The Last Mission Of The Seventh Cavalry

Chapter Nine

When they caught up with Lojab, he stood at the edge of a group of thirty foot-soldiers standing in a ring, watching two men fight. They laughed and shouted, egging on the fighters.

“The smoke around here is thick enough to get an elephant high,” Joaquin said.

The men were passing small bowls around. Each man would inhale deeply over a bowl, then pass it on. The clay bowls were filled with smoldering hemp leaves.

“Mind if I try that?” Lojab said to one of the foot-soldiers.

The soldier looked him over, mumbled something, then shoved him backwards, into Sparks.

Karina flipped on her comm switch. “Hey, Sarge. You online?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“We might have a little confrontation here.”

“Where are you?”

“In the woods, below the market.”

“What the hell you doing down there?”

Lojab unslung his rifle, but before he could bring it around, two of the foot-soldiers grabbed him, while another man took away his rifle.

“We can discuss that later,” Karina said. “We’re going to need some help.”

“All right. How many should I bring with me?”

Karina looked around at the foot-soldiers; the men looked like they were ready to enjoy a good fight. “How about everybody?”

“We’ll be there in ten.”

The two foot-soldiers dragged Lojab into the ring and held him as a big, hairy man stepped from the crowd and punched him in the stomach.

“Hey, you ugly son-of-a-bitch,” Sharakova said, “knock it off.”

She stepped into the ring, cradling her rifle. The man looked the young woman over for a moment, then laughed at her.

She went toward him. “You think I look funny, Fuzzy Face?”

“Oh, God,” Sparks said, “here we go.”

Fuzzy Face pulled a three-foot-long sword from his belt and grinned at Sharakova as he flourished it around.

“Yeah, I see your little knife. Did you see my rifle?” She spun it around and placed the butt on the ground beside her right boot. “Your move, Gomer.”

Lojab tried to get away, but the two men held him tight, twisting his arms around behind his back.

Fuzzy Face swung his sword at Sharakova’s neck. She dropped to one knee and brought up her rifle to block the blow. As the sword clanged on the receiver of the rifle, she jumped up, holding the rifle in front of her.

The man then drew back the sword for a thrust at her heart. Sharakova knocked away the sword and stepped in to hit him in the chest with the butt of the rifle. As the man staggered backward, Sparks grabbed his bayonet and fixed it on the barrel of his rifle. Karina and Joaquin did the same. Some of the men watched them and drew their swords.

Fuzzy Face circled Sharakova, waving his sword. She kept her eyes on him. Suddenly, one of the foot-soldiers in the crowd knelt behind her and yanked her feet from under her, sending her face-down in the dirt.

Sparks ran forward and put his bayonet to the man’s forearm. “Back off!”

The man let go of Sharakova and crawled backward. She rolled and sprang to her feet. She then glanced at her rifle, lying in the dirt, ten feet away. Fuzzy Face looked at her rifle, too, and he grinned and started for her.

“Here!” Karina tossed her rifle to Sharakova, who caught the rifle and waved the sharp point of the bayonet at the man.

“You want a taste of this?” she snapped.

Karina knelt to pick up Sharakova’s rifle, keeping her eyes on Fuzzy Face. Joaquin came into the ring to stand beside Karina, his rifle ready. Sparks stepped over beside Lojab. Now all five soldiers of the Seventh were inside the circle of thirty foot-soldiers.

Fuzzy Face looked at Sharakova for a moment, said something, and threw his sword to the dirt. He pounded his chest, yelling like a gorilla.

“Oh, you want to fight man-to-man, huh? Okay.” Sharakova tossed her rifle on the ground and stepped away from it. “Come on, then, let’s do it.”

He ran at her, grabbing her around the neck with both hands. She pushed up her arms between his arms and brought her elbows down to break his hold, then, in a smooth continuation of her motion, she took hold of his wrist, placed her foot behind his, and pushed him off balance.

He hit the ground hard but jumped up, swinging his fist at her head. She stepped into his swing, grabbed his arm, and threw him to the ground again.

He got up, roaring with anger, and came at her. She spun around, bringing up her right foot, landing her boot in his ribs. But the blow had no effect on him. He then grabbed her foot, twisted it, and threw her to the dirt.

The men yelled and cheered, urging on the fighters.

