Knight of the Tiger

by W. Michael Farmer

  Yellow Boy crossed his arms and looked around the camp. It had the same number of lodges when we were there before, but fully half the men were gone and maybe a quarter of the women. “Americanos and Mexican banditos no longer come to join you?”

  Rojo drew deeply on his cigarette, making its coal glow bright. “Sometimes maybe a few of Arango’s men come. Want cattle. We don’t have them. Want to trade ponies. We don’t trade.” Yellow Boy frowned. Rojo explained, “Arango ponies not even fit to eat. Covered with sores, ribs show. No meat.” Rojo looked to one side and spat in contempt. “Good horses now hard to find. Arango’s men ruin many. Ride too far, too hard, don’t rest, and give little feed. No feed horse, soon no horse, no ride, no meat.”

  Yellow Boy scratched his chin and said, “Hombrecito and Muchacho Amarillo want to find Arango. You see him since one moon?”

  Rojo shook his head. “No. No see. Scouts no see since time of falling leaves. Remember Runs Far?”

  Yellow Boy nodded but said nothing.

  “Runs Far and two women scouted south in Season of Large Fruit. Returned after two moons. Runs Far said Villa moved his army through El Paso Púlpito toward Oaxaca. Runs Far and women said Villa’s army had no supplies. There was nothing to take except worn-out horses. In south, they found nothing—no cattle, no mules, no horses. Runs Far even lost his own horse, returned on a woman’s horse.”

  Yellow Boy pursed his lips and asked, “Where is Runs Far now? No see in camp.”

  Rojo said, “Runs Far and women scout east and south of sierras. Return in maybe ten suns. Maybe bring news of Arango when they return.”

  Yellow Boy nodded. “Maybe so. Arango runs south from big gringo army. Needs supplies, place to hide. Maybe comes here, maybe attacks and takes supplies.”

  Rojo shook his head. “Arango will not attack my camp. We sat together one day at Colonia Dublán moons after the Mormons left. I asked if he will attack the camp of Rojo. Arango laughed, said no. No attack any Apache camp as long as the Apaches leave his army alone. He said he needs scouts for his army, and that he pays with guns and cattle. I said each warrior could decide. Arango said he understands. We’re friends for many years. He said to stay clear of Mexican army soldiers. They kill Apaches or make slaves. Arango speaks true.

  “Now warriors spend many more days hunting than scouting. I keep close guard of camp. I hear many stories of Arango fights with other Mexicans. The stories say he loses many men. In last Season of Earth Is Reddish Brown, I worried that maybe he’d try to wipe us out, take our winter supplies, use Apache camps in Season of the Ghost Face, use Rojo’s camp. Maybe he spoke lies at Colonia Dublán. We watched closely and stayed ready to fight, but Arango didn’t come.”

  He paused a moment and asked, “Muchacho Amarillo and Hombrecito, why do you look for Arango?”

  I knew Yellow Boy wouldn’t lie, but with the treaty Rojo had with Villa, I didn’t think it was prudent for him to tell Rojo we were after Villa because Rojo might decide we had to leave to ensure we didn’t endanger his camp. I knew Villa might very well try to wipe out Rojo’s camp if he knew we came after him from there. It’s better, I thought, only to tell Rojo that I’m after Camisa Roja and not Villa, too. Wasn’t half a truth better than a complete lie?

  Yellow Boy looked Rojo straight in the eye. “Hombrecito and Muchacho Amarillo look for Arango and the hombre Camisa Roja. There is a debt of blood, and they will pay it.”

  I thought, Oh, no. This is going to get ugly.

  Rojo didn’t blink. “What is this debt?”

  Yellow Boy took his time, pulling a cigar from his shirt and lighting up. When the cigar’s ash was glowing orange-red, he said, “Rojo remembers Arango saving Muchacho Amarillo and Hombrecito from a great bear. We owe Arango our lives for many seasons. Arango sends Camisa Roja to find Hombrecito and Muchacho Amarillo in the last Season of Large Fruit. We go to Arango. He asks our help. It makes our hearts glad to at last pay this debt of life, and we do as he asks. Then debt will be paid.

  “Hombrecito and Muchacho Amarillo see Arango needs men and supplies. We tell him we will help in his fight with the other Mexicans. Hombrecito helps Arango’s medicine men. Arango is glad for our help. We are like his brothers. He moves army over sierras through El Paso Púlpito before snow. This you know from Runs Far.”

