| Western Fiction posted March 15, 2024 |
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Western
A Cycle of Savagery
by Lyle Nußbaum
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
Captain Robert Birch was a hard man; a hardness that had originally been birthed out of necessity and survival but which quickly transformed into a sadistic pleasure derived from the pain and suffering of others. Now the man whom the Natives called Raging Fire, because of his blazing red head of hair and his reputation of leaving death and destruction in his wake like a wildfire burning across the prairie, was performing sentinel duty, allowing his men to sleep. He rarely slept the night before a raid and they were preparing an ambush on a nearby Pawnee village early the next morning.
--------------------
Robert was the second son of James and Elizabeth Birch. He had been born, back east, in Kentucky, but, at the age of three, his parents moved their young, growing family west, settling about ten miles southwest of Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. There he grew up with his siblings: Jimmy who was four years older and Nancy who was two years younger. Three years later, John was born, followed by Susan a year and a half after that. Those formative years on the Kansas plains were the happiest times he had ever known, though he seldom thought of them anymore.
One evening when Robert was ten, he was finishing up his chores in the barn, when he heard his father's alarmed shouting coming from the western field in which he was working. The sun was low in the sky and his father was silhouetted against the blood-red sky, running at top speed toward the house. Turning his attention in the direction that his father was indicating, Robert espied a band of ten Cherokee warriors armed and mounted in full war paint descending on the homestead from the south. When they saw the unarmed man alone in the open field, they spurred their ponies on, raising a cacophony of excited yips.
Robert retreated into the barn unobserved, peering fearfully through a knothole in the barn wall. Helplessly, he watched in horror as the Cherokee warriors surrounded his father, lowering their spears and advancing menacingly on the defenseless man. When they reached striking distance, they began to poke and prod, inflicting painful, yet not life-threatening wounds. This torturous ordeal would have lasted much longer if Jimmy had not grabbed his father's hunting rifle and fired off a shot at the attackers. While he succeeded in injuring one of the warriors, the rest were incited further. One of the warriors quickly dispatched Mr. Birch with his war club, dismounting briefly to retrieve the desired scalp, before joining his compatriots as they rode toward the house into which Jimmy had retreated.
While their attention was directed toward the homestead, Robert took the opportunity to flee, his feet pumping rhythmically, carrying him away from the danger. He told himself that it was only to get help but deep down he knew that he was simply trying to save his own skin, leaving his mother, older brother, and three younger siblings to fend for themselves.
He ran in the ever-darkening twilight until he arrived at the nearest neighbor's farm three quarters of a mile away. Upon arrival, instead of raising a posse and returning to the Birch farm, the man hastily packed up his own family and sent out messages to the local families to begin a retreat back to the safety of Fort Leavenworth.
When they reached the fort in the early hours of the next morning, Robert related what he had seen to the commandant. That morning, after breakfast, Robert accompanied a company of cavalry soldiers sent out to assess the situation and, if possible, to track down and dispatch the invading war party.
When they arrived at the homestead, they found the smoldering remains of the cabin and barn, the carcasses of the animals, and the charred bodies of his mother and two youngest siblings. There was no telling what horrors they experienced before their deaths. His father's body remained where it had fallen. Jimmy's body was discovered some distance away, tied to a tree. His body had been mutilated in unimaginable ways, the price for putting up a resistance. Nancy's body was never discovered; either she, too, had escaped or was unfortunate enough to have been taken into captivity. Robert hoped for the former, shuddering to think of the horrors she had witnessed and would experience if the latter. A deep sense of loneliness began to take root in his chest as the reality of his situation sank in; he was an orphan, alone in the world. Everything that he had loved and held dear had been forcibly taken from him in one fell swoop.
The soldiers set off, following the Cherokees' trail. They had not made an attempt to conceal their tracks. Several other buildings along the way had been looted and burned but, thanks to the warning to seek shelter at the fort, no other lives were lost. Several miles further along, the trail was lost. They spent the rest of the day and all of the next, trying to rediscover a lead but were unsuccessful, finally deciding to return to the fort.
