Chapter 20: Not all are the same
An Indian encampment under the Apache name swallowed within the dark clutches of the forest. Nearby there is a small roadside and nightfall begins complete with a clear, dark starry sky. Riding towards their destination, Javier Torres, Wakoyantanke and the village elder by the name Pivane approached and dismounted off their horses. As they did so, more and more villagers exited their homes and formed a semi-circle around them with their guns pointing at them.
Originally they thought it was a threat and three pairs of hands were in the air as part of a surrender. A strong figure fully decorative with a feather headdress walks over to them, laughing. The three look confused and the Apaches lowered their arms and most returned to their huts and wigwams.
“I know you. What brings you here?” The chief discussed. Pivane replied with,
“A disaster happened and we are in dire need of your help. These are tough times on us all, and we are asking a favour…”
“Come into our village hall, we’ll hear all about this.” The chief interrupted.
After saying this, the trio explored the town hall and took around a huge long table. The hut itself seemed to be used as a drinking hall also. It is warm inside as multiple lights were burning brightly, as well as multiple animal heads decorating the inner walls. When the trio got comfortable, the chief began to speak again,
“So what is it that you need us for, fellow tribes of Wichita? Were you the ones slaughtered in that massacre from Commander Coleman himself?”
“Yes, and we escaped with our lives.” Wakoyantanke stated. Attempting to reassure him, the chief says,
“I extremely irritated the man in charge myself. Back when my grandfather was chief. I remember those days now coming back to me. It was 1887, and being the young bastard I was back then, my grandfather was on his deathbed, wanting me to end the life of Ulysses Coleman. He was Uriah’s father at the time, and knew both of them plus the family. Of course, we hated him as much as you did, disrupting the peace, taking the lands, and so on and so forth…”
“So you wiped the table clean then, Señor?” Torres added. The chief continued,
“I certainly did. Took the life of everyone; Uriah’s sister, brother in law, cousin. Well, more importantly, his father of course. Uriah just HAD to escape, didn’t he? At least someone is with us fighting back!”
Shocked to the core, Wakoyantanke responds with a large bang to the long table across the room,
“You killed… all his family! You only had to kill Ulysses! Heck, even the young Uriah if you really wanted to but this is pointless bloodshed!”
All of the Apaches in the tent grew startled with his response and began to question him. The chief shakes his head in disapproval and says,
“You, good friend, are wrong. Only rats breed rats and dogs breed dogs. Mixing breeds is unhealthy and abnormal. You must learn this in the future, or we will all become feral hybrids. You see we can help you but…
“I don’t care what happens! As far as I was concerned all of those years ago you FAILED your mission! You heard me, you failed it!” The Apaches grew alarmed and started to reach for their axes and spears. Having grew observant, Torres noticed there were no guns in the room except from the one in the chief’s hand. Quite anxious, the Wakoyantanke exclaimed strongly,
“Well, uh… we must be going now! We can get through this without you! Thanks for letting us stop by!” As Pivane was reaching for the door, the chief put in a sarcastic tone,
“Why leave so soon? Tell us about how you are picking Mexicans over us, we are looking forward to see you answer that!” The chief pulls out his gun and shouts Pivane piercing his back and he slowly collapses against the door. The Apaches cheer and laugh as the trio look hopeless. Growing weary of the arrogance of the tribe.
Torres reaches for his revolver and shoots it at the smiling chief and the bullet goes straight in between his eyes, killing him instantly as he falls backwards to his death. What was now known as a laughing and lively hall has turned into a loud angry war cry. Wakoyantanke picks up an injured Pivane and Torres speeds out.
Getting chased by an angry array of Apaches, Wakoyantanke quickly gets on his horse with Pivane on the back. Torres follows swiftly along on his own horse as the trio escape the best they can. Although they weren’t pursued, they promised to meet up with Sanchez and the Mexican forces.
After 20 minutes of constant riding, they took a break and Wakoyantanke was trying to heal Pivane’s wound. They dismounted and sat down on the open prairie in the darkness. The bullet wound began to fester, and with no healing equipment available there was no hope. On his dying breath, Pivane quietly spoke after a brief chuckle,
“Put your medicine away, it is far too late my friend. Wakoyantanke… you are going to do a lifetime wish for me… and you Torres, for all of your people from across the border. Don’t let Coleman or Mansfield get his way, because without you two, our spark of hope becomes all but dust. Now, finish what you have started and let the whole prairie know it for centuries to come…”
Pivane took his final breath and closed his eyes. Doing what he asked, Wakoyantanke leaves him with Torres and continue riding away towards their intended destination. With Mansfield nowhere to be found, a lot of work is still to be done…