by Verna Clay
The revelation of his daughter's illness seemed to have no effect on the brave. He merely jerked his head in the direction the dust cloud still lingered. "You come with us or I kill you and child here. Just like white man kill Indians."
Thomas knew better than to put up any resistance and obediently turned his horse in the way indicated. However, his mind was anything but obedient as he planned an escape on Stanton if it became necessary. His strategy was to cut Petunia's lead with the knife hidden in his boot. Stanton was big and strong and could possibly outrun the braves' smaller mounts.
Sandwiched between the Indians, Thomas followed the leader for perhaps half an hour. He tightened his grip around Amy when he spotted temporary brush shelters in the distance. The closer they came, the more attention they attracted. Women paused in their chores, children stopped playing, and when they entered camp, everyone followed them until they reached a shelter on the far side of the settlement. The brave who had captured Thomas and Amy said something to a boy of about fifteen sitting on the ground outside the shelter. He rose and lifted the blanket over the opening, and entered.
While Thomas waited to meet whoever was inside, he surreptitiously glanced around, searching for an escape route. They were at the edge of the campsite with plenty of brush and juniper trees nearby. If he could make it to the trees with a good head start, maybe they would have a chance.
A middle-aged man exited the shelter, his face weathered by years of war. Thomas immediately recognized him from wanted posters. He was staring into the eyes of Geronimo! He lowered his gaze, but he knew Geronimo had seen the flicker of recognition in his eyes. It was best to speak the truth. In deference to the infamous Apache leader he said, "I am honored to meet Great Chief Geronimo."
Geronimo's expression of disinterest did not change. He made a waving motion and Thomas and Amy were jerked off Stanton. Amy whimpered and when she started to fall Thomas tried to catch her, but he was wrenched backward and held captive by two braves. At first he struggled to free himself, then realized he needed to conserve his energy. Staring unflinchingly into Geronimo's eyes, he said, "My child is ill and needs medical care. I'm headed west to seek help."
A male voice shouted from the crowd, "You lie! I see you before. You are doctor!"
When Thomas saw Geronimo's eyes widen slightly, he knew he had to speak fast. "I do not lie. My daughter has a sickness I cannot treat. I am seeking help from the healing woman who lives in the red rocks."
The angry brave that had captured Thomas unsheathed a large knife strapped to his thigh and waved it in Thomas's face. "Maybe I scalp you and child and leave you to die in desert."
In a loud voice Geronimo commanded, "Enough!"
The brave jerked his gaze to his leader and after a long moment, slowly, but rebelliously, lowered the knife back into its covering.
Geronimo glanced from Amy on the ground to Thomas straining against his captors. In a raspy voice he said, "What am I to do? It would be foolish to let my enemy go. The white man kills my people and you are their medicine man. My thoughts say I should kill you and raise your child as Indian."
Unexpectedly, another voice spoke, "He is also a healer of Indians, Great Chief."
Geronimo scanned the crowd. "Come forward, you who speak for this man."
Relief beyond anything imaginable flooded Thomas when Running Elk stepped to the front. He said something to Geronimo in their native language, but the chief raised his hand to stop him. "Speak English so white man can understand your words."
Running Elk acknowledged the command with a respectful nod and said, "We meet man on trail. He say he is doctor so I ask him to use white man's medicine on Big Bear."
The rebellious brave made a sound of disgust and Running Elk turned toward him. "Big Bear in pain. You do same if you have child."
The brave frowned and said, "You are fool to–"
Geronimo interrupted the argument. "Silence!" He made a motion for Running Elk to continue.
Running Elk gave the brave a look of contempt and then returned his attention to his leader. "Doctor have medicine to make Big Bear better. He give me medicine and tell me to put on boy's leg every day. I do what he say and boy's leg better. He not in pain now. Doctor is good man. Not all white men bad and not all Indians good." He purposefully returned his gaze to the angry brave.
Fury lit the brave's eyes but before he could respond, Geronimo said, "Bring the boy to me."
Running Elk motioned for Big Bear to step forward. Geronimo bent and examined the child's leg. He then stood and faced Thomas. "You heal other Indians?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where?"
"Fort Apache."
"You work for General Crook?"
"No, I worked for the United States Government, but I am not a soldier. I am a doctor for whoever needs me. I am no longer at the Fort. I live in Globe."
The chief of the Apache Nation approached Amy and Thomas strained against his captors. Geronimo leaned down and lifted Amy into his arms. He then walked over, said something in his own language to the braves restraining Thomas, and they released him. The chief handed Amy to Thomas before raising his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. He again spoke in his native tongue."
Hearing the words, the disgruntled brave who had captured Thomas and Amy made another disgusted sound and stomped away.
Geronimo said to Thomas, "You are free to go. May the Great Spirit guide you and heal your child. And may you not reveal the location of my people to your army."
Relief flooded Thomas as he clutched Amy to his chest. "Thank you, Great Chief. I promise to keep your location secret, and I will always remember your kindness and speak well of you before my people."
With the arch of an eyebrow, Geronimo asked, "Even General Crook?"
Thomas recognized the sardonic humor in Geronimo's tone and said with all seriousness, "Even General Crook."
10: Lawman
Tana cut pieces of meat into smaller chunks from the hind quarter of a deer Warrior's clan had left for him in her yard. Daily they supplied sustenance for their leader. After he'd eaten she inspected his leg. "You're healing well, Warrior. Soon you'll be back with your pack." The wolf nudged her hand and she patted his head. Suddenly, his ears pricked and she asked, "Is someone coming?" Warrior stared into her eyes. She gave him another pat. "I'll go see who it is."
Standing in the clearing outside her barn she waited for a new arrival. Several minutes later a man on horseback moved beyond the pine, fir, and oak trees surrounding her home. He saw her and reined his horse in her direction. When he came close, he tipped his hat and said, "Mornin' ma'am."
Tana silently watched him.
He dismounted and removed his hat. "I'm U.S. Deputy Marshall Wyatt Earp and I'm tracking a man named Ike Clanton on charges of attempted murder. You seen any strangers on your property lately?"
Normally, Tana avoided speaking to anyone but the Indians, but since this man was a lawman, she said, "No. I haven't."
He glanced beyond her to the entrance of her barn. "You mind if I check your barn? Outlaws sometimes hide in them."
She motioned him forward. "No. I don't mind. But you do so at your own risk."
The marshal had started forward but he paused and gave her a questioning look. "Now what am I supposed to make of that?"
"Whatever you like."
"You got family?"
She remained silent.
Apparently concerned by their conversation he pulled his revolver from its holster, held it to his side, and slowly approached until he was face-to-face with her. She stepped aside and he continued to the barn.
Following him in, she heard him say, "What the hell! How many critters you got in here?" A moment later. "Is this a hospital for animals?" And then, "Oh, goddamn!"
He had reached Warrior's stall.
Slowly, he started backing away as the wolf's ferocious growls and snarls became louder. Although still in a splint, Warrior was standing and clearly able to attack.
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Tana said, "I warned you."
While the lawman backed out of the barn, she stepped into Warrior's stall, bent and whispered, "Everything's good my friend."
The wolf nudged and licked her hand. She rubbed his back, sighed, and returned outside. Marshall Earp was standing beside his horse scratching his head. "Whatever you got going on in there is just about the strangest thing I've ever seen."
She just stared at him.
"Not one much for talk, are you," he stated.
She didn't respond.
He shook his head and turned to mount his horse. Tipping his hat, he said, "Ma'am, if