  Rojo nodded, never taking his eyes off Yellow Boy as he related all of our experience with Arango since that time. He ended the story with, “Before we come to border, Arango attacks gringo town, Columbus, north of border. Now big gringo army chases Arango. Arango and warriors maybe come to Pelo Rojo camp to hide. We find Arango and Camisa Roja first?” He made a slashing movement with his fingers across his throat.

  Rojo crossed his arms and leaned back to study us. “Arango is a tigre loco. You kill.I help. The word of an hombre loco is no good. Today I send out more scouts, find Arango and this hombre, Camisa Roja. Wait until they find him and come back. Then you go.”

  Yellow said, “Muchas gracias, Rojo. We will collect this debt of blood. The camp of Rojo will be safe. We’ll help the People of the camp. Yellow Boy hunts, brings meat. Hombrecito brings strong Indah medicine.”

  I nodded when Rojo raised a brow and looked at me. I felt a sense of elation I’d not felt for a long time. My hard-earned medical skills might help these people while I awaited the satisfaction of killing my enemies.

  CHAPTER 47

  RUNS FAR RETURNS

  That night Pelo Rojo held a council to discuss using my power for the People. The round lodge, lighted inside by oil lamps hung on the center post, had a large clay pot glowing with coals to drive off the night chill. Rojo sat opposite the blanket-covered door, a wool Pendleton blanket covered with classic geometric designs over his shoulders. Yellow Boy and I sat to his left. The men from the camp, solemn, eyes glittering with curiosity, sat around the wall, blankets over their shoulders, waiting, all eyes on Yellow Boy and me. Nothing had changed from what I remembered of the councils ten years earlier.

  Pelo Rojo nodded toward us. “Yellow Boy and Hombrecito have been many seasons north with our brothers on the reservations. Men of the camp, Hombrecito returns with the power of an Indah di-yen, an Indah medicine man. He followed the tracks of Indah di-yens many harvests to find this Power. The People don’t know his ceremonies of Power and medicine. He offers the People his Power. In Rojo’s camp no di-yen makes their lodge with the People. We heal ourselves unless our medicine has no Power, then we call a di-yen from the reservations or another camp in the sierras to help us. We follow this way since before the days of my father. I ask Hombrecito to speak to the council now so that we can all understand his Power and decide if we can accept his offer to help us. Speak, Hombrecito, and we will listen.”

  I looked around at the solemn faces framed in flickering light and shadow. I still didn’t speak Apache well, but used it anyway. “For six harvests, I worked to learn Indah di-yen Power. Indah di-yen say I am ready to use this Power. I have used it to help Indah and to help Arango and his soldiers. Indah di-yen Power looks different from that of the Apache, but it stands strong against the hidden enemies of the People. My Power can take away the Power of sickness. Many times, I can find the source of the sickness’s Power if I can put my hands on your bodies, look in your eyes, your ears, and in your mouths. When I find the source of this sickness Power, I know how to take it away. Rojo says the council must make the decision to let me use my Power for the people. I’ll do as the council tells me. I have no more to say.”

  An old man, his arms crossed, sat by the blanket covering the doorway and asked in a voice cracked by age and hard times, “What does Hombrecito ask of us for using his Power? How many rifles? How many horses? How many cows?”

  I shook my head and said, “I give my Power to the People. I ask nothing in return.”

  There was a long silence as an understanding of my offer began to sink in. Another man spoke. “Can Hombrecito use his Power for children? Can he use the Indah di-yen Power for our wo
men and old ones as well as the warriors?”

  I nodded. “I can use it for all the People. I’ll do this for your children and your women and your old ones. My Power is not afraid of a woman’s Power even in her moon time. Their Power can’t make me sick.”

  Another asked, “Must we accept the Indah god for this Power? Ussen is the Apache god.”

  “No,” I said. “I won’t speak of the Indah god.”

  One asked, “Where will Hombrecito use his Power to perform his healing ceremonies?”

  I raised my brows, looked at Yellow Boy and Roja, and shrugged. I hadn’t thought about where to practice my medicine.

  Rojo said, “We’ll build a wickiup for this work near the river, away from the camp, so the Powers Hombrecito drives off follow the water down the canyon and do not return to camp. Hombrecito knows the ceremonies to make it his place of Power. He’ll need a woman to help him. Lupe knows many plants that bring healing. I’ll ask her to help Hombrecito in his work.”

