamagua? we were very close to Georgia when we were fighting in South Carolina..." If Lemuel had been a subordinate soldier it might have been a bit forward to ask a superior officer a question but he was an independent contracter via bounties.
"I did..." He admitted. "My final fight was at Kennesaw Mountain. Got wounded and spent the rest of the war in a army hospital..." He saw anger and pain in the blue eyed man's expression but the young Captain put it aside. "But I reckon it could have been a lot worse."
Lemuel nodded. Many soldiers had fought and even though his side, if it could be called that, won, he felt like the Negros still lost in what should have been a victory. The smarter ones moved north or west. Lemuel knew things were bad in the south and the army was needed to protect the lives of those in danger of southerners. He had seen colored, white and Indian soldiers die in the most horrific of ways.
Lemuel remembered that even when some of the soldiers survived wounds from gunshots, often disease would finish them off. If there was one thing Lemuel had seen a lot of close up, perhaps even more than the actual deaths from the combat he'd seen himself, was the infected wounds that were fatal after the fact or the disease as a result of that much death and destruction.
Lemuel had never felt truly clean either. He'd grown up in bondage and his back had been bloodied many times when he got older but when he had escaped and joined the Union Army that same year as Johnson was wounded, he had often been covered in the blood of either fellow soldiers from his regiment or from that of the enemy. When Lemuel had been in battle, he has a hard time at first conditioning his brain to see what he had done as war rather than murder. So ingrained was the slave mentality that it was hard to break free of it.
"Did you get a name outta either of these bastards?" Asked Johnson.
Valentine shook his head but stated, "Get that leg of theirs treated. We'll let those dixie boys get a few hours of sleep but when they wake up they're gonna be in a world of hurt."
They left the prisoners and began to ride away. Willie and Lemuel began to ride again and the 9th kept riding with them at a slower pace. "He's right you know..." Willie broke the silence and Lemuel's peripheal vision turned to him. "Right about what?"
"I don;t think what I did before the war was gonna be enough if them fellas had happened upon me alone..."
"Nobody rides on these things alone if they're smart..." lemuel interrupted.
"Still..i just wanted to put the war behind me. And Bleeding Kansas. I did my time even if men like Captain Valentine might not see me as a real soldier. Or you. I fought and we lost. The war between the states was a much bigger battlefield than what we did. I took enough life for a living."
"So what you saying? You don't want to do bounties now?"
"I aint sure. that one we did in the snow went okay i reckon. But if I'm truly leaving behind the war in Missori can I keep on hunting people down and talk about the war like it's over if we're still shooting? Even now.\ This is like a Bleeding Kansas in the west."
"From where I used to live, Kansas was the west..." He replied.
"Well that don't matter none...I'm just saying. After you get this man you're after. Aint you done with the guns? You said it yourself. Half the men in the 54th was killed in one battle."
"You was on the opposite side of that. You might not believe in slavery now but it don;'t change that fact."
"This aint about that. You said men you was fighting alongside of you and Moses and Samuel died fighting the likes of me. Well I seen a few battles ..they were more like skirnishes but we lost folks too against the Jayhawkers. Live by the sword you die by the sword."
"I aint sure that's always true..." Lemuel said with doubt in his voice.
"Still, I aint saying I mind killing truly evil men. like what them outlaws are doing down here trying to keep the wound open. I just want this country to heal, brother. Whether somebody was one of us, or a yankee i saw men dying to be free or fighting for other men tio be free. Hell we thought we was fighting for freedom in our own way."
"You don't seem to have that much of a problem working with former Yankees or Yankees still at it..could you do the same with a Jayhawker?"
"Honest to God, Lemuel, I aint sure. It's just better if I never run into none of them. I believe in live and let live same as Cyrus did. He abhorred slavery by the way. But the best way for us to move on us if those of us who aint al the way over it stay away from each other."
"So if your family didn't care about slavery all the way, what's it about?" He asked.
"At a certain point it just became a blood feud. I believe there was a point when both sides forgot what we was figting for..."
"What's really got you so bothered, Willie?"
"My hearts still racing. That could have been it."
"You never know..." Lemuel nodded as they rode their hoses along the Llano Estecado river. "Nobody really decides who lives or who dies in war. You can aim at a soldier from the other side and there are rifles pointed back at you but you never know which rifle is aimed at you."
"I look at it like they're all pointed at us, personally..." Willie admitted.
"Yeah,. maybe in the bigger sense they are. But you never know what bullet is gonna hit you of if it will. It's like I done told you before. I wasn't shot in the war. Only wounds I got was from cannons."
"You don't count that as being shot?" Willie whistled. "Shit, I would. That's worse than getting shot with a Spencer and I've been shot by a Spencer before so I know what it's like."
"Where'd you get shot with a Spencer?"
Willie took a swig of whiskey and shook his head. "Lemuel...that is a story for another day. Aint this one."
"Fair nuff.,"
"My point is...i seen cannon shots take mens arms legs and heads off before. You got hit with the blast before you're lucky you survived. And that you can walk. I can;t tell ya how many veterans north and south I seen walking around with missing arms and legs."
Michael Johnson was riding with them. "You mind the company, Captain? These roads along the Llano Estacado is dangerous."
"Not a bit..." Valentine stated as he pulled the reins on Talica. "Hope you and your men brought coffee...we're running dangerously low. Not one of my men turns down coffee."
"I reckon we can when we make camp for the night but we still got a lot of daylight left. Samuel grinned. "Man, coffee and cigarettes is a nice combination, Captain. Especially on a late night."
"It helps ya when you're constipated too..." Valentine added. "But Seargeant for the love of God, if you're gonna drink coffee don't do it before you go to sleep that is all I ask. That is for waking up not before sleep."
"But that's the reason TO do it before bed, Captain! Some of us got stomachs all plugged up and the coffee is the only thing can change that. When I wake up for my morning glory I don't want to be there forever."
"Coffee will keep you up..." The Captain told him. "That's why when you been sleeping it aint been a good nights sleep."
"All due respect sir, I think it'll be years before any of us gets a good night sleep..."
Not me. I'll sleep like a lazy house cat the night I end Crawfish's life. Might get drunk too. I think that nigger has forgotten about me but I promise I aint forgot you, Crawfish.
Willie took a swig again. "And then there's him. Why don't you tell him not to take a slug of that, Captain?" Asked Samuel.
"He don't work for me if he wants to be stupid let him be stupid."
"You're stupid you Yankee reprobate!"
"YOU'RE A SORE LOSER, JOHNNY REB!" Barked Valentine in a tone that almost made Lemuel want to burst out in laughter because of how gutteral it sounded. "Maybe that's the only way HE can sleep. You wanna drink somethung before bed, take a slug of that."
"On the job sir? I don't know..."
"Aint talking about getting full on drunk but a sip or two of whiskey before bed will give you better sleep than coffee."
"I hear ya Captain but I don't always sleep before bed..."
"So what's going to happen to those two gang members after they talk?"
"Hang em. They lost the war and they're insurrectionist.
Samuel fell from horseback one shot from a Comanch warriors pistol was enough to knock the young man down.
"Injuns!" Cried Captain Johnson as he and his platoon fired in defense. A soldier from the 2nd was hit, a redheaded male of Finnish American ancestry with red hair and blue eyes standing five seven. Three arrows hit the man in the belly and he fell and the remaining soldiers tried to get to cover behind trees.
The Tonkawa scout yipped in his war cry and threw a lance hitting one of the Comanche warriors on horseback in the right shoulder blade. The warrior sailed to teh Earth from horseback with his blood staining the grass. "Get those Voodoo niggers!" Cried one of the buffalo soldiers as he fired his Colt 1855 and struck a Comanche warrior in the right side of the abdomen in the hip. "Captain says ya'll heathens going to hell!"
To the soldiers right, a Comanche warrior threw his own lance and hit the man in the back. The soldier dropped to the earth and a Comanche warrior was almost about to scalp him. "Quanah no!" Cried one of the Comanches. "It's bad medicine to scalp one of the buffalo hided men.."
