The chief spoke his reply and the toddler translated, “I am the chief.”
Quinlan reached to the side of his saddle, where he’d hung a burlap bag earlier that day. I didn’t know what was in it. He tossed it to the ground in front of the chief. One of the twins pointed his gun at the chief’s head, the other one untied the bag and emptied it on the ground right in front of him. It was two pounds of horse dung. The chief began to shake as he filled up with rage.
“Tell him to eat all of that,” Quinlan said to the toddler. The toddler translated. The chief started to get up, but the nearest twin pistol-whipped him three times on the ear until blood was running out. “Eat,” Quinlan said, and that didn’t need to be translated. The chief put his hands in the dung and pulled up some and put it in hi
