Templars Quest Trilogy: The Lost Ark (Books 1-3 The Templars Quest Chronicles)

by Thomas H. Ward

  “Well, we’re not a hundred percent sure, but the sword says it was part of the treasure.”

  Captain Walker sat there speechless, just nodding his head as he drove us to Wichita Falls.

  I dozed off and not much was said after that exchange. Before I knew it, Captain Walker woke me up. “Pit stop, up ahead.”

  I rubbed my eyes and sat up wondering how far away we were from the Nation. I picked up my radio and advised everyone we were stopping up ahead.

  While refueling, Walker met Billy Bob, and while they shook hands, I noticed that they had similar facial features. In the bright sunlight their skin color was also comparable. They both had high cheek bones and dark eyes. They were about the same size and their posture was high and straight. I studied them and was amazed how much they resembled each other.

  We arrived at the Comanche Nation at 8 pm without any incidents. The sun was setting as our trucks rolled to a stop at the gate. Ten armed men greeted us as Walker got out and shook their hands. A few of them gave a typical Indian whoop and yelled ‘Tu Puuku.’ They all seemed to know him and I stood there watching as they exchanged greetings speaking in their native tongue.

  Walker didn’t bother to introduce me to any of the guards and told me that we could make camp at an empty lot near his Uncle’s house. We got back in his police car and the guards, who all wore cowboy hats with two long strands of braided hair hanging down their backs, waved us past the road block.

  While we were setting up camp, Walker said, “I’m gonna talk to my Uncle. Ranger Smith and I will sleep at his house tonight, so we’ll see you in the morning. You’ll be safe here tonight.”

  “Ok, whatever you say, Captain.”

  As Captain Walker and Ranger Smith walked away, Baldwin moseyed over and asked, “Where are they going?”

  “They’re going to his Uncle’s house tonight. He said we’d be safe here.”

  “Maybe so, but I’m still posting guards.”

  I nodded my head. “Yeah, I agree.”

  Everyone was hot, tired, and hungry from the long 15 hour trip. I just wanted to clean up, eat, and hit the hay. Maggie came over and asked, “Where can we get cleaned up at?”

  I replied, “I don’t have any idea. Where are the dogs?”

  “Billy Bob has them over there; doing their business away from everyone.” Maggie pointed them out about 100 yards away.

  Billy jogged over to us with the dogs. “Jack, there’s a motel down the street. Maybe we can get a few rooms for the night.”

  “Good idea. Maggie, take some money and go over there with Billy. See if you can get twelve rooms for two days. Then we’ll be able to take a shower and sleep in a bed.”

  Maggie said, “That sounds good to me.” Billy handed me the dog leashes and they walked towards the motel, a good half mile away.

  While they were gone I heated some MREs for the dogs and me. Maggie quickly returned, advising that they were able to get fourteen rooms. She went around and passed out room keys to the Knights.

  It was a nice little place called the Comanche Nation Motel. The rooms were plain and the furniture was old. It wasn’t a Hilton, but I didn’t mind because it was better than sleeping on the ground or in a truck. We’d be doing enough of that on this journey.

  All of us took a much needed shower and we felt human again. It’s funny how great a shower can feel. The well water had a little sulfur smell to it, but I didn’t mind the stink.

  I went outside and cracked open a bottle of JD, which I had been saving. I poured a shot and lit up a smoke. Adolf and Freda were sitting at my feet. Driving just poops me out and a shot of whiskey or two would relax me, so I could sleep.

  We ended up sleeping in one room with two double beds. Adam and I had one, and Maggie the other. Billy slept on the floor with the dogs.

  BLACK HORSE

  APRIL, 26, 2026

  I heard the rooster crow and opened my eyes. It was still dark, as I glanced at my watch, it was 4 am. That damn rooster wouldn’t shut up so I got out of bed, took another shower, and went out for a smoke. I peered down the street at our convoy and decided to walk down there to find some coffee. Passing by the motel office, I saw a person was up and moving about.

  Opening the door, I walked in and said, “Good morning.”