The braided warrior shook his head. "They are not like the buffalo. They kill the buffallo so that we starve. Them and the taibo both..." He took the man's scalp. Lemuel overheard the conversation surprised the Comanches spoke English. "Buffalo Hump is a fool. If you follow me, I can do what he promised. Drive the taibo to the sea. Where he belongs. These people are not sacred."
He spotted Captain Johnson and the man and five other soldier rode towards Quanah. In an exchange of gunfire between the two, two Comanche warriors fell from the saddle being hit but Captain Johnson and the soldiers fell from horseback with rounds and arrows in their abdomens. Quanah hopped from the horse.
"i always wanted to take a Captain's scalp..." Grinned the Comanche warriot as he took the man's scalp. An arrow that had been lit aflame had hit a few of the houses and even into the fields of crops. Tabemohats screamed with bloodlust as he threw his tomahawk hit the forehead of a wounded soldier at Johnson's side. After he took the Captain's scalp, unlike the colored soldier he had scalped, Johnson was still alive. "¡Dejemos vivo el taibo así! ¡Mira cuánto respeto recibe ahora!"
"We saw the young man hit. But we don't know where the rest of them went."
Quanah held his scalping knife and observed the chaos. They had come out of it with horses and more ammunition but they had to move and leave the battle behind even though Tabemosats and Lotsee were holding back the army.
"The river took him..." Stated a Comanche warrior woman.
"He isn't dead unless you see a body..." He insisted. "The Tonkawa..."
"He has helped the taibo in seven fights that we know of. He's wanted revenge on the Penetakas for what they did to his people. His friends. It is all to get back at us because the Tonkawa are too cowardly to face us without white men..." The woman growled.
Quanah stared off into the distance before bringing the horse up the river to go and back up Lotsee upriver. "I want that Tonkawa scout alive. He is worse than the taibos because he sides with them and their bad medicine that kills many Nations. Not just Numunuu..."
He wanted him alive so that he could ritualistically torture and kill the man for siding with the taibos. There were not many Tonkawas left in the world and even though Texans often killed indians indiscriminatley without regard for age or gender, including them, that didn't change the fact that there were far less of them in the world because of Comanches.
Their old feud with them had gotten worse with the arrival of the anglo settlers. When only the Spanish had been here as far as white men went, it was still sustainable.
Lotsee was on the other side of the battle and she loosed six arrows in quick succession and sometimes shewould shoot a hail Mary into the crowd so they may understand also had Red Wolf and Broken Arrow. There were perhaps fifty warriors on the attack tonight. The Comanches were now unleashing volleys rounds. Where once they would have unloaded on enemies in an intiial shooting and then return to traditional weapons which often left them dependent on trading posts and forts for ammunituin. But now with the steady they supply they were getting from some source out there,
They had more ammunition this time and they were able to use against the dead."
"HELP HELP ME! ARGHHHHH!" Roared Johnson. Valentine and Samuel got to his side. "Where the fuck is Lem..."
"We gotta get down river we can find him!" Valentine insisted. He mounted the steed.
Lemuel struggled agaimsty the current but the arrow in his side hadn't helped. Captain Valentine screamed, "Keep your head above water, Lem! Paddle your arms!" He got ahead of him on the current and reached a hand out. "Swim to me, kid!" Barked the Captain. He turned to the scout. "Get some rope from your horse we can toss it to him!"
Lemuel reached out grabbing Valentine's hand but the current pulled him and the grip wasn't strong enough. Or the current was too strong. "REEVES!" Valentine hissed. "SHIT!" He mounted the steed and he and Samuel took off after him on horseback. "Come on, brother stay above water!" Samuel cried out. Lemuel accidentally hit a boulder as he went down a waterfall.
"FUCK!" Cried Samuel. Valentine also cursed behind him but they heard the whiz of rounds whizzing past him. Several arrows went by but two hit Captain Johnson in the back as well as Valentine. "FUCKIN GOT ME IN THE SHOULDER!" Sgt Runs With The Calf got to the Captain and removed the arrow.
A soldier of Hungarian ancestry a white male with black hair and brown eyes of about twenty five. He pulled out Valentine's arrow. "You should have ducked, Captain!"
"I fuckin did!" Valentine screamed, his agony impacting his tone. "If I hadn't have ducked this pig sticker would have hit me in the back straight through the chest..."
"Lemuel..." Samuel insiusted. "We gotta get to him..." Valentine winced as his wound was bleeding but the arrow shaft had been removed. "Pig sticker? You call yourself a pig, captain?"
"No, it's just an expression..." Replied Samuel. A shot rang out courtesy of a Kiowa warrior with a Cooper Pocket Action in his left hand and a colt Walker 1847 in his right. One round struck the buffalo soldier with a round in the left hip. Another struck him in the chest missing his heart by only inches. The Negro civil war veteran fell from his mount and hit the ground hard only adding to his internal injuries. As the Comanche horsemen rode by an arrow struck Samuel in the back on the ground. He screamed until his voice left him. Samuel had a high tolerance for pain as he had encountered being whipped and starved as punishment in the past.
Though he had been shot by a Confederate bullet before it had only winged him once in the arm and once in the neck and it was the neck wound that had got him off the battlefield for a while even though it had not been fatal and had not done serious damage, just because of the arteries in the neck it was no place to take chances with an injury but this was different. He had never been shot by arrows before.
"We can't pull em outta him..." Valentine warned. "Fuck we were gonna go search for Reeves but he's one of my men. We gotta get him a surgeon. And he is gonna need it..." He'd cautaurized his own wound and taken a swig of whiskey but with Samuel because of the rounds and the arrows with a fall from horseback on top of that, his internal bleeding was bad and it was risky enough just to get him on the horse.
"This isn't our fight, boys!" He called to the other colored troopers. "It's a Comanche moon! We gotta retreat!"
"Don't we got a gatling gun sir?" Inquired private Silas King a black man born on a plantation in Texas, a testemant to the lie that Sam Houston had told colored people including the survivors of the Alamo.
"That won't do us no good when we aint out in the open..." He explained. "They have cover. We gotta retreat back to the fort. They got Captain Johnson. We are ill equipped to deal with it. "Where's Lemuel?" Demanded Willie as they came back. Valentine told him, "We will get him, Wilie. We gotta get my men medical attention. We wil have a search party at first light but we're not far from the fort. We need to get back there. it's only five miles by foot. We got horses..."
He held the bloody arrow that the Tonkawa scout had pulled out of him. He wasn't even sure if any of the soldiers returning fire had hit any of the Comanches since. They were simply better at horseback warfare. They retreated across the river and collected what dead and wounded they could. "If ya'll don;'t go look for him I will..." Willie insisted. "Even with one arm. He saved my bacon a couple times. I can't ;et that poor bastard drown..."
"He's a tough bastard, Willie we'll get him. But right now my men are the priority. Lemuel for all intents and purposes is a civilian. He aint army no more."
"Once Army always Army..." Willie shot back.
"Listen here, reb i aint no red leg., So don't you talk to me like one. I am a Captain of the United States army and these are GOOD MEN! A FEW GOOD MEN! That's who wins wars!"
"We didn't win nothing today..." Samuel cried as he coughed up blood. They had tried putting makeshift bandages on him. "Just take it easy, son. I'm gonna ride you back to camp. Personally...Try and save your strength."
"I'm going after Lemuel and I don't need permission from some blue dick Yankee captain who aint got enough sense to not pick fights with Injuns. There was a Indian killed a man on the Pony Express once...but only once. Other than that most of our problems have been outlaws..."
"I told you that I wasn't a red leg but you are a Border Ruffian and no amount of bounty hunting and riding with Lemuel will change that./ It won't unwash the blood on your hands. It's my job to protect you and other mail carriers so don't misunderstand me..." He was more histile than usual due to the agony. Valentine was contemplating discreetly getting some opium for his pain as well as Samuel's. "But you're a traitor. And the only reason we don't put a noose around all your necks is that was Lincoln's last wish before he died. I know there were more Confederate Indians than Union Indians. But if Indians helped us win the war for the north that proves even more the effectiveness and nessecity of Indian scouts. They got their reasons. If any southerners got reasons to hate the government it's them. They're the only Connfederates that were properly punished but peckerwood tin weasels like you got off easy. You bastards didn't have the same reasons,. The federal government didn't put you on no trail of tears. So maybe the Indians are right and I am a white devil. Or maybe the confederates are right. And I'm a carpet bagger. But on a strictly white and black speaking basis...you revoltted over slavery. You killed other white men in the name of slavery. As much as dixies like to say we're fighting and killing them for or over niggers, I could say the same thing about them. They were fighting us over it. Lincoln wanted to deport Negros. That makes southerners about the dumbest sons of bitches on the planet. Under my command around here those dixiecrats will not be pulling their usual bullshit."
