Gold Raven (36 page)

Her eyes darted back and forth, as she stepped around various size rocks and boulders descending to the birds…too afraid to take her eyes from them. Standing almost on level ground she peered upward, working her way around a huge boulder.

She cried out in fear as she felt a sharp peck to her leg; she looked down to see one standing
, flapping its wide spread wings in an effort to scare her off.

Hope let out a screech and turned to run when she tumbled into the center of more birds. They squawked and pecked at her, angry at her intrusion. She began fending them off, screaming and thrashing, kicking out and knocking them away from her. She felt their sharp beaks pinch and tear at her skin. She turned over sitting up, reaching for her dagger as she sliced and stabbed at them, gasping, panting and crying out. They finally took off, clearing a full view of what they had been feeding on.

What her eyes fell upon sent her into a screaming frenzy of hysteria, shaking, her voice shrill and high, a reverberation of terror she was unable to bring under control wracked her body. Right at her feet, was the body Juan, she had fallen over him. His face turned to her; his eyes plucked clean from their sockets; his mouth torn with the lips pulled away showing raw flesh on his jaw and grotesque grinning exposed teeth.

The blood had dried where it had run between his teeth, settling on his gums. His tongue had also been pulled and tugged, shredded along with the flesh of his cheeks. His throat ripped into bloody ribbon strips. His body was twisted from the birds turning him to get to his stomach, which was torn open; his entrails pulled free with other parts of his inner organs, giving a partial view of his rib cage still coated with partial muscle tissue that they had been tearing at.

Hope snatched her feet from him as she screamed, kicking away to put as much distance as possible between them. Her stomach rebelled, a hard, dull knot, forced bile quickly up and out, flooding her mouth.

She flipped over to keep it from spraying out on her clothes, her knees drawn beneath her as she heaved and retched. Violently she gagged, coughing and choking, forcing her back to arch, scratching her throat as tears ran from her eyes; unable to stop the spasms of vomiting.

Sgt. Hercog had given the order to finally, pull out. It had taken longer than a couple of hours to get the women and children organized with the necessities for travel. He was met with hatred and glares that he knew were the outward signs of the people wishing him dead. He felt nothing but sympathy for them; convinced that their commander had been, misled. He believed there was a chance that all might have been innocent. Nevertheless, the deed was done. The women and children could not be left alone without men to provide or protect them. Unfortunately, they somehow realized his empathy for them but instead of being grateful, they made his job that much more difficult.

Five hours later, he'd had enough, the buzzards were growing aggressive, he was feeling ill at ease with all the bodies scattered about. Circumstances being what they were, he had come to a decision where he and his men would put all the bodies in one pile away from where they were working.

They had to endure more grieving from the women and children, until it had all become too much. Going on the sixth hour, his frustration level at its highest, he threatened to take the children away and leave the women to the buzzards. Seeing that he was at his wits end and unpredictable after what the commander had done, they started cooperating.

The women rushed now to leave what was a place of death. As they came to exit the gate, with Sgt. Hercog in the lead, a terrifying scream lit the air, echoing throughout the valley floor. Quickly Hercog gave the order to halt as he charged his horse towards the screaming. Stunned, he pulled on the reigns to see a young woman in men’s clothing, on her hands and knees dry heaving and straining from the force of it. Her hat had fallen off to hang from the tie that held it on her neck.

Tumbled from its pins was a thick honey blonde braid dangling to the ground. He also noticed one important thing in particular, she was heavily armed and that made him approach with caution.

Hope heard the horse as it made its way towards her; for the time being, she could do nothing to stop the painful heaves that made her shudder. After spitting to clear the bitterness from her mouth, she felt her breathing calm. As her body slowly returned to normal, she found herself facing another problem, a militiaman not thirteen feet from her. Slowly she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, her eyes scanning up the horse's legs to the stirrups, boots, underbelly of the horse, the entire beast and the man in the saddle with a pistol pointed directly at her.

