Native Outlaw

Chapter II June 1876

-7 years later-
I awake to a woman screaming. It's right outside my window and the shrill ear-piercing sound is getting closer. I yank the blankets off of me and stumble over to my boots to slide them on. Running into the front room I make it just in time to see the woman banging on the door and my grandpa flinging it open. When he opens it she falls to the floor but quickly gets to her feet.

"You have to help me-my baby. They took my baby." She falls to my grandpas feet again, and starts sobbing. He looks at me for what seems like a long minute, but not a second later he runs to the gun safe and throws me two guns. He already has two in his holster and one slung around his back.

"Where did it happen miss?" He asks earnestly helping her to her feet.

"We were out on the road in the wagon and my baby started crying so I had to stop and see what she needed. Then two guys on horses tore her out of my hands and ran off. Please sir, help please." Every word comes out distorted and strained. I go out the door to get the horses and when I get back they are waiting outside. My grandpa has his arm wrapped around her shoulders. She sways and staggers on her feet, all I can think is that she is weak. I would never act like that in any situation, but I try to remember that she is not me and she needs our help right now.
"What were you doing traveling alone?" I asked quietly. I get no answer from the woman but a stern look from my grandpa. I get on my horse Thunder and my grandpa and the woman get on El Tovar, his horse. I let them go in front of me, and the woman points out the direction the men ran off in.

My cotton baby blue night gown is bunched up exposing my legs as I ride, I have never ridden side-saddle. I push my horse harder to keep up. We reach the far end of the town and pass the wooden posts and fall out onto the main road. She points right and we hastily turn, the heat boring down into my skin, the bare horses back sweating underneath me.

Suddenly she calls, "there they are!" Her finger pointing about 300 feet down the road. We push our horses harder when we make out the silhouettes of the two men in the distance. We have to catch up to them. We push harder and harder gaining on them every second. I draw my gun and rub my finger over the trigger as we get closer. They hear us coming, and they turn back with their guns drawn at us. One of them fires a shot and it barely misses my horse, zooming past me and into the dirt road. I fire back hitting the man closest to us in the arm. He yells and spits and pushes his horse faster. I hear another gunshot but this time it's my grandpa. He hit the man in the front in his back, the man falls off his horse clutching his chest. He doesn't have the baby, the chase is still in pursuit. We start nearing the river and the last man left speeds up in that direction. All you can hear is the roaring thunder of hooves digging into the dirt and pushing off.

"What is he doing?!" I yell to my grandpa. He doesn't reply, but he speeds up even faster shooting once in the man's direction. We are about 100 feet away now and the man has stopped by the lake, holding a yellow bundle out over the racing current of water. I finally realize what it is, it's the baby. The woman screams as my grandpa and I fire multiple shots in the mans direction making sure to not aim close to the baby, but it's too late. The man tosses the yellow bundle out into the thriving river water. Five shots hit him right after, each one moving his body in different directions. A smile covers his features and he allows himself to fall backwards into the river as well. By now the woman is screaming and bawling. We reach the river and look down. There's no sign of the baby or the man, the only remnant is the mans hat swirling violently in the current. We get off our horses and the lady falls again to the ground and curls into a little ball. We give her her space for the moment, sitting down on a rotten log. My grandpa takes his hat off and puts it against his chest with his right hand. With his left he flings the sweat off his forehead onto the ground. He looks at me and sighs, his face hard. I don't know what to say or I would say something to drown out the wailing of the women a few feet away from us. Instead I just look down at my hands sliding my Turquoise ring off and on my finger over and over again. We sit there for a long time, the only sounds are our breathing, the woman's wailing, and occasionally the trotting of people on horses passing by in the distance.