  The council asked every imaginable question. I answered them all. The pot of coals had grown black, and our breath could be seen in the lamplight when the council agreed to let me use my Power in the camp.

  The next morning, a young woman in her early twenties came to Rojo’s fire during the morning meal. She waited at a respectful distance until Rojo motioned her to come sit by the fire. Exceptionally tall and angular for an Apache woman, her thin, oval face, high brow, long nose, and high cheekbones made her, by Apache standards, ugly.

  As soon as I saw her, I knew the light in her kind, bright eyes came from an old wound to her soul. Her shiny black hair cut short spoke of a widow in a time of mourning not yet taken by a new man.

  Rojo said, “Lupe, you remember Hombrecito from many seasons ago?”

  She stared up into the trees and nodded, saying nothing.

  “Hombrecito comes to help the People.”

  She looked at me and said, “I remember Hombrecito and his warrior woman. I did not yet have a husband. He knew me only as a child. I saw him make Apache Kid look like a fool when they shot at Massai’s hat.”

  “Yes, that’s true. Now he needs a helper when he uses his Power in his curing ceremonies. You have no child to care for. You’re a di-yen who knows the power of plants. I ask you to help Hombrecito use his Power for the People.”

  Lupe folded her hands in her lap and turned her bright, birdlike eyes to study me. I didn’t think I needed a nurse, but I wouldn’t argue with Rojo and his concern that I have a helper. The way she looked me straight in the eye, an insult to any other Apache, didn’t bother me at all. I stared back at her. She turned to Rojo, her chin up, after apparently seeing what she sought in my eyes, and asked, “What does Hombrecito want from me?”

  Rojo replied, “You’ll do all the things a woman does. Today you’ll help the other camp women build Hombrecito a lodge where he can use his medicine power. Use your Power to make it safe for his ceremonies. He’ll bless it to make it a place of Power, of wisdom, and of healing. Every day you’ll light the medicine lodge fire, carry the water, bring your power with plants, make your medicines, make his medicines, and perform the ceremonies he teaches you. When Hombrecito leaves, maybe he’ll leave some of his Power with you.”

  She stared in my eyes again and said, “He has no woman here. Does he expect to sleep in my blankets?”

  My face turned red, and Yellow Boy looked away, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Sleeping with Lupe was the last thing on my mind. I shook my head.

  Rojo shrugged and said, “It’s for you to say if he comes to your blankets. Hombrecito won’t force you. What is your answer?”

  Pulling away hair that had fallen over one side of her face, she said, “For the People, I’ll do these things.”

  Later that day, Lupe and several of the camp women finished a large wickiup they built down the creek, not far from the main camp. As twilight fell, Lupe carefully wandered through the brush collecting firewood. The next morning, as gray light crept above the canyon edge, I sat with Lupe by the fire at the medicine lodge. Water boiled in a big pot. Her freshly washed hair in the firelight glistened like a raven’s wing. Her head cocked to one side, left ear turned toward me catching every word, eyes narrowed in a squint of concentration, she reminded me of a bird listening to an insect crawling in leaves and grass.

  “Lupe, I use this ceremony before and after I see each one who comes for my Power. I wash my hands in water that is boiled and use soap from the yucca plant three times in separate washings and rinses before I touch anyone. I use only boiled water for this. You must do this also. You must wash again this way after you return from relieving yourself. When I find signs of sickness power, I decide then what must be done. You must help me remember what we did for each one when we perform my ceremonies. Can you do this?”

  She nodded and asked, “How do you find where the sickness powers hide?”

  I pulled the stethoscope out of my doctor’s bag. “One ceremony uses this to listen for the wind powers in their lungs and the rhythm of their hearts. I can hear when the wind powers are attacking or a heart grows weak. I feel their bodies for Powers that should not be there.”

  I showed her a thermometer. “I put this shiny stick in their mouths to hold under their tongues. Reading the signs on it tells me the strength of the sickness Power. When we find signs of sickness Power, I’ll show you how to make the medicines I know, and I’ll listen to your Power when you show me the ones you know. With your medicines, you also have the Powers of a di-yen. We must be sure you don’t have the wind sickness powers inside you before we begin. Hold this on your chest inside your shirt where I point. When I tell you, breathe slowly and deeply.”