He smiled wickedly and said, "You aint fit to hold a gun yet. I'm saying all this to say that if you try and go find Lemuel yourself I will have you shot. Because I don't like you. And I don't like anybody from the south. It's a lesser known secret but even though I don't believe in killing my elders when that savage John Wilkes Booth shot our president I wanted to go down to Virginia and behead General Lee with my cavalry sword."
"Is General Lee really any worse than George Washington? Thomas Jefferson? You don't know what you're talking about. You damn carpet bagging blue coat."
"If you ever wanted proof that the North is superior to the south, look no further than the fact that Abraham Lincoln allowed you to go home some of you even got to keep weapons for hunting. But some of you commited so many crimes against humanity...I can justify what we did during Shermans March because it was ultimatley to emancipate a race and save the union. What justification do you dixiecrats have? And the way you inbreds showed your dedication to peace, your way was to assasinate a president. Not even the English did that. Nor any Indian. Or colored. Hell not even those worthless mick bastards could. They'd have been too drunk to pull it off. Plus sadly most of them were on the northern side..."
"You may want to look at your history there, Billy Yank..." Willie shot back. "John Wilkes Booth was the son of an Englishmen..and even if he did nothing else..he was right to put one in Lincoln's skull. You can have a problem with me and what any other boys from Missiouri done.."
"i know what you done, Willie. Even though you were normally one of them bushwhacking cowards you was at the battle of pea ridge."
The Indian scout with them Follows The Frogs was his name. He was different from the older Pawnee scout or Snake Killer who was awaiting them all up in the north.
Samuel was brought into surgery and Valentine could hear his screams as he had the rounds dug out of him. he would have tried to comfort his subordinate but he was being made to lay down due to his own wounds. Though there had only been nine killed and sixteen wounded the doctors many of whom had been civil war surgeons, were being overwhelmed.
"Do you think the kid survived?" Asked Valentine. The doctor, Dr Parker answered, "
Meanwhile Lemuel had just barely managed to grab a boulder and pull himself from the river but it was now starting to rain on him and the river had been cold and he no longer had his horse. He could not hear the arrows or much of the gunfire anymore. Shivering, he found the smallest spot for shelter but he had nothing in the way of protection from the elements. He had only one pistol with him the rest of his weapons either went with him down the waterfall or remained on his horse. He wanted to make some kind of rescue signal but right now he couldn't even build a fire due to the rain.
He felt exausted from trying to swim with what little was shouted to him. He needed to rest for now. He checked his bullet wound and he dug it out with his hunting knife which he was grateful he had. The rain pattered against his wound and luckily it wasn't warm rain despite it having been a sunny day. The cold water on a wound was better than warm and no water other than to clean it was better than both but Lemuel was stranded somewhere along the river. He felt humiliated that he hadn't learned to swim in the years since he had escaped and fought for his own freedom.
He kept his wound dry as he finally found a way to stay warm. He checked his Revolver and gunpowder. I don't know how I'ma get outta this one but I'm not dying here.
With that he began to pray to a deity that he believed had looked out for him and his family. A deity that was not Jesus of Nazareth. For now, that was all he could do.
The Tonkawa scout explained to Samuel, "ry. When the Civil War began, the United States troops withdrew, and a group of Delaware, Shawnee, Wichita, Caddo, and other tribes attacked Tonkawas, killing approximately half of the 300 natives. The survivors straggled back into Texas where, after the war, Governor J. W. Throckmorton asked the legislature to donate a league of land to them, as well as supplies. Eventually, most of the Tonkawas settled in the vicinity of Fort Griffin."
"So ya'll on our side to get revenge against the Comanches and the Shawnee and the Caddo?"
"In a way but we see the strength of the army. It is pointless to resist. We resisted against the Spanish. We destroyed one of their forts over a hundred years ago. That was enough but the war and disease thinned our numbers. My job is to make sure nobody tries to wipe Tonkawas from the face of the earth."
"I'm doing my damndest to make sure that doesn't happen to us. These Confederates don't want reform and they're attacking folks everywhere. There's even this group of Confederate soldiers walking around with potato sacks on their head."
This earned a laugh from the scout a deep belly laugh not expected of one who had just fought in a fight with Neo Confederates and then Comanches. "What's so funny, Red?" Inquired Samuel.
The Tonkawa waited a few moments before speaking. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do they wear potato sacks? You can't see in your side vision even if you cut eyeholes."
"They want us thinking they're the ghosts of dead confederate soldiers. We've had a few small gunfights with some of them bastards."
He looked towards the river they had come from. "We gotta get out there and find Lemuel..." He groaned in pain from te hospital bed. The Indian scout shook his head. "I know these lands better than you. Especially Central Texas. I will go. I will track Lemuel. The Army men may find me later and that is where i should be."
"You aint gonna rest a spell in the fort?" Asked Miles.
"I've learned from the past. I work for the Army but I am not taking a chance. Some white men have still taken shots at me despiet my uniform when they were angry over other tribes raiding them. The irony is it was probably the Comanches and Kiowa..." He insisted.
A Soldier's Folly
Chinatown, San Francisco
The southerner woke up to an empty bed and he had once.
Bo walked out to breakast where the other Tong members were already eating. "Zǎoshang hǎo, bó."
(Good morning, Bo)
They all greeted him and he returned the greeting. "How does it feel?"
"Zhǐyǒu hūxī de shíhòu cái huì tòng," Bo replied sarcastically earning laughter from the other Tong members.
He sat down and groaned, "And sit..."
The tall Chinese man with whom Bo had words with before stated, "You think that's bad?" He pulled a knife from under the table. "I always carry it with me. Reminds me where I been."
"What is it?" Asked Bo.
Xue explained it to him.
"It's a railroad spike. He used to work on the transcontinental."
"You were a coolie?"
"Utah. Hot as hell in the summer. Cold as fuck in the winter."
"It didn't take long for the Bah Gwei to find a better use for him. You're talking to a legend. About four years ago word spread of a giant Chinaman fighting on the Transcon circuit...there was no one he couldn't take down. They called him the yellow demon. My father had to see for himself. To get a look at this so called demon.
September 23, 1865
San Francisco
Bolo was in the bow of a ship fighting a black man. Slavery had not been a thing that California had been founded on so there were plenty of freedmen but it didn't mean they had the same rights as the anglos. He had learned that himself pretty fast when he had first arrived. The black male threw a right hook at the tall Chinese man. The Chinese man was thrown against the wall of the ship hitting the wood and he grabbed a brick that was loose and hit Bolo in the face.
Het then took the Chinese man and threw him over his shoulders slamming him into the water. The man emerged from behind and hit the man with a left jab to his left kidney and a right hook to his other kidney from behind causing the man of African descent to stagger forward. He recovered quickly and threw a hard right hook followed by a left but after the left landed the man grabbed his right am and with a kick he broke the mans other leg.
He began to choke the man and a white man in a gray suit and hat smoking a cigar was watching the fight. He turned to the Chinese man and made a neck slicing motion. Bolo turned the freedman around and in a twist, broke his neck.
1867
"It was just another thing for bored white fucks to bet on...they paid the fighters double for kills. And the Yellow Demon always got that bonus. My father couldn't stand the idea of some white men getting rich off of Bolo's back. So he bought him."
"What do you mean, bought him/ Like a hat?" Asked Bo.
"Don't kid yourself. Dai Dai Lo owns your fresh off the boat ass just like he owns the rest of us..." Bolo warned.
"Come on, you look like shit. I know somerything that wil help with that."
One of these days you and I should go a few rounds..." Bolo suggested.
