A Stunning Betrayal: Alone: Book 9 Page 4

  “That’s where you’re wrong, white man.

  “You see, these men we’re gathering up have lost their way. Most of them aren’t full bloods. Many of them don’t even have Indian Nation cards. Their blood has been diluted over several generations by white man’s blood.

  “They have to return to the old ways. To learn how to be braves. Then to be warriors. They have to find their strength of body. Strength of mind. Most important, their strength of heart.

  “Gone are the days when these men are nothing but slaves to white man’s industries. And I include myself in that. I will never again say ‘yes sir, no sir’ to any white man. Those days are over.”

  “And what’s to happen to Albuquerque?”

  “Albuquerque is a tinderbox. It’s primed to burn. And many will die.”

  “What, exactly, do you plan to do?”

  “We’re gathering up our native brothers from all over. Rumors are flying among the factions that we will number three hundred when we begin our raids.

  “Actually we’re shooting for ten thousand.”

  “Ten thousand men? Where on earth are you going to find that many?”

  “Oh, word is getting out. Some of our men are preppers, who are in contact with others on reservations all over the state. In Colorado and Oklahoma too.

  “You see, the white man doesn’t understand the extent of the anger of the red man.

  “Generations ago the white man raided our lands and massacred our people.

  “Those who were unlucky enough to survive the slaughter either slowly starved in concentration camps they called reservations, or they lost their heritage.

  “Many became dependent on your government.

  “The white man despised us because they said we were pariahs… leeches who sponged off the taxpayers.

  “What they didn’t understand was that we hated receiving their charity even more than they hated giving it.

  “But it was the white man’s way. First they take everything from us. Force us to live in squalor in crummy villages the corrupt Bureau of Indian Affairs let turn into slums.

  “Then with our dignity gone along with our jobs and any prospects to better our lot, the white man bitched because we took from them.

  “We took from them because we had nothing left to call our very own. The white man stole it all.

  “Now those very same white men and their ancestors bitch and moan and groan because the brown man is invading their country.

  “Their country my ass. It is Indian country.

  “It was before the white eyes came. And it will be again.”

  “So you’re just going to swoop into Albuquerque and slaughter the people there? Do two wrongs really make a right?”

  “Damn it, Dave! You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

  “I guess not. What have I missed?”

  “We won’t slaughter anybody. That’s the white man’s way. Not the Indian’s.

  “Back in the days when the white man first came, we fought fiercely. We killed many white men. But we did so to protect our people and our lands and our way of life.

  “The white man won in the end, not because they were right, but because they had better weapons. And more men. They kept coming, in great white waves, using their long rifles to pick us off before our arrows could reach them.

  “Winning made them victors, but it didn’t make them right.

  “We will give the people in Albuquerque an escape route.

  “We will announce our plans ahead of time to attack from the south.

  “We will tell them ahead of time that they have two choices. They can evacuate to the north and leave the city. Or they can die and their bodies will help fertilize our crops.”

  “And if they outflank you?”

  “Then they will march right into a trap, for they won’t know how many men we will have dug in waiting for them.

  “And by the way, ‘flanking’ is a term civilian men do not use.”

  “I was a United States Marine.”

  “So was I. Semper Fi.”

  Dave was incredulous.

  “You? Really?”

  Bold Eagle rolled up the skin-tight sleeve of the black t-shirt he wore beneath his vest to reveal a tattoo.

  A “USMC” tattoo.

  “Did you know the United States Army didn’t invent the flanking maneuver?”

  “They didn’t?”

  “The Indian did.”

  Dave wasn’t sure whether he was being fed a line of bull.

  But it didn’t matter.

  He liked this guy.

  And he believed him.

  “And what happens then? When you liberate Albuquerque?”

  “Then we let the people return home. The people living in camps on the outskirts of town, barely getting by, because the gangs kicked them out of their homes.

  “We let them return home and try to piece their lives back together.”

  “And you and your men?”

  “We will give them the opportunity to stay if they wish. Those who do will return to the Indian ways. Ways in which we work together and we share our food. We share our chores. We share the responsibilities to govern ourselves and to protect the community from outsiders.

  “Not all the people in the refugee camps are Indians. Most are Mexicans or whites.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Any who stay will be taught our ways. In the end I think they’ll happily adopt them.

  “In the end they’ll see the ways of the red man are far better than the so-called rules of civilization the white eyes forced upon us.”

  Bold Eagle was tiring of Dave’s endless queries.

  “I’m growing weary of your constant yapping, white man. Do you have any more questions of me?”

  “Only one. Can we stop walking now? My foot hurts.”

  It was really the only time Dave saw Bold Eagle smile.

  Chapter 10

  Maybe it was the stress of facing Bold Eagle, who was a very imposing and intimidating figure, and dealing with him.

