Guns of Seneca 6 Box Set Collected Saga (Chambers 1-4)

by Bernard Schaffer

  Haienwa'tha stepped toward the man, lifting his arms to return the embrace when Thathanka-Ska shouted, "No!" He pushed his way through the crowd, yelling his brother's name, telling him it could not be true.

  "Shut your mouth," Haienwa'tha hissed.

  "It isn't him!" Thathanka-Ska shouted. "It can't be."

  "Everything Thasuka-Witko said has come to pass. Even your doubts," Haienwa'tha said.

  "This isn't right," Thathanka-Ska said.

  Toquame Keewassee wrapped the blanket around his waist and said, "Do you challenge my authority over you, little one?"

  Thathanka-Ska turned to the larger man and looked him over. The long braid that swung down over his finely muscled chest and his thickly muscled arms. He was at least a foot taller than Thathanka-Ska and nearly twice as wide.

  "I do," the boy whispered.

  "No!" Haienwa'tha shouted. He grabbed his little brother and yanked him back, "Grab your things and go."

  "Too late!" Toquame Keewassee said.

  "He is just a boy!" Haienwa'tha said.

  "Will you defy me as well?"

  Haienwa'tha looked at the man, then turned his head to the ground and said, "No, my Chief."

  "Good," Keewassee said. He pushed past Haienwa'tha and glared at Thathanka-Ska. "Pick your weapon. Rifles? Tomahawks?"

  Thathanka-Ska made fists with his hands and said, "Unlike you, I am not so eager to shed Beothuk blood. Fight me as you are and I will make you renounce your claim to my tribe."

  The men around him whooped with laughter in surprise and even Toquame Keewassee smiled as he threw off his blanket and said, "You speak brave words, boy. Come. Show me what you are made of."

  Thathanka-Ska ran at the man swinging, howling with all the rage that had been bottled up inside of him for days. He swung wildly and connected with Keewassee's jaw, trying to cave in all of his teeth with one blow. The older warrior's head jerked sideways but he quickly recovered and shoved Thathanka-Ska backwards. "You little son of a whore," he whispered, touching the side of his mouth and seeing blood on his fingers.

  Thathanka-Ska ran back at him, trying to hit him again, but Keewassee was ready and kicked the boy in the gut with his heel. When Thathanka-Ska lurched forward to gasp for air, the Pwatsak warrior slapped him across the face so hard he staggered sideways and fell straight down. Toquame Keewassee straddled Thathanka-Ska and grabbed a handful of the boy's hair to pull his face up from the ground and delivered a punishing strike to the center of his nose. Blood splashed Thathanka-Ska's cheeks. He punched him viciously again and again until the boy stopped moving except to lay on the ground and twitch.

  Lakhpia-Sha looked at Haienwa'tha, silently pleading with him to intervene.

  "He made his decision," Haienwa'tha whispered. He could not look away and with every blow struck against the boy's face, he flinched like it was happening to him.

  When it was finished, several men wrapped the boy in a blanket and carried him over to the fire. Haienwa'tha shouted for the men to put him down. Tears filled his eyes as he looked down at Thathanka-Ska's beaten, swollen face and mouth. He grabbed Lakhpia-Sha's arm violently, "Is he?"

  The apprentice undid the blanket and put his hand against the boy's chest. "He lives, but I am not sure for how long."

  "Do something. Do something for him. Please," Haienwa'tha sputtered. He picked up his brother and clutched him to his chest, his sobs loud enough for every man in the camp to hear.

  Toquame Keewassee watched them from across the camp, flexing his hands. They were cut and bruised from striking the boy's face and he worried some of them might be broken. "Send me that boy when he's finished," he said.

  Lakhpia-Sha tended to Thathanka-Ska, even as Keewassee's man tried to yank him away. He soaked flat leaves in medicine from his pouch and pressed them to the boy's forehead and face. The tall, thin apprentice came over to Toquame Keewassee and said, "What is it?"

  "Mend my hands," Keewassee said.

  The boy inspected the injuries and dug into his bag for a small vial. He tapped out several drops from inside of it across Keewassee's knuckles and wrapped them with small strips of cloth. "Try not to move them, and they will be fine," he said.