Drawing in a deep breath, Hope knew she was caught; sitting slowly back on her heals they made eye contact. For just a moment, Sgt. Hercog allowed himself a time for a pleasurable stare. Despite her red face, teary pink eyes and hair in disarray, he swore mentally that he had never seen a more fetching sight. The blend of her coloring took his breath away, large gold eyes, skin kissed by the sun and hair thick with waves and curls of honey gold silk. Her features were exotic – not, European, while her eyes displayed belligerence shooting daggers at him. Taking a deep breath to recover his senses, he ordered her to stand.

"Okay lil'rebel, get to your feet. Your hands before you where I can see them; mind you, be careful about it; to this day I've never harmed a woman, it is not my wish to start with you."

Hope slowly did as she was told, blowing a thin veil of her hair from over her eyes. "That's a good lil'rebel. Now, nice and slow with one hand, start pulling those weapons from your person…careful with that dagger…the fact you carry it is enough for me to believe you well know how to use it."

Hope glared at him hatefully, hesitating to do as he said. "Why is he dead!?" She asked heatedly. "For the sake of calmness…do as I say, don't ask questions. Be a good lil'rebel and lie down on the ground for me."

"Stop callin' me that! I have a name!"

"Very well, your name?"

"None of your – damn - business! I want to know what is going on here? Why is he dead and who are you that I should heed anything you say?"

"Contrary to what you believe, I did not kill him. You will heed my commands because doing otherwise will get you killed. You are under arrest, as well everyone else who had anything to do with the bandit hideout below. Step slowly past those weapons and lie down on the ground. I've been held up long enough; you'd be wise to mind me without delay."

Hope's heart lurched in panic. "What has happened to my brother? His men? The women and children?"

"The same that is happening to you; arrested."

"The same as he was arrested?" She asked tossing her head to indicate Juan’s dead body.

"I had nothing to do with that. As for your brother, would he be the outlaw Miguel?"

"My brother is no outlaw! You are mistaken and all of those like you!" She was not stupid, she was not about to verify or confirm anything to do with their claim against him…she would deny it with her dying breath.

Another feeling of insecurity passed through Hercog, regardless of what facts might be, all deeds were done; he had his orders.

"Very well, I'm waiting…down – now." He ordered, keeping his pistol trained on her as the other hand reached behind to retrieve a leather strap from his saddlebag. Swinging a leg over, he hopped down from his horse.

"I am only a woman, surely you do not fear me?"

"What I do is not out of fear; but precaution…I don't wish to hurt you."

"I invite you to hurt me…you want me, you come get me!"

"I have no time for games, lil'rebel…besides; your hungry feathered friends are clamoring to get back to their meal."

Hope shuddered, knowing it to be true. She could hear them behind her, squawking and flapping their wings.

She also knew that what she heard was the sound of one or more growing bold as they returned to peck at the flesh.

"Shoot at them! Don't let them do that to him!" She cried out.

"I haven’t the time; he is dead, nothing I do now will save him. Once we depart, they will return."

"Bury him!"

"I haven't - the time, nor the stomach. You're quickly running out of time, as I run out of patience…I wish to be gone from this place!"

"I don't care!"

Hercog sighed. He was not in the mood to do battle with this hellion. He did not like the idea of having to hurt her. Using his brain, he decided to use what he already knew with a lie thrown in.

"What kind of sister gives more concern for a dead man, than her living – but wounded brother?"

"No! What have you done to my brother!?"

"Instead of wasting time here…we would be on our way behind him. But your concern is for the dead man."

Hope dropped to the ground sobbing, placing her hands behind her. "Tie me – hurry! Is my brother okay? Please tell me? What have they done to him!?" Her heart pounded in fear as all kinds of horrors flashed before her, reinforced by finding Juan as he was; visions of her brother and what he might be suffering ran through her mind. Hercog kneeled tying her wrists, then stood pulling her up with him, explaining.

"He refused to cooperate; a battle ensued; we invaded the camp; he was injured!"

"How bad are his injuries? Is he going to be okay?"

"That remains to be seen. Because of you holding things up, we will not know until we reach the fort. Cease your stalling and you’ll see him again."

"Okay – hurry – please hurry!" She begged, uppermost in her mind now was to get to her brother, nothing else meant more to her at that moment than seeing him again and knowing that he would be all right. Unable to help it, she started crying, afraid that she had indeed lost him. Hercog felt a slight prick of conscience for his lie, making her believe that where they were going, was where she would find her brother. The positive results could not be denied; getting her to cooperate without either of them getting hurt was the main thing. He lifted her onto his horse. "I will fall with my hands tied behind me. Please…I won't cause you any trouble, just get me to my brother."

