The Four Braves: A Fictional Narrative

He ran. Arrows, spears, and bullets whistled by his body, missing him by inches. John knew he had to find his partner Reginald and the caravan with the rest of the traders. He turned his head and saw that the natives were gaining on him. Quickly, John pulled out his gun, a silver barreled Colt Peacemaker that had a chamber full of .44 caliber bullets. He fired once bringing down one of the four braves. The rest scattered, possibly to regroup and return with more friends.
John strode over to where the native was downed but to his surprise, he wasn’t there. John then turned around to head back. Then, suddenly, the Indian lashed out of the bushes, face and body streaked with blood and war-paint, tomahawk waving ferociously. Bang! A gunshot rang …show more content…
You know them. Say one thing, do the other. I’d reckon they

thought I was lyin’ to ‘em or cheatin’ ‘em.” But that was a lie. John knew what was going on. He was supposed to trade their beads, food, weapons, and ammunition for the pelts. These pelts were going to be sold to people in the States or in Europe for a MUCH higher profit, worth more than the beads, food, weapons, and ammunition combined. But the trade had gone sour due to John accidentally dropping his firearm, which shot at the chieftain. “Well Reggie, we gotta go find that caravan. There we can make up some damned plan to get them to calm down and trade with ‘em again.”
“Yeah, but how we gonna do that if they’re hunting us down at the very moment?” responded Reginald
“I don’t know partner but the first thing we need to do is find the rest of the boys,” replied John, “lets saddle up and go. I don’t wanna be here when they return.”
Hours passed before they reached their destination. The caravan was supposed to arrive there just before sundown to unload and get ready for the night. But it was late into the night before John and Reginald had reached the area, yet there was still no sign of the wagons. “Where in hell are they?!?!” cursed