  Keewassee waved him away, "Go now."

  "Chief Keewassee, may I ask you a favor?" Lakhpia-Sha said. "I would like to pray for my friend, in case he crosses over. I understand you have great anger toward him, and did what was necessary, but still. It is proper for my prayers to accompany him on his journey and will go toward healing his brother's pain."

  Toquame Keewassee looked disgusted and said, "Do whatever you want."

  He watched the apprentice head off into the desert and then called Comee over. "I want you to keep an eye on them."

  Lakhpia-Sha turned to look back at the others and make sure he was far enough away. He began to chant, starting with a low, guttural moan that sounded like singing. He chanted as he walked and looked for somewhere out of their sight. Somewhere to be alone. Somewhere to dance.

  Thunder rolled in long and slow over the mountains, a growling, rumbling sound that stirred Thathanka-Ska out of the darkness. He came to under his bundled blanket with leaves and liniments plastered to his face. His mouth was filled with a medicine-taste and he sat up quietly and spit it out. The rest of the men, including his brother, were gathered around Toquame Keewassee, looking out at the gathering storm clouds.

  Thathanka-Ska slid out of the blankets, careful not to make any noise. His face hurt. He could feel where it was swollen around his nose and mouth. It hurt his cheeks to squeeze his eyes shut, but nothing was broken and he could breathe. If he could breathe, he could run.

  He crept back from his blanket and ducked behind a small, bare desert bush and waited to see if anyone noticed. Lightning speared the sky and as all of the men turned away to look at it Thathanka-Ska seized the moment. He sprinted across the hard soil toward a patch of tall grass in the distance, turning back constantly to make sure that he was both moving away from the men and staying out of their line of sight. He stopped only long enough to catch his breath and find his next place he could run to.

  Raindrops as thick as coins struck the dirt around him like tiny meteors. He held up his hand to cover his face as he looked into the desert. The hills where the Hopituh Shi-nu-mu hid were nearly a mile away, but there were smaller rock formations nearby. Thathanka-Ska could make it to them if he was careful. If the storm kept up.

  He scurried towards the first of the rocks and whipped himself around the corner, only to leap back in terror at the Beothuk waiting there for him. Lakhpia-Sha grabbed him and covered his mouth to muffle his cry. "Quiet!" he hissed. Thunder cracked overhead and both boys winced, checking the sky to see how close the lighting was from their position. "This isn't right at all. I must have made a mistake."

  "You did this?" Thathanka-Ska whispered. "How?"

  "I just tried to summon rain, but this happened instead."

  "This…this is perfect. Come on."

  "Where are we going? We have to wait for Haienwa'tha."

  Thathanka-Ska spat the taste of medicine out of his mouth and said, "He isn't coming. If he wants to be with Keewassee so badly, I say let him. We can make it to the ruins and hide with the Hopituh Shi-nu-mu."

  "But that means we'll be cast out of the tribe!" Lakhpia-Sha said. "We can never go home."

  "He isn't Chief yet," Thathanka-Ska said as he grabbed the older boy's arm and pulled him away from the rock.

  All of his men scattered, trying to find shelter inside the makeshift sweat lodge or ducking under rocky overhangs from the cliffs behind it. All except him. He looked up at the sky, raising his face to the storm to let the rain pelt him. "I do not fear your forces, Great Spirit," he whispered. "For, I am one of them."

  He heard Comee calling his name and watched him come racing across the flatland from the direction of the farthest hills. "I found them! There are old dwellings carved into the cliffs ahead and they are hiding in there."

 
Keewassee smiled thinly and said, "I knew he would lead us to them. Tell the men to get ready."

  "In the storm?" Comee said.

  Keewassee shoved him away and said, "Yes, in the storm!" He watched the men begin to crawl out of their hiding places and grab their rifles. He pointed at the covered wagon and said, "Take them instead."

  Haienwa'tha came racing toward him, "Where is my brother? Have you found him?"

  Toquame Keewassee nodded grimly and said, "Yes. As well as the hiding place of our enemies. The little traitor ran straight to them."

  Haienwa'tha swallowed and said, "Really? Where were they?"

