To earn Blue River’s approval, Bright Feather chose her words carefully, rolling back the years to another time and place. “When you were born, I was right there with our mother. I still remember how she spoke of how your eyes were as blue as the Rock River whose banks you were born on.” She walked towards the completely mute Blue River and leaned next to him against the same wall. “I listened to her name you Blue River because of those eyes.”
She turned her head towards him looking up slightly, so long ago had he just been a little papoose, now she had to look up at him. Where had all the years gone? she thought before concluding her argument, “You walk into that Apache camp and your ruse will be over before it begins.”
Blue River opened his mouth to say something but then, closed it back and grimaced.
"Curse the Great Spirit!" he blustered, though instantly sorry he had done so. The Great Spirit had always loomed large in his life, and to say what he said caused him great mortification as well as anger.
He hit his right fist into his left palm and yelled, "Damn it all, you're right! I do not wish to admit it, but you are right Bright Feather."
Greystone eventually interrupted into what had become a family discussion. “Then it’s settled then!” he exclaimed loudly. “The squaw goes!”
"Yes, she goes," he finally said reluctantly. "But I will be nearby, as nearby as a heartbeat."
Greystone burst out into appreciation. “I can’t thank you enough for handling this, Blue River,” he proclaimed with a grin on his face.
His jubilation quickly cooled as he waded back to the difficulty his men would go through having to stomach the death of Overstreet. “I need some time to collect my thoughts and figure out how to address the men about the surveyor’s murders.” He fell silent for a few minutes before reaching a decision. “I shall ride into Casper’s Crossing and check on Sadie.” He stood up from his desk and slipped his spectacles back in his breast pocket before he stated calmly, “It will give me time to clear my head and find the right words for the crew.”
Greystone eventually shook Blue River’s hand before he relit his pipe and exited the tent.
Things began to move very quickly at that point as Bright Feather and Catalina worked to alter a spare buckskin dress she had packed for her originally planned journey to Charges At Bull’s tribe.
Blue River, meanwhile, confirmed with his tracker the travel time to the Apache tribe—some three hours’ ride distance from the trestle site. After speaking with the tracker, he sought out Benson and a short time later, the pair headed into Casper’s Crossing with a goal in mind.
Upon their return, Blue River realized that Bright Feather was ready for her infiltration. He watched silently as his sister put the finishing touches on her work to modify her outfit to resemble what an Apache woman might wear. Catalina wasn’t being quiet, however, as her voice rang out with distaste. “I sure don’t like this!” she said with her arms folded.
In a similar tone, Blue River agreed, "Nor do I. If only we had some other choice."
Seeming rather optimistic, Bright Feather echoed, “Well, we don’t.” She tapped their shoulders simultaneously and warned the worried Wildes, “Please you two, do not burden yourself with such worries; this is not the first time I have done something like this.”
Catalina eventually hugged her emotionally as she affirmed Bright Father’s last statement. “Yeah, we know but it’s usually with Dutch!” she pouted.
Bright Feather chuckled faintly before she spoke confidently once more, “He’s the reason I will be coming back from this safely. I am supposed to spend the rest of my life with him after all.”
Nodding her head with great conviction she stated, “And I look forward to those many, many moons of us being together.”
Blue River delved into the already emotional conversation with his own charge. “Very well, then,” he exclaimed, and with confidence brimming over in his voice he declared, “It’s time to put the real plan into motion.”
CHAPTER 8
Three hours later, everything was ready and Bright Feather gently dismounted her horse outside the renegade’s camp. Emerging from the thicket she easily slipped into the Apache stronghold. Looking around, she saw the Apaches were preparing a celebration of some sorts. Food was being roasted under the watchful eye of several squaws, and the braves continued to laugh amongst themselves. Some even practiced their skills by throwing tomahawks.