Sharakova sprang to her feet and went after him, hitting him in the face with a quick one-two punch, bloodying his nose. He wiped his hand across his nose and looked at the blood on his fingers, then lunged at her. Sharakova swung her fist at his stomach, but he sidestepped, grabbed her arm, and spun her around. He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Her arms were pinned against her sides as he began to squeeze the life out of her. She squirmed around and pulled her right arm free, then grabbed her pistol, cocked it, and pressed it behind her back and into his side.

A loud gunshot startled everyone.

Alexander held his smoking handgun in the air. He brought down the pistol and pointed it at Fuzzy Face.

“Let her go.”

All the foot-soldiers knew what the gun could do—they’d seen it used on the buffalo dogs. Fuzzy Face let go of Kady, then stared at Alexander.

“Apache,” Alexander said.

“Yeah, I’m right behind you.”

“See if you can communicate with this ape and calm things down.”

Autumn came forward and swung her rifle over her shoulder. She stared at Fuzzy Face for a moment, then began to speak. “I am Autumn Eaglemoon. My people are the Seventh Cavalry. We came here from the sky.” She used sign language, hoping he would understand a little of what she was saying. “We wish you no harm, but if you don’t stop fighting, we will shoot every last one of you bastards.” She cocked her thumb and index finger like a pistol, then pointed to each man around the circle. “Bang, bang, bang, bang.”

“Uh, Eaglemoon,” Alexander said, “I was thinking more along the lines of a little diplomacy.”

“Do you know how to sign ‘diplomacy,’ Sarge?”

“No, but—”

Fuzzy Face cocked his hand and pointed at Autumn. “Bang, bang?”

“That’s right,” Autumn said. “Bang, bang.”

He burst out laughing and came toward Autumn. She stepped back, but he thrust out his hand in a friendly gesture. She hesitated, then reached toward him.

He gripped her hard and said a string of words, ending with, “Hagar.”

“Hagar?”

Fuzzy Face nodded. He wiped blood from his nose, then tapped his chest with his fist. “Hagar.”

“All right, Hagar.” She pulled her hand from his. “Apache.” She patted her chest.

“Apache,” he said, then signaled to one of his men.

The man came forward, and Hagar took a smoking bowl from his hand. He offered the bowl to Autumn. She looked at the bowl and shook her head.

“I would rather have something to drink.” She made a drinking motion.

Hagar yelled a command. Soon, a woman came forward with a clay jug and two drinking bowls. She handed a bowl to each of them, then poured a dark liquid from the jug.

Autumn sipped from the bowl, then smacked her lips and smiled.

“Wine.” She held out the bowl to Hagar.

He clinked his bowl against hers, then gulped down his wine. She took another sip, then drank the whole thing. They held out their empty bowls to the woman, and she refilled them.

Autumn pointed at Lojab, who was still being held by the two foot-soldiers. “How about if they let go of him?”

Hagar looked where she pointed, then made an impatient gesture toward the two men. They released Lojab. He stumbled forward, regained his balance, then dusted himself off.

Autumn toasted Hagar. “Diplomacy!”

“Apache!”

They both emptied their bowls.

“Take it easy,” Alexander said, “you know you can’t handle your firewater.”

Lojab picked up his rifle and went toward Sharakova. “Can’t you ever mind your own business? I had the situation under control until you went berserk.”

“Yeah, you had it under control all right. I saw how you were attacking that guy’s fist with your stomach.”

“If Sarge hadn’t showed up to save your butt,” Lojab said, “you would’ve been dead meat.”

“Uh-huh. Well, next time you want to get high, go climb a tree,” she said as she traded rifles with Karina.

* * * * *

The next day, late in the afternoon, Liada and Tin Tin came to the platoon. But they were without their usual smiles and cheerful comments.

“We find you Rocrainium,” Liada said.

Chapter Ten

It was almost dark when they walked into the small clearing, two miles away from their camp on the river.

“My God,” Sharakova said, “what happened to him?”

“He was tortured,” Alexander said. “A slow, painful death.”

Six members of the platoon, along with Tin Tin Ban Sunia and Liada, stood looking down at the body. The rest of the platoon had stayed in camp, with Kawalski.

A dozen foot-soldiers waited nearby, watching the surrounding woods.

Autumn took a yellow and blue scarf from an inside pocket to cover the captain’s genitals, at least what was left of them.

“Goddamned animals,” she whispered as she spread the scarf over him.

“Did they do this because we killed so many of them on the trail?” Sharakova asked.

