Chapter 13

(Only an Indian could track another Indian and there is no two ways about that.)

Sam and his brother Saul had done their fair share of Indian fighting, but these Apaches were a different breed of savage, it the truth be told all nice and proper.

Strangely, the males were raised to be vicious killers and the females were about as submissive in all things including giving up their feminine secrets as a human person could possibly ever become.

Sam had discovered by constant experimentation that the Apache women were mostly lean and muscular even in their rear end regions totally unlike most other Indian females. He assumed that this difference was due to their daily labors and the constant rigors of semi-starvation caused by corrupt reservation agents. They were a caution what with their eager offering of anal or normal copulation and the fact that they were truly a spirited ride when their new partner was buried up deep inside.

It was somewhat surprising that a number of the females and even small children went with the renegade braves when they jumped the reservation, but in retrospect Sam could understand their logic in thinking this would most likely be their final showdown with the white man.

Of course, they had butchered the corrupt government man Agent in a horrible way almost too vivid to describe to normal-thinking people. Let it suffice to say that parts of his anatomy were relocated to other areas and that his hair was left intact with his head just sitting on his swollen belly. It was a gory sight and one female journalist from the local print paper fainted dead away on the dusty ground with her undies showing her liking of silk fabric against her delicate hindquarters.

Sam had to confess that he found that particularly stimulating despite the picture of the dead agent in his mind and the scent of his nasty demise in his nostrils.

After careful questioning, Sam was able to determine that the reservation-jumping band of renegade Indians had forty-seven males, eleven females and six young ones. They had a little more than two dozen horses, a handful of stolen mules and Mexican burros and several dogs that acted as sentries at night to warn of strangers on their trail.

It all made for a powerful trail easy to mark and their solution was to split up into several smaller groups and meet up at a designated location with precise timing using the sun and the shadows as their natural guide.

The dangerous group was well-armed with stolen government repeating rifles never issued to the troops because of a corrupt system of logistics that dated all the way back to the conduct of the American Civil War. In addition, they were leading three mules loaded down with ammunition for the up to date modern firearms that would enable them to stay in their isolated hiding places for a very long time. The hoarded provisions in the corrupt station agent’s storeroom meant the difference in starvation and survival in a long, cold winter.

The Indian women were tasked in attending to more than one husband’s nocturnal needs but that all seemed to be under control because the females were used to a lifetime of making sacrifices for the good of the tribe.

It was a cultural difference that helped them to survive in the face of overwhelming odds as the settlers from the east moved into their homeland with the sense that the land belonged to the government to be distributed to the homesteader according to the current laws of real estate transfer.

To the Indians, none of it made any sense at all because the land was the land and it belonged to itself. No law or rule could override the decree of Mother Nature and the spirits of those that had lived and passed on to another land out of sight but never out of memory to those that came behind them.

The wise Indians saw the handwriting on the rocks and loaded up their possessions and left for the protection of the Queen Mother North of the border. The more adventurous of them stayed and fought the white eyes knowing that they would eventually lose because the long wagon trains were far more plentiful than the vanishing buffalo herds that had been destroyed by greed for their hides and their heads and horns rather than the life-sustaining sustenance of their delicious meat.

Saul and his posse of concerned citizens, including some paid gunmen from Texas that had a lifelong hatred of all Indians, were able to track the core band of renegades up to the point where they had made the smart decision to split up and go several different routes to their planned hideout.

They sat there at that river fully frustrated in the knowledge that they were unable to do anything about it because the tracks were almost completely washed out by the heavy rains that had made the river a dangerous proposition at best.

The two brothers had been in this sort of situation before and they both knew their only chance was to recruit some Apache or other closely related tribal members to cut the trail on the band of marauders with death and rape and pillage their only goal in life. The main chief Geronimo had often stated his only purpose was to take as many white eyes with him to the happy hunting ground accepting the fact that the battle was still continuing but the war had been lost a long time ago.

They had gotten rumors that the renegades had taken several white females with them to their unknown destination. Sam was certain it was because the warriors were fully aware that their hideout would be dismal and depressed and the thought of a hated settler female being pounded into a puddle of tears and pleas for mercy would be more than enough entertainment for them in the drab and barren future.

Several of the distraught husbands were hard pressed to give details and the photos, if any were available, were usually taken years before and the females looked entirely different in their current situation.