Misery

May Round-Up Challenge

smp4ever

 

 I’m all set, Pa. Pete and Bobby are gonna meet me at Sugarloaf Mountain Trail Junction. We’re heading to Six Mile Canyon and camping by the creek.”

“Okay, son, be back no later than two o’clock the day after tomorrow. That gives you one full day of hunting. Remember, stay clear of Pyramid Lake. Understood?”

“Pa, you’ve already told me one hundred times.”

“Joseph, I’ll tell you two hundred times if necessary. Just because you turned eighteen doesn’t mean you have free rein to do as you please. Tensions are mounting with the northern Paiutes. Use your brains, son.”

“You have my word, Pa. We’ll stay far enough away from their encampments.”

“I can’t wait to surprise Hop Sing with pronghorn antelope, elk, sage grouse, mule deer, and bighorn sheep.”

“That’s a lofty goal, son. How about picking just one or two animals? Besides, I don’t think Cochise could carry all that game and you back home!”

Joe smirked, “Funny, Pa. Gotta go so I’m not late meeting the fellas.”

“Oh, Joe, keep an eye on Bobby. You know Mr. Collins feels his son’s afraid of his own shadow.”

“Don’t worry, Pa. I’ll toughen him up.”

Ben smiled as Joe swung onto Cochise and waved goodbye.

************

The three friends met at the designated place and continued onto Six Mile Canyon Creek. After securing their horses about fifty yards out, the boys set up camp and fished. Away from the watchful eye of family, their freedom exploded! Laughter echoed throughout the canyon. Sitting around the campfire eating their catch, the friends talked, joked, and teased each other. The rotation of the earth decided for them that it was time to turn in.

“Night, fellas. Gotta be up with the sun so we have a solid day of hunting!”

Pete and Bobby echoed, “Night!”

Snapping twigs and pounding hooves bolted the boys upright out of a sound sleep. A renegade group of Indians swooped down on the camp. The groggy young men were bound tightly and slung belly-side down across horses. Joe struggled, but to no avail. In the chaos, Joe caught Bobby’s terrified eyes and Pete’s dazed look. With loud whooping and hollering, the raiders galloped off with their captives, leaving only the remains of the campsite and the glowing embers of the fire.

Every bounce of the horse jarred Joe’s insides. Trying to steady his breathing was nearly impossible. Joe braced himself.

Oh Pa,What misery are we about to face?

The pace slowed down. Joe was aware they had headed closer to Paiute country. The band of Indians vaulted down from their horses.

With a heavy thud, Joe, Bobby, and Pete were slammed to the ground. “Oof, ugh!” – The involuntary groans were knocked clean out of them.

Indians spoke words that none of the boys understood, but the tone was unmistakable. Grabbed and hauled to their feet by savage hands, the tormentors tore the clothing off the youths’ bodies. Laughter erupted among the Indians. Joe’s eyes flashed with defiance.

The glow from the rising sun shone on the blades of the knives being sharpened in front of wide-eyed captives. The captors danced around the youths. Bobby gagged and began throwing up. More laughter echoed. Pete’s expression never changed. He remained frozen in his spot.

Joe’s eyes tracked the braves’ every move. As they formed parallel lines, brandishing their sharpened knives and willow switches, he knew the gauntlet was set. One of the group’s members motioned for Joe to begin. He understood. Setting his jaw, Joe sucked in air and charged forward. Grimacing with pain, he refused to utter a sound. Ben’s youngest knew better. With a magnified whooshing sound, the willow switches tore into Joe’s flesh. Shallow but painful knife-blade slashes intensified bleeding. Battered but unbroken, Joe survived the gauntlet. An Indian motioned his captive to the side and nodded his head in approval. Joe was handed a leather loincloth as a reward.

Pete was next but stood frozen as if stuck in quicksand.

The Indians let out low growls. Impatience grew.

“Pete! Run! Hurry!” Joe screamed.

Shaken from his stupor, Pete let out a primal cry and charged through the vicious corridor of pain. Although bloodied and bruised, he made it to the other side. Pete had a loincloth thrust at him as a token of bravery.

Only one friend was left.

“Come on, Bobby, you can do it!” the friends shouted. “Run as fast as you can!”

Bobby stood shaking and crying. The Indians surrounded the youth, beating him. Joe ran to protect Bobby. Before he could reach his friend, a blow came from behind. Joe’s world went dark.

**************

Jim Matthews and Sam Collins barged through the front door of the Ponderosa.

“Ben, word from town is that splintered groups of Paiutes are wreaking havoc near where the boys are hunting.”

“Soldiers from Fort Churchill are heading out.” Sam added.

“Hoss, Adam, saddle up!”

**************

Joe awoke. Pete was cradling Bobby in his arms.

Groggy from the blow on his head, Joe crawled over to his friends. Bobby seemed close to death. Tears stung their eyes as Bobby’s pitiful moans tore at Joe and Pete’s hearts. 

Still fuy, Joe looked around, finally realizing they were alone.

“Where are those bastards?”

“I don’t know. An Indian thundered into the camp and yelled something. The renegades charged out like the devil was on their tails.”

“We gotta get Bobby to a doctor,” Joe said.

Vibrating hooves shook the ground. Hearts stopped, fearing the Indians were returning.

“It’s the military, Pete!”

Familiar faces pushed past the soldiers. Each father ran and cradled his son. Sobs came from Mr. Collins as Bobby took his final breath.

“Mr. Collins, Joe whispered, “Bobby was beaten trying to save us.”

Pete nodded in agreement.

“He was a real hero, sir.”

“My boy! Collins choked. “My boy died a hero!”

Carrying his son over to the army wagon, Ben looked into Joe’s glistening eyes, “Thanks for the gift you gave Bobby’s father. You’re my hero, son.”

The end

Author’s note:

May 7, 1860, the Pyramid Lake War began.