“You would kill that many of your own kind for money?” Blood Eagle hisses in disgust.
“Have you not done the same thing? You and I belong to the same part of Hell.”
Ben listens with growing horror. This is not what he signed up for!
“Even our own Senators understood that we are at war with all of the tribes. This next massacre will prove that sometimes hard choices must be made. We can be part of bringing security to the mass of people moving into the West and get rich doing it.” Barclay whirls around disgusted. “String him up on the tree by the mess hall. I want everyone to see what happens to traitors.”
Blood Eagle is seized and dragged through the dirt into the center of the fort. He blacks out on the way and wakes up hanging from his wrists from a large tree. “I’m slightly disappointed in you, Blood Eagle. I’d hoped for an amazing display of your talents. Legends have been told about how you slaughtered twenty-three Indians all with a knife.”
“Twenty-six, and it was a tomahawk, not a knife,” Blood Eagle spits blood and dirt from his mouth as the General stomps forward.
“Today the legend of Blood Eagle comes to a sad end. It is a gift to go out in a blaze of glory like this. You will be remembered for the massacre of an entire town of peaceful civilians. Don’t worry, you will have a front row seat, as I slaughter them all.” General Barclay shouts orders for two guards to be placed on guard duty at all time.
“Don’t take your eyes off him,” he snaps and walks back to his cabin.
Blood Eagle dangles and ignores the taunts and laughter of the men who watch over him. It is true that he could fight back, but at that moment, he isn’t sure that he deserves to live. He sees his own crimes reflected in the madness of the General. Who is he to judge? Shame has his head dropping to his chest, and his hair shields his face from the soldiers guarding him.
Ben walks up to the soldiers sitting around a large campfire and offers to relieve one of them. “I always wanted to see a savage up close,” he says and walks over to look at Blood Eagle.
“Ain’t much to see,” the second soldier replies. “Not much of a Blood Eagle, he looks more like a sitting duck to me.”
The group laughs at his joke while Ben glances around to see if anyone is looking and reaches out and pushes Blood Eagle causing his to swing.
“Is he dead?”
“Not yet. The General wants him alive.”
Ben pulls out his sheath knife and grins at his companion. “But he didn’t say nothing about missing parts,” he suggests.
“Nope, he sure didn’t,” he draws his own knife stepping towards the hanging Indian. Ben strikes him from behind. He brings the handle of his pistol down on the back of the soldier’s head and backs up as he crumbles to the ground.
Eight men step from the darkness to aid Ben. “Are you sure about this, Ben?” One man asks. Two others grab the downed soldier to gag and tie him up.
“I didn’t agree to murder over three hundred people,” Ben hisses. “Women and children, for God’s sake! I’m here for the oil and money.” Ben glances around with fear and cuts Blood Eagle free. He falls to the ground and groans in agony. “Get up,” Ben insists, “you’ve got to go now!”
A shrill howl pierced through the dark night and Blood Eagle lifts his head. Blood war paint stripes over one side of his swollen face. He grins a feral smile with blood stained teeth, and Ben lifts him to his feet with an arm around his waist.
Strength returns flooding his body with a tinge of excitement. The second howl is louder and echoes with the call of the wild. “Thank you, Ben. Take your friends. You don’t want to be here for this. Take my horse and wait for me at the ridge.”
Ben doesn’t have to be told twice. They run to the barn and mount up, quickly leaving.
Blood Eagle draws in a breath, and the third howl floods his body with strength and energy. Rage rips through his soul as he looks around. He marches over to the trussed-up soldiers and searches for his weapons. On the ground near them, he finds his tomahawk. Lifting it, he tests the weight and grabs a gun.
Once he’d have enjoyed what is to come, but no more. They will be given a chance to join their friends or stay and die. Picking up the pistol he shoots It into the air a few times and tosses it on the ground.
Men run towards the sound and find one of the soldiers hanging in the place where the Indian once dangled. “Sound the alarm! He’s escaped!” Barclay shouts!
Soon the sound of the horn fills the night air. They cut down the soldier and leave him on the ground. Barclay frowns in annoyance counting the soldiers that are around him. Only ten! “Where the hell is everyone?”
“Sir! Look!” The kerosene lanterns that illuminate the cabins start snuffing out, one, by one. “Spread out! He’s injured and alone, don’t let him escape!” Drawing his own pistol, he scans the area and his eyes land on the train.
Blood Eagle is not someone to trifle with. It’s time to make a hasty retreat, he thinks. Movement between the cabins, catches his eyes and Barclay, shouts, “There! Get him! Twenty gold coins to whoever takes him down!”
Laughter erupts, and they whoop as they take up the chase. “Stay here and keep the fire going,” he points to the wounded soldier, sitting on the ground. “I’m going to
