Jaspre Bark - Dawn Over Doomsday

The choir burst into one of their rousing hymns at this point and Colt clicked the set off. He'd never been one to enjoy hymns or even music too much for that matter. Well the Prophet had said what Colt had told him to say, he had to give him that. But once again, even though it was a call to arms, he'd found a way to dress it up with peace and love and Christian forgiveness. He had a way of twisting the most simple messages like that. Even still, Colt had to admit it sold. And what it was selling was an increase in Colt's power base, even if he didn't see eye to eye with the Prophet's beliefs.

Colt's God had always been the vain and jealous God who says 'vengeance is mine'. It was the God he'd been brought up to believe in and you didn't have to look too far in the Bible to see Him at work. But the Prophet had a way of taking His works, whatever they were, and putting a 'let he who is without sin cast the first stone' kind of spin on them. No matter, the Prophet could be called into line if he ever went overboard on this whole forgiveness and understanding line of his. He certainly delivered the support Colt needed. Wyoming was now Colt's for the taking.

Colt turned to the men in front of him. "Well gentlemen. What did you think? He's some preacher ain't he?"

"If you like that sort of thing," said Carl. "I prefer a bit of fire and brimstone myself, and I'm surprised to see you've gone all 'Jesus loves you' to be honest Colt."

"That's Mr Colt to you Carl. And I ain't going all 'turn the other cheek' on you, don't you worry about that. What the Prophet's peddling, that's what people want to hear these days. He's the new face of the Neo-Clergy. They want to hear about healing rifts and uniting behind a common cause against a common enemy. Good news in dark times. He's brought the people back to our fold and he's brought you back to me on your knees."

"I ain't on my knees," said Tom "I don't kneel for any man."

"I don't want you to kneel," said Colt. "I want you grovelling on your belly with your face in the shit."

"Look," said Carl, sensing a row about to flare up between Tom and Colt. "You got us in a corner Mr Colt. I admit that. But I'm a man who can do business and I believe you are too. I know the price is a little higher than when you first came to see us, but I don't want to lose what I've built up, so I'm prepared to pay it. So is Tom here. We just need to keep from getting riled so we can start talking turkey. What kind of terms are we looking at?"

Colt smiled a big fat smile. "Well now," he said, "I reckon it's time to get down to business. The price is quite simple gentlemen. I want Benny Cooper's shit-eating head on a plate. Literally on a plate. You can carve up his territories however you want. But I want that two bit fucker dead and I want you to bring me his head. I'll make certain you can start collecting your tributes again but I want half. Plus I want half of all the men under your command."

"Right," said Tom, barely concealing his sneer. "That'll be for this holy war you're pushing. That's the real message behind the nigger's sermon. Not this peace and love you reckon everyone wants at the moment."

"Now you watch your mouth boy," said Colt. "Don't nobody use that kind of language when they're talking about my men. Way I see it, most of the world's dead and it's a bit late in the day to be digging up old racial divisions."

"Is that right? So how come you're about to go to war with the redskins? Answer me that, huh? If your war ain't about the old racial divisions then what is it about?"

"This war ain't about race," said Colt banging his desk. "It's about faith. Those redskins got all kinds of races working with 'em now, white, black, brown even Chinese. I'm at war with these heathens because they hate everything we stand for, they spit on our beliefs, they murder our women and children and they want to steal what our great, great grandfathers fought and died to leave us over two centuries ago. I don't give a shit what your colour is, you attack me and mine and you're gonna pay for it."

"Okay Mr Colt," said Carl holding up his hands to quiet everyone down. "Now ol' Tom here, he don't mean nothing by what he's saying. He's just a bit sore cos you got us by the balls is all. Now as I said, we came here to do business, but you gotta admit your terms are a bit steep. Is there room for negotiation?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"How about thirty per cent of our tributes and twenty-five per cent of our men?" said Carl. "Now I understand you're putting an army together but we got a revolt on our hands, a revolt you helped to start. We need all the men we got just to put it down."

"You play ball with me," said Colt, "and you won't need to put the revolt down. Don't play ball and I'll just wait till this revolt's over and come in and take everything anyway."

"Now there is some truth in what you're saying," said Carl. "But if it was gonna be that easy for you I reckon you wouldn't have bothered talking to us. I'm sure you're a reasonable man. Of course you want the best deal you can get, but so do we. Way I see it, we're gonna be working quite closely together from now on, and a little bit of give and take never hurt nobody's relationship."

"Okay," said Colt. "Forty per cent of your tributes, but I still need half your men, there's no way around that. That's my final offer. Take it or get out. And don't even think about letting Cooper live."

"Well now Mr Colt," said Carl. "I reckon ol' Benny's had it coming for a long time. You can consider that side of our bargain taken care of."

"So we have a deal then?"

"I reckon we do at that." Carl leaned forward to shake the hand Colt offered him. Tom was staring down at the floor like a sulky teenager. Carl kicked him. Tom glowered at Carl and shook Colt's hand with reluctance.

"Congratulations boys," said Colt. "You just joined the winning team."

This was an historic occasion. Cheveyo could not remember a time, since The Cull, that the councils of every tribe in the land had gathered for a sit down.

That they gathered in the Valley of the Chiefs on the reservation of the Apsaalooke, or the Crow tribe as they were termed by others, was also significant. Although it had suffered intense seismic disturbance following the nuking of Billings, this was still the largest Native American reservation in the country. What's more it was right in the heart of Montana, a mere twenty miles from the Neo-Clergy occupation of Lame Deer.

To meet here was not only a declaration of solidarity with their enslaved brothers and sisters, it was also a sign of just how powerful the UTN had become. They could march into a State that was seething with animosity towards them, where no Native American would be safe travelling alone, and they could set up camp mere miles away from a Neo-Clergy stronghold.

The UTN had come a long way since Cheveyo was active on the inner council. A long way in the wrong direction.

They were gathered in the meeting hall of the Crow's general council. Unlike many other tribes the council consisted of every registered tribe member over the age of eighteen. Cheveyo greatly admired the government of the Crow tribe. Although they also had executive and legislative branches, in principle every one in the tribe voted on every policy and every action that their government adopted. While the white man in his White House had boasted – before The Cull – of his 200 year old democracy, there was an older, stronger and more direct democracy being practiced right under his nose, by a nation that had lived here longer.

Cheveyo had hoped that the UTN itself would adopt a similar constitution, but it seemed that the organisation grew more autocratic with each day. Recent events couldn't have played better into the hands of Ahiga and his faction if they'd been planned. Too many things seemed to have gone wrong at once. Too many Native Americans were scared and angry.