For nearly an hour, she walked amongst the tribe, but no one gave her much attention. In no time at all, she discovered that the gathering was not a cohesive tribe of Apaches but one made up of many different bands. All were united in their hatred for the white man and his unyielding encroachment on their lands. Bright Feather needed to deny her native heritage so as not to feel a flash of understanding of their feelings.
However, violence capped with murder was not the solution. In her travels, the West seemed so vast. Surely, there would be some way for the white men and the natives to share the land and more precisely, share it in peace.
Pushing the quandary out of her mind, she took her place in line where meals were being served. When it was her turn to receive her meal, she came face to face with an aging squaw. She noticed that the woman looked at her keenly prompting Bright Feather to move along as soon as possible. As she walked away, Bright Feather saw the woman beckoning to a young brave to come to her.
Her concern was momentarily put in check as she was suddenly distracted by the sudden sight of a white man emerging from a teepee. He wore a satisfied smile on his face. A moment later, a young Indian woman emerged from the tent.
To Bright Feather’s eyes, if she had seventeen moons behind her, that would be generous. She did not need Catalina’s vivid imagination to guess what had just transpired. She watched, disheartened as the demoralized looking young woman shuffled away, and then she brought her attention back to the man.
Despite the revulsion she felt, her lips parted in a satisfied smile.
Blue River had been right! She watched as the man casually strode over and entered the largest of the tepees. Bright Feather was sure it belonged to the so-called chief of the band of renegades.
Turning toward the thicket, to the west she raised her arm above her head and clenched her fist. She had just brought her arm down after giving the signal when she was seized and spun around. Her plate immediately fell from her other hand in the process. A moment later she was in the grip of the young brave she had seen earlier with the older woman standing in front of her staring at her stonily.
“Who are you? You do not belong here?” the brave standing behind her shouted, he was so close his voice boomed in her ears.
Expertly, Bright Feather slipped easily into the Apache language that he spoke and answered him. “I am Desert Flower of the moon tribe,” She yelled confidently.
She cleared her throat and continued, “I heard of the brave battle you are waging against the white man and their iron horse, and I seek to join you.”
“You lie.” The same old woman that had suspiciously stared at Bright Feather effectively terminated the fiction she was trying to spin.
She pointed her bony finger directly towards Bright Feather. “I was just a girl when the Apache captured me, but I see it in your face. You may dress as an Apache and speak the language,” she said firmly as she gazed at the young woman and declared assuredly, “but you are Yavapai!”
The brave that started the interrogation shouted stridently as his eyes shone as he found pleasure in making such a capture, “A spy! To the chief with you!”
Putting up no resistance, Bright Feather was quickly manhandled off to the chief’s tent. As the flap was drawn open, she found herself staring into the dark eyes of the battle-hardened chief as well as the twinkling blue eyes and jovial face of the white man she had seen enter the tent; a man she had only met earlier in the day; Roger Greystone!
From beyond the tent Bright Feather heard a commotion, and knowing full well what it
was, her rapid heartbeat reduced gradually.
Grinning uncontrollably, Greystone waved as the young woman was shoved all the way through the opening. “Ah, our lovely new arrival.” He proclaimed from where he sat on the floor of the tent next to the chief and several other warriors.
Sounding enthusiastic, he beckoned, “Come on in, Bright Feather. Don’t stand there like a stranger. We were just going to have some venison in celebration.” Sarcastically, he inquired, “Won’t you have a bite with us?”
The young brave who had captured her hustled Bright Feather to stand before the man from the Grand Western. Greystone eyes glimmered as he looked up regarding her, “Surprised to see me?”
Appearing unfazed then, Bright Feather crossed her arms. “Not at all,” she said with an air of nonchalance.
“My brother knew from the moment you had your timely “accident” of spilling water on the map to the surveyors that you were the man who made it,” she said smoothly with a confident tone. “Ruining it with the water was the only way to make sure that none of your assistants got a look at it. If they did they would confirm the handwriting to be yours. That proved to be the final bit of confirmation Blue River needed to know your dark heart was behind the violence.”