  "So you continue to insist that you do not already know," Keewassee said with a quick grin. "Regardless, he has done us a service, and I will offer him one last chance to return to us. Do not fear, little brother. I will not spill the noble blood of Thasuka-Witko unless I am forced to."

  The men began smearing their faces with dark paint that ran down across their bare chests in black streaks from the rain. As they began to arm themselves with their rifles, Toquame Keewassee raised his hand and said, "It is time we show our enemies a demonstration of our new power."

  Comee barked for the men to break out the large military weapons from the carriage. When they activated the battery packs with the throw of a switch, the rifles whirred and crackled with electricity. "What do we need those for?" Haienwa'tha said.

  "These are the weapons of the revolution, Haienwa'tha. Our men need all the practice they can get with them."

  "But these are just women and children!"

  "Children who will someday grow up and learn to shoot rifles."

  Haienwa'tha watched the men assemble on their destriers and head for the ruins. He looked around in horror at the eager looks on their cruelly painted faces. Keewassee called out his name and waved for him to hurry up, "You're riding with me up front."

  His legs felt numb and stiff as he walked, as if they were attached to strings and someone else was moving them step by step. He watched himself climb onto his destrier as if he were far away, observing everything that happened from outside of himself. He looked around at the men and thought, Where is Lakhpia-Sha?

  Toquame Keewassee let out a fierce scream and raced forward, pumping his fist in the air. All of the men cried out in high-pitched voices and charged after him, filling the air with wet, swirling dust that stung Haienwa'tha's eyes and stuck to his skin.

  Haienwa'tha shielded his eyes and looked up at the storm clouds as black as smoke and headed after them. Sheets of mud began to spill off the sides of the hills ahead and water flooded the plains beneath them, sucking their destrier's hooves down with every step. Toquame Keewassee's men plodded through it, making their way toward the tall stone hills. "Get your weapons ready," Keewassee said. He lifted his own rifle and checked the digital screen. Wasichu writing flashed across it, but it didn't matter. The colors were green. Green meant ready.

  Haienwa'tha had to shout over the thunder to be heard. "I am going to ride ahead and call Thathanka-Ska out!"

  "No. You will stay with us."

  "You said you would give him a chance!"

  Toquame Keewassee spun, glaring at the boy, "You test me a little too much, I think. Your brother is a traitor and will meet his fate. Or do you rebel against me as well?"

  "But you said!"

  "And I will. One chance. It will be his decision what happens after that. But it will not be through your intervention or pleading or begging on his behalf. Am I clear?"

  "Yes."

  "Get in the back of the formation. You don't deserve to be up front with me."

  Haienwa'tha stopped to let Keewassee and the rest of the older, more senior men, pass. There was no more lightning now and the rain was beginning to slow, leaving everything he saw a pallid, sickly grey.

  Chapter 18: Thunderstruck

  "You hear that?" Father Charles said. He looked up at the sky and shook his head, "Weather didn't smell like a storm was coming. Where the hell did that come from?"

  Jem saw the dark clouds ahead and said, "Lightning's no good out here without cover. Start looking for a cave."

  The preacher pulled the Beothuk woman's destrier closer to his wagon, "We gotta wake her up. If lighting spooks her animal, she'll get thrown off and trampled."

  "She's been awake for over an hour," Jem said. "Couldn't you hear how she was breathing?"

  "She weren't breathing no different than she was before!"

  Jem shrugged and said, "Suit yourself. Don't go sticking your fingers near her face though, she'll bite off the ones you got left."

  Father Charles reached down and shook her destrier's shoulders, "Hey, you awake? I'm not kidding. If you're awake, you need to say so because we got lightning rolling in and it could get bad real quick for you."

  The preacher continued to plead and cajole for her to get up until Jem looked back at him and said, "I thought you knew about these people."

  "I know more than you'll ever know, young man."

  Jem sighed and stopped his destrier and kicked both legs over to drop down. He went came around the side of the animal where her legs were dangling and said, "You gonna wake up nicely or not?"

  She kept laying there, not moving.