  An old man with long braided grey hair turned around and said, “Howdy Mister. You want some coffee?”

  “Yes sir, that sounds great.”

  He poured me a cup of black mud. “Here ya go. My name is Big Bear.”

  I stuck out my hand. “Hello Big Bear. Pleased to meet you. I’m Jack Gunn.” I put the cup to my lips. The coffee was hot so I slowly sipped it. It had a unique taste. “This is good. What’s in it?”

  “Oh, a little sage, to add some flavor. It’s an old Indian custom.”

  “I never heard of that before. But it sure is good.”

  The old Indian took a sip of mud and asked, “So you’re friends with Tu Puuku?”

  “Sorry, but I don’t know anyone named Tu Puuku.”

  “That’s his Indian name. His English name is James Walker.”

  “Yeah, we’re friends.”

  I pulled out a smoke and offered him one. He took one, looked at it, twirled it around in his fingers, and then smelled it. After that he stuck it between his lips and I lit it for him. “Thanks Mister. It tastes good.” I nodded in agreement.

  Walker came walking in the door as we were finishing our coffee and smokes. “Hi Jack. Did you sleep here last night?”

  “Morning Captain. Yeah, we purchased fourteen rooms.”

  The old Indian smiled and handed Walker a cup of his sage-laced coffee. “Big Bear, this is still the best damn coffee around.”

  Big Bear mumbled something in Comanche and the Captain replied back to him. Putting his hand on my shoulder he said, “Jack, you and Billy Bob can speak to my Uncle. He’s expecting us after we get some chow.”

  “Billy don’t know anything about what we’re looking for.”

  “I know that, but he wants to meet him for another reason.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  Walker glanced at me. “I think he’s part Comanche.”

  I thought about this for a minute and said, “Now that you mention it, he does appear to have some Indian blood in him. You both have the same facial features.”

  He let out a little laugh. “You noticed that, did ya?”

  Neither of us said another word about the facial similarities.

  An hour later, we walked into Black Horse’s home. Walker introduced Billy and me to Black Horse. He didn’t shake our hands’, but just stared at Billy Bob. He didn’t say a word for almost ten minutes. He slowly walked around Billy, checking him out from head to toe.

  Black Horse appeared to be around sixty years old. His sun-beaten face showed the deep wrinkles of age, but it had a trustworthy appearance. His hair was totally grey with long twin braids which hung to his waist. Black Horse continued to move deliberately around Billy Bob. I liked his half indian/cowboy appearance and calming demeanor. But on the other hand, he was acting kinda weird.

  Walker said, “My Uncle’s been the Medicine man for 30 years. If anyone knows the history, it’s him.”

  Black Horse was still staring at Billy Bob. He asked him, “What city where you born in?”

  Billy replied, “Indianola, sir.”

  “What was your mother’s name?” Black Horse was peering into Billy’s eyes.

  “Susan, sir.”

  I could tell Billy was getting nervous and wondered why this man was questioning him so intensely.

  Black Horse ordered Billy to take off his shirt. Billy asked, “Why?”

  “Just do as I say, boy.” Black Horse pointed his finger at Billy Bob. “Hurry it up.”

  I really wondered what was going on now, but I told Billy, “Go ahead, take it off.” Billy removed his shirt.

  I noticed a tattoo of a small horse on his right shoulder. It wasn’t just any horse, it was a bla
ck horse.

  The Comanche Medicine man stood up and looked closely at it. He removed his shirt and pointed to a black horse tattoo on his right arm. “I have same tattoo.”

  “What does it mean?” Billy asked.

  “It means you are my Son. Your real name is Little Black Horse. I gave you that tattoo when you were four years old, so I would always be able to identify you.”

  “You’re … my Father? I can’t believe it! I found my real Father.”

  “Welcome home, my Son.” They hugged each other and some tears dropped to the floor.

  Walker said, “Welcome home, Little Black Horse.” They both smiled at each other and shook hands.

