Another Like Me

by Albert Norton, Jr.

  “Thought you’d have gotten ’em to surrender,” Rupert said.

  By this time, quite a few of the Apache had gotten out of their vehicles and were standing loosely at the edge of the crowd that had gathered around Jack. Cowboy hats all around, like sunflowers atop their stalks. Jack said, “Well, I haven’t met most of you, so just to be sure you know, I don’t consider myself a combatant here. Nor Peter nor Robin back here. And Rupert’s girl, Millie, back there. She’s come with us, and we tried to talk to the Diné to see if we can’t come to some terms.”

  “And?” asked a big, fair-haired, sunburned young man in a straw cowboy hat. “We’ve got some terms. Are they willing to abide by ’em?”

  “I want to answer that, but hear me out, okay? I think you already know that the Diné are not willing to say they’ll stick to Chinle or the canyon.”

  Jack was interrupted anyway, by the big sunburned man. “They can go north if they want, all the way to Canada. Glad to see ’em do that. Soon as they hand over the shooters.”

  “I think one of their people got out of hand . . .”

  “Not the first time.”

  “Got out of hand, and the Diné are saying it’s not right that you would expect their whole community to be imprisoned in one spot because of it.”

  “I said they can go all the way . . .”

  “Yeah, yeah, Canada. But I bet they have terms for you. As far as they’re concerned, Joel purposely killed one of them. Shooting the boy was an accident.”

  “They attacked Joel! He was defending himself!”

  “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I sure don’t want to argue the Diné side. I just hate to see you going in and shooting up the place and getting shot up yourselves. Seems like a big waste.”

  The first man said to Jack, “I respect you for trying.” He turned to his truck and as he did so, the rest of the men did, too. Rupert paused long enough to point his finger at Millie and say, “Keep her away from it.”

  The long line of vehicles passed Jack on the highway. Then he turned around and followed, at a little distance. The whole convoy turned right off the highway onto Indian Road 7. The closer they got to Arturo’s, the slower they proceeded until they came to a stop a little short of it. Jack went around the procession of vehicles in order to draw closer and stopped within a hundred yards of the restaurant. To his right was the first of the horse trailers.

  “War horses?” he asked.

  “Good old farm horses,” Peter replied.

  There was no sign of the Diné anywhere. There was a long pause. Jack said, “I bet the Diné aren’t showing themselves. The cowboys are trying to figure out how to approach the restaurant or the hotel.”

  “Apache,” Peter said.

  “Whatever.”

  They heard a hearty cry from the car just ahead of the horse trailer. “New York!” Then Bonzo’s face appeared in the window. Jack eased the car up a few yards to be even with it.

  “All kinda doin’s, yeah? How you been?” On the same seat to the other side of Bonzo was another zombie whose name Jack didn’t recall, but whom he’d met on his first visit to Eagar. Bonzo held a bottle of tequila up so that its label was just visible, showing it slyly to Jack as if he’d just stolen it from his parents’ liquor cabinet. He was shushed by someone else in the car. “Later, dude,” he said and raised his window again.

  “Well, the Apache have victory assured now,” Jack said to the other occupants of his car.

  There was another pause during which no one spoke.

  “You know, they aren’t going to be in the hotel or the restaurant,” Peter said.

  “Why not?” Jack asked.

  “The canyon favors the defense, don’t you think? And they’re defending. They’d want to get there before the Apache, I think.”

  “Or they could hide and hope the Apache go in, and then attack them from the top. They’d have the higher ground.”

  “Maybe,” Peter said. “But it’s too high to attack from the top. Unless you start at the top and work partway down. Attack from thirty or forty feet up, instead of three hundred or four hundred.”

  “I’d be surprised if they can pull that off,” Jack said. “I doubt the Diné know enough ways in and out of the canyon to navigate like that.”

  “Right, they could just end up getting themselves stuck high up on the rock faces,” Peter said.

  “Erasing any advantage. Plus I’m skeptical they could plan all that out anyway. I’m not impressed with their thinking.”