  Jem shrugged and swatted her across the backside. It was like pissing into an electric fence. She went batshit crazy with screaming and thrashing, trying to kick Jem and reach him enough to claw his face off with her bound hands. Jem put his hands up and laughed, "I tried to be nice about it."

  Father Charles had to struggle to keep her destrier from bucking as he shouted, "Nobody's going to lay another finger on you, I swear it. Calm down before you get thrown!"

  She hissed and grunted at Jem, cursing him in a garbled mix of native, English, and outrage. He came around her front side and said, "Listen, I'm gonna untie you. You can run off if you want, but I ain't giving you your weapons back. It's getting dangerous out here, so you're welcome to come with us."

  She spat at him and said, "Go to hell, wasichu!"

  "Not a doubt in my mind," he said. He grabbed her arms and held them fast, "Stop struggling so I can cut the rope. Keep moving around like that and pretty soon people will think you and the old man here are part of some weird cult together."

  Father Charles stared at him, "Aren't you tired of that yet?"

  Jem cocked his head to the side in thought for a moment and said, "Nope." He cut the rope between the woman's boots and moved away as she instantly swung her feet back onto her destrier and bolted forward, getting out of their reach.

  A blue trident of lightning sparkled above her on the path and she stopped. She spun her destrier around, eyes glaring, "I want my things back!"

  "I'd normally ride ahead of you and leave them, but we ain't going anywhere with those lightning forks on the horizon."

  "Then give them to me and I'll go," she said.

  "Yeah, okay," Jem chuckled. "Fat chance."

  "If you think I'm going into a cave with you and him unprotected, you are a fool."

  "There's nothing we could do to you in there that we couldn't have done when you were passed out," Jem said.

  The woman sneered at Jem and snapped her reins to ride off when Father Charles held up the picture of his daughter and said, "Wait! Wait just a second. Look at this. Please. This is my little girl. I wanted to show you what she looks like when you came to. That's why I was keeping you so close to me. I was hoping you could tell me if you seen her?"

  The woman looked at the preacher and then at the photograph for a moment before she held up her hand but did not move. Father Charles got down from his wagon and walked toward her. Jem put his hand up to block the old man, but he pushed it out of the way and said, "It's all right." He walked up to her holding the photograph out and said, "Just please don't do anything to it. It's the only one I have of her."

  She took the picture from him and looked at it closely before saying, "I have not seen this girl. But now that I have seen this, I will not
forget her."

  "Ok," the preacher said. He had to look down at his boots and swallow hard. Expectation and hope died in his throat, leaving a hard walnut of shame. He didn't lift his head as he reached out to take the picture back.

  "What is her name?" she said.

  "Wendy. Wendy Buchinsky."

  "I am Ichante," she said.

  "What tribe are you from?"

  "I have no tribe," Ichante said. "I am like her. A half-breed."

  The preacher winced, "I never let anybody call Wendy that. Sounds like some sort of damn farm animal."

  She looked at him evenly, then said, "Did you know the man you seek is not far from this place?"

  Father Charles' eyes shot up to her, "What did you say?"

  "Toquame Keewassee is camped nearby. He searches for the remaining women of the Hopituh Shi-nu-mu to stamp them out."

  "Yes," Father Charles whispered. "Yes! That is why we came here! He's nearby? He's nearby, Jem! Come on!" The old man snatched the picture out of her hand and ran back to his wagon. He grabbed onto the rungs and swung himself up into the carriage like a monkey, then snapped the reins so hard his destrier protested. Within seconds, they were worked into a full gallop and flying past the native woman.

  Jem watched him take off and shouted, "What the hell's wrong with you, lady?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Why'd you have to go and tell him like that? He's heading right into the storm now."

  "Should I have lied to him?"

  "No," Jem said. He grabbed her gun belt and tossed it at her, "Maybe just a little more discreet."

  Ichante strapped the belt around her waist and checked her gun and knife. She reached into her shirt and slid a long, thin dagger out from between her breasts. "You missed this one, wasichu," she said.

  "Sorry to disappoint you." He folded his hands across his saddle horn and said, "Well?"

  "Well, what?"

  "Get on, then. I want to make sure you ain't following us."

  "I'm not following you," she laughed. "I'm coming with you."