Memories of Glastonbury 2009
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It looked like the Apaches had left three of their number to ambush me while the rest continued to whatever place they were headed. I couldn't imagine where they were headed, but I figured to follow them cautiously until I puzzled it all out.
My horse was walking through a field of sand with rocks scattered about. I was busy watching for Indians and letting him watch where he was going. Suddenly, my horse jerked back and nearly dumped me from the saddle. That's when I first heard the snake's tail rattle. The fool horse had stepped into a large shadow cast by an even larger rock, and, in the process, had startled a sidewinder. I don't think that the snake really was after striking the horse, because I never heard of a snake missing a horse if it meant what it was doing. It was my guess that the halfhearted strike was just to remind the horse to be careful where he put his hoof. Well, I thought that the horse would, indeed, be more careful in the future.
Talk about good luck! That was also when the shot rang out and I felt a tug on my shirt around my ribs. The bullet had creased my left side, but it had not done me any real damage. However, it did serve to wake me up to the danger that I was in. The first thing I did was to pull my horse into a sharp turn to the right and to urge him to run as fast as he was capable. I had seen a rock formation to my right, and I was headed there as fast as my horse could run through the loose sand.
The Indian who had fired at me was using black powder, so I knew where he was by the puff of smoke that I could see. He was also hiding among some rocks, but I did not have any idea how long he would stay there. I reached the rocks that I was headed for before my enemy was able to fire another shot. I pulled my horse to a stop and jumped out of the saddle. I grabbed my rifle, water, and pemmican bag and headed for a cleft that I could see in the largest of the rocks.
Mindful of the snake incident only minutes ago, I was very careful where I put my feet, but I moved as fast as I could into the cleft, which was about four feet wide at its opening. However, it narrowed quickly, and I was soon barely able to squeeze my way between the two walls. About this time, I found a way to climb up one of the cleft walls, and was able to get to the top of the collection of rocks.
I found a place to shelter and was just getting into position when I saw some movement over near the other rock pile. That had to be the Indian who had shot at me or one of his friends. I moved as quickly into place as I could and brought my rifle to bear on the site of the movement. Apparently, he saw me at the same time, and he was not as picky as me about where to shoot. He fired off a quick shot, and I had to admit that he was either very damned good or very damned lucky! He missed me with his bullet, but rock splinters buried themselves in my forehead and left cheek. Again, my luck saved me because my eye was not damaged. The wound was painful, but not so much so that I could not shoot back.
He was hiding in a small depression formed by the close proximity of two or three rocks, and I couldn't see him clearly. Therefore, I fired off three shots as fast as I could lever in a new round. My plan was to pepper him with rock fragments the same way as he had treated me. I hoped that the fact that he was wearing only a loin cloth would give the rock splinters more surface area to cause trouble. I must have accomplished some good, because I did hear a stifled cry of pain. Maybe I was very lucky, and one of my bullets had scored a hit on him. I wasn't going to bet on it, but my luck was sure running in the right direction!
After that acknowledgment of some sort of hit, I didn't hear or see anything from his direction for over half an hour. Hell, maybe he was hurt more than I had realized, and I had put him out of action. Certainly, I was going to have to see what had happened to him very damned soon, because his fellows were getting farther away from me with every second that passed.
Dammit, I couldn't wait any longer. I had sat there for nearly an hour waiting for something to happen, and nothing did. I simply had no more time to waste. I worked my way down from my vantage point and walked around the rocks where I had been sheltering. Fortunately, I was able to find enough undulations in the ground and other terrain features that I was able to get the 120 yards to the other rock pile without exposing myself to too much chance of being shot.
I found the place where the Apache had been hiding, but I could not see him. I climbed up to the place where I had shot at him, and I found a lot of spattered blood, but there was no sign of the man, himself. Uh-oh, I had better be damned careful!
I slithered back to the ground, and that's when I spotted the trail of blood that led off to the left. I guessed that he was heading for his horse, so I put on a little speed to try to get there before he rode away. I was being as quiet as I could as I followed the wounded man, so I heard some heavy breathing, as if from pain, before I came upon him.
I found the man at last, and he was suffering from a shattered leg. Apparently, one of my bullets had ricocheted and hit him in the right leg just below his knee. I could see the end of the bone sticking out of the wound, so I knew that he was bound to die of the wound. No Indian had the skill or the technology to treat such a wound! Something had happened to cause him to lose his rifle, so he was armed only with his knife.
I approached him and kicked sand in his face. He had drawn his knife and would have attacked me with it if I had not beaten him to the punch. I took the knife away from him while he was blinded by the sand. His broken leg made an excellent distraction when I kicked it, and he dropped the knife in the process of trying to escape my attack on that wound.
Now that I had him completely within my power, I addressed him in Spanish. "Where are your friends?"
"Go fuck yourself, White Man!"
"Ah, I see that I will have to reason with you. Don't go away. I promise to be right back."
I went to his horse and removed the blanket that he had been using as a riding pad. That I cut into strips to use as bindings. The first thing I did was to tie his legs in such a way that I could drag him to a more convenient place to work. Shortly thereafter, I had him staked out with his arms tied above his head and his legs spread so that I could easily access his crotch.
I cut away his loin cloth so that he was fully naked. Indians were not likely to give up their secrets easily, but I had learned from some Crow scouts that I had worked with, so I knew the short way to the cache of secrets. I told my captive, "I had some Crow friends who taught me well how to extract the truth from even the most stubborn man. I have been away from the game for a few years, but I think that I remember enough to get you to tell me what I want to know."
He spat at me, but he missed, so I didn't even react to his action. Instead, I jammed a piece of wood under his ass to force it up from the sand. Then I jammed a piece of thin wood unto his asshole. I draped his balls and cock artistically over the stick and set the projecting end on fire. This method of extracting information was not as fast as some others, but it was absolutely infallible. Of course the stick was dry and burned rapidly, so I had my first results within 10 minutes.
My captive knew that he was going to die, that was a given. What he was afraid of was losing his ability to engage in sex in the after-life. I asked several questions while the stick burned enough to reach his cock. He refused to say anything to me, but he did start to chant his death-song. I had not yet treated the wound in my side, so I cleaned that up and washed it out with whiskey. I finished my "doctoring" by covering the wound with a clean rag tied around my body. When I finished that, I just sat there, munching on pemmican and sipping water while I waited for the flame to reach his cock.
Grace
- 10.06.2021
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