written by John Fusco
Billy: Murphy's taking inventory in Tunstall's store right now and you're saying that means nothing to you?
Chavez: It means nothing to me? Murphy and his politicians have taken more blood from me than they ever will from you.
Billy: How do you figure?
Chavez: The Red Sands Creek Reservation! 200 people butchered in the snow with their stomachs empty. My mother's people. You see, Murphy was under government contract to supply us with beef, but two winters ago, he sent only rotten meat. No corn, no flour, just rancid beef crawling with worms. A few of my men and I set out to a camp in the middle of the night to try and get food. Oh yeah, they welcomed us in, and then they fired at us. I got away, only me. But when I got back to the Red Sands, I found out that the army had already heard about our big indian uprising and they paid us back. My mother was cut by a saber from her privates to her neck. My sisters were just babies, and they had their heads bashed in with boot heels so the army could save bullets. Everyone at the reservation was butchered AND IT MEANS NOTHING TO ME? Oh yeah, I went into Lincoln to take Murphy's head. And that's when John Tunstall found me, and he took me in, and he taught me a better way to bury Murphy.
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