  Or perhaps it was because he hadn’t taken his cholesterol or blood pressure medication in several weeks.

  Maybe it was just the fact he hadn’t been sleeping lately. The old have aches and pains the young wouldn’t be able to handle.

  Especially when they lay their weary bodies on the bed each night to sleep.

  Whatever caused it didn’t really matter.

  What mattered was that Sal didn’t feel well. He was light-headed and a bit dizzy, and as they put the city of Albuquerque behind them he constantly felt as though he were getting ready to pass out.

  He tried to tough it out.

  He had, after all, been able to hide his bad health from little Beth since the day he got her. Had been able to shake off the light-headedness.

  He’d laughed off the occasional stumble, saying he was just a clumsy oaf by nature.

  It wasn’t necessarily that he liked to keep secrets.

  It was just that… well, he didn’t want to freak out a young girl who was already apprehensive about being in a strange place among people she didn’t know well.

  On their journey west, he kept telling himself if he could just make it to Adelanto before he died, his brother Benny would take care of Nellie and Beth after he was gone.

  Of course, things were different now.

  He actually buried his beloved Nellie, instead of the other way around.

  He no longer had to worry about who might care for her after he died.

  And Beth… little Beth had her father to watch over her now.

  If he croaked… he always liked that term, thought it was funny… if he croaked, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. There wouldn’t be anyone he left behind who would suffer by his not being there.

  Sure, Beth would miss him. So would Benny, although he would likely never know Sal had passed. He’d miss him simply because he chose to leave Adelanto and wasn’t sure he’d ever return.

  Sal su
spected he didn’t have much longer on the earth. And that was okay with him. For honestly, he’d lost much of his will to live when Nellie passed.

  He missed her terribly.

  Each time he closed his eyes to sleep he thought of her. Relived old memories of her.

  Walked down that aisle with her once again.

  Waltzed with her again.

  Made love to her again.

  Almost every morning just after she passed he woke up his eyes crusted over.

  At first he couldn’t understand why.

  He thought perhaps he had pink eye, or some other optical ailment.

  Then one night he didn’t dream of her.

  He awoke well rested with his eyes clear.

  He put two and two together and understood.

  When he dreamed of Nellie, reliving those old memories, he cried in his sleep.

  On the second night after they’d stumbled across Dave, and Sal received his beating, he’d had a particularly rough night.

  He’d actually contemplated suicide that night.

  Dave was there to watch after Beth.

  And while the child would certainly miss him for awhile she’d eventually get over his passing.

  Even the suddenness of it.

  He wore a sidearm on his belt. So he had the means readily available.

  He had the will. He so wanted to be reunited with Nellie, wherever the next step took him.

  He could have just walked away from their camp, as he did three or four times a day anyway.

  Dave would have heard the shot and known. He’d have made Beth stay back, and he’d have given Sal a proper burial.

  And he’d have comforted the child and helped her deal with it.

  So Sal had the will and the means and the plan.

  Only two things kept him from doing it.

  First of all, because in the new world nothing was guaranteed.

  Just because Dave was younger and stronger didn’t give him an automatic pass back to Kansas City.

  The new world was a violent place. People died each and every day.

  Sometimes people who were younger and stronger than Sal met their fates.

  There was no guarantee Dave would survive to see Kansas City again.

  It was unlikely but possible Dave would come across a foe he couldn’t vanquish. That he’d die protecting his daughter.

  In Sal’s mind it could well have happened in Albuquerque, had Bold Eagle been a violent man instead of a noble one.

  It could happen instead at any other place along the way. For they still had several hundred miles to go on their journey.

  No, as long as there was a chance of Dave getting killed, it would be incumbent upon Sal to get Beth the rest of the way.

  And there was something else driving him as well.

  He’d already apologized to Beth for taking her away from her family.

  He’d apologized to Dave as well.

  Deep down inside, though, he knew it was likely Beth’s mother who’d suffered most of all when her baby was taken from her.

  He needed to apologize to her, and to beg her forgiveness, for the agony he caused her.

  So no, he wouldn’t kill himself. At least not until their journey was over, and Beth was safely back home.

  And he’d made amends with her mom.

  In the meantime he’d continue to suffer through each painfully long day and each agonizing night, continuing to insist there was nothing wrong with him.

  He didn’t know he wasn’t fooling anyone.

  Dave and Beth knew he was seriously ill, and were worried about him.

  Chapter 11

  Albuquerque was now sixty odd miles behind them, and they were traveling by night again.

  Traveling at night was vastly more comfortable for them but was fraught with its own hazards.

  They didn’t have to feel the sun beating down on them unmercifully.

  But they constantly had to be on their guard. Constantly worrying about who or what might be out there they couldn’t see until it was too late.

  For a bandit to try to take their rig during daylight, they’d have to fire from a distance, and would have to be a better shot than Dave.

  And Dave was an excellent shot.

