KASSA, or THE NOMADIC ENDLING JALI VINDICADOR S01

KASSA, or THE NOMADIC ENDLING JALI VINDICADOR S01

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https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/art/KASSA-or-THE-NOMADIC-ENDLING-JALI-VINDICADOR-S01-1315101294

Content

TITLE: THE SILVER BUFFALO

from Richard Murray aka @HDdeviant

  

KASSA, or THE NOMADIC ENDLING JALI VINDICADOR P1

KASSA, or THE NOMADIC ENDLING JALI VINDICADOR PS01

 

A rare breed of buffalo 

Once lived among its kin 

And then came the frenchman 

Killing the Silver Buffalo 

The last ran into the woods 

Eating any for its goods 

In the Sweetbush live the... Silver Buffalo 

  

The rains pour, beginning days ago, morphing this part of the Llanos from dry plateau to drop-zone for millions of free-flying drops of water, instantly becoming lines of sleepwalkers to the Orinoco River. A man on a lemon-skin horse ride to a posada , just north of a stretch of Orinoco; he get off the horse carrying his tuned Winchester 1895 and don't turn to look at Cerro Negro, the highest point for a distance; he pass five healthy horses and stand still as the front door of the posada, echoes from a happy gathering in a corner, greet him; he enter and only receive quick or unbothered glances, from any one, and he calmly walk to the bar in the light from the front door.  

  

"A cucui coming up": say the woman behind the bar. The sound of raindrops peer into the posada. The man sit on a stool and gather his drink: "Thank you" 

  

"Your Portuguese is still poor": smile the bartender. 

  

"I need more sessions with you": and the man turn to a trio chatting to themselves.  

  

"The silver vest is Pierre, the one-eye vaquero is Julio, the sombrero is Steinberg" 

  

The man hold his rifle across his chest and play its butt embedded mbira, to the gambling table. 

  

"Hello... Mr. Kassa": say Pierre, on arrival of the mbira player.  

  

"You know me?": query Kassa. 

  

"No, but your rifle has been whispered about": answer Pierre, shuffling while Steinberg drink or Julio stare through his one eye. Kassa calmly continue playing. Kassa sit continuing to play, and ask:"will you play truco?" 

  

"I wiped them clean already ": answer Pierre and continue: "but I will give eight reales for a story if you know one" 

  

Kassa look to his rifle and gesture to Pierre positively. Pierre throw coins to Kassa, on the table, like a bid in a card game. Kassa look to the bartender and the bartender come, and arrive.  

  

"Porridge": and Kassa hand the bartender a reales and ask to Steinberg, Julio, plus Pierre: "do you want to eat while you listen?" 

  

Pierre quickly reply: "of course" 

  

Steinberg continue to drink. Julio hesitate and gesture confirmation to the barkeep. Kassa lean back, plucking the mbira in the butt, and begin... 

  

I will tell you a story of Yaha and Nili Accita, the wolf and the moon's blanket. A couple made from two lives forged in dripping blood. The last of their kin, out only for revenge... 

  

This story began with a legend, laid in the Inoka's land, what gringos call Illinois Country, between Mine la Motte, Missouri, plus St. Philippe, Illinois. A treasure of silver, Monsieur Cadillac, found after killing a people now only two knew. The legend said the map to the treasure was about the town of Argentia, Missouri, now only an inn in the Sweetbushes.  

 

  

The barkeep settle bowls of porridge on the table and Kassa, Pierre, or Julio grab and take a spoonful. Kassa stop and before he can continue the tale, Steinberg stop drinking and look to him. And Kassa gesture to the bartender. 

  

"You are kind": say Pierre 

  

"A meal and a story is a beautiful thing": reply Kassa. 

  

"I don't recall the bartender being so attentive": question Julio, as he eat.  

  

"Maybe I will learn her name later": and Kassa continue... 

  

In the inn where Argentia once was, a female bartender was in charge too. She was blond haired with dark eyes and porcelain skin. A one eyed old black man was her servant. They both sat at the bar as a guerilla, called a bushwhacker up north, exit. He didn't wear blue or grey, just tattered brown leather from ankle to hat but his leather boots while muddy were mighty fine. The guerilla paused standing outside the door but stepped sideways facing someone and then the leatherman's footsteps went from strong to faint to gone as another entered the inn. The other wore all black like an undertaker, except for a red band around his hat, very sharp. He stood at the door, bright morning light illuminated his shadow, but kept it open and asked: "Is this Annie's inn?" 

