WANTED (Sequel to One Hell of a Maid)

Chapter 22: Tell me a Tale

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy Memorial Day! I love you guys so much, and your comments always make me feel all fuzzy inside XD

Anyway here is a long chapter for you guys in celebration of no school and Memorial Day.
Thanks, that's all.

~Ashlee💕

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We gallop into the Indian's camp which I quickly realize is a secluded village, if you can call it that. It's more like a tent town.

"What tribe are you?" I ask the leader, feeling uncomfortable as the Indian people stop their work to stare at me warily.

However, I cannot blame them. It's obvious to me that they have been through a lot.

"We are not a tribe anymore. The people you see are all survivors from different tribes. We really are more like a refugee camp than anything."

I hear this and understand. So, they have been through a lot. I feel sympathy stir in my heart for these people, rather many peoples.

I've heard of the white settlers coming to California and uprooting Indian villages to make their own settlements. No doubt that the people that stare up at me with suspicious --if not fearful-- eyes were from some of these very villagers.

At that moment I feel disgust for the human half of me. It seems that both halves of me --the human and the Siren-- are a corrupted group.

Our horses come to a halt at a large circular fence. The leader, the one I ride with dismounts his horse and then helps me off as well. The rest of the men on horseback do the same and guide their horses and ours into the fence, which works as a makeshift stable.

"May I know your name?" I ask after a moment.

The leader smiles lightly. "I am John."

This surprises me, why did he not have an Indian name. However, I suppress the urge to ask the nosy question. As if he sees the question in my mind he speaks. "My father was not an Indian. Some of us have fathers that were white men."

My heart sinks at this. I didn't need to ask to know that the reason why some were half Caucasian is not because their parents fell in love.

"Come, you must be hungry. Dinner should already be waiting for us at the fire."

I nod and follow John. By this time the Indians have stopped staring and only sneak glances up at me every so often. Still, this makes me feel small. Something I have not felt for awhile.

We reach a large, roaring bonfire and the cowboy-Indians that rode with us all take a seat on logs around the fire. I notice that the rest of the Indians begin cleaning up what they were doing and retire to their tents.

"We are often late for dinner so some of the women keep it warm for us until we get back." One of them explain.

John hands me a carved bowl and I smile gratefully at him before digging in. The soup is warm and has a delicious taste. The meat has is a bit gamey but the sweet vegetables in it soften the flavor.

After I finish I set my bowl aside like the other men do. They chatter and joke together like any regular people but I still can't help feeling like I'm an intruder in their home.

John suddenly claps his hands. I smile as I watch some of the children and women trickle from their tents to take up the rest of the log seats. All the adults and some of the children get log seats. The children that don't simply plop on to the ground, legs crossed.

"Would you all like to hear a story?"

Some of the children bob their head rapidly, causing him to smile kindly, dark eyes twinkling.