If you have been following the Busted Gulch story here at the Storytellers Saloon then you know Ruechari has been selected for a special destiny...yet to be revealed. Having grown up in the KitKat Nation. Chief DamagedGoods was the only father she h...
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William had hoped for a quiet afternoon. Sittin' on the porch of the old Shamrock Saloon. It was the only place he found served a decent Irish whiskey not that watered-down piss they try and pass off in other towns.
He was a poor Irish boy from New York's Eastside. A typical hard luck story, no money, daddy took off when he was a boy, momma died of lung cancer in Silver City.
Boy, did he miss his momma. Ran away from home left his brother and step daddy behind for the New Mexico sagebrush.
That when his whole life changed. William pulled his hat down over his eyes but it couldn't stop the pictures from playing in his mind.
He got a job as a ranch hand. Things didn't work out, surprise, surprise. He stole a horse without a saddle and rode on for three weeks and found himself outside of Camp Bowie, an Injun Reservation.
His sore-back pony had seen better days and he had come upon three Apache men, loaded with pelts and firearms, saddles and twelve of the most beautiful ponies he ever did see.
Well, he reckoned these savages had more than they needed and when they refused to share he took what he thought was his rite, as a free American born white boy. It wasn't even a fight. He shot 'em dead and took it all. Made a small fortune selling and trading the stuff to some Texas emigrants.
He should have known he'd have to pay for his sins. He got a taste for killin' and the spree continued.
One fateful night while traveling through the Sierra Madres Mountains he was blinded by a brilliant flash of light, knocking him from his saddle.
Dazed and confused he tried to shake the fuzziness from his head. That's when he'd seen her. A beautiful Indian maiden with special markings on her face and body, feathers adorned her hair, her eyes nearly glowed as she stared down at him.
She was human enough and William grabbed for his guns but as he aimed for her heart he found he could not pull the trigger. Standing behind her were the three spirits of the Apache men he had killed.
"You have been found guilty, William H. Bonney. You take a life so easily, that now your life is mine."
"What do you mean?" he said getting up, scurrying his back against a rock.
She reached out and touched his heart. He screamed out from the pain but the pain he felt was not inflicted by her but was the pain he inflicted on others. His soul cried out for peace. He crumbled to the ground as his victims flashed through his mind.
So many paid the price for his selfishness. The pain and sadness were crippling. He panted, taking great gulps of air trying to keep from drowning while alive.
"Help me?" he begged.
The Shaman of the Kittana Kittari Tribe smiled, "It is in pardoning others that we are pardoned. I cannot do that for you. Your life will end at age 21 and then you belong to me."