Greystone nodded his head throughout her explanation and cut in afterward. He adjusted his sitting position as a look of glee lingered on his face. "Speaking of which … that noise out there should be him now."
A moment later two imposing braves, hustled Blue River into the tent. Each gripped Blue River’s arms tightly. He nodded at Bright Feather and then, turned towards Greystone.
Surprisingly, he smiled, “I knew you didn’t go to Casper’s Crossing to see Sadie. You came straight here.”
Greystone unconcerned joviality continued, “Welcome, Blue River!”
He tilted his head towards the brave on the left. “You there that speaks English, Silent Deer! Did you have any trouble finding him?” he inquired.
“I told you all this would-be spy was going to be skulking nearby, trying to protect his sister. I believe his words were ‘as close as a heartbeat’. See where that got you, Blue River,” Greystone snorted.
The brave he conversed with expressly responded, “Swift Eagle and I found his hiding place easy.” He looked briefly at Blue River and pressed further, “We know him to be a half breed. His white blood makes for a poor brave.”
Mockingly, he concluded, “No natural brave would have been caught so easily.”
Blue River looked fixedly at his detractor with the corner of his mouth turning upward, “Silent Deer, is it?”
He ensured his gaze met that of the brave as he decided to lay a helping of truth on those assembled in the tent. “As soon as my sister gave me the signal I let myself be found by you so that I might be taken directly to this murderer.”
Nodding his head slightly, he declared. “I assure you, I am every bit the brave you are, if not more.”
Silent Deer grunted with derision and Greystone's reaction was to ignore Blue River's statements. He resumed his jest and stated coldly, "I'll make you the same offer I made your sister to join the chief and me in some food we are having for our celebration. The condemned should have a last meal after all."
Bright Feather seized the moment to fill her brother in on what she had seen the white man do earlier. She said in a voice rife with scorn, “I have seen another way he celebrates. There is some poor unfortunate young maiden out there right now that carries the stink of his vile attentions on her body at this moment.”
Greystone’s face took on a crimson hue at her insult, and he looked at her sharply. “My, but you have a sharp tongue on you,” he exclaimed. “I’ll see to that later and maybe find another use for it as well.” He nodded towards the chief. “As for the girl, that was a gift from my friend here, the chief.”
Irritation flashed through Blue River as he turned his attention to the man Greystone had just referred to as the chief. “You call yourself a chief?” he asked with disgust. “A chief of a band of cutthroats is what you are. How much is Greystone paying you?”
“Much,” the supposed chief expressly responded, his weathered face a mask making Blue River think the man should try his hand at poker. That aside he was surprised by the man’s answer. “You don’t deny it? I thought you all were on a crusade. This cannot be all for the white man’s dollar?”
The so-called chief slowly responded again, “It isn’t. Greystone’s dollars will buy many fire sticks across the border from the Mexican criminal, San Cristobel.” Letting his poker face drop, the man smiled at the future he was envisioning. “The more fire sticks we have the more will join our cause and drive the white eyes and their iron horse from our lands.”
Blue River smiled, only too happy to crush the chief’s fantasy. “You can forget about getting your arsenal from San Cristobel,” he said, as crinkles of pleasure formed around his brilliant blue eyes. “He’s done with gun running, cattle rustling, and all of his other illegal operations, and one of my own sisters helped put him out of business. In fact, his bullet-riddled body lies in a pauper’s grave right now.”
The chief, apparently unflappable, consoled himself with an optimistic idea.
“No matter. Cut the head off a snake and another grows to take its place.”
He hit his fist on the mat he was sitting on as he proclaimed, “We will get our weapons from another source and stain the West with the blood of the white man!”
Blue River was tired of this man and turned his attention to where most of his animosity was focused. “So, the time for truth, Greystone. You’ve aligned yourself with these Apache murderers with their twisted dreams of halting progress with bows, arrows, and guns. The only question is, why are you doing this?”