"Fight the Yellow Demon? Do I look crazy?" Asked Bo.
Meanwhile, Bo was sitting out front with Xue nursing his wounds. The smaller of the Chinese men lit a cigarette and handed it to him to smoke, "Go easy, man. That shit kicks..." Warned Xue. He looked to see a Chinese man giving a haircut and a shave to another Chinese man except after he took the hit, Bo could only see the old man, the barber but suddenly the customer was invisible and it was like the old man was giving a cut and a shave to a ghost.
"Zhè lǐmiàn shì shénme?"
(What's in this?)
"Yǒudiǎn yāpiàn de wèidào. Wǒ zhǐ zài tèshū chǎnghé gǔndòng zhèxiē. Shìqíng de qǐyīn shì fùqīn zuó wǎn bǎ nǐ gǎo dé duōme zāogāo. Wǒ de qíngkuàng gèng zāo, nǐ zhīdào…tā zuǒshǒu zhéduànle liǎng gēn gǔtou, bǎ wǒ bōle pí. Tā bùxiǎng biǎoxiàn chū piāntǎn."
(A touch of opium. I only roll these on special occasions. The occasion being how bad Father fucked you up last night. Mine was worse you know...he broke two bones in his left hand skinning me in. He didn't want to show favoritism.)
"Goddamn it..." The Chinese national growled.
"You know you can trust me, right?" Xue told him.
"I know..."
"Good cause I'm smarter than I look..."
"Well you'd have to be.." Jabbed Bo.
Xue laughed but said, "Cāo nǐ gè gǒu niángmen."
(Fuck you ya dog cunt.)
They both snickered at that. He then asked, "Why are you here? And don't tell me it's for the chop..."
The otherwise quiet Chinese man replied, "
Wǒ bùdé bù líkāi zhōngguó. Nǐ zhīdào…zhè yě bùshì wǒ dì yī cì lái zhèlǐ. Wǒ yǐqián zài zhèlǐ gōngzuòguò. Dāng wǒ niánqīng hěnduō de shíhòu. Dàn hòulái tāmen qūzhúle wǒ. Tāmen qūzhúle wǒmen hěnduō rén. Dàyuē bā nián qián. Wǒ zhèngzài duǒbì yīngguó rén. Tāmen hái zài nàlǐ, nǐ zhīdào. Zài wǒmen guójiā jiāng yāpiàn tuī rù wǒmen guójiā. Wǒ zài zhèlǐ chōuyān..."
(I had to leave China. You know...this isn't my first time here, either. I've worked here before. When I was a lot younger. But then they deported me. They deported a lot of us. About eight years ago. I was on the run from the English. They are still there, you know. In our country pushing that opium into our country. And here I am smoking it...)
"Hǎo ba, nǐ xūyào tā lái huǎnjiě téngtòng. Bái tāo yīshēng bù huì gěi nǐ zhì bìng de.," Xue informed him.
(Well, you need it for the pain. None of the Bai Tao doctors are going to fix you up.)
Bo nodded. "Bùguò…yǒurén zài bèihòu shǒuhùzhe nǐ de gǎnjué zhēn hǎo. Wǒ zài zhōngguó méi jīnglìguò nàme duō. Wǒmen dà duōshù rén dōu bàidǎo zài bái tāo nàlǐ zhǎo gōngzuò. Lián wǒ yě zuòguò yīcì. Dàn xiànzài bù zàile. Nǐ xiànzài shì wǒ de jiārénle."
(Still...it feels good to have somebody watching your back. I haven't had much of that in China. Most of our people grovel for jobs from the Bai Tao. Even I did once. But not anymore. You're my family now.)
"Zhè jiùshì jīngshén. Dàn nǐ zhīdào. Xiàng nǐ zhèyàng néng chīkǔ nàiláo de rén cónglái bu xūyào piāo yángguò hǎi cáinéng dédào bàochóu," Xue remarked.
(That's the you know. A man who can scrap like you never needed to cross the sea to get paid. )
"Works both ways, you know..." Xue said in English.
"What?"
"Trust. I need to know I can trust you."
"You can..." Insisted Bo. "This shit is making me woozy. I'm gonna go walk it off..."
"Sure...just don't go disappearing on me again."
He began to head after Isaac, the Chinese man who had been the servant of the white woman he had seen before. "Where are we going?" He demanded as he followed Isaac through the streets of Chinatown. "Where are we going?"
"You already know the answer to that..."
"To that white womans place?"
"I've seen a lot more of the white side of town so believe me when I tell you no good will come from you following me.
"Nǐ jiùshì tā pài lái jiē wǒ de rén," Replied Bo
(You're the one she sent to get me.)
"Wǒ kěyǐ gàosù tā nǐ ràng wǒ zǒu kāi," Isaac replied.
(I can tell her you told me to go away.)
"Nǐ shì wèi tā dānxīn háishì wèi zìjǐ dānxīn?" Demanded Bo
(Are you worried for her or for yourself?)
"Méiguānxì. Duì wǒmen suǒyǒu rén lái shuō, jiéjú dūhuì hěn zāogāo."
(It doesn't matter. It will end badly for all of us.)
"Wǒ hěn gǎnjī nǐ de guānxīn, dàn wǒ háishì yào qù kàn kàn nàgè jīn fà nǚláng dàodǐ xiǎng cóng wǒ zhèlǐ dédào shénme. Tā yě lái jiānyù kān wǒ."
(I appreciate your concern but just the same I'm going to see what the hell the blonde lady wants from me. She came to see me at the jail too. )
"
Elsewhere
At the brothel that the Iron Dragon frequented the doors were kicked open and several members of the San Francisco Police came through the door to see white men high on opium. They even spotted the mayor going out of a door. The police began warning the white patrons to leave but Sgt Riley was warned, "I want every slant eyed John out here..."
"What the hell is going...on...?" Inquired an opium addict as he sat up on the bed he was laying on. He was pulled on his feet by the burly Irish Sgt and warned, "Keep moving and you won't have to find out."
"The whores are upstairs. Move all the slants to the wagon..." Called another SFPD officer.
A Tong member stood up with his hatchet raised. "You want to play?" Demanded the Irish cop in front of him as he pulled the hammer back. The Tong member dropped the blade at his feet. The officer stared at him for a second. Then one more. After that, he pulled the trigger shooting the man in the forehead.
"What are you waiting for?" Demanded the cop who had just shot the Chinamen. The other Chinese johns were shoved forward and arrested and the cop began to urinate on the body of the Tong member. "Pull a hatchet on me, will ya?"
The southern cop made it down the stairs as he heard the shot. "What happened here?" He inquired. The American cop replied, "I almost pissed my fuckin pants!"
"What is the meaning of this?" Demanded the Madam.
"You're Shen Mae."
"How do you know me?" She demanded.
"Everyone knows you.I have orders to shut you down. And I am placing you under arrest."
"Arrest? What for?"
"You're running a brothel.'
"Brothel? No. This a boarding house. These are good girls."
"You cnan tell that to the judge."
She handed him a red envelope. "It would be better if we were friends."
"Friends, huh?"
"Early gift for Chinese new year."
"Should we take her in too?" Asked the southerner.
"Nah. We're done here..." Sgt Riley told him. "Thank you for your cooperation, ma'am."
"You got something you wanna say?" Demanded the Sgt as they left the brothel.
"No."
"I don't know what you think you saw in there.."
"I don't think anything."
"YOU PREACHY LITTLE SHIT!" He growled. "You think taking a little money here is the problem? Open your fucking eyes. This whole bust is the problem. You, me, the goddamn chinks, the Chinatown squad, we're all just pawns in somebody else's game so sue me if I'm getting my back scratched before they stick a fucking knife in it!"
Meanwhile
He arrived at the building the mayors wife had summoned him to. "That will be all, Issac..." The blonde woman frim before at the store told the Chinese butler.
Bo turned to the blonde woman as he looked around the house. There were hanging curtains by the window, paintings by the door and a bathtub next to another painting. "Does everyone in America have two homes?" Asked Bo. It was a rhetorical question.
"My father owns the building."
"Why did you send Issac for me?" Demanded the Tong member.