Robert stayed at Fort Leavenworth hoping to hear of Nancy's whereabouts or be reunited with her; no word came and there was no happy reunion. It didn't take long for hope to die, replaced by bitterness, pain, and hatred. When he finally came of age, he joined the cavalry, hellbent on avenging his family by fighting Indians.
--------------------
The sun was just breaching the horizon, tinting the sky a rosy pink. Captain Birch drank the last mouthful of cold coffee then rose to wake his sergeant; together they roused the men without reveille. Within minutes, every man was mounted awaiting his command to advance toward the unsuspecting village that he had scouted last evening. He gave the signal and they advanced through the trees.
Pausing at the edge of the tree line, they watched for any sign of trouble. The village was just beginning to stir, sleepily unaware of the terror about to descend upon it. A lone dog began to bark, scenting the soldiers and their horses on the breeze. The observant dog was joined by two more and their alarm alerted some curious children. Since the element of surprise was lost, Robert gave the signal and sent his men charging into the village.
Hearing the thundering hoof beats, some men emerged from their dwellings, quickly retreating to retrieve weapons and running to the corral to secure horses and try to defend their families. Children raised the alarm, dwellings began to empty. Natives were running in every direction, women trying to herd their children, fleeing for safety.
Into the midst of this mass of humanity, came the soldiers, striking down the men before they could organize and put up a strong resistance. The sound of gunshots intermingled with cries of pain and fear. Once the majority of the threats were neutralized, they began to kill the women and children like wild game.
An unarmed woman in the midst of the carnage and chaos emerged from the haze of gunsmoke running frantically toward the mounted soldiers, waving her arms, and shouting repeatedly in English, "Stop, please stop!" Her desperation drove her forward in spite of her fears. The marauding soldiers kicked at her with their boots, when she grabbed at their reins, jeering. She was no threat and not running in fear; there would be time to deal with her later, so, for the moment, they let her be.
Robert drew up on his reins as the woman's English words reached his ears, barely audible over the din of the massacre. As he drew closer to the woman, her pale blue eyes called to him louder than her voice; these were not the eyes of a Native. He concluded that she must be a white woman held in captivity. Surprised that she had not yet been struck down, he spurred his horse to her side. Using the horse to shield her from his men, he attempted to bring her to safety. Each time he laid a hand on her, though, she struggled and slipped free, becoming more hysterical. With no other option, fearing she may be mistakenly killed in the frenzy, he resorted to striking her in the face with the butt of his rifle. When her prone figure hit the ground, he dismounted and physically lifted her onto the back of his horse before riding out of the fray, back to his camp, where he left her under guard and his protection from further molestation. Having delivered her to safety, he turned his horse back toward the village in order to oversee its complete destruction.
When it was all over, the bodies of young and old, men, women, and children lay strewn across the ground where they had fallen. Those who still drew breath were summarily finished off with bayonets; no quarter was given nor mercy shown. Many had been stripped, corpses desecrated in all manner of vile ways; all had been scalped. The few that had escaped were being hunted, the soldiers were butchering the cattle and rounding up the horses that had broken free from the paddock. The lodges were searched and looted of anything of interest or possible value before having the torch applied to them, reducing the humble abodes to smoldering ruins. The crops, too, were burned. This scorched earth policy ensured that, if anyone managed to escape, there would be absolutely nothing to return to.
Robert was pleased with their progress and trusted that they would complete everything to his standards. The men were seasoned veterans; they knew what they were doing, having executed similar missions multiple times in the past. Satisfied, Captain Birch returned to camp, eager to interrogate his prisoner and discover more about her that could help him reunite her with her family.
He ordered his men to bring her to his tent once she had regained consciousness. Two hours later, she was brought, hands bound before her with a leather thong. Dismissing the escort, Robert began, "What is your name?"
The woman hesitated, then said, "I am called Sky-in-her-eyes"
"No, what is your given name? The one your parents gave you?" he responded.
Sky-in-her-eyes stared blankly at Robert, not uttering a word.
"Will you not speak?" he questioned.
"I would like to know to whom I am speaking and what you intend. Why have you spared me?" she finally replied.