Greystone responded with relish as if he had expected the question the entire time. "The simplest reason of all," he stated with a grin, "$50,000 in gold nuggets."
He rose and looked at Blue River in his eye. "A rival railroad wants to build the line to the north of here." He grinned coldly. "If Grand Western has to quit, the government that is financing this will negate the contract and will award the new contract to the line that is paying me to sabotage the operation, and the railroad will be built there!”
He walked towards Bright Feather, his eyes roving over her shapely figure, “That way, I will receive my payment and be rich beyond my wildest dreams.”
Blue River looked down at the chief as he queried, “North of here. The railroad would then go through Yavapai lands. Does this mean nothing to you, Chief?” he asked anxiously.
Unfazed with Blue River’s observation, the chief simply said, “That will be the Yavapai’s problem. As long as Apache lands remain free of the white eyes, the Apaches will walk the path of peace.”
Bright Feather intervened once more with her bluntness. “Hypocrite!” she yapped, but the man’s expression did not change leaving her to wonder if he even knew the meaning of the white man’s word. Unable to hold back she unleashed on him, “If you care about lands being lost to the Americans, then you should care about all lands.”
The tent became silent for a moment, enough time for Blue River to absorb the reason behind the man's actions. It was a selfish motive as old as time.
He turned his sad eyes towards the white man and shook his head. “So, the lives of all those men you got killed—the destruction of the trestle—all that was worth $50,000 to you?”
Still undaunted, Greystone shot back, “You bet! Not all of us lucked out to be born into a family that owns a five-hundred-square-mile ranch overflowing with money from cattle and timber.”
Blue River cursed under his breath as he remembered the exhaustive efforts he and his men had gone through to replace the order destroyed in the attack that cost Carter Burnham his life.
Bitterness rang in his voice as he said, “We work hard for every penny Cedar Ledge makes. So, what happens next?”
Pleased with himself, Greystone began fishing aro
und in his pocket for his lighter and pipe. “Everything proceeds as planned. One of the chief’s most radical braves has agreed to martyr himself for the cause. He will allow himself to be captured and before he swings from the gallows he will finger Taylor as the mastermind behind the recent chaos, and he’ll take the fall. Justice will move swiftly, and I, for one, intend to enjoy a fine chuckle indeed when they hang that blubbery fool for murder and sabotage.”
He paused long enough to pull out his pipe and pack some tobacco in it before puffing it to life. Then he looked at the siblings with a smile that betrayed not a hint of warmth but rather coldness instead.
“As for you and Bright Feather, well let’s just say you are in for a rough few minutes, and after Bright Feather is done watching you die, I’ll continue my celebration with Bright Feather as my plaything.” He touched his hand to her cheek, “Back in my office I had my eye on you the whole time. You don’t know how hard it was play-acting grief over the survey grew when the whole time I was imaging what it would be like having you panting into my ear, with that copper-colored body under mine.”
Bright Feather was immediately consumed with anger and revulsion, deciding to make his threat look cheap. Setting her jaw firmly she said, “I am a little old for you Greystone. I have thirty moons on me.”
Blue River immediately added his own derogatory statement as well. “What would Sadie think if she knew you were nothing but a murderer topped off with the pillager of the young?” he asked with a shameful look at the white man.
Enraged by the Yavapai’s insults, he drew back his hand that had been caressing Bright Feather’s cheek and slapped her with it. He quickly followed that up with a powerful punch to Blue River’s stomach.
The bulk of his anger fell Blue River’s way. “You gussied up savage! I’m doing this for Sadie!” he yelled getting up in the younger man’s face, “She wants to go to the finest schools and have the grandest of lives, just like her siblings before her.”
Disaster At Devil's Canyon: Blue River Wilde Western Adventure (Half Breed Haven Book 7) Page 11