Gold Raven (78 page)

She wanted to throw
up, suddenly she was sick and hurting as the nausea washed over her and next
she spewed full force, drawing her body inward as she did,
adding to the pain of her throbbing cheek.

Carefully, she tried to shake the fuzzy, whirling sensation in her
head. Her face hurt so bad she could not bring herself to spit, as bile
ran from her mouth. Laying her head forward, she found something
rough to lean it on. On each side of her, were two Indians captured
and brought in earlier; Blackfeather to her right, and He Who
Trembles to her left. Both had suffered torture and beatings, but
neither yet had tasted what she would.

"You throw up on me!" Sgt. Dobbs exclaimed incredulous with
his arms wide looking down at himself. "Oh...you just wait, proud lil’bastard get that you are, happy to be your daddies
nigger are'yah?!" He snarled then leaning up close to her ear and
whispered. "That night you was born, other niggers, proud just like you,
needed straightin'out. I'mo give you now, what I give them, then."

A few privates, present, watching, turned their faces in disgust,
two or more left the area unable to bear what was happening. Bankes,
Dhayes and a few other's at the scene leered and snickered as Dobbs
walked around to her back. A private ran up to him with a cloth to wipe her vomit from his front, thanking the private he handed back
the soiled cloth.

"Now, where was I?" He asked.

"Please, sick, so sick, please." She begged feeling as if she
would vomit again, sweat broke out on her forehead as the world
tilted and swayed.

"Please? Please? See - that didn't take long!" He joked towards the
men standing and gaping, some laughed, a few more departed. Walking up behind her, where she hung, he grabbed the top of her
dress and cut it open and away, baring the naked skin beneath to her
waist, slicing and tugging to gain as much surface as possible until the
top of her hips showed.

Though weak and dizzy, Hope was aware of what was happening.
Panicking, afraid, regretful of her own foolish actions - she realized
that she may die and with her, their unborn baby. "Please – ple-e-ease
! I beg you, don’t!"

Rolling out the whip, Dobbs stood back and asked.

"So now, where you say we gone find this Red Crow?"

Hope’s body shivered in spasms and could not stop. "I'm no longer - with - Red Crow -
Ple-e-ease,
my baby - my baby, d
on't!"

{{Crack}}

"A-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ih, oh God, oh God, oh
God!!! Oh no, no-…"

{{Crack}}

"Ai-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ih!! Sto-o-o-o-op!!"

She began pushing up with
her feet and jerking on the ties that
bound her to the whipping post, willing to break her wrist or arms to free herself from the fire at her back.

{{Crack}}

"Ai-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ih!!!" Her screams lit the air, u
rine pooled at her feet, as her back sizzled as if ablaze. Dobbs
yanked the whip back enjoying himself as it left a slice of her flesh
open from her rib cage.
Again it came down from a different direction, and another, and another.

Never had she known such agony. Her body now jerked and
shuddered, following the eighth lick of razors that scored her skin. Leaving trails of raw
flames burning long after it left her body.

"Sgt. Dobbs, she's out!" One of the observing militiamen noticed
standing across the front of her. "Check her, see if she's dead, if not,
wake her, I'm not done yet! Goddamn niggers can't even take a
good beatin’ n’more! I remember a time when you could lay at the
least, twenty lashes before they passed out on you. She ain't even let
me get in a good ten." He turned grinning to those looking on, again some
laughed.

"No sir, she's still alive." One stated, detecting her soft breathing that left her nose.

"Get that bucket there, wake her up! She got twelve more to go."

The private hesitated. "Maybe that's enough sir, seein" as how
she may not know where he is."

"You soft for this pasty nigger? She bout been through the whole tribe,
you
wanna follow them? That what you wantin’? Get that bucket! Now!"

Dobbs, turned back to Hope, walking up to her he spoke to her as if she
were conscious. "Look at'cha. If only Manny could see you now. To
think, here I am with his little piss’n’spit bastard. He wouldn't even let
me near your mama, and the looks she gave me. Now look at you.
See, what go around, come back to bless those who wait. Now if they'dah treated me
right, I might'ah takin’ mercy on you. But you know what they
say, sins of the father an’ all that other stuff."

"Here, the water sir."

"Give it here." Dobbs snatched the bucket.

Horrified by what was happening, slowly, the private began to withdraw, he was leaving and now. While all were distracted, he took
off. He wanted nothing more to do with this kind of evil. It was not
the reason he joined up...in his short time in, he'd seen too many
Indians killed; many, women and children.

In the night, they were
commanded to seek out the camps, and wipe out all they found.
Twice he'd gone out, and twice he'd frozen unable to take part.
Now... this was the last straw. He made a speedy desertion, wanting
no more to do with southern militia.

"Time to wakeup!" Dobbs announced tossing the bucket of
water on Hope to bring her out of the faint. She shook a bit, but her
movement was minimal. Dobbs bent low to look up into her face. "You wake now? Hey? Wake up?" He tugged on one of her braids
and her eyes cracked open to look at him. "That's a good girl. You
know what a shame and a waste this here? The lord bless you with the ability,
to chose being white. Yet you claim yo' mama. Don't you know don't
matter what yo' daddy is a little bit of nigger to me, make the same as a whole
lot o’nigger. If you should live, next time, learn an’ keep that to yourself."

He stood looking down at her, hating her, and what she
represented, with everything in him.