"My name is Captain Birch, but you can call me Robert," he replied. "You have been spared because I discerned that you were white and wish to help you reunite with your family."
Sky-in-her-eyes' reaction was immediately noticable. Her eyes bulged and her jaw gaped slightly. Then she gasped, "Bobby?"
"I'd prefer Robert," he replied, slightly annoyed by her using the diminutive form of his name.
"No, Bobby, don't you see? I'm your sister, Nan."
Now it was his turn to be shocked. He stared in amazement and moved to embrace her. She shied away.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She held out her bound hands and said, "I'm tied like a prisoner and I have discovered my own brother is the man who has overseen the death of those that I hold most dear and you have the nerve to ask me, 'What's wrong?".
He drew a knife from its sheath on his belt, a scalping knife, and cut the thong that bound her wrists. "Nancy, I gave up hope of ever finding you years ago. Today, I have freed you from these savages."
"Robert, can't you see that you have become the very thing that you set out to destroy? You are worse than a savage; you are a demon." She could see that her words hurt him as he visibly recoiled, yet, she continued, "You have just done and have done countless times in the past what was done to us so many years ago. You have beset innocent people unawares, terrorized them in their own homes, destroyed families, and murdered in cold blood. Today, you killed the only family I had left "
Angrily, he responded, "How can you speak of them as family, Nancy? I'm your family!"
"We may share blood, Robert, but the Pawnee adopted me into their tribe after rescuing me from my Cherokee captors, the very men who killed our parents and siblings. I am happy to relay that none of those men made it home; they received their just reward. The Pawnee ambushed their war party. I saw the murderers die with our kins' bloody scalps still hanging on their belts and befriended the avenging tribe. I have received nothing but kindness from these people that you needlessly slaughtered today. You have struck out in vengeance for past wrongs and have only succeeded in inflicting more grievous wrongs upon innocent bystanders. With time, I married, and have borne three children. My husband and children, your nieces and nephew, I assume now lie among the slain unless God has been merciful and allowed them to evade your men."
"You speak of God, Nancy, yet you live among these heathens."
"I have kept my faith, Robert. God's Word is hidden in my heart. The Pawnee have allowed me to worship as I please; I have even had a few show interest in learning more. You are the one who has forgotten the Christian mandate to love your enemies, do good to those who harm you, and tarnish the name of Christ. You have replaced it instead with the twisted doctrine of Manifest Destiny."
"I expect you'll think differently once you return to civilization," he responded.
"What choice do I have?" she asked. "There is nothing for me here; you have seen to that. Yet, there is nothing for me where you will take me either. I am a woman without a home."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," he responded, "but I am elated to have found my long-lost sister."
He left the tent briefly, returning with an extra cot for her. Having posted a guard outside the tent, he crawled into his cot and said, "Goodnight, Nancy." She remained silent.
Robert slept peacefully, free from any guilt for the blood that was spilt that day, secure, knowing his sister had been found.
In the early hours of the morning, Nancy stealthily arose; she had not slept but lay patiently, awaiting the right moment. She crept to her brothers side, drawing the knife from his belt. She paused with the knife suspended over his sleeping form, tears streaming down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Then, thinking of the countless lives he had ended and families destroyed, including her own, and, taking no pleasure in what she had to do, she steeled herself and clasping the knife in both hands plunged the blade into his heart. His eyes opened and he let out a muffled gasp, then lay still.
She withdrew the blade, blood flowing freely, staining her hands and dress. Moving to the back of the tent, she sliced through the fabric, exiting unseen, evading the guard posted at the flap. Slipping from shadow to shadow in the pre-dawn light, Nancy arrived at the paddock. Easing under the railing, she sought her husband's steed among the horses. The horses were restless, their anxiety drawing the solitary guard's attention.
Finding the stallion, she mounted with ease. The guard could faintly make out her silhouette in the dim lighting and leveled his rifle at the mounted figure, commanding her to dismount and turn herself in. Defiantly, she turned her horse and spurred it forward, hoping to hurdle the barricade and make her escape.
Without hesitation, the guard fired. Nancy's lifeless body fell to the ground, shot through the heart.