“No,” Alexander said. “He’s been dead for several days. I think they killed him as soon as he landed.”

“They must have seen him coming down and captured him when he hit the ground,” Autumn said. “But why did they have to torture him like this?” His body was covered with numerous small wounds and bruises.

“I don’t know,” Alexander said, “but we have to get him buried. There’s not enough of us to fight off a major attack.” He glanced around at the darkening woods. “Not out here.”

“We can’t bury him naked,” Sharakova said.

“Why not?” Lojab asked. “He came into the world that way.”

“I’ve got a Mylar blanket in my backpack,” Joaquin said, turning his back to Sharakova. “It’s in the side pocket.”

When she removed the tightly folded blanket, a long object fell from his pack. “Oh, sorry, Joaquin.” She knelt to pick it up.

Tin Tin Ban Sunia noticed the shiny instrument, and her eyes widened. She nudged Liada with her elbow. Liada saw it, too, and it was apparent both of them wanted to ask about it but decided this wasn’t the right time.

Sharakova handed the instrument to Joaquin, and he brushed dirt from the polished metal, then smiled at her. “It’s fine.”

She spread the silver blanket out on the ground, while the others started loosening the dirt with their sharp knives. They began digging the grave by hand. Tin Tin and Liada helped, and soon the hole was three feet deep and seven feet long.

“That will do,” Alexander said.

They placed the captain’s body on the blanket and folded it over him. After they gently placed him in the grave, Autumn stood at the foot of grave and removed her helmet.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

The others removed their helmets and bowed their heads. Liada and Tin Tin stood with them, looking down at the body.

Autumn finished the Lord’s Prayer, then said, “We now commend our friend and commander to Your hands, Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” the others said.

“Sarge,” Joaquin whispered as he held up the shiny flute that had fallen from his backpack.

Alexander nodded, then Joaquin placed the flute to his lips and began to play Ravel’s Bolero. As the somber notes of the music drifted over the twilight clearing, the other soldiers knelt to begin filling the grave with handfuls of dirt.

Liada, too, knelt, helping to cover the dead captain.

Only Tin Tin Ban Sunia and Joaquin remained standing. As Tin Tin stared in open-mouthed wonder at Joaquin playing the music, her right hand moved as if by its own accord, like a creature coiling and blindly feeling for something in the leather purse at her hip. She lifted the old wooden flute she’d made at Carthage, eleven years before.

Joaquin noticed the movement and watched as she took the flute in her fingertips. His hands, though scarred and powerful, danced a delicate ballet over the silver keys. Tin Tin waited until he paused, then she put her flute to her lips and began to play.

The others seemed not to notice the notes of the music as they worked on filling the grave, but Joaquin certainly did—she was playing, note-for-note, Bolero exactly as he’d played it a few moments before. He began his music again, matching her place in the song but playing an octave lower than she.

Autumn looked at Tin Tin, then at Joaquin. She smiled as tears ran down her cheeks, then she smoothed the dirt over Captain Sanders’ grave.

It was after 9 p. m. when they returned to the encampment.

“We go to find Cateri,” Liada said as she and Tin Tin turned to leave the soldiers of the Seventh.

“Okay,” Karina said. “See you later.”

* * * * *

It was a somber evening that night by the campfire. Kawalski had come around while the others were taking care of Captain Sanders. He felt a lot of pain, but he shook his head when Autumn asked him if he wanted another shot of morphine.

“That stuff knocks me for a loop. I can live without it.”

Karina told Kawalski how the captain had been tortured to death.

“Damn it,” Kawalski said. “Now I’m glad we killed twenty of those nasty sons-of-bitches.”

“A couple hundred, you mean,” Karina said.

“I’m talking about me and Liada. Man, is she good with that bow. And when she ran out of arrows, she grabbed my rifle from the ground and used it for a club.”

“Yes,” Karina said, “after the battle, I helped retrieve her arrows. She was deadly.”

Fusilier took some MREs from the weapons container. “Who wants menu 7?”

Lojab raised his hand, and she tossed it to him.

Everyone sat on logs around the fire.

“Menu 12?”

“I’ll take it,” Sharakova said.

“Menu 20?”

No one was very enthusiastic about a cold meal, but a few of them tried to eat.

“Hey, Sarge.”

“Yeah, Sparks.”

“Look who’s coming.”