  “Unless they’re putting on a show of being slow.”

  “It’s not a show,” Jack said.

  There was another pause.

  “Maybe they went into the canyon in hopes of luring the Apache in after them so they can do something dastardly. An ambush or something.”

  “Well,” said Peter, “slow or not, it would make sense to get the Apache into the canyon, and then go to the higher places from the bottom, not the top.”

  “True. Though they’d still be exposed if they don’t have just the right terrain. And coordination.”

  Peter looked at Jack. “You think the Diné are their own worst enemy?”

  “They don’t inspire me with confidence. But then, I’m not so sure about the Apache, either.”

  “I think they’re pretty competent with their equipment,” Peter said.

  “Yeah, but I don’t think they’ll work together like they need to. They might just end up shooting each other. I don’t see how they can organize fast enough to be effective.”

  The caravan began moving again. The entire train snaked through the visitor parking of the forest service information center. A few of the Apache cowboys crossed the road and scouted the horse stables and the mouth of the canyon. Horses were being backed down the low ramps of the trailers. The Apache moved about with a sense of purpose. That’s not to say, however, that they moved about with disciplined organization. Their independence was expressed in their uncoordinated movements toward the canyon.

  The entry to the canyon was eerie. It was the same sight as on the day before when Jack and his friends had played at being tourists for a while, but now that scenery had a sinister cast. They followed the vehicles and the horseback riders at some distance, not knowing what would happen next, or what they would do in response. They approached the descending wall that Jack thought of as needlelike, so far having seen no sign of Diné. All of the vehicles and horses ahead of Jack and his friends disappeared around the point of the needle.

  To this point, Jack had only the vaguest notion of what he would do if they entered into the canyon on the heels of both the Apache and the Diné. In particular, he worried about what to do with Robin and Millie. It would not do for them to be in the middle of a battle. He still hoped for a parlay in the junction, however, and he knew that it would be pointless to try to put either of the girls on the sidelines now before that might happen.

  As big as the junction area was, the variations in height of rock at the floor of the canyon made it seem smaller. They went all the way to the far side, at the east, before encountering any sign of the Diné. All of the Apache were gathered at the mouth of the Canyon del Muerto. As Jack pulled up, he could see through the crowd that there were several Road Patrolmen, but no other sign of Diné. The Road Patrolmen just sat quietly astride their motorcycles, helmets on, engines off. The Apache were all getting out of vehicles, or if they were on horseback, crowding the Road Patrolmen.

  Jack, of course, didn’t know what would happen next, but he knew with certainty that no exchange of terms would happen with the Road Patrolmen themselves. If it wasn’t obvious to the Apache, it was obvious to Jack that the Road Patrolmen were a rear guard only. There was no point getting out of the vehicle if what he wanted to do was follow the Apache while they pursued the Diné. But that’s not what Jack wanted—at least not with Peter, Robin, and Millie. So he suggested they get out of the vehicle, too. Along with the Apache, they approached the Road Patrolmen on foot.<
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  For their part, the Road Patrolmen coolly waited until most of the Apache were assembled, and then calmly fired up their motorcycles and took off, two into the Canyon de Chelly, and two into the Canyon del Muerto.

  Now what? Several of the Apache began to run back to vehicles, but almost as soon as they did, they paused and turned around to go back and talk to their fellow Apache. The Diné were leading them up both canyons. They discussed the possibilities. Were the Diné in the Canyon de Chelly? Or in the Canyon del Muerto? Or split? What did they hope to induce the Apache to do with this little game? How should the Apache react? It was intense game theory, being applied in real time. This had the effect of causing not insignificant delay among the Apache, who couldn’t come to agreement. As soon as one raised his voice to declare, authoritatively, that they needed to split forces between the canyons, another would demand that they go through the already finite possibilities again, and then declare that they ought to all go up one canyon, or all go up the other.