Western Writing Contest contest entry
Captain Robert Birch was a hard man; a hardness that had originally been birthed out of necessity and survival but which quickly transformed into a sadistic pleasure derived from the pain and suffering of others. Now the man whom the Natives called Raging Fire, because of his blazing red head of hair and his reputation of leaving death and destruction in his wake like a wildfire burning across the prairie, was performing sentinel duty, allowing his men to sleep. He rarely slept the night before a raid and they were preparing an ambush on a nearby Pawnee village early the next morning.
--------------------
Robert was the second son of James and Elizabeth Birch. He had been born, back east, in Kentucky, but, at the age of three, his parents moved their young, growing family west, settling about ten miles southwest of Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. There he grew up with his siblings: Jimmy who was four years older and Nancy who was two years younger. Three years later, John was born, followed by Susan a year and a half after that. Those formative years on the Kansas plains were the happiest times he had ever known, though he seldom thought of them anymore.
One evening when Robert was ten, he was finishing up his chores in the barn, when he heard his father's alarmed shouting coming from the western field in which he was working. The sun was low in the sky and his father was silhouetted against the blood-red sky, running at top speed toward the house. Turning his attention in the direction that his father was indicating, Robert espied a band of ten Cherokee warriors armed and mounted in full war paint descending on the homestead from the south. When they saw the unarmed man alone in the open field, they spurred their ponies on, raising a cacophony of excited yips.
Robert retreated into the barn unobserved, peering fearfully through a knothole in the barn wall. Helplessly, he watched in horror as the Cherokee warriors surrounded his father, lowering their spears and advancing menacingly on the defenseless man. When they reached striking distance, they began to poke and prod, inflicting painful, yet not life-threatening wounds. This torturous ordeal would have lasted much longer if Jimmy had not grabbed his father's hunting rifle and fired off a shot at the attackers. While he succeeded in injuring one of the warriors, the rest were incited further. One of the warriors quickly dispatched Mr. Birch with his war club, dismounting briefly to retrieve the desired scalp, before joining his compatriots as they rode toward the house into which Jimmy had retreated.
While their attention was directed toward the homestead, Robert took the opportunity to flee, his feet pumping rhythmically, carrying him away from the danger. He told himself that it was only to get help but deep down he knew that he was simply trying to save his own skin, leaving his mother, older brother, and three younger siblings to fend for themselves.
He ran in the ever-darkening twilight until he arrived at the nearest neighbor's farm three quarters of a mile away. Upon arrival, instead of raising a posse and returning to the Birch farm, the man hastily packed up his own family and sent out messages to the local families to begin a retreat back to the safety of Fort Leavenworth.
When they reached the fort in the early hours of the next morning, Robert related what he had seen to the commandant. That morning, after breakfast, Robert accompanied a company of cavalry soldiers sent out to assess the situation and, if possible, to track down and dispatch the invading war party.
When they arrived at the homestead, they found the smoldering remains of the cabin and barn, the carcasses of the animals, and the charred bodies of his mother and two youngest siblings. There was no telling what horrors they experienced before their deaths. His father's body remained where it had fallen. Jimmy's body was discovered some distance away, tied to a tree. His body had been mutilated in unimaginable ways, the price for putting up a resistance. Nancy's body was never discovered; either she, too, had escaped or was unfortunate enough to have been taken into captivity. Robert hoped for the former, shuddering to think of the horrors she had witnessed and would experience if the latter. A deep sense of loneliness began to take root in his chest as the reality of his situation sank in; he was an orphan, alone in the world. Everything that he had loved and held dear had been forcibly taken from him in one fell swoop.
The soldiers set off, following the Cherokees' trail. They had not made an attempt to conceal their tracks. Several other buildings along the way had been looted and burned but, thanks to the warning to seek shelter at the fort, no other lives were lost. Several miles further along, the trail was lost. They spent the rest of the day and all of the next, trying to rediscover a lead but were unsuccessful, finally deciding to return to the fort.
