Red West II.

Chapter forty five - Distance

The stench hovering over an unused sandstone trench was horrible, and seeing its source didn't make it any better. Disturbed by the arrival of four people, the black swarm rose from the feast upon decomposing bodies and the deafening buzz of flies absorbed any other sound for a while.

Captain John Walker crouched to observe the Indian corpses properly. Painted clothing and necklaces with geometric design were also worn by other tribes, but the black painted stripes around sunken eyes didn't leave him in doubt that he was looking at four Sioux rebels.

He straightened up again and turned to the sturdy man, who led him and his subordinates to that ugly spot on the far edge of the quarry.

"Were there not any more casualties on the Indians' side?" John asked seriously.

The quarry guard spat out toward the bodies: "There were, dang it. But those shitty redskins dragged their precious little dead brothers away."

"What about the workers then? How many of them were killed?"

"None," the man replied in a disgusted tone. "Those lazy bastards hadn't been here yet. Many guards were killed and some shift leaders. Almost twenty altogether."

"That's very regrettable," he reacted and glanced at the corpses again: "You should bury them before some disease spreads around..."

"You're kiddin'?!" the guard snapped. "It was pain in the ass to bury all of ours! I won't bother with these!"

John suppressed an urge to roll his eyes: "At least burn them then, as soon as possible," he recommended urgently. "It's a necessary precaution, otherwise it might happen that this quarry will lose even more people."

The irritated guard growled something, but didn't argue with the military officer anymore.

"We can find our way back, thank you," not really willing to spend more time with the nasty man than necessary, John turned to leave the smelly place, being followed by his first and second lieutenants.

Swiftly walking back to the very center of the sandstone valley, which was bustling with noise as the workers were put to work again, not very positive thoughts were going through the captain's mind. These problems with Sioux were going from bad to worse and even though he had intended to solve it in the least bloody way, he was being pushed by his superiors to deal with the Indian rebels quickly and with a certain result. Another bloodshed seemed to be inevitable.

They passed around the pile of black debris, which was originally the main building of the whole quarry and John couldn't help but glance at it with a certain feeling of déjà vu. Sometimes, it felt like there would be no end to the conflict between the red and white nation, no matter how many lives were lost on both sides.

He ordered the second lieutenant to get all their men ready for departure and together with his deputy entered a rather small chalet, which they had already visited, before going for inspection around the valley.

The quarry's manager – Cameron Henderson – was still sitting behind the battered table, absorbed by the decent heap of correspondence, but he raised his head when they walked in and looked at them with just as stern expression as before.

"So, did you check out everything you needed, Captain?"

There wasn't even a hint of respect in that addressing, more like the opposite, but John decided to ignore it.

"More or less, yes," he replied, as he stopped in front of the table, with the lieutenant remaining right behind him. "The thing is that I can't figure out, why they would attack you without a reason, as you claimed."