Innocents' Massacre cont'd

B.

Five bent and withered forms sat huddled in one common cell. Five very old Apache men. The room was filled with the soft low chanting of near intelligible words. The words did not seem to escape the confines of the cell bars. They whistled in a circular path just inside the cell doors. Miles and Guy entered from the hall. The five figures looked to be emaciated and nearer to death than life, but their countenance were bright and beaming.
“God damn it! Shut up that racket you savages! “
Miles slapped the keys against the bars of the cage. The prisoners stopped their mantra. They uttered absolutely no sound. As they went silent the seemed to shrink a bit more. Guy studied each “killer” in turn.
“Mister Miles I doubt these old men could get up from their death beds let alone brutally beat a man to death. What evidence do you have of their guilt?”
“See what I mean? But damned if they weren’t found standing over the bodies of their victims, a bloody club at their feet! And blood was splattered all over them!”
The ancient Apaches turned to Guy as one. Their lips still moved almost imperceptibly. The Sheriff shook his head.
“They’re all yours boy. We couldn’t get nothin’ outta them and I’m sick of trying anyhow.”
Miles turned rattling his keys at the silent old men.
“Hear that crazy old redskins? I’m sick of ya’! Can’t wait ‘til they hang your murderin’ hides!”
With that the Sheriff handed the keys to Guy and stormed out of the room. Guy stood stock still until the sheriff’s footsteps ceased in the distance. He then focused on the Apache in the cell. With Miles departure the men slowly raised the volume of their voices to an insistent whisper. The sound was light and repetitive. The words were definitely not English. Nor any dialect of Apache Guy knew or spoke. Guy nodded respectfully to the old men. Still they continued their song never taking their eyes off of him. Guy unlocked the cell and addressed them in Apache.
“Old warriors, I do not understand your words, but I hope you understand mine. I am sent by the Great White Father to learn of the killings you have done and why. If you help me then I can save the rest of your people from pain… if you have acted alone.”
The only response to Guy’s words was the lilting chant and the stares of the accused. He walked into the cell and sat on one of the dilapidated cots. The gentle sounds of the raspy voiced men held him in sway. His lids grew heavy and the words penetrated his head. The sounds reverberated in his skull as his eyes rolled back in his head. He felt searing heat against his skin then placid peace. The meaning of the words took form in his mind in a language clearer than any that could be spoken.
“the children cried
for we were sleep
and no where to be found.
We wake from our sleep.
The children cry no more.”
Over and over the chorus spun through Guy’s mid until suddenly it stopped. Guy opened his eyes to Sheriff Miles standing directly in front of him, face red and contorted.
“What in the name of Custer’s last stand are you about boy! What the hell are you doing? Why don’t you just walk these murder’s to freedom!”
Eyelids still heavy and light-headed Guy looked warily about his surrounding. The prisoners had not moved but Guy sat on the floor in the midst of them. The door to the cell was wide open, just as he had left it. Guy leaped quickly to his feet and crossed the short distance to the cell door. Guy shook his head clear. Sheriff Miles stomped behind cursing wildly as he slammed shut and locked the cage. He ushered the still wobbly Guy into the next room and pushed him into a chair.