A group of warriors ran out with weapons raised, while others—women and children by their size and shape—cowered back behind the gate posts.
Those and some of the men who exited the palisade had changed out their wooden masks for face paint applied to resemble the same naked human skulls that was apparently the height of fashion in those parts.
In the light of day it was plain to see that like their captors these folk showed dark skin between festering wounds and tattoos in the gaps next to iron arm and leg bands, clothing and grime.
These people weren’t strictly black and were of mixed race that back home in Texas would have been called mulattos, half-breeds or worse.
The ranger had a few choice names for these ones himself.
The leader of Seward’s group shouted and talked it up in a volume over those who approached, and soon the hunters bearing the great ape’s head came forward from the rear to set the grisly object out for all to see.
The result was immediate. A roar of terror sent the crowd of savages springing back from the rotting thing like they half-expected it might come to life.
But the shock wore off quickly, and soon the others at the gate: men, women, young and old, and children came forward, and many of these wore little or no face paint or mask, though Seward wished they had for in the growing light, he saw that all were marked with boils, and scars and festering wounds.
The worst cases were the oldest—man and woman, gray-haired and toothless. These misshapen sufferers came hobbling out and Seward wondered again what disease or curse lay over the village to afflict them so, that scarred their bodies and twisted them up like sun-baked corpses.
The people gathered around the severed head, and formed a circle talking, their tones swinging from overjoyed to terrified...
...until three strange looking men forced their way through the throng.
One fellow was much taller than the rest, and while his clothing was similar to the others: beaded tailcoat, leather britches, a sword and scabbard; he wore a big three-pointed hat on his head that again put Seward in mind of soldiers and sailors of rank.
A half-skull mask covered each of their faces down to the cheekbones and a thick braided beard grew from there almost to their waists.
Another fellow like the tall man hung back a ways. The hat perched on his greasy hair was of four-points and made from fur.
“It’s the Devil’s costume party,” Seward muttered as the third fellow moved forward and knelt by the ape’s head.
This one wore a long waistcoat that swept down close to his ankles, and tight snakeskin pants below to cover his skinny legs. A battered quadrant hung from a cord around his neck, and he held an old spyglass in his right hand.
A simple round hat with narrow brim was pulled tight over his skull.
As the tall man knelt beside him, this strange fellow lifted the spyglass to his eye and ran its lens over the severed head for a minute or two, all the while jabbering and groaning like an Indian medicine man with bits of chatter going back and forth with his companion.
Then this chap, the medicine man for so Seward thought him, rose up to his full height where with spyglass held high, he shouted something to the gathering that was answered by a great joyful cry.
And the savages began to dance en masse in a way that was strangely familiar.
“Now they’re doing jigs,” Seward hissed, winking at Jacob. “Next they’ll square dance, I reckon.”
“Reminds me of Galveston now,” Jacob came close to whisper. “Old Mr. Quarrie had us loading ships and the sailors worked and sang at the same time.”
Seward only nodded uncomfortably. He didn’t like the Quarries’ manservant reminding him he was a freed slave. That’s what Jacob always meant when he used the word “us” to mean “us slaves.” Like many Texans, the ranger was still uncomfortable with the notion.
True, Jacob was a decent fellow and a hard worker, but Seward didn’t see any point to throwing “liberty” on top of the man’s burdens.
As he heard the tale, the Quarries had treated him well in their service—free man or not.
A few of the masked men grabbed up the grisly head and lifted it high as they jigged forward with the others toward the gate. Somewhere in back of those, drums were beating, and flutes trilled shrilly with the chanting horde...
...Seward was almost pulled off his feet as the tall savage in the admiral’s hat grabbed up the rope that bound the captives and yanked it with both hands.
He rasped something unintelligible.
“You and me, Admiral Nelson!” Seward growled as he regained his balance, twisting his bindings as he lunged forward, but other savages heaved him back. “Ropes be damned, I’m ready for you.”
The savage Nelson growled something and passed the rope off to another skull-faced heathen. He then pointed at the Texan, and Seward couldn’t miss the man’s twisted finger suddenly sliding down from his chest to gesture between his legs.
Nelson grumbled something to the priest and the pair of them walked away laughing.
“I don’t like the direction that conversation took,” Seward rasped.
“Captain, what will we do?” Jacob asked, still close by his ear. “We can’t fight our way out.”
“You might be surprised,” Seward answered. His blood was up, and he was ready to kill. As he cast his eyes left and right in search of ready foes, the growing daylight illuminated a certain uncomfortable truth.
At a distance, he’d seen that the “made-up” savages from behind the palisade shared a liking for a singular bead with each wearing strings of them, while others had woven them into garments.
The beads were unusual and it was a moment before Seward finally realized they were human finger bones!
CHAPTER 22 – Miss James’ Dilemma
Gazda carried Virginia down out of the trees cooing softly, cradling her the way a