"Why did you come?" She shot back.
"Curious."
"I just...I regretted our last meeting." Victoria insisted. "I want you to know I'm not like that..." The woman of Norse descent state.
The Chinese man had his hands in both pockets. "Like what?" He asked.
"I don't know. I just thought I should I apologize..." She stated looking down.
Bo smirked. "That was a terrible apology."
"Would you like some tea?" He moved in closer to the white chair in the middle of the room. "You painted all of these?" He asked.
"Yeah. So...you said your grandfather was American?"
"He was a sea Captain. He sailed the trade routes for a tea company. One year he got sick and couldn't make the trip back home. The Chinese merchants put him up with a young nurse who cared for him during the winter. They fell in love and moved to a small farm. My grandmother died when I was a baby but my grandfather lived on the farm with us until he passed when I was taught me English. Taught my sister and me stories about America. He filled our heads with it."
He sat down with a groan of agony still aching from what not only the Dai Dai Lo had done to his ribs but also from being jumped by the three Irish inmates. He might have been the victor in the fight but he had not won without taking some lumps. She poured the tea. "So that's why you wanted to come to America?"
Concealing his own pain, he replied, "I never wanted to come to America."
"Then why did you?" She asked. He was looking at one of her drawings on the table. She admitted, "I've never shown those drawings to anyone before.
"Why not?"
"No one's ever been here before you..." She sat down next to him, "Well..I'm honored..." He stated as he looked at some of her sketches which had naked women.
"You should be..." She insisted. "So why did you really come?"
"To America?"
"Here"
"For the same reason you asked me to," She smiled. They were sitting only a few inches from each other. "I don't know why I asked you to..." She admitted.
He clicked his tongue. "I think you do..."
You're very sure of yourself..." The blonde woman chuckled. He leaned in 90% and she met him the rest of the way kissing him. He stared into the blue eyed woman's eyes never thinking or imagining himself being with a gweilo woman. They both gbreathed heavily and she kissed and mounted him sitting on his lap. He could feel her warmth and she lowered herself onto his manhood removing his cock from his fly.
After the two lay on the bed, "All Chinese people can fight like that..." Bo stated.
"Really?" She giggled. He chuckled back at her.
"No."
This earned more of a laugh. "But you're more of ah highbinder...a gang enforcer. It doesn't seem like you."
I didn't have a lot of options when I got off the boat. I was a railroad worker and a mine worker. It wasn't quite slavery. It was indentured servitude but some other Chinese were treated like slaves. I don't think of what I went through as the Tong was my best shot. At least that way I didn't have to go through the same shit that I did when I was working. Truth is I've been deported before. It doesn't matter to them my grandfather was American since we don't look related."
"Your sister?" Asked the blonde. In reality, he wanted the man who had shot his friend but he was not about to tell her this. "Turms out she didn't want to be found..." He exhaled.
Victoria held his hands as though they were married. "I married my husband to save my father's company. My mother died when I was little so I practically raised my sisters and when the business started to fail...well I just couldn't let that happen to them. his family was one of the richest in San Francisco. He was a friend of my fathers. And he visited a lot after my mother died. He always had a smile and a hard candy for me. And as I got older, his smile changed. It became something else..." She closed her eyes thinking of the man that stressed her out. "But that cit contract was all that stood between my family and financial ruin."
She was silent a moment and he listened to her attentivley./ "I don't know when I made the choice but one day I just...smiled back...I guess...I sold myself the same way you did."
"Doesn't suit you. Being owned..." Bo stated as he was giving her a foot massage.
"I don't think it suits either of us..."
He looked into her eyes his brown eyes meeting with her blue ones.
Downtown Chinatown
A Chinese national was being dragged through the door. The man wore a brown jacket over a gray blue Zhongshan suit. "It's all right, right this way,fella. You're safe.,.." They forced the Chinese inmate forward however, so that they could cut their cue, the traditional braid Chinese men were required to wear.
The mayor approached one of the police. "Keep an eye on those in the black suits. They're some of the most violent gang members to come here.
The mayor was giving a statement to the press as more Chinese men were being brought in. "The United States is all too vulnerable to this foreign criminal element. We've got to harden our hearts, gentlemen..." He then looked to one of the press members writing and said, "You can print that./."
Before they could cut the hair off the next Chinese man, the Mayor's aid suggested to the officers, "Wait why don't we get a picture? Chief Morriset, let's get all of your men together. The whole Chinatown squad, I want to document the good work you're doing here. Garrison, Rock, come here..."
The Sgt who had arrested Bo was at his desk smoking. He reluctantly gor up. "We just fought a war to save America and we're not gonna turn it around and hand it over to the Chinese. We need to send these boys back where they came from.."
"Well if you keep cutting off their hair, they won't be able to go back..." Warned Reynolds.
"Shut up, Reynolds..." Warned Sgt Flannery,
"What was that officer?" Inquired the aid to the mayor.
"It's the law in China, Mr. Jeffreys. By decree of the Emporor all men are reqiored to wear those braided cues..."
"He didn't mean anything by it, sir..." Flannery apologized sheepishly. "He's just a bit of a history buff, that's all."
"Mr Reynolds..." Began the mayors aid.
"Yes?"
"Get in the picture, Officer Reynolds."
"No thank you sir, I don't really like having my picture taken..." The southern born man insisted.
"Get in the fucking picture, Reynolds..." Warned Sgt Flannery.
He quietly got into line. The chief tuirned to Reynolds. "I've been meaning to ask you. What happened to your face?"
"Long story..."
"It's probably not a story I want to hear..." The other Irish SFPD member replied. He liked the chief but sometimes they butted heads.
The photoggrapher instructed, "All right...everybody stand stilll...nobody move...nobody move..."
The Chinese prisoner had his head bowed and an SFPD officer had a knife in hand that he was posing with proudly as the Chinaman looked down in shame.
The mayors aid Mr. Jeffreys soon found himself at a bar. "There are diseases coming in from the orient and Chinese are invading white neighborhoods. There are sandlots full of unemployed Americans. It may feel locakl today but if it goes unchecked , the yelllow peril will spread across the country like a plague."
The journalist continued tking otes and said, "The penny press is an easirr sell and their circulation is circumstantial bit I can understand why you think the Associated Press should be covering this story."
The brown haired bearded white man with glasses turned to the journalust. "Chinese assault on American values' That's your headline."
The man looked down as the mayors aid had another drink of Brandy.
Meanwhile, Bo left the mayors wifes building and saw a stagecoach. He saw his sister inside it, "Get in..." She commanded.
"You know everybody always said you were a Kung fu prodigy..." She began slowly. "I think your real genius is screwing up my life."
"Awww it's good to see you too."
"Nǐ gāng dào zhèlǐ jiù jiārùle wǒ de dírén, bèi dàibǔle, nǐ bùzhǐ zài cāo yīgè báirén nǚshì, hái zài cāo shìzhǎng de qīzi. Xià zhōu nǐ dǎsuàn zuò shénme? I thought I told you to leave..." She warned.
(You just got here and already you joined my enemies, got yourself arrested and not only are you fucking a white lady, you're fucking the mayors wife. What are you going to do next week?)
"I was going to leave but then I remembered I don't take orders from you. And I can't go back yet..." He showed her where his hair had been cut and even though she had known about it, she hadn't called him on it.
"Do you really think our father would want you to cross the sea just o get yourself killed?" She asked. "He'd want you rotting in a prison?"
"Thanks for that..." He told her.
"I'm going to do it one final time..." She explained. She handed him a ticket. "I'm sending you home..." He looked down at it. It was a ticket for the Pacific.
"Come with me..."
"Bo...I'm never going back. I'm nobody in China. And you're nobody here."
"I'm not leaving without you..." He begam.
"And if you're on the wrong side..." She continued. "I won't hesitate. I can't.'"
He stared at her for a long time. "Your boat leaves tommorow...
"You were right..."
"What?"
"I should have never let you marry Fu Lin to save me. I should have fought to save you..." He lamented. "I'm not going to make that mistake again,.."
He exited her stagecioach and began to walk back to the Iron Dragons side of Chinatown. He liked walking through Chinatown at night. It reminded him of back home with the hanging lanterns and the smells but he knew it wasn't China exactly.