  Black Horse stepped over to me. “Thank you for bringing my Son to me. I‘ll always be in your debt.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. It was the work of God,” I replied.

  Black Horse nodded his head and put his arm around Billy Bob. “Tonight we will celebrate that my Son is here.”

  In a soft voice Billy asked, “Father, why didn’t you come for me in Indianola?”

  “Sit down, I will tell you the story.”

  We sat down, waited as Black Horse lit up a pipe, took a puff, and passed it around the room. “I met your Mother in Indianola one day when I went there to find work. We were young and fell in love right away.” He took another puff and thought. “You were born, but we never got married because she was white and I was Comanche. The Mississippi law would not permit it, but you were born anyway. We lived together for four years, until one day a member from my tribe came and told me my Father was sick. I needed to return to the Nation.”

  He paused for a few minutes, while gazing up at the ceiling, as if he was thinking. “Susan couldn’t leave with me because her mother needed someone to take care of her. So we agreed I would go and return when it was possible. You were only four years old when I gave you that tattoo. I remember you didn’t even cry.”

  “Did you ever come back looking for us?” Billy asked.

  “Yes, my Son. But it was a long time later. The years flew by and I became the new Medicine Man of the tribe. When I did return your Mother had already died, maybe from a broken heart. I asked many people what happened to her little boy. No one knew what happened to you. After searching for many days, I gave up and returned home. You were always in my heart. I knew that someday we would come together.”

  “Yes, now we’re together. I will never leave your side,” Billy said.

  “I was loyal to your Mother’s memory and never married or had any children. You are my only son.”

  I sat there speechless because his story brought a tear to my eye. I glanced at Walker and saw him wipe a tear away.

  “Father, I feel at home. The empty feeling I had all those years is gone,” Billy said, as he touched his father’s hand.

  “That is good, my Son. My empty feeling is also gone.”

  Black Horse glanced at me and wiped a tear from his eye. “Now, let’s help Jack Gunn with his problem. Tell me what you want to know, Jack Gunn.”

  I started by showing him a picture of the Templar Cross. “Have you ever seen this shape anywhere?”

  Black Horse put on his glasses and studied the picture. “It looks like some kind of cross.”

  “Yes, it’s a Templar Cross.”

  “I’ve never seen one before.”

  “I know the historians and archaeologists say the Comanche Indians didn’t live in this part of the country until fifteen-hundred. Is that correct?”

  “No. As far as I know my people have lived here since the beginning of time. We have always ruled the plains here.”

  I said, “Let me explain more. I believe that in thirteen-hundred a large group of men, called the Knights Templar, came through this area from Europe. If I can prove they were here then it would give me the confidence to keep looking for the treasure they brought. Do you remember any history about that?”

  “There has been many such people from Spain and Europe coming to our land in the past. We always fight with them because they try to change our ways.”

  I was getting nowhere fast. I pulled out another picture of a Templar Knight in old battle gear, which showed the shield, helmet, and sword. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

  “Yes. We have many such relics taken from the Spanish Conquistadors. Most of them are in the museum but some are here in my house. Would you like to see them?”

  “Yes, please.” I thought, now I am getting somewhere.

  “Ok, follow me.” We proceed into a bedroom that was filled with old relics.

  The room was dark so I took out my flashlight and shined it around. It was filled with all types of ancient items taken from the battle fields. “May I look around?”

  “Yes, of course. There’s a lot of old junk here that my people collected over hundreds of years.”

  I viewed the piles of relics. There were scalps, bows, arrows, and many helmets along with a few shields and some swords. Digging in the piles I found old flintlock rifles and pistols.

  Black Horse commented, “Jack, you are the first white man to ever see this collection.”

  “I am honored to be the first,” I said, while still digging.

  Black Horse, Billy, and Walker went to sit down while I kept searching in the car size pile of relics. He had a fortune here that any museum would pay money for, when times were good.

  After an hour, I had found 12 helmets which were all Spanish, 10 swords, 15 shields, and several old guns. These had to be from the Conquistadors. I walked back into the living room. “I didn’t find what I was looking for. Can we go to the Museum?”

