ABOUT AN HOUR LATER IN THE VILLAGE SQUARE. The sun was going down and a great bonfire had been lit. Like a troupe of mystical dancers, the flickering flames were casting their shadows. Mason, Raina, and Benton sat around the blaze surrounded by several villagers.
Everyone gathered was silent as a tribal elder addressed Mason directly, “You are a stranger to us, but you have come from far away to lend a helping hand.” The man paused as if in deep thought, before continuing, “You’ve brought back the children who were taken—back to the safety of their mother…”
The chief then eyed the five drug runners who the villagers had since further secured to a large wooden post. They were being guarded by a couple big, aggressive looking locals until drug task force members from the Brazilian government could arrive to take them away.
Gazing at the defeated dealers, the chief continued, “…And you have brought the enemies of our peace to justice.”
Looking back to Mason, the elder placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, “How is it that I could ever repay you? What do we have here that could be of value?”
The old man shrugged as he continued what seemed to amount to a thought exercise, “Would you want beads, animal skins, corn, rifles?”
He then smirked and motioned toward a group of young women seated nearby, and with laughter in his voice and a twinkle in his eye, he asked “A wife?”
Mason shot Benton a knowing look, as they both tried hard not to burst out into rounds of uncontrollable, raucous laughter. Raina meanwhile raised an eyebrow at the mention but was pleased to just let it go.
Mason stifling his mirth simply informed the chief with a smile, “No my friend, I don’t think that I’m quite marriage material at the moment.”
Although Mason was just trying to be humorous, he didn’t realize how much his careless words hurt Raina’s feelings. Not so much that he and the elder were joking about marrying local women, she knew that this was all a bunch of farcical BS. But the way Mason had just proclaimed that he was not “quite marriage material at the moment” cut through her like a knife all the same.
She knew that they had just started seeing each other, and it was true that talk of marriage was a little bit premature at this point. But somehow the way that he so readily cast aside even the possibility; really bothered her. Of all the things he could have said—why this?
When the elder brought forth the absurd notion of a tribal marriage he could have just laughed and said that he was “not interested” or heaven forbid he could have pointed at Raina and joked, “sorry bud already taken”. But instead the first thing that came to Mason’s mind was to shoot down the possibility of ever getting married in its entirety.
It was just statements like this that really made Raina wonder just what it was that she was getting into. Trying not to let her emotions show, Raina diverted her attention to the man sitting next to her—Brian Nelson. The supposed former hostage of the drug cartel was still hitching a ride with them as little more than a prisoner.
As he sat cross legged on the ground with his hands cuffed in front of him, she took a look at the wound on his leg. It was still a horrible sight with puss oozing forth, and maggots visibly crawling in and out. It’s true they didn’t know the full story behind the man’s current predicament but she figured he still deserved humane treatment.
Calling for Mason’s attention to the injured man, Raina requested, “Hey Mason—we need to get this guy something for his leg wound. It’s getting pretty bad. He needs at least some sort of basic care until the authorities arrive.”
Mason sighed, “Alright”.
He then looked over to the elder, and asked, “Do you guys have any kind of medical treatment here?”
The elder gave him a quizzical gaze, “Medical treatment?”
Mason then pointed at Brian Nelson’s wounded leg and remarked, “Yeah—we’ve got a guy that needs patched up. Is there anyone in the village that can help?”
The chief thought about it a second before responding, “Yes, we have people here who can treat his wounds.”
He then motioned toward a nearby hut and advised, “I’ll have someone send your friend over there to get taken care of.”
Mason shook his head, “He’s not our friend….”
The elder raised an eyebrow, and then noticing the cuffs on Nelson’s wrists understood, “Oh…”
Mason continued, “And I still consider him dangerous, so until we sort things out, it would be best if you had two strong men keep an eye on him at all times.”
The chief nodded, “Yes… that can be arranged.”
The elder then got the attention of two big guys who were standing around in the background, yelling at them, “Chiko! Joca!”
The men stepped toward him and listened as the elder rattled off something in what seemed to be a mixture of Portuguese and a more native tongue. The men now seeming to know exactly what to do and what their role was as the stewards of a guest of questionable integrity, they went directly to Nelson hoisted him to his feet, and marched him over to the nearby hut to get treated for his wounds.
With this matter decisively handled in this fashion, the chief then motioned toward the large log structure in the center of the village—the place that apparently served as his headquarters and told them, “Please follow me. We can talk further here.”
Stepping into the structure Mason, Raina, and Benton sat on various pillows and cushions surrounding the old chief who sat
