Stonewall sat at his desk, an oversized slab of wood, covered in nicks, burn marks and coffee stains. Out of the five draws originally installed in the desk, only three still worked, and one of those you had to stand and shake it up and down as you pull it out. When the rains come, the wood would swell, making that particular draw completely inoperable. When the lights came back on, the majority of his town had been deserted, allowing him free range of any desk around, but that would never happen. This was his desk, his father's desk and his father before that. If he so inclined to crawl under it, he would find his initials carved into the underbelly of it. A little bit if of art he did with his first pocket knife he got for his seventh birthday
The desk still sat in the center of the main office of the Double R Ranch. Back when the ranch was a bustling resort, Stonewall’s dad would invite a guest into his office and point out the bullet hole that resided within. The story his dad would tell was when the founder, Rufus, was working on the then cattle ranch, a fellow rancher came in claiming that Rufus was a bit too friendly with his wife. Well, the offended rancher reached for his gun, but before he could completely level the old single shot revolver, Rufus had already leveled his pistol, killing the man instantly. The offended rancher did get a shot off, but it missed Rufus completely and wedged itself into the far corner of the desk instead. Stonewalls dad would then invited the guest to put a finger into the bullet hole and feel the .32 caliber lead ball. Over time the bullet hole had widened a bit so that people could better see the slug, as well as take selfies in front of it. If Instagram was still around, Stonewall knew he could search #deskbulletRRRanch and find random pictures of people posing in front of the desk, most likely pointing to the hole in the desk.
It was a good story, though not totally 100% accurate. Like any good story, it was only shadowed in truth, though once one looked deeper, validity was left wanting. Truth be told, Rufus didn’t kill the offended rancher, only winged him. Plus it wasn’t so much a rancher, but the son of a nearby tribal Chief. As they say, though, the fact is always stranger than fiction. Rufus did have Biblical knowledge of the Sioux woman, and as later discovered, he had fathered her oldest son. However, due to many reason, including an agreement made between the Chief and Rufus, it was never publicly spoken of again. Rufus never did see his son, and to his credit, he kept his word and never spoke of it. It wasn’t till during one of the restorations at the ranch, as they were getting ready to launch the Double R Ranch and Resort, that three letters were found in this very desk. They were from the mother of Rufus’s illegitimate child, Eyota, who confessed her undying love for Rufus and talked about their son.
Now, as Stonewall sat behind the famed desk, he waited to meet with a direct descendent of the ill-advised relationship so many generations ago. Thus making him and the newly appointed tribal leader, Teetonka, or just Tee as he’s more commonly known, dissent relatives. It was a little bit of local insight that Stonewall joked about, and Teetonka did his best to ignore.
“He’s here,” Cole said as he popped his head into the office.
Stonewall looked up and gave Cole a nod. He pushed himself away from the old wooden desk, as he stood up and walked out of the office. He left the office and proceeded to walk out of the grand double doors of the resorts main building. At one time, high paying customers would walk through the custom made double doors, each with an R etched into the glass that centered itself in each of the double doors. Because of it’s size and supplies, the Double R Ranch became the unofficial town center.
Soon after the Fox Wars, Stonewall and many of his followers retreated to the resort, prepared to make their final stand against any attack that might come to fully eradicate them and their kind. He wouldn’t have been the first in his family to die on this property, but he figured he would be the last. Over time, though, it was clear that the fatal assault was never going to come. Instead of a rush of men and arms, it was a trickle of newly assigned Regional troops to oversee the occupation of the new territory.
Classifying the freshly assigned Regionals as troops was a misnomer, the reality was they were just a bunch of people who took the easy way out. They signed up to be Regional Troops, to ensure a cushy government job, that supplied food, pay, and lodging. They could care less about enforcing any sort of law, and as long as Stonewall and his crew kept the peace, there was never any outside trouble from a more established threat. This allowed not only for the survival of Stonewall and his men, but the ability for him to continue recruitment training for what he knew would one day be the war to end all wars. First, before there could be any sort of fight to decide ownership of the land once and for all, he had to deal with the mundane process of maintaining the law.
The irony that Stonewall was the face of the so-called law in these parts was not lost on him. The way he looked at it, they lived in a Potemkin village. Even the dirt roads he walked were unnecessarily rustic. They resided in an environment created to put them at ease. Even though the local Regionals were sidestepped, and easily manipulated, he knew that those behind them were not the same. Much like a gang operating within the confines of a prison, he must do his best to keep order and sustain some semblance of discipline. That is until it is time to let go, then, when that day comes, he will step back and let the flood of anger and rage be set free to wash over the land.
It wasn’t a far walk from the offices of the Double R Ranch to the saloon, where he knew Tee would be waiting for him. When the Double R Ranch went under its renovation to become the high dollar rustic resort, they created a small old fashion western town. The main building was transformed into the bank, while the mess hall was converted to look like a time saloon, aptly named the Silver Tongue. The paved roads were covered in dirt and hitching post lined the newly installed boardwalks which ran in front of the shops.