  “Yes. I will take you now.” We walked a few blocks to the Comanche Nation History Museum. It was about 30,000 square feet in size. Black Horse took me to the correct displays showing European relics. There were dozens of metal helmets here and great looking swords with shields. The items on display here were in better shape than the ones in his house.

  After another hour, to my dismay, none of the items had a Templar Cross on it. I commented to Black Horse, “Well, that’s it. I haven’t seen the sign of the cross.”

  “That’s too bad. I really wanted to help you,” Black Horse said.

  We were walking back to his house and he said, “It just occurred to me that Quanah Iron Coat has some old relics. Do you want to see them?”

  “Ok, let’s go.” We went to Quanah Iron Coat’s house, but he wasn’t home.

  Black Horse commented, “Quanah probably went hunting or is on guard duty. We will talk to him later.”

  “Is he related to Quanah Parker, the famous Chief?”

  “Yes, Quanah Parker is his Great-Great-Grandfather. But most of us are related in some way to Quanah Parker. It is rumored that he had many wives and children. You can find his life story on the internet.”

  “Yes, I read about him. He was a great warrior who helped his people.”

  On the way back, to Black Horse’s house we passed by many people. Black Horse made it a point to introduce his son and tell each person the story about finding his son. He told the story with joy and cited me as the person who brought his son to him. He advised everyone there would be a celebration tonight at 9 pm in the town park.

  Even before 9 pm, people were gathering in the park. I was the only one invited from our group. Captain Baldwin and his warriors stayed close to the motel and trucks along with Maggie, Adam, and the dogs.

  I felt totally out of place, since I couldn’t understand Comanche and didn’t know the customs. It was a big event and I would guess over a thousand people showed up to pay respects to Black Horse and to meet his son. Black Horse introduced me as the friend who returned his son.

  Of course, there was an abundance of food provided by the women, who were continually cooking the beef over wood fires. It seemed like a never ending flow of people came to the celebration. They welcomed Billy Bob to the tribe, and then would leave after an hour or so. Almost every person brought a gift of some k
ind and presented it to Black Horse.

  While I was standing next to Black Horse, a tall man dressed in typical old-style Comanche clothing walked up. Black Horse introduced him as the Chief or Head of the Council. It was Quanah Iron Coat himself. I had seen pictures of Quanah Parker and he closely resembled his great-great-grandfather. His bright eyes were the feature I noticed first.

  Quanah Iron Coat was a handsome man and his long braided hair was also graying. You could tell he spent a lot of time outside because his facial skin was deeply tanned with crow’s feet wrinkles around his eyes. He seemed like a kind caring person as he softly spoke to Black Horse. I didn’t understand a word they were saying so I just listened to the wonderful Comanche language being spoken. It sounded almost like music.

  I heard Black Horse switch in mid-sentence to English and mention my name. Quanah stepped up in front of me and shook my hand. “So, you are the one to bring Black Horse his son.”

  I was speechless meeting a great-grandson of Quanah Parker. “Yes, I brought him here, but at the time I didn’t know who he was. It’s really the work of God or just plain luck.”

  Nodding his head he folded his arms and looked at me. “So, you take no credit for finding Little Black Horse.”

  “No, not really. I mean yeah, I brought him here, but I didn’t plan it.”

  “Whether it was fate, luck, God, or the Great Spirit that brought him here, it does not matter. It is important that he is here now. My friend’s heart is healed. You made that possible.”

  “I didn’t do anything, but let Billy ride along with me.”

  “I like you Jack Gunn. You are an honest white man,” Quanah Iron Coat said.

  I didn’t respond to Quanah because I couldn’t think of anything to say at the time. After a minute, Black Horse said, “Quanah, Jack needs your help. He would like to look at the relics of metal Helmets and swords.”

  “Yes, he may see them, but they are not for sale.”

  I replied, “I just wanna look at them. I want to see if any have a Templar Cross on them.”

  “I don’t know what a Templar Cross is, but you are welcome to my home to look at them.”