He knew what she said was true. "You do one thing wrong and I'll leave you wherever you cause the problem… understand?" Her compliance came immediately.

Two days l
ater…

A fetid stench hung heavily in the air. Bodies lay swollen, many torn apart and infested with flies and maggots. It was that which met an angry Santiago upon his return after one of the captain’s men had informed him that the girl was nowhere to be found. It was obvious that Mike had seen to her safety as well the rest of his family. Santiago had wanted to plead with the captain to question Mike himself, but the militiaman who contacted him had warned him that should he return to the fort…he should consider himself a prisoner. Much to his displeasure, following the overtaking of the hideout, he found himself, in the middle of a dead camp strewn with mutilated bodies.

He ordered those with him to build a fire and begin burning what was left of the bodies, they followed his orders more to relieve themselves of the dead presence than for any other reason. What surrounded him sent Santiago into a rage.

He had had plans, a dream.

That dream - his plan - needed three important elements; land or property – which was the camp; gold to fund him – which he believed to be in hand; last, an outstandingly glorious woman by his side – Golden Hope Webster. He had been willing to do all that would be necessary to make his dream a reality. He saw himself dressing up in a fancy uniform, even considered bathing and shaving at the very least, twice a month. People would follow him, a great conquistador of a village, with his huge mansion in its center; filled with servants. To astound them all, a woman that all men would envy him possessing, one sure to drive them all with a desire to claim her as his own.

"Aaaaah!" He raved like a madman; bursting into Mike's hut, throwing things over in his tantrum; feeling as though he'd been cheated once again; left with the raw end of such an ingenious plan. He went through Mike's things, casting them about looking for something to appease his anger. Something that would help him to find the missing piece of his dream; he flipped over cots and ripped through a chest; braking pottery and vases. Finally he turned to look around him; breathing deeply, sweating from his outburst. Lying partially unrolled was a large parchment. With eyebrows drawn, he picked it up.

It was his map. The one Mike used when laying out a plan of action. Santiago held it high looking it over. He walked out into the courtyard and laid it flat upon the table as the Indians continued to stack bodies and remains for the fire. He stared at the map for some time. Following each line that started where he was, the camp, then branching out to various locations.

After a while he called one of his men; an Indian who was the half-breed son of a white trapper; a trapper who could read and had taught him as well.

"What does that say?" Santiago asked pointing to a spot on the map at the end of one line, leading to Mississippi. "It says, 'father'." Santiago nodded, and then traced another, that was closer to them in Louisiana. "And here…what does that say?"

"It says, 'home'."

Santiago looked up at him and began laughing! Rolling up the map as his laughter continued tucking it into the saddle strap – he would need it to find his way there.

Finally swinging up into the saddle, he announced to them. "I shall return, have this place fit for my queen. Gather what is needed and bring it here." He went into his saddlebag and removed a bag of gold. "Here – for your troubles…for your pleasure…I will return!"

* * *

"Captain Pryce, sir." A private addressed and saluted after walking into Pryce's office, standing at attention before his desk, awaiting a return salute and permission to proceed; which was tiredly given.

"Yes Private?"

"Um sir…I've come to report a team of wagons spotted at a mile or so away. I have reason to believe it is the delivery of the bars we've been awaiting."

Pryce sighed; slowly he pushed himself back from his desk; rising to leave for the fort dining area and his noon meal. The one problem he could fix now was his hunger.

"Ride out and meet them private. Show them in and get them organized. By then I should be finished with my noon meal, you can send them to my office."

"Yes sir Captain, right away sir."

Pryce strode from his office, his eyes falling to the stock shed. He certainly hoped it was the bars; finally, he would have the proper facilities for the incarceration of his prisoners. Three days had passed since their return and still nothing from Miguel; just fever, shakes and delirium. A threat to their sawbones had done little good; he was at his wits end as to keeping the man alive; saying, if he did not turn around soon then he might have to remove his leg to stop the infection spreading.