Alexander saw a wagon coming toward them. “That looks like Cateri.” He got to his feet, dusting off his trousers.

“And she has someone with her,” Fusilier said.

“It’s Tin Tin and Liada.”

Autumn greeted them as they rolled to a stop. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Tin Tin said.

Liada jumped down from the wagon and went to Kawalski, who was struggling to get up.

“Need arm.” Liada took his arm and placed it around her shoulders.

“Yes, I do need help.” He held her tight as he took a few wobbly steps.

“Come see.” She guided him to the back of the wagon.

“Wow,” Kawalski said. “Hey, guys, come take a look at this.”

In the bed of the wagon was a large iron pot filled with steaming grain and chunks of meat. Beside it was a dozen round loaves of bread, along with several bowls carved from wood.

Cateri reached to pull the pot to the edge of the wagon bed, then slipped two long wooden handles through metal rings on the sides of the pot.

“Here,” Alexander said, “let me help you.”

She said something that sounded more like “whatever” than “thank you” as they lifted it together and carried it to the fire.

“This really smells good, Cateri,” Alexander said as they lowered the pot to the ground by the fire.

Cateri shrugged and brushed a strand of auburn hair from her face as she removed the wooden handles from the pot and took them to the wagon. Alexander watched her walk back toward the fire, where she untied the leather string at the back of her neck, letting her hair fall. Thick and long, her shiny brown hair fell below her shoulders. She held the leather string in her teeth while gathering the loose strands together, then tied her hair at the back. She brushed by Alexander to go help Liada and Tin Tin as they broke off chunks of bread and passed them out with the bowls they’d filled from the pot.

“We are sorry,” Tin Tin said with hand signs, “for loss of your Sanders.”

“Thank you,” Autumn said and made the hand sign. “All of us are grateful to you and your people for helping us. How did you know he was our man?”

“Um, he have no…” She rubbed her cheek, then touched her hair.

“Ah, yes. He didn’t have a beard. Most of your men have beards.”

Tin Tin filled her own bowl and took a seat on a log next to Sharakova. Tin Tin looked at Joaquin, caught his eye, and smiled. He grinned and took a bite of food.

“What is this meat?” Autumn asked Liada.

Liada said something and made a hand sign.

Autumn shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Tin Tin,” Liada said, then asked her a question.

Tin Tin thought for a moment, then mooed like a cow. Everyone laughed.

“Ah, we’re eating moo meat,” Autumn said. “It must be beef, or maybe ox. It’s very good.”

“Too bad,” Kawalski said. “I thought maybe it was…” He made the sound of a horse whinny, then pawed the ground with his foot.

Tin Tin and Liada laughed with the others.

“I was thinking ‘woof woof,’” Zorba Spiros said.

“Or maybe ‘meoooooow,’” Kady said.

Kawalski almost choked on a bite of food, which drew even more laughter. Cateri, who rarely even smiled, laughed at Kawalski.

Karina touched Liada’s cheek. “Why did they brand you?”

Liada shook her head. “Not know what you say.”

“Brand, why?” Karina touched her own cheek and lifted her shoulders.

Tin Tin, sitting nearby, heard their conversation. She spoke to Liada, who asked Zorba Spiros in Greek about the question. He explained that Karina wanted to know how she got the mark on her face.

“I did brand,” Liada said, touching the scar.

“You?” Karina pointed to Liada. “You did this to yourself?”

Liada nodded.

Tin Tin came to sit beside Liada. “This is…um…” She touched her cheek where she had a brand identical to Liada’s, but on the opposite side of her face. “Can not say this word.” She made a motion of working with a hoe, then she stood and made a motion like hitting someone with a whip.

“Slave?” Kawalski asked. “Is she trying to say ‘slave?’”

“They can’t be slaves,” Karina said. “They have the run of the camp and do pretty much what they want.”

Cateri, sitting in the dirt at the end of one of the logs, spoke to Tin Tin, who lifted her shoulders.

“They’re trying to figure out how to tell us something,” Karina said.

Joaquin stood and made the motion of hoeing the dirt, then of carrying a heavy load. He stopped to wipe his brow, then pretended to show fear of someone nearby. He grabbed his imaginary hoe and got back to work.

“Slave,” Karina said, pointing to Joaquin.

“Yes, slave,” Tin Tin said.

“You and Liada are slaves?” Karina asked.