  If the Diné had planned to stymie the Apache for a while, it worked. But Jack questioned whether the Diné would care about that, really. They could have left no Road Patrolmen at all and created even more consternation for the Apache here at the junction. It made no sense to be doing this as a way to escape the canyon altogether, as many of the Apache were now speculating they had done. If the Diné had wanted to avoid the Apache altogether, they could have done it in the almost forty-eight hours before this moment. For the same reason, there was no point posting the Road Patrolmen just to cause additional delay. This was done for some other purpose.

  Jack realized that the only move here that would have made sense for the Diné would be to go, all of them, to one canyon. The Diné wouldn’t want the Apache to just go up the wrong canyon, delaying the inevitable through an interminable cold day and possibly night. The Diné would want the Apache to find them in the right canyon. And they’d want all the Diné forces together when that happened, in case the Apache showed up in the right canyon with all theirs. Based on all this, there were only two choices that would have made sense to the Diné. One would be to lead the Apache right to them, and the other would be to have the Apache split their forces, with half in each canyon, so that the Diné would be relatively stronger in the first encounter.

  How to accomplish that? Not by leaving the junction empty. Nor by having all the Patrolmen go up one canyon. The Apache could follow, but could as easily assume it was an intended misdirection and go the opposite way. Only by splitting the Patrolmen between the two canyons could the Diné assure that at least half the Apache would find them—and most likely, only half, which to the Diné was preferable.

  As Jack was reasoning all this out, the Apache were forming up to follow into both canyons. They hadn’t reasoned it out as Jack had. They were only trying to keep the momentum going. There was not enough organization among the independent Apache to formulate a strategy. Everyone had their own idea of what was best and how to do it. Splitting their forces between the two canyons was the choice they made only because it seemed intuitive once they saw the Patrolmen split up. Horses and vehicles were on their way into the canyons when Jack took up the subject with Peter, Millie, and Robin. None of the Apache had consulted them.

  “They’re in the Canyon de Chelly,” Robin said.

  Her companions, including Jack, turned to look at her. She stated it with a degree of certainty that got their attention.

  “How do you know?” Peter asked. His question was echoed by Millie.

  “I think she might be right that they’re all in one canyon,” Jack said. He explained a quick version of how he got to that conclusion.

  “Is that how you figure it, Robin?” Peter asked.

  “I’m not sure I went through all those steps, but yeah, if I were a Diné, that’s what I’d do.”

  Jack asked, “But why the Canyon de Chelly? Why not the canyon of death? Is it because the Canyon de Chelly goes further back?”

  “No, I don’t think this is going to happen that far away.”

  “Then why?”

  Robin had a little smirk on her face. “Did you see who the four Road Patrolmen were?”

  “No,” Jack said. “I can’t tell one from another in their spacesuits.”

  “I can. One of the two who went to Canyon de Chelly was Hashkeh,” she said.

  Peter looked at Jack with a wry smile. “The two going to Muerto knew they were decoys. You told us about Hashkeh. He wouldn’t want to be one of them.”

  “I should have just asked Robin in the first place,” Jack said.

  Chapter 29

  All battles are chaos. Not because of an underlying Tolstoyian pointlessness, or at least not that only. They are chaotic because of what is at stake for each individual participant. The most ardently collectivist Diné suddenly finds his self-interest paramount. The most committed individualist Apache finds his dearest self-interests tied to those of his brothers-in-arms. These tendencies ran exactly counter to the respective groups’ efforts at coherently making war.

  Jack had failed to keep Millie and Robin behind when they entered Canyon de Chelly. He had hoped to persuade them that his staying with them would mean himself staying at more of a remove from any hostility, making him unable, as a result, to influence a peaceful resolution. It was true that both sides respected Jack’s efforts to find peace, but it was also true that the next exchange would involve bullets. Too much was invested in this adventure to revert to mere words. Millie insisted on going because her father and brother and Peter were all there. Robin because she would not sit out when she could offer help.