They had everything from a barber, where the men could get an old fashion straight razor shave, or a Grand Hotel, where the upstair suites had doors that opened up to a balcony that looked out amongst the main street. It’s funny at times how life circles around on itself. The land that Stonewall walked on was founded by a relative of his, who had a conversation in a salon. Now as he walked into another saloon, he was going to have a conversation in hopes of holding on to this land.
Stonewall pushed through the swinging double doors, as he entered into the Silver Tongue. The interior had the look of a western saloon, down to the sawdust on the floor. During the peek days, this was the place to be, with drinks flowing, glasses sliding up and down the highly polished bar. There was even a small stage where dancing girls would entertain, as hearty piano music filled the air. Now, though, with the brutal restart, a cold glass of water or some reprocessed coffee was pretty much all that was offered to drink. Every now and then they would come across a stash of Coke, or Dr. Pepper, but it had been some time since one of those runs.
Stonewall nodded towards Mia behind the bar, then turned to address the recent arrival, “Tee, good to see you as always.”
Tee, sat at one of the round wooden tables strewed across the dusty saloon floor. “I’m Chief, it’s Chief Teetonka now.”
Stonewall let out a smirk as he pulled a chair out to sit down, “Yeah, I’m not going to call you that.” He paused as Mia placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of him. He slowly lifted the cup up to his mouth, letting the steam waft over his face, allowing it to chase away the chill that had clung to him during his walk over to the saloon. He eyed Tee, then the two Sioux warriors who stood a step behind Tee, one on each side. “So, I know why you originally came here, but I have something more important to discuss today.”
“More important than women and children going hungry? More important than my people getting their fair share?” Tee asked accusatively.
Stonewall placed the coffee mug down on the table, “First of all, no women or children are going to starve because you were shorted four boxes of gram crackers and powdered milk. So don’t try to peddle sorrow here. Second of all, I hav
e six boxes of supplies waiting to go back with you just outside, as a sign of good faith and as an apology for the miss calculation.”
“Miss calculation?” Tee asked, the words dipped in sarcasm. He pointed a finger at Cole who was sitting at a nearby table, “That man right there, missed the calculation on purpose. I bet he sold those four boxes to some Regionals and pocketed the cash.”
Cole was Stonewalls number two man, and it wasn’t because of his diplomatic purview, but instead for his willingness to do the little things, as well as the big. One of the biggest things the Cole was a master of was his ability to draw, aim and fire his Colt. He had pulled the blue steal piece of killing machinery and had leveled at Tee before either of Tee’s protectors could do anything. Cole was more than a trigger puller though, he had a well-trained mind between his ears, it was just sometimes a little delayed when responding to a threat. However as soon as he had the hammer cocked, he realized that shooting the newly appointed Chief would do little to resolve the problem. Instead, he held the cold steel barrel level, just a second longer, to prove the point that he could have pulled the trigger if he wanted to and there would have been nothing that Tee could have done about it. “That’s a lie Stonewall, and he know’s it,” Cole said as he released the tension on the trigger and replaced his pistol into the leather holster.
“Damn it Cole,” Stonewall said, with a huff of frustration. “I know it is, but you can’t go around shooting whoever you want. Things are different now.” He then turned towards Tee, who was obviously angered by the very real threat directed towards him. “As for you, you don’t come into a man's house, knock over his furniture then complain about the mess. You sure don’t accuse one of my men of selling goods to the Regionals. You got a problem, you come to me and I will deal with it.”
Tee reluctantly agreed, as he turned his head slightly to one side and then to another, catching the attention of his guardians. “Go get the supplies, and load them up.”
The two guardians proceeded promptly out of the saloon, never saying a word. These guardians were not your typical type, that you might think of when you think of protecting someone as important as a Chief. They were his spiritual guardians. The two warriors that followed him around were basically warriors for the Wakan Tanka or the Great Spirit. Their job wasn’t only to protect the body but also the soul, or spirit of the Chief. One of their duties was upon its mortal passing, ensure that the body would be protected till the spirit could return home once again.
Tee still held an aggravated gaze towards Cole, before he turned his attention back to Stonewall. “So, why am I here, if not for the rest of my supplies?” He emphasized the word ‘rest’, pulling the word out longer than needed.
Stonewall knew that it was going to be a hard sell, to convince Tee to bring all the tribes in and join the ensuing fight, but he also knew, that without their help, there would be no war. There would only be a saluter. He picked up the cooling coffee mug, slowly pulled it up and took a long drink, as he kept his eyes on Tee. He lowered the mug back down on to the table, as small droplets of coffee clung to his thick mustache. He didn’t bother to wipe them away, allowing them to cool in place. “What I’m about to ask you, is more important than you, as Tee, it larger than me, than Cole or even the Double R. I don’t bring it to you as a friend, or as a distant relative, I bring this before you because, as you so aptly pointed out, you are the newly appointed Chief of the Dakota Tribes. You and only you can call upon ALL of the tribes in the Dakota’s to join and fight. I can’t stress to you enough, we need them all.”
