The Red Headed Demon

The Demon is captured.

Sam Stone

Part Three

Red Headed Demon

Karallenna ( Kara-lee-nah ) knelt before the great chief of the Navajo, blood still flowed from her forehead where part of her scalp had been removed. There were slashes across her backside from various whippings she had received at the hands of the natives. There was never a reason for the whippings, just being white was reason enough. Her hands were bound around a large pole in front of her. She was a prisoner slave. She would be traded off to the nearest tribe that offered the most for her. The scalping would reduce her value significantly. The young brave who had lifted the scalp was punished severely.

Oddly enough, she still displayed some of the beauty that drove most men mad.

The local maiden squaws detested her. They spat upon her regularly. She was far removed from the life she once enjoyed.

Her troupe had been attacked somewhere near an area that would later become known as Durango.

It had been two weeks since the attack.

During the onslaught all but the children had been mutilated and killed. Women were raped, tortured and dragged behind horses. Those that were still alive were disemboweled and left for the vultures. Fathers were hacked to pieces by axes before being beheaded. Children watched as their parents were slaughtered. They, the children, would be taken in and raised as part of the tribe.

Karallenna was spared because of the odd red color of her hair. She had more value alive than dead. Her pale, pinkish colored skin was a curiosity.

The tribe headed north following along the Animas River.

Although the attack was brutal savagery, it was no less than what had been done to them at the hands of the US Calvary.

Entire villages would be destroyed, soldiers killing everything that moved. Men, women, children, and even dogs, nothing was spared.

Afterwards the entire village was burned to the ground. Everything was gone. It was as if the people there never existed.

By now whites and blacks had gone to collecting scalps. Some believe the art of scalp hunting was actually first practiced by the Europeans. The facts were not clear. What was clear was both sides did it now.

Karallenna was tossed amongst the children as a caretaker. She had never had children, nor did she ever want children, but here she was, mother to 14 children. They ranged in ages from 4 to 14. The older children assisted with caring for the younger.

Today, however, she was being brought before the Chief. His name was Eagle Eye because he could see like an Eagle, or so it was said.

He had been offered a great deal of wealth for the woman. Eagle Eye had a great decision to make. Was this woman more valuable to the tribe, or would she be more valuable as trade?

Oddly enough, out of courteousness, the Chief asked which she preferred, to be traded, or to stay with the his people. It was a more than kind gesture on his part.

He had become accustomed to having her around. He liked her. She was a tough and free spirited woman. A woman who would make a fine squaw someday.

She chose to stay.

Eagle Eye agreed. Her bonds were removed and she was assimilated into the folds of the tribe as nursemaid to the children, Indian as well as the whites.

Many of the younger woman were angered at the Chief's decision. Some protested, but to no avail. Karallenna was part of their family now.

Her head wounds were cleaned and bandaged.

Sam reached the outskirts of Denver at dusk. It was barely light enough to see clearly.

A day earlier he met a group of travelers who told him the story of the raiding party. The immigrants had been headed to Denver when the raid occurred. There was no mention of any survivors.

Sam pulled up to the nearest saloon, surveyed his surroundings, and ordered a whiskey.

Tomorrow he would start his search for the Red Headed Demon.

Reviews

[Lorry]

I've said it before and I'll say it again, we may have enough problems in this day and age to worry about, but the people back then had it tougher than any hell we've known and hopefully, ever will know.
It does make me pause to think that the name "the wild west" was very apt indeed and it wasn't just one side who were savages, as history told us, but everyone who was staking a claim for supremacy, no matter if they were native or adventurers trying to stake their claim, were some mean "sum'b*****s" who didn't take at all kindly at being told what to do.
And now we begin to hear the tale of the red headed devil and her beginnings in this, to her at least would be termed a misadventure. Someone only passing through, whose only mistake seemed to be passing through the wrong territory and living to pay the price for it.
It is funny, that you have gave your tale far more dimension than any history books ever done for me, while reading a history that the white man wrote, in a world so far removed, I doubt anyone alive at the time and place your tale was set in, knew we even existed. That probably worked out quite well for us, but maybe not so for any of us that had adventure in our blood.
Now, let's see what adventure awaits in the bext chapter 😊