10:41 PM
Reynolds approached Flannery who sat at his desk. "I figured you would have gone home by now..." The Georgia born lawman remarked.
"Come and talk to me when you;ve got four kids."
"I thought it was five?" Asked his partner.
"Fuck me. I keep forgetting about Ian. He's my favorite too...you want a drink? Or don't you drink anymore? Leave that behind in Georgia too?"
"Oh on the contrary. I'm the only hell my mama ever raised."
The two men approached the bar. "Wel, let's go..." Sgt Flannery insisted. "Out with it."
"With what?"
"Og I don't know but it's away something with you."
"Right well I guess I just wanted to apologize."
"Wel this sounds promising..." The bearded Irish police Sgt cracked.
"You are the superior officer. And you know the streets better than I do. I shouldn't be questioning you."
"You're damn right about that..." He had a gleam in his eyes however. "You're a strange man, Reynolds. "
"How's that?"
"Well for starters most cops don't dig around the guts of dead men..." he stated as the southerner drank his shot of whiskey.
"Well..." Laughed Reynolds. "I spent my whole life on a farm. Cows start dying, you gotta look inside, see what's killing em."
"People aren't animals..." The Sgt shot back with a dark and disturbed look in his swollen black eyed gaze.
"Aren't we?" Asked Reynolds. "We just got bigger brains that trick us into thinking we're something else..." The bartender brought two mugs of beer. "Put it on my tab..." The Irishman told him.
"Look, you're a good kid..." The sgt began. "And you'll be a fine I should know. I used to be one. One of these days, we'll get ourselves reassigned out of Chinatown and we'll go off and do some real poluce worl."
"Yes sir."
"Until then, ya keep your head down. You do what you have to in order to survive..." Reynolds listened but then his eyes gazed elsewhere but the Sgt continued. "This Chinatown beat...there's about 100 different ways it can bury you. On both sides of the line. Do you understand?"
"Yes suh..." Replied the Georgian.
"No, you don't..." The bearded civil war vet insisted. "But you will..." He waited a few moments before saying, "I'm sorry to leave ya before you've finished your drink but I've got an appointment."
Meanwhile, Sgt Reynolds went to a casino. The Irish poker dealer told him, "I can't give you anymore markers, william. The buy in is ten dollars..."
( Bak Guiy
white devil
"Yeah..."
"Well, it gets cold here in the winter and the gweilos never want any so I can bring you some."
"Thank you," Bo grascioisly nodded. As the man started to walk back, Bo inquired, "Your accent. Where are you from?"
"Yubei..." Answered the bald man.
"Yubei? I'm from Foshan."
"Foshan, huh? That would have made us practically neighbors. My father used to have a farm at the base of the Dinghu Mountains."
Bo remembered the area. "We used to climb up the waterfalls there..."
"Yeah..." The cook replied softly reminiscining on having done the same thing in his boyhood. His face told the ex Chinese soldier and current Tong member that the cook's mind had not been there with them that moment and he had instead returned to that other place and time. There was a still silence in the air before the man broke the silence saying, "I will be back with that rice wine."
"The Dinghu Mountain huh?" Xue had a strange look in his eyes.
"Is something bothering you?" He asked.
"Did you know I have never been to China?"
"I guess I never thought about it..." Admitted Bo.
"I'm a Chinaman who's never been to China. I was born in San Francisco but I'm sure no fucking American. I don't belong anywhere."
"You're as Chinese as I am..." Replied Bo.
"No.I'm just another coolie taking up space..."
After five minutes the redneck returned from having had sex with Sally who Bo saw was an attractive redheaded woman with pale skin wearing a white dress with a yellow strap on the inside below the breasts. Her hair was curly. "Goddamn..that worked me up an appetite.."
The man approached the counter. "What do ya'll have for food around here?"
The cook replied, "Ham and beans..."
"That sounds good to me..." The larger man stated.
He noticed Bo and Xue eating the chicken with chopstick. "Now what are you yellow fellas eating?" He asked.
He could see that Xue either wanted to fight the man or slice him ear to ear as that was his signature weapon."And what are you doing with those damn sticks? Didn't anybody teach you any table manners?"
"Bù lǐ tā jiù hǎole..." (Just ignore him)
Bo whispered to Xue but the man asked, "Do yall got tables in China or do you eat off the floor like d ogs?"
Bo stood up. "Wǒ yǐwéi wǒmen bù lǐ tāle?" Asked Xue
(I thought we were ignoring him?)
Bo spat, "Rúguǒ méiyǒu yáchǐ, tā huì gèng róngyì bèi hūlüè."
(He'll be easier to ignore without teeth.)
"You got something to say you yellow fuck?" Demanded the redneck as he apoproached. Bo cracked his fist but before the fight could start the priest got in the way. "Easy, boys. We've all had a rough trip. Why don't you let me buy you a drink?'
"Bo stared the man down. He was refusing to blink or look away at the taler white man. "I thought priests couldn't drink?" Asked the redneck answering him but still staring down Bo.
"It's the one vice they let us have..." The Irish Catholic priest explained.
He finally turned and looked at the priest. "Well, I'm not gonna argue with a man of God..."
The priest stated, "Excellent."
Bo went to the back where the cook was choppingf vegetables as he took his plate in there. "Something wrong?"
"It's been a while since we've had any Chinese in here so it's been a while since I had to hear some white bastard talking down to us. I should have thrown him the fuck out. "
"Your place? Aren't you the cook?"
"I am a cook. But I also built it. I cut down and planned every piece of wood you see in here."
"Yú běi rén rúhé zài nèihuádá zhōu yǒngyǒu yījiā jiǔbā," Inquired Bo.
(How does a man from Yubei own a saloon in Nevada?"
He held up both hands. "I've done it all. Ten years on the railroad laying down track. And growing food for them. After that, after five years of squeezing gold out of a mining claim the whites said was dry, I quit and came here but they wouldn't give me the going rate for my gold. Twice the work half the pay? I couldn't live with that anmore." He turned to look at his wo,man who smiled back at him;
'You and her?"
"That little lady right there? She is my gold mountain. That's America, little brother. Plenty of oppurtunity but never where you think."
He listened in silence.
In his room, Xue met with the Piute prostitute who wore a purple dress., He undid his own vest and she began to kiss him. They couldn't understand each other so their communication was all body language and not communicating. She stared into his eyes like a long lost lover. As they got into bed still kissing, they stared into each others eyes. Ten minutes later they were dressed and returned to the front.
She sat down at their table and Xue stated, "I think I'm in love.,.." With a silly grin forming across his crooked teeth.
Bo chuckled. "She's an Indian and you're Chinese. You can't even talk to her..."
he looked at his best friend. "i know. It's perfect. We understand each other, you know? She;'s like me. A stranger in her own land. I'm gonna go get us a drink."
He approached the bar. "Three whiskey please..."
The asshole from earlier had been getting only drunker with the padre. He looked at Xue with one eye and then shoved him as he was taking one of his drinks,. "Don't sit down next to me ya fuckin wor,,,"
The drink was spilled and Xue got in his face. The man noticed the Paiute at the table. "You like the redskin, huh?" Xue grabbed the whiskey bottle and warned, "FUCK OFF!"
The man imitated his accent. "Fuck off..." In a mockery of his Chinese accent.
"You know I hear you can ride these red ones real hard. I'm not usually iup for the squaws but since you took the time to warm her up I may as well give her a shot..." He turned to the Paiute woman. "Come on, red! Now that the yellow felllow'a got you warmed up you can get fucked by a real man..."
Xue got ready to strike him but the man pulled out a 1847 Colt Walker and aimed at the Chinese gangsters face. "You got yourself a little crush, do ya? Your little yella dick likes some red pussy..." He smirked. Suddenly the man's brains exploded all over the bar and Bo looked to see a white man with wavy hair and a goatee looking to be in his late twenties or possibly early thirties and he had been aiming his 1860 Henry Rpeater. Behind him he had a man at his right wearing a beige bowler hat and aiming a 1851 Richards-Mason Conversion. To his right was a ginger man very homely wearing a grayish blue plaid shirt under his jacket.