Tee quickly put up a hand, stopping Stonewall from continuing, “Let me stop you right there. Blood or not, I will not put my people in harm's way again. We followed you last time, and we lost thousands. Even now, during this,” he paused as he tried to think of a word that aptly described the atmosphere that they now found themselves in. Finally he just simply said, “Peace. Even now, during this time of peace, it is a constant struggle to keep all of the Dakota tribes together. Nearly every day, one group or another wants to succeed, to go back to the old ways, the old tribes. But, as you know, we lost so many, so many thousands of great and mighty Sioux warriors during your so-called Fox Wars, that they can’t return to the old ways. Because there is not enough of us. It is only through joining as one mighty tribe, one Nation, that we are able to survive. I can’t, I’m sorry.”
“Think of your people Tee. Think of the future of your people.” Stonewall said, nearly begging Tee to pause for a moment and hear him out.
A slight frown came across Tee’s face as he spoke, “I am a brother. I am thinking of my people. As you said, I just think as a Chief now, I can’t make decisions without weighing the conscious of my people, my Nation.” Tee stopped talking for a moment, his body seeming to slump under the weight of leadership.
Stonewall turned and motioned to Mia to bring over another mug and more coffee. He watched as she strolled across the open floor of the Silver Tongue, still clothed in her western dress, which swayed back and forth as she approached. She placed a mug on the table, before pouring a strong cup of coffee into it. Once full, Stonewall motioned with a node of his head for her to return to her station behind the bar. He reached out and slid the mug of coffee across the small circular table, till it stopped in front of Tee. “It sucks being the in charge, doesn’t it?”
Tee let out a wry chuckle, then picked up the cup of coffee without saying anything. He pulled the mug up to his lips and gratefully took three big gulps of the hot coffee. Almost instantly he regretted taking the liquid in so greedily, as the hot fluid raced down his through. “That’s good,” he said, half coughing, and half wheezing as the coffee burnt his tongue and throat.
Stonewall couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the face Tee made. Many years ago, they were like brothers, playing side by side for years. It wasn’t until their teenage years that they started to drift apart. By the time the light went out, they were more strangers than friends. The losses suffered during the blackout and the ensuing Fox War created a nearly impassable crevasse between them. It was only due to the fact that Tee was freshly appointed Chief, that basically forcing the two to work together. Finally Stonewall spoke up, “It’s good to see you again brother.”
“Well, you’re looking old with that beard. I’m starting to see some gray in there.” Tee said with a smile as he pointed out the ever-growing hairs. He lowered his hand back down to the table before he started talking again, “I know you are not a fool. I know you wouldn’t mention this if you didn’t feel strongly. But I can’t, at least not without talking to my advisors first. If, and right now that about a 10% if, if we do unite in another war, that will put us in immediate violation of the agreement our Nation had made with the new regime. At the first sign, they will bring troops in, and not those useless Regionals, I’m talking well trained, well armed and highly motivated troops, to wipe us out for good.” He picked up his coffee mug and took another sip, this time more cautiously.
Stonewall followed suit, as he too picked up his mug and took a long pull of the dark caffeinated fluid. After getting his immediate fix he softly spoke up. “I know that we are not truly brothers, and our biological connection is nothing more than a thin tendril, growing thinner each day. But the love that created our connection is still as strong today as it was when Ruffus and Eyota first created it all those many years ago. I don’t want to see you or your people to be destroyed, that is why I am imploring you to prepare to fight with us. Your people are a proud and strong people. Your ancestors fought mightily against the westward growth of the modern world, but, no matter how proud or strong they were, they still lost. They were conquered and defeated. Now, once again, a new force has come to subject you to a lifetime of subjugation, using paperwork to lull you into a facade of security. I promise you, over time, that paper will be meaningless, and one day, they will show up on your land once again, just like before, and this time they will not stop at just placing you in reservations. This
new regime will not stop until you are gone, till all of you are gone.”
“If it was just me, and maybe a hand full of men, I would fight. I would mount my horse and ride straight for Washington, killing everyone along the way, or till I was dead myself. But, it’s not just me. Like you said, it sucks being the leader.” Tee pushed himself away from the table and stood up. He took a step and stopped next to Stonewall, “Thanks for the coffee brother,” he said as he extended his right hand.
Stonewall took Tee’s hand into his and shook firmly, “There will always be a hot cup ready for you whenever you want.” Tee went to pull away and make his way out, but Stonewall held on a second longer, “I know what I am asking. All I ask of you is to talk to your people, talk to your advisors. I promise you, if you fight with me, I will give you the one thing you all want. A chance to live, as free people.” He then released his grip and allowed to Tee leave in peace.
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