Robert stayed at Fort Leavenworth hoping to hear of Nancy's whereabouts or be reunited with her; no word came and there was no happy reunion. It didn't take long for hope to die, replaced by bitterness, pain, and hatred. When he finally came of age, he joined the cavalry, hellbent on avenging his family by fighting Indians.
--------------------
The sun was just breaching the horizon, tinting the sky a rosy pink. Captain Birch drank the last mouthful of cold coffee then rose to wake his sergeant; together they roused the men without reveille. Within minutes, every man was mounted awaiting his command to advance toward the unsuspecting village that he had scouted last evening. He gave the signal and they advanced through the trees.
Pausing at the edge of the tree line, they watched for any sign of trouble. The village was just beginning to stir, sleepily unaware of the terror about to descend upon it. A lone dog began to bark, scenting the soldiers and their horses on the breeze. The observant dog was joined by two more and their alarm alerted some curious children. Since the element of surprise was lost, Robert gave the signal and sent his men charging into the village.
Hearing the thundering hoof beats, some men emerged from their dwellings, quickly retreating to retrieve weapons and running to the corral to secure horses and try to defend their families. Children raised the alarm, dwellings began to empty. Natives were running in every direction, women trying to herd their children, fleeing for safety.
Into the midst of this mass of humanity, came the soldiers, striking down the men before they could organize and put up a strong resistance. The sound of gunshots intermingled with cries of pain and fear. Once the majority of the threats were neutralized, they began to kill the women and children like wild game.
An unarmed woman in the midst of the carnage and chaos emerged from the haze of gunsmoke running frantically toward the mounted soldiers, waving her arms, and shouting repeatedly in English, "Stop, please stop!" Her desperation drove her forward in spite of her fears. The marauding soldiers kicked at her with their boots, when she grabbed at their reins, jeering. She was no threat and not running in fear; there would be time to deal with her later, so, for the moment, they let her be.
Robert drew up on his reins as the woman's English words reached his ears, barely audible over the din of the massacre. As he drew closer to the woman, her pale blue eyes called to him louder than her voice; these were not the eyes of a Native. He concluded that she must be a white woman held in captivity. Surprised that she had not yet been struck down, he spurred his horse to her side. Using the horse to shield her from his men, he attempted to bring her to safety. Each time he laid a hand on her, though, she struggled and slipped free, becoming more hysterical. With no other option, fearing she may be mistakenly killed in the frenzy, he resorted to striking her in the face with the butt of his rifle. When her prone figure hit the ground, he dismounted and physically lifted her onto the back of his horse before riding out of the fray, back to his camp, where he left her under guard and his protection from further molestation. Having delivered her to safety, he turned his horse back toward the village in order to oversee its complete destruction.
When it was all over, the bodies of young and old, men, women, and children lay strewn across the ground where they had fallen. Those who still drew breath were summarily finished off with bayonets; no quarter was given nor mercy shown. Many had been stripped, corpses desecrated in all manner of vile ways; all had been scalped. The few that had escaped were being hunted, the soldiers were butchering the cattle and rounding up the horses that had broken free from the paddock. The lodges were searched and looted of anything of interest or possible value before having the torch applied to them, reducing the humble abodes to smoldering ruins. The crops, too, were burned. This scorched earth policy ensured that, if anyone managed to escape, there would be absolutely nothing to return to.
Robert was pleased with their progress and trusted that they would complete everything to his standards. The men were seasoned veterans; they knew what they were doing, having executed similar missions multiple times in the past. Satisfied, Captain Birch returned to camp, eager to interrogate his prisoner and discover more about her that could help him reunite her with her family.
He ordered his men to bring her to his tent once she had regained consciousness. Two hours later, she was brought, hands bound before her with a leather thong. Dismissing the escort, Robert began, "What is your name?"
The woman hesitated, then said, "I am called Sky-in-her-eyes"
"No, what is your given name? The one your parents gave you?" he responded.
Sky-in-her-eyes stared blankly at Robert, not uttering a word.
"Will you not speak?" he questioned.
"I would like to know to whom I am speaking and what you intend. Why have you spared me?" she finally replied.
"My name is Captain Birch, but you can call me Robert," he replied. "You have been spared because I discerned that you were white and wish to help you reunite with your family."