Tin Tin shook her head. “I was slave to Sulobo…”

“Kusbeyaw,” Liada said. “Sulobo, kusbeyaw.”

“Tin Tin was a slave, and she was owned by Sulobo?” Joaquin asked.

Tin Tin and Liada seemed to agree.

“Yes,” Karina said. “And we all know what a kusbeyaw is.”

“Yzebel,” Liada made a motion of taking coins from her purse and handing them to someone.

“Yzebel bought Tin Tin.” Karina said. “Go on.”

“Sulobo.”

“Ah, Yzebel bought Tin Tin from Sulobo.”

“Yes,” Liada said.

“How old was Tin Tin?” Karina asked. “Was she a baby?” She pretended to rock a baby in her arms, then pointed at Tin Tin.

“No,” Liada said and held out her hand at chest height.

“Tin Tin was a young girl, and who is Yzebel?”

Liada rocked a baby in her arms.

“Yzebel is a baby?”

“No. Liada is…um…”

“Liada was a baby?”

Liada shook her head.

“I think Yzebel is Liada’s mother,” Joaquin said.

“Oh, I see,” Karina said. “Yzebel rocked Liada as a baby. Yzebel is your mother.”

Liada held up two fingers.

“You have two mothers?”

Liada held up one finger, then two. Pointing at the second finger, she said, “Yzebel.”

“Yzebel is your second mother. And were you a baby when Yzebel bought Tin Tin from Sulobo?”

“No.” Liada held out her hand at chest height.

“You were a young girl when Yzebel bought Tin Tin?”

“Yes. And we…” Liada hugged Tin Tin close, tilting her head to her.

“You were like sisters?”

Karina held up two fingers, wrapping one around the other. They both nodded.

“Sulobo branded Tin Tin when he owned her?” Karina asked.

“Yes,” Liada said. “And I think for me to be like my sister, Tin Tin Ban Sunia, so I do this.” Her hands told the story quite clearly.

Karina sniffed and wiped her cheek. “I-I-can’t…”

“Imagine?” Joaquin said.

“I can’t imagine…”

“A bond so strong, one would have herself branded because her sister was branded as a slave?” Joaquin said.

Karina agreed.

Silence reigned for a few minutes.

“Something so powerful,” Kawalski said, “makes the simple routines of our lives seem trivial.”

“Cateri,” Liada said, “is Sulobo slave.”

“What?” Alexander asked.

“Yes,” Tin Tin said.

“Cateri,” Alexander said, “you are Sulobo’s slave?”

Cateri said something to Liada, who spoke to her in their language. Cateri then loosened the drawstring at the collar of her tunic, and Liada pulled the back of the tunic down far enough for them to see the slave brand on her right shoulder blade.

“Damn,” Kawalski said, “how could someone do that?”

Karina touched the scar. “So cruel, but her brand is different.”

“Yes,” Joaquin said. “Liada and Tin Tin have an arrow across the shaft of the pitchfork. Cateri’s brand has the pitchfork with the snake winding around the shaft, but not the arrow.”

“Why is that?” Karina asked.

“It’s a running brand,” Kawalski said. “In the old west, when a cow was sold, or stolen, they had to change the original brand to something different. They used a running brand to alter the old brand. That arrow on Tin Tin and Liada’s brand is a running brand, added to show they didn’t belong to the original owner.”

“These women are treated like cattle,” Karina said. “Bought and sold as if they were animals.”

“Sulobo,” Alexander said, “that son-of-a-bitch.”

Cateri adjusted her collar and tightened the drawstring. She then turned to leave them.

“Wait.” Alexander took her arm to stop her. “Don’t go.”

She faced him.

“You don’t have to be a slave. Slavery was outlawed two hundred years ago.”

Cateri glanced at Liada, then Liada looked to Autumn for help in explaining what Alexander had said.

“Hmm,” Autumn said, “how can I say ‘freedom’ in sign—”

Lojab interrupted her. “I’ll buy her from Sulobo.”

“Yeah, Low Job,” Kady said, “you’d like that, owning a woman. You idiot butthead.”

“I don’t think the Seventh Cavalry is going to own any slaves,” Karina said.

“You stupid women,” Lojab said, “you’re all pissed because nobody would pay money for you.”

“Eat shit and die, Low Job,” Katy said.

“Knock it off, Lojab,” Alexander said. “That’s uncalled for,” he said as he watched Cateri walk away.