  For a bandit to try to take their rig at night, though, he merely had to see the rig come slowly by, then to move quickly to get in front of them.

  To hide behind one of the many abandoned cars ahead of them.

  And then to ambush Dave as they drove by him a second time.

  It was a very sobering thought which was always in the back of Dave’s mind, and which kept him constantly on his toes.

  Three days from Albuquerque they were nearing Santa Rosa.

  Dave had been telling Beth of an aunt who once lived there when Dave was about Beth’s age.

  He told her he once spent a couple of summers with his Aunt Deb, and that her house was just a couple of blocks off of Interstate 40.

  “Is the house still there, Dad?”

  “I don’t know, Peanut. Why?”

  “I’d really like to see it. Do you think you can find it again?”

  “I don’t know why not. Those memories are still burned into my skull.”

  Dave had thought a lot in recent years about the summers he spent at his aunt’s house in Santa Rosa. Aunt Deb was his favorite. Kind and gentle in her ways.

  At a time in his life when he was getting a mind of his own, and a mouth to go with it, he was arguing more and more with his father.

  Aunt Deb actually listened to him as opposed to just hearing him like his father did. She understood him, and treated him with the respect he felt he deserved. Years later, looking back, he realized he had behaved like a spoiled brat and hadn’t deserved any respect at all.

  But Aunt Deb, bless her heart, never called him on it. Instead she guided him through one of the most difficult times of his life and helped him reconcile with his father.

  He missed both of them greatly.

  “I used to swing on a tire swing my uncle hung in the huge oak tree in their front yard.

  “It was just before he died. I used to swing and watch the trucks drive by on the highway in the distance.”

  “Oh, I hope the swing is still there. If it is will you push me?”

  “If it’s okay with whoever lives there now, sure.”

  Now Dave was looking forward to stopping in Santa Rosa as much as Beth was.

  For many years he’d wondered about that old oak tree and the swing it once held. Whether it was still there, whether it was still being used.

  Whether another generation was doing what he once did, swinging back and forth and watching the world go by.

  Now would be his chance to find out, and to relive some pleasant memories at the same time.

  But nothing was ever easy in the new world.

  Fun and good times were rarities. People were usually too focused on surviving from day to day to have fun.

  And that was true among children as well as adults.

  The sun had been up for about an hour or so, and they’d be looking for a shady place to crash soon.

  Dave figured if they timed it right, they’d be right around his aunt’s old house about the same time the following day.

  “Sure thing, honey. I don’t think your mom would mind if we stopped in Santa Rosa to play for a couple of hours. Let’s do it.”

  Beth grinned from ear to ear.

  Another sure thing in the new world, besides the fact fun was very elusive?

  Smiles usually didn’t last long.

  Chapter 12

  It was at that very moment the trio heard a blood-curdling scream coming from behind them and off the highway to the south.

  A woman’s scream.

  It was followed by cries of, “Oh, God! Somebody please help us!”

  Dave was off the wagoneer’s seat even before the rig came to a complete halt.

  Many men would have hesitated. They might have balked at
getting involved in what might well have been a domestic argument.

  Word had gotten around that interlopers in fights between spouses or significant others were usually turned on by both parties.

  And any cop would testify the most dangerous calls they ever went on were domestic disputes.

  Dave wasn’t that way, though.

  Dave was fearless.

  So fearless his wife used to chastise him for running into difficult situations half-cocked and blind.

  But Sarah wasn’t here.

  And even if she was, she wouldn’t have been able to stop him.

  Dave was quick to respond in a crisis even before he joined the Marines. And being a Marine for several years reinforced that in him.

  United States Marines don’t stand around and discuss their options when a crisis is afoot.

  They respond. They react.

  They save lives.

  Dave was still running toward the sound of the screams when a woman broke out of the brush in front of him.

  A Hispanic woman of thirty or so, although looks could be deceiving in a world which tended to age everyone prematurely.

  A woman who was hysterical.

  And who was holding a young girl of seven or eight in her arms.

  Dave must have looked a godsend to her, the way he appeared out of nowhere.

  After all, she hadn’t seen a single other human face in more than a day.

  Dave wasn’t a medic, and his medical skills were limited.

  But he had taken a lot of first aid and buddy care classes in the Corps.

  It was mandatory training conducted annually.

  And while its primary focus was on battlefield injuries, and how to keep a buddy or oneself alive until a medic came, a lot of the techniques were universal.

  “He bit her twice,” the young mother stammered between wails. “Once on her arm, and again on her leg when I was dragging her out of her sleeping bag.

  “I keep calling her name, but she won’t answer. Please save her, mister. Oh, God! Please save her.”

  Dave was an outdoorsman, experienced in living off the land.

  One of the things he knew, but most people didn’t, was that snakes liked the comfort and warmth of sleeping bags in the cool desert nights.