  Modest, she lowered her eyes and opened her shirt to reveal well-formed breasts. Her heart and pulmonary functions sounded perfect. I put the earpieces in her ears. The demure modesty in her face was replaced by a quizzical look.

  “The sound you hear like flowing water over rocks in the creek is your wind power. The sound of the drum is your heart.”

  Handing the stethoscope back to me, she nodded and buttoned her shirt.

  “Hombrecito has much Power. He lets Lupe use this Power also? Lets Lupe listen for the wind powers in others and the strength of their hearts?”

  I nodded, and she smiled for the first time since I’d met her.

  The People came to us unbidden. Word spread that my ceremonies would begin that day, and the news followed all the fast paths through the camp. With Lupe’s help, I did ceremonies for everything from minor lung infections to constipation to bad teeth. I pulled a few teeth and set a broken bone or two on the first day we used my Power. Men showed us wounds and cuts that didn’t heal well. In Apache culture, a warrior bore his pain and didn’t complain. I practically had to make the warriors tell us their problems, and they said they felt better before the medicine could possibly do any good.

  In the evening, I began to show Lupe how to check for serious diseases and what medicines or procedures to use if they were found. For the most part, Lupe already knew which plants to use for most common ailments.

  A few days glided by. Yellow Boy went out every day to hunt or to scout the trails. Lupe learned fast, becoming an excellent helper, and we worked well together. In the evenings, Yellow Boy and I sat and smoked with Pelo Rojo and speculated how Villa would hide from the gringos, the best places to hunt, and where best to steal guns and ammunition from the Mexicans and gringos.

  A week passed, then two. No scouts returned with any news. I was losing faith in our strategy for finding Villa. One afternoon a young boy ran to the medicine lodge. He said between puffs to catch his breath, “A scout returns . . . Pelo Rojo asks for Muchacho Amarillo . . . and Hombrecito.”

  We were in the middle of boiling my surgical instruments, and I paused to consider how long before I could leave. Lupe smiled and waved me toward the camp. “Your helper can do this work. I know the ceremony. Go.”

  Pelo Rojo sat before the fir
e outside his lodge with Yellow Boy, Runs Far, and the two women who rode with him. Runs Far, no doubt wondering if Yellow Boy had told Pelo Rojo about their fight over taking División del Norte boys captive, sat with his arms crossed, eyeing Yellow Boy, who paid him no attention. Pelo Rojo motioned me over to sit with them.

  When I was seated, Pelo Rojo said, “Runs Far and his women return from a long scout. They see the gringos who chase Arango. Speak, Runs Far, tell us what you’ve seen and heard.”

  Runs Far rolled tobacco in an oak leaf to make a cigarette, blew smoke to the four directions, and passed it to the rest of us. When it returned to him he took a draw and blew smoke from the side of his mouth and licked his lips before tossing the cigarette’s remains in the fire. “The gringo army rides far south of the gringo-Mexico border. Many horses and wagons come. Gringo soldiers ride in long lines on Mexican wagon trails. Some iron wagons, move by spirits, use no horse, no rail, no steam. Spirits inside iron wagons try to get out. They make mucho noise and smoke. Gringo soldiers guard their supplies well, hard to raid.”

  Pelo Rojo nodded. “Arango, now called Villa, you see him?”

  “Villa rides fast south. Maybe three hundred soldiers follow him. Takes mucho supplies in Galeana fight with other Mexican army. Villa leaves men who are shot and takes new soldiers at El Valle. Fights Mexican army at Namiquipa, wins battle, takes many guns, many horses. Prisoners he frees. Goes to Rubio, warriors rest, take more supplies. Leaves Rubio, goes to Guerrero, fights again with Mexican army. Mexican army runs away ...”

  Runs Far paused long enough to focus our attention. Impatient, Yellow Boy said, “Speak, hombre.”

  Runs Far rolled another cigarette, taking a draw from it and letting the blue smoke curl slowly off the faint smile on his lips. “Villa shot in leg from behind with bullet like one from Hombrecito’s Shoots-Today-Kills-Tomorrow rifle. Makes big hole. Villa can no ride horse. Carried in wagons with other chiefs. Villa loses his Power. He cries and moans. Sounds like woman birthing big baby. Gringo soldiers nearly catch Villa at Guerrero.”