Blood-Lines

Chapter XIII -- Sins Of The Past

As carefully as he could, Poe climbed the ridge above the monastery while he studiously tried to avoid any outright aggravation to his brace.

He found Lovell seated by his campfire, eyes steady on the dancing flames with an open whiskey bottle nearby.

Not having waited for acknowledgement, Poe settled in across from him.

"I have to follow up with you on a few things." Poe offered, while Lovell remained silent, his features seemingly haunted by the dancing fire. "I'm a bit puzzled at the chances of a man - even a hunter such as yourself, having stumbled upon a naked Indian half dead and defenseless in random passing."

Poe reached for the bottle and replaced the cap, holding it as silence descended upon the two men, broken only by the odd crackle of burning wood.

"What happened out there, from your perspective? We know you're not the one that made her like she was when you found her."

Lovell swallowed before he answered. "I was tracking the animal packed upon my mules and was emptying the guts when I heard the explosion from the Kraut's place."

"Kraut?" Poe asked.

"Square-head German immigrant named Zichner from out east, somewhere middle Minnesota or Illinois or some other god-forsaken place nearby. At least that is what I heard from him and his that offered to share in passing when they set up their new place."

Poe offered the bottle but Lovell waved him off. "Had enough for the night, the woods can be a dangerous place when one is liquored up."

Lovell used a stick to poke the fire as it flared.

"Truth be told, it was not really her that I found out there but a little Indian girl that's been stalking my dreams on and off since I rode with the First New-Mexico Volunteers way back in sixty-four. If it was anything, it was her that led me to your Indian."

Poe exhaled as he connected the dots. "You were with Colonel Chivington at Sand Creek. Ugly place about that time, for Indian or White or so I've heard."

"We arrived late to the carnage ..." Lovell replied solemnly, "... after most of what was being done was almost over. Captain Soule filled us in on what they had seen. He steadfastly refused to clean it up once it was done, he or his men having had nothing to do with it other than letting it happen and not doing a damn thing to stop it, neither."

Poe watched as the man relived the horrid events of that day.

"From what I read of the reports, Captain Soule testified to that at the court martial of the Colonel. Soule died not long after the trial, if I were to recall correctly. Possibly in retribution - if any of those rumors were to hold true about it at any rate."

Lovell shook his head in sadness.

"Chivington's men were so liquored up that they killed a dozen of their own and wounded five times that many in the process."

He watched the flames dance as he continued.

"Damned Indians were foolish enough to believe that they were safe beneath the American flag flown in clear view from a high pole at the very center of their camp. They even managed to raise a white flag of surrender once they realized what was what ... as if that would have meant something ..." He paused as he fumed, "... Chivington and his men simply chose to ignore it just as they had the red, white and blue that flew above it. Memories like that bring a thirst for certain things like no other."

Lovell paused as he collected himself.

"Couple of us rode in to see what there was to see and that's when I first saw her."