  

The inn owner standing at the bar answered: "Yes I am Annie" 

  

Immediately cutting off Annie, the man at the door continued:"Was the town of Argentia here?" 

  

Annie paused and slowly answered: "yes" 

  

The man at the door remained still and slowly continued: "Where is the map?" 

  

Annie giggled and replied: "Stranger, me and Old Tom used to get at least one, morning, noon, and night, daily, askin that, and none were ever happy at our answer.... the last old Indian around here said the Silver Buffalo makes honey tracks" 

  

The man at the door didn't reply, and Annie said, facing Old Tom: "Don't I always tell them the truth" 

  

Old Tom confirmed with a head nod sideways while proclaimed in a high pitch tone:"mmmm hmmm, Miss Annie" 

  

Annie was about to continue speaking when the man at the door turned sharply plus uncaringly and exited the inn looking about. The Sweetbushes gave a blend of apple, lemon, black locus, wisteria and more in a sweet collage, unique or undeniable to a passerby or any within. The man who looked like an undertaker searched, whiffing, for a honied scent; he slowly got off the stand of the inn and faced a section of the sweet lush trees surrounding the inn; he peered into the green and walked with confidence forward; minutes went by, and in the forest he stopped under a tree, and the arbor smelled of honey with yellow petals; he smelled more and searched through the sweet collage; honeysuckle after honeysuckle he found and trekked onward, hoping at the end is a silver treasure unlike any other in sweet dense mountainous bush; on and on he went as the light changed that peered onto the wood from the sky , growing a darkness that would not hide the scents while opened the danger in a land of independent warfare; suddenly, while dusk light allowed only the top of the Sweetbush to be seen, he whiffed a foul odor, made from the undeniable purity of dead or decaying flesh from slaughter. The gossip said: in the Sweetbush live the... Silver Buffalo.  The man in black used eagerness: to tear past sharp thorns, to trip over uneven muddy crevices; he breathed harder and harder, breathed in the dead of the Silver Buffalo close to where it rest, drowned out anything sweet except the image of a silver lair sparkling superior to any other before or since; finally he arrived, to a small clearing at the base of a low but wide mountain, at the front of a dark cave, illuminated by the dusk light surrounded by arborean darkness; the man was ready, his Holland & Holland double rifle had rounds able to kill an elephant with no question; he asked: where is it, where is the Silver Buffalo; he was falling, suddenly; his body felt hit by a bullet, and again; from where, he didn't hear a gunshot, didn't see a sign of smoke, and he finally fell face up to the sky; the blood leakage, the shock, his consciousness was all he could muster and while a darkness was enveloping his vision, he saw light; he though: Christ, no, the moon is still in the sky, a lamp; he thought he saw a black man speaking, but the blood was too wild or flooding to have heard properly; movement, the smell of his own blood blocked the smell of dead flesh, if that was the smell of where he was brought to; And, then he saw it, silver light, the lair of the Silver Buffalo it must be; he had a dying comfort until his head settled at mighty fine leather shoes while the lamp became distant and two figures became present; his failing cognizance may had seen a lamp holder and a rifle wielder, an air-gun; his final thoughts were ponderances: why, who murdered him in the sweetbushes of the Illinois county in 1860.  

  

... Kassa finish plucking the mbira settled in the butt of his rifle and ask: "Did I earn my reales Pierre?" 

  

Pierre shuffling say:"I can't deny I like silver but it lacked the amount of action I prefer, what was the moral of this story" 

  

Julio chime in while Steinberg drink: "Greed will bring you down" 

  

"No": sharply reply Kassa:"... the search for the unknown provides unknown dangers" 

  

Kassa rise and head to the exit and the three former listeners continue their leisure, and start another game of cards. Eventually, Pierre, Steinberg, or Julio finish, and Julio, Steinberg, and Pierre left. With only one to never be seen again. Who knows why?