Sky-in-her-eyes' reaction was immediately noticable. Her eyes bulged and her jaw gaped slightly. Then she gasped, "Bobby?"
"I'd prefer Robert," he replied, slightly annoyed by her using the diminutive form of his name.
"No, Bobby, don't you see? I'm your sister, Nan."
Now it was his turn to be shocked. He stared in amazement and moved to embrace her. She shied away.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She held out her bound hands and said, "I'm tied like a prisoner and I have discovered my own brother is the man who has overseen the death of those that I hold most dear and you have the nerve to ask me, 'What's wrong?".
He drew a knife from its sheath on his belt, a scalping knife, and cut the thong that bound her wrists. "Nancy, I gave up hope of ever finding you years ago. Today, I have freed you from these savages."
"Robert, can't you see that you have become the very thing that you set out to destroy? You are worse than a savage; you are a demon." She could see that her words hurt him as he visibly recoiled, yet, she continued, "You have just done and have done countless times in the past what was done to us so many years ago. You have beset innocent people unawares, terrorized them in their own homes, destroyed families, and murdered in cold blood. Today, you killed the only family I had left "
Angrily, he responded, "How can you speak of them as family, Nancy? I'm your family!"
"We may share blood, Robert, but the Pawnee adopted me into their tribe after rescuing me from my Cherokee captors, the very men who killed our parents and siblings. I am happy to relay that none of those men made it home; they received their just reward. The Pawnee ambushed their war party. I saw the murderers die with our kins' bloody scalps still hanging on their belts and befriended the avenging tribe. I have received nothing but kindness from these people that you needlessly slaughtered today. You have struck out in vengeance for past wrongs and have only succeeded in inflicting more grievous wrongs upon innocent bystanders. With time, I married, and have borne three children. My husband and children, your nieces and nephew, I assume now lie among the slain unless God has been merciful and allowed them to evade your men."
"You speak of God, Nancy, yet you live among these heathens."
"I have kept my faith, Robert. God's Word is hidden in my heart. The Pawnee have allowed me to worship as I please; I have even had a few show interest in learning more. You are the one who has forgotten the Christian mandate to love your enemies, do good to those who harm you, and tarnish the name of Christ. You have replaced it instead with the twisted doctrine of Manifest Destiny."
"I expect you'll think differently once you return to civilization," he responded.
"What choice do I have?" she asked. "There is nothing for me here; you have seen to that. Yet, there is nothing for me where you will take me either. I am a woman without a home."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," he responded, "but I am elated to have found my long-lost sister."
He left the tent briefly, returning with an extra cot for her. Having posted a guard outside the tent, he crawled into his cot and said, "Goodnight, Nancy." She remained silent.
Robert slept peacefully, free from any guilt for the blood that was spilt that day, secure, knowing his sister had been found.
In the early hours of the morning, Nancy stealthily arose; she had not slept but lay patiently, awaiting the right moment. She crept to her brothers side, drawing the knife from his belt. She paused with the knife suspended over his sleeping form, tears streaming down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Then, thinking of the countless lives he had ended and families destroyed, including her own, and, taking no pleasure in what she had to do, she steeled herself and clasping the knife in both hands plunged the blade into his heart. His eyes opened and he let out a muffled gasp, then lay still.
She withdrew the blade, blood flowing freely, staining her hands and dress. Moving to the back of the tent, she sliced through the fabric, exiting unseen, evading the guard posted at the flap. Slipping from shadow to shadow in the pre-dawn light, Nancy arrived at the paddock. Easing under the railing, she sought her husband's steed among the horses. The horses were restless, their anxiety drawing the solitary guard's attention.
Finding the stallion, she mounted with ease. The guard could faintly make out her silhouette in the dim lighting and leveled his rifle at the mounted figure, commanding her to dismount and turn herself in. Defiantly, she turned her horse and spurred it forward, hoping to hurdle the barricade and make her escape.
Without hesitation, the guard fired. Nancy's lifeless body fell to the ground, shot through the heart.
Artwork by MoonWillow at FanArtReview.com
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