"Good day, ladies and gentlemen..." The man who had shot the redneck beamed. "No need to stand...you just keep your seats..."
There was silence in the bar and he added, "I apologize that ya'll had to see that bit of grusomeness but I did it for two reasons. First, the man had his gun drawn..." He gave a shrug and added, "That's just something I can't tolerate in my line of work. Second, I thought it would make an effective example.A deterrent if you will, against any interference,. And now having established that deterrent, we can carry on with business at hand."
Bo began to think about what they could do. He counted four of the outlaws in the saloon entrance but he figured there had to be more. The outlaw continued, "Normally ya'll would have just left all your valuables in the stagecoach. But seeing as how you're savy travelers, you know better than to leave your belongings unattended. We have to take a more direct apptoach..." He had rested his Repeater on his right shoulder. "So I'd very much appreciate it if yall would take a minute or two to remove any and all valuables from your bags. and we'll just lighten your load and be on our way..."
He cocked the gun and the shell casing ejected onto the floor. He approached the brunette barkeep. One of the outlaws ,ade his way into the kitchen while the outlaw helped himself to the bottle of whiskey. "You have a chance to look out back at the stables?" he asked the womam.
"I seen a couple of nags.,..."The stagecoach driver told him "They seem like decent horses..."
He grabbed a black bag full of dollar coins and tossed it to the stagecoach driver. "Get rid of the nags as you go..."
"You got it...
"You're with them?!" The woman from the stagecoach growled. "You bastard..."
"Well...the regular driver was indisposed..."
The head outlaw put a cigarette in his mouth and asked the barkeep in the purple dress, "You got a light for me, darling?"
The cook and builder wanted to burn holes in his head the way he glared. Bo and Xue handed over their money to one of the man's guns. "It's been a while, Joahanna..." The outlaw said as she lit it with a match."
"Yeah...not long enough..." Jo replied.
"You were always tougher than most of the men. Smarter too. Smart enough to know I'll shoot you dead before you ever get hat Old Besty out from behind the bar..." He warned. Under the bar, she had reached for a sawed off shotgun with her right hand. "Let's see it, shall we?" He took a drag again. "Nice and slow,..." She did as she was told and ejected the shotgun shells before setting ot down on the bar.
"Attagirl..."
"Looks like we're set, boss..." One of his men stated.
The outlaw then turned to Bo and Xue. "Now it's time for you gentlemen to bring that coffin out for me. The box..."
Thee two men were silent, Bo intent on not letting on they spoke English but then Xue said, "No."
"Excuse me?!" Demanded the outlaw.
"Please..." The priest came from the bar. "What do you want a corpse for? Let them keep..." Before he could finish his sentence, the outlaw struck the older man in the face knocking him to the ground where he whimpered in pain. "Coffin. Outside...now..."
Xue spoke slowly back to him in the broken English accent that he often put on around gweilos but the words were still unmistakable even to somebody not used to hearing Chinese accents. "Fuck...your...mother..." Xue told the outlaw/
This earned laughter from the head outlaw and his men and Xue had a evil grin on his face but Bo wore a frown seeing no tactical reason to antagonize the men who had guns.
"Kill em..." The outlaw ordered. The two men approached the Chinese men but in Bo's right hand he removed his hatchet. One of the men went to press the barrel of the gun to Xue's face but he grabbed the barrel and the shot discharged hitting the ceiling.
The man from Yubei slid his wife another Betsy and she took it ducking behind the bar breathing heavily but she began to load the gun. Bo had grabbed a knife from the back when he had been talking to the cook and he threw it at one of the outlaws hitting him in the stomach. His friend tried to shoot him but he grabbed the man's revolver and broke his arm and hand and kicked him back after giving his arm a twist and the gun discharged hitting the man's friend in the chest.
Bo began to stab rapidlyt in the chest with the knigfe.
The head outlaw came back in firing and he let off two shots at Jo but she let a shot off from the sawed off before ducking into was already out of the door when she fired the second shot missing him by half a second.
Meanwhile, Xue took his knife and stabbed the man who had a rifle on him seven times, four in the stommach and three in the chest before giving the bloodied man a kick to the torso.
The head outlaw was the sole survivor of the four and was taking off on a horse. Jo followed him outside and she discharged the shotgun as soon as she had reloaded firing at him on the open road but he was already too far out of range. Inside the bar, Xue took a revolver from one of the dead gang members and his ammo belt. The white woman from the coach stood up. "Hey you. Chinaman! What the hell is wrong with you?"
Jo warned her, "Hey, take it easy."
"Don't you tell me to take it easy. This damn Chinese could have gotten us all killed.
"They were defending themselves..." She replied. "Which is more than I can say for any of you/"
"They weren't defending themselves..." Insisted the troublesome woman's husband. "They were protecting THAT..." He pointed at the coffin. "What the hell is in there that's worth risking all our lives?!" He demanded.
The bartender and cook from Yubei approached the two Tong members. "Tā shì duì de. Guāncai lǐ yǒu shé me?"
(He is right. What is in the coffin?)
The two did not answer but they opened the coffin with Bo's knife. Inside was indeed the Chinese corpse that they had spoken of early. "This doesn't make any sense..." The husband continued. "What could they possibly want with a dead coolie?"
Bo stabbed the body in the stomach and Xue spoke out this time. "Bó, dàodǐ shì shénme?"
(Bo, what the hell?)
He grunted and exhaled deeply as he reached through the corpses guts. The others watched in horror and disgust but finally he removed a bloody bag from the corpse and unwrapped it and the gold jingled out into his hand. "My god..." The husband observed. "They're gold smugglers."
"
"We were all robbed because of a couple of Chinese smugglers..." The man growled.
"Nǐ fùqīn zhīdào zhè jiàn shì ma? Wǒ jiǎnzhí bù gǎn xiāngxìn," Inquired Bo but Xue did not reply.
(Did your father know about this? I can't believe it.)
"He;ll be back..." Jo insisted. "Felton."
"Tonight?" The wife from the stagecoach asked in fear.
"His men are dead..." The husband added.
"He's got plenty more men where they came from. He's after that gold. And he's not gonna let it go."
"You know this Felton?" Asked the priest.
"We grew up together in these and his crew have been wanted for murder and robbery in Carson City ever since the bank robbery. Doesn't usually operate so close to home..."
The husband replied, "Well i guess all that gold was a good enough reason. If he comes back we'll just give it back to him."
"That wont work..." The brunette in the interracial marriage insisted. "We killed his men."
"We didn't kill anybody..." The woman from the stage coach insisted. "It was these damn coolies. Let him take it up with them..."
Jo shook her head. "You don't know Felton Givens. He killed that cowboy without a second he'll be back with an army and they won't leave anyone standing."
"Well leave right now..." the man insisted pulling his wife by the hand. "We'll ride to the next town."
"On what? Felton cut loose his men's horses when he left!" She shot back with irritation raising in her tone.
"Then we'll walk..."
"It's thirty miles to Mooney Flats. You won't make it..." Joanna insisted.
"We'll leave the gold here for them to find it and we'll hide out in the desert..." Suggested the priest Father Halloran which they had heard him referred to.
"There is nowhere to hide..." The Madam replied. "This is his territory and he knows every inch of 're gonna have to fight."
"We can't fight a bunch of outlaws! The Father is right!" The cowardly husband insisted. "We may not have horses but we can take our chances on a few leave the gold for them and find a place to hide until they've gone. If I were him, I'd consider that a success and not waste my time hunting down a group of strangers."
Finally, Bo interjected. "That would be a great plan if it were your gold. But it's not. So it isn't."
"Lord have mercy..." Father Halloran spoke in shock. "You speak English!"
The couple were silent. He stepped forward. "We're not leaving the gold."
"That gold is the reason we're in this mess..." The husband finally replied to Bo. "And it's our way out. As far as I'm concerned there;s nothing left to discuss."
Bo looked him directly in the eyes. "I guess it's settled then..."
"Damn right it's sett;led."
Bo pointed at him and added, "So now all you have to do is come over here and take it from me..." The man backed down.