She stood as a symbol to show, that something fancy, fine and
strong could come from a black and white mix.
'Niggers belong with
niggers. White folk, belong with white folk.'
With a negative shake of his head, he p
ulled his blade from his
trouser top and grabbed her braid. "You so proud to be yo’mama’s daughter, that y
ou gone throw the chance to be
white
in my face! Well, then, seein’ that you got no appreciation for yo’ blessing, you be a
nigger the way you supposed to." Pulling one of her braids taut, he sawed through the thick
plait until it cut free, following suit with the second.

"You, you will - die - for what - you do! You - will - die!"
Blackfeather, who was strung up to Hope's right, declared, glaring at
Dobbs through hate filled eyes. Dobbs only laughed as he pulled
thatch after thatch of the hair left, shearing as close as he could to the
scalp. Nicking and cutting her scalp in some places as he did so,
causing it to bleed. He stopped when there was not enough hair
length left to grab, leaving chopped, uneven wedges and gouges clear to the scalp in some places, altering lines of red where the blade nicked.

Standing back, he observed his handy work.

"Yep, now that's what niggers should look like!"

"Chief Red Crow will - cut out - your heart." Blackfeather cried
with tears in his eyes to see such a thing take place right next to him,
barely able to talk from being beaten.

"Aaaah, yeah... well, for now - I ain't worrying 'bout him." He
said to Blackfeather before he walked over to him, gliding the blade of his sword across his throat – permanently silencing him.

Three more militiamen left the area and then the camp. Without
realizing what was happening, Dobbs was unaware that in the last
three days, there had been twenty-eight deserters with the numbers
growing.

"No...more...please...no more. You - you – my - gonna...
kill my.... my baby. Please...please." Hope barely croaked out through swollen, cracked lips.

Dobbs stepped back to her, put his ear close to her mouth. "What you say now... say that again."

"Please, my baby ... you ... kill - my - baby."

"I thought that's what you said. Being that it's a little red skin and
we doing all we can to get rid'of em... don't make sense to let you bring another in now, do it?" He reasoned smiling. With
a blank expression, he drove his fist as hard as he could into her lower belly, once, twice, and then again.

'"My God!!! My God!!! My God!!!" A soldier ran off screaming, crossing
himself, adding to the numbers of other deserters.

"Chicken shits! Run, can’t take it like men!!
Chicken shits! I’m showing you, this here how you do’em!! This the only way!
!" Dobbs shouted as if he'd gone mad.

Hanson finally returned on the scene because a soldier had gone
to him. He was afraid and crying. He had asked for permission to
leave the fort, telling Hanson about what was taking place. Ringing
his hands because he could bear no more, to see a woman done as he
was doing her, was wrecking him.

"Dobbs! Quit that shouting like a lunatic!" Hanson barked making his way to where Dobbs had them all strung up, looking
from Dobbs to the woman in their midst. The sight of her made him
blanch in horror. This was the first time he had ventured back to see
what Dobbs did to the prisoners he brought in. Before now, he kept
his distance, wishing to get reports only. Truth was, he was a man
who could inflict pain by words, but he had never killed anyone, or
anything, while at the same time knowing that the orders he gave was
the cause of much killing.

He stood staring unable to believe his eyes. Her back was
laid open with red lashes crisscrossed over her skin, as blood ran
down her back. Her head was bleeding in places where the hair had been cut close to the scalp. Below her on the ground was more of her
hair and the two thick braids, laying in a puddle of watery mud, colored with blood that ran down from between her legs and
her back.

"My God! What have you done?!" He gasped in shock.

"What you order me to do sir. What you think I do back here
when you give a order? I follow through. That's what I do! What you
expect to see? You call yo'self a major!? A leader of men!? Fighting
militiamen?! It's bloody, dirty work but that's what you want!" He
ranted disdainfully, having suddenly gone completely off his hinges.

"The likes of you...sittin' in your office! Readin' off orders!
Tellin' us t'fight, defend and protect! Well what you see there...is how
the job get done! Gon' back t'your lil'office major! Job ain't done yet!
She still livin'!"

"Back down Sgt. Dobbs, I'm ordering you to halt all activity."

"Back down!? I thought you want revenge major?! I thought you
want to make them pay for killin' yo'boy? 'member him? Dead an'
buried six feet under?! Thought you want that Red Crow t'feel like
you do? Well this here a'do'it!"

Hanson swallowed an ill feeling down. Despite the death of his Will, this did not feel right. Just then the Indian to Hope's left spoke
up, trembling with fear he called out. Dying was something he was not ready for yet. If they wanted Red Crow, he would lead them to
him. Let him deal with the soldiers.

"I - I can take you – I can take you to Chief Red Crow – I know where - I know where he is. No
more, I will take you to him."

Dobbs smiled, turning back to Hanson with a lifted brow. "See -
see what a little woman torture can do." He walked over to the
quaking Indian. "Did I hear you correct?"

"I will take you...yes."

"Aaah, good Indian, very good." Dobbs rewarded him with a few
pats on his head, feeling good about this turn of events. "Well Miss
Webster, looks like you protected that red skin of yours for nothing, 'fore long, I'll have that Indian right where I want him; in this fort at
my mercy." He turned to those in attendance calling out, "Leave'hah here hangin'...when I come back... I can finish the rest with that Red
Crow watchin'!"

Within moments, over fifty troops were mounted and ready
for the order to head out, with He Who Trembles on a mount so that
he could lead the way. Hanson retreated into his office, wondering
how his life had come to this.

With purposeful strides, Dobbs went to his mount and threw
himself into his saddle, leaving the dead Indian and Hope hanging for
later.

"Alright men, you know whom we seek! Let us not disappoint
our major. Within a few hours time, I want those gates to open with that renegade in tow. Let's head out!" He yelled.