  Bullets were, in fact, flying. Echoes from the irregularly-placed walls of the canyon multiplied the effect. Individuals darted into view and then back into partial hiding places, trying to discern where the opposition was and where their defenses should be. Much yelling was going on all the while. Sometimes the voice was recognized as enemy or friend, but more often not. The horses had been abandoned, and they had retreated back down the canyon away from the shooting. The vehicles were stranded in the middle of the canyon, serving only to provide cover, just like the rocks and trees.

  The problem was that there was really no coordinated effort by either side, with the effect that Diné scooted here and there, trying to discern from other Diné what they were supposed to do. There was no premade plan for the battle that remained relevant after the first few moments, as is often the case in battle. And on top of that, there was no hierarchy of authority among the Diné to be employed once the conflict was underway. The Diné just ended up running toward other Diné, only to be spotted and shot at and made to separate. They occasionally shot at what they imagined to be Apache until they realized that their position was exposed to Apache because there was no coordination with other Diné about where they were supposed to be.

  The Apache efforts looked much the same, but for the opposite reason. They sought out Diné to shoot at, but made no reference to other Apache, with the result that they, too, ran hither and yon, shooting at people they imagined to be Diné, and often as not firing at Apache before realizing their mistake. The Apache had no coordination because they made no serious effort at it. The Diné had no coordination because their idea of coordination was impossible.

  The fighting may have been uncoordinated, but it was certainly not, as a result, lacking in danger. There was plenty of cover everywhere, if one could know where his opposition was so as to know what to seek cover from. What seemed like excellent cover at one moment might be dangerous exposure the next. Jack attempted to scoot Millie, Peter, and Robin up to a ledge with a concavity that might shield them from the fighting. Millie was anxiously watching for her father and brother, straining for some view of them. She had it in mind to get to the canyon floor, toward where the vehicles had been left, so that she could sight up the canyon for them. Peter followed. Jack sought to remonstrate, but at that moment several rounds pocked the wall between them. With the last of them, rock de
bris stung Jack on the underside of his arm. Both he and Peter sprang away from the spot, in opposite directions. Robin was hidden in a cleft of the rock a few yards behind Jack, but the gunfire toward them continued. Jack thought he might be taken down at any moment. Robin was protected from either side, but not from the front, where the gunfire now seemed to be reaching. She ran out toward Jack as Jack reached for her. They were running along a climbing path, rising from the canyon floor with each step. To Jack’s right, the wall dropped away sheer at first for about twenty feet down. There was only space enough between the edge and the wall to the other side for Jack and Robin to run side by side. Jack tried to stay in position to cover Robin.

  They reached a place where the wall to the left above the path leveled off slightly. The rock path they were on veered out away from the relatively level place, creating an overhang, and they were on the top side. It was all at a tilt, however, and they had to climb toward it. They were looking anxiously for cover, but instead the path took them higher and exposed them even more, except to anyone directly below them. The distance to the canyon floor was now easily thirty-five or forty feet. The climb was exhausting, but the gunfire continued. If anything, it was louder. When bullets flew close to them, they didn’t ricochet with the “ping” like in western movies. Instead, they made a deadening “thump,” each one a reminder that the next bullet might find its home in the soft flesh of the body. Each thump against the wall was followed by a shimmering of rock dust scattering on the rock path or the vegetation.

  Jack saw there was no cover close ahead. He paused to see whether there might be some up-slope to their left because the rock wall was now nearer to level, and they could traverse it. At that moment, Robin ran a little ahead of Jack. Jack turned back and saw one of the Diné, a slim young man, running toward them with a rifle. At just the moment Jack looked toward him, the man crumpled from a gunshot wound and careened toward the edge of the cliff. Robin made up the last few steps toward him in the space of a heartbeat. The man flumped onto his stomach. The lower half of his body was over the rounded edge of the cliff. His hands dragged against the stone. His face was a picture of anguish. Robin’s sprint ended at a dive to grab the young man’s hands. She tried to use her legs and feet as a sea anchor against the inexorable pull of the young man’s body, but to no avail. As Jack watched in horror, the young man disappeared over the edge, and Robin went right over after him.