Bo then turned to Xue. "Nǐ yǒu jìhuà ma?"
(You got a plan?)
The Tong underboss nodded. "Shì de, wǒ yǒu yīgè jìhuà. Jìhuà shì tā mā de líkāi zhèlǐ."
(Yeah I have a plan. The plan is to get the fuck out of here.)
"Nǐ tīngdào tā shuō jùlí xià yīgè chéngzhèn yǒu sānshí yīng lī..." He protested.
(You heard her say it's thirty miles to the next town.)
"Wǒ nìngyuàn qù wàimiàn pèng pèng yùnqì, yě bù yuàn zài huā shíjiān tīng zhèxiē fán guì de bàoyuàn," The Dai Dai Lo's son said with a sneer as he stared down the couple from the stagecoach.
(I would rather take my chances out there than spend anymore time listening to these whining Fan Kuei.)
He then asked, "You with me?" In English. Bo nodded sucking his teeth. "I am with you."
Jo stepped in front of them. "You can't just leave us. If Felton shows up and you're gone...he'll kill us all."
"You can leave..." Bo reminded her. "Same as us."
"I already told you there's nowhere to go"
"Then I guess it would be a short trip for both of us. The bartender and owner cocked his own rifle. It was a shitty Springfield 1861 that had been a favored rifle for the Union Army during the civil war. The bald Chinese bartender warned the two Tong members, "Nǐ wèi wǒjiā dài láile sǐwáng. Rúguǒ nǐ shì yīgè zhēnzhèng de nánrén, nǐ jiù huì liú xiàlái zhàndòu."
"Put down the gun..." Warned Bo. Xue cocked the revolver that the dead man had been using and aimed at the bartenders forehead. "You think you can pull that trigger before I pull mine?" He growled.
"I don't care..." The sweating bald business owner insisted. "I gave everythint I have into this place and we're all going to die sooner or later."
Bo shook his head. "You'll die tonight..."
The bartender responded, "At least I have something and someone to die for. What do you have? Gold?"
Bo took a moment and let his words marinate and then he urged Xue to put the gun down. The bartender uncocked the rifle. Soon night fell and Bo had removed his jacket and was down to a red legion vest. They had decided to stay and fight. he watched the window as the moonlight shone over the desert. "Anything?" Asked Xue.'
"You should go. Get the gold back to your father. This isn't your fight..." Bo suggested.
"This isn't yours, either."
"Seems like it is..." Bo admitted.
"I thought about leaving..." Xue confided.
"Youre still here..."
"Well, like I said I don't belong anywhere. Other than my father, I have no family."
He joined his friend at the window. "But if I had a brother, I'd like to think I'm the kind of brother who would stay and scrap with him. You get me?"
Bo nodded. "I get you."
"But if we're brothers, you gotta tell me where you learned to speak like the Fan Kuei..."
Bo smirked slightly. "My grandfather was American..."
"No shit..." Laughed Xue. "You're half Fan Kuei?"
Bo shook his head. "A quarter. Maybe you can keep that between us."
"Well, that shouldn't be a problem. We're probably both going to die here tonight."
"I was hoping you'd sat something more optimistic..." Xue lamented despite his crooked grin. "At least my father will feel guilty for getting us diced over this shit."
He looked to see Jo and her husband in the front talking as he readued his rifle again for action. "You believe that? True love..."
"I love you..." They heard Jo tell him in English. "That would never happen in San Francisco..." Chuckled Xue.
"Okay, if I;m gonna die tonight I got some business to take care of."
"I thought you did that alreadt?"
"Have you met me?"
The Chinese man walked upstair to see the Paiute woman by the window looking like she was getting ready to jump out. She looked at him as though he had caught her but then her eyes flashed with concern. "You...come..."
He stood i'n the doorway and shook his head. She approached him. He put a few pieces of gold in her hand and then took her fingers folding her hand over pointed at his chest. "Xue Jin."
"Wankeia..." She said back to him looking into his eyes. Her eyes were slanted like his but not quite as much.
He smiled. "Wankeia..." She gave him a kiss before exiting out the window. He spoke to himself as she departed. "Just go with the girl, Xue. Just go with the fucking girl... But even as he said it, he did not. He returned to the bar where Jo was pouring alcohol. She turned to the priest. "Father? Do you see fit to bless this little occasion of ours?"
He lifted his shot glass. "May the devil cut our fucking toes so that we may know them by their ..." With that, they all drank.
Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, who commanded the 20th Maine, a part of the Union Army's Fifth Corps. Early in the movie (about July 1, 1863), Colonel Chamberlain was given charge of a group of mutineers from another (disbanded) Maine regiment. One of the best scenes of the movie is Colonel Chamberlain's comments to the mutineers. Because of it, most of the men took up arms and joined the 20th Maine, which proved pivotal in the upcoming battle at Gettysburg. This speech, as rendered in the movie, is a classic. Here it is.
All right so I cut it off there sorry to do it but there was already a lot of words. Anyway, despite my own views that used to be up on my profile no I am not shipping Xue and Wankeia. Usually you see Natives in IR couples on TV with whites or blacks thats usualy who tries to breed us out but there is occasionally Chinese who like Native women. and sadly there are prostitutes that are indigenous.
As for Taft he is dropping his former men like flies. The horse situation made what happened to Crocks somewhat inevitable. With these last few kills he's been trying to have the last three in particular, to teach Dalton about leadership and how heavy the crown is.
As far as Lemuel he is injured but not dead and his little detour down river is slightly based on something that happened to one of Cynthia Ann Parker's male relatives when he tried to rescue her.
And as for the second French invasion of Mexico, that will be main conflict down there that I show.
As far as Elena goes, that is prt of why she pretends to be a nun and sometimes she's had Comanches raid and rob them while she was in on it and sometimes her brother and his gang do it. She has a specific reason why she is infiltrating the church and lets just say wel now it's revealed that Enrique has two otherj children. The daughter is in the church and the brother is a soldier fighting in the army for Benito Juarez he's a federalist soldier fighting the French and the Mexican Empire soldiers that are puppets of the French.
Atonwa did the same thing there but on a smallee scale and even as an older man in gunfights I wanted him to still occasionally get injured but not so much he can't carry on. He will have instances where he'll get injured and need longer to heal. On top of that the others, it'll be the same thing.
The army is going to try and look for Lemuel to see if he's alive. Normally they wouldn't for a civilian but since he has helped them and was at the Fetterman fight, Valentine trusts him and even though he knows his own wound is bad but not fatal hence the pig sticker comment, but he's still underestimating the extent of his own injury from the arrow so he won't be able to personally start the search at first until he's healed but there will be soldiers under his command looking for him.
The reason that I had this fight happen is that as far as western tribes go in the Indian Wars and I do mean just the western tribes since eastern tribes kicked up more dust and with worse guns. Not saying this to throw shade it's just a historical fact but as far as white settlers and every other settler in the west went, between 1866 and 1890 most of them feared encountering Lakotas and that is Valentine's main purpose and up until this fight, he'd had no experience fighting Comanches. In other parts of the west as i said before they feared the Sioux but in Texas it was Comanches and I already showed Atonwa and Elena on raids with Comanches so we've seen the perspective of it and Lemuel I showed the recieving end. But even though you could call this a Comanche victory it's more of a skirmish than a battle.
I also thought about later having a second woman protagonist alongside Elena but im undecided if that would help or hurt it. Maybe introduce a character that will go from side caharacter to main character when a few of my oc's die. Some of my OC;' are going to die others will live and one will have an ambiguous ending. For now, I'll leave that aside/
Anyway, I will ontinue this next chapter starting from the saloon with Bo., Have a good night and a great weekend.
Also in showing the battle of Gettysburg or at least the first day which was not the worst day but still resulted in about 15,000 deaths so if the fight wasn't as intense s the battle of the crater well for one thing it's a fucking crater but yes I know that Getysburg was the bloodiest. And Antitem but that was a single day. If you ever get a chance to look up history of the civil war it's interesting to note that southerners usually had pretty shitty guns or older ones at least.
Desabrido
meand without flavor
Fan Kuei
means ocean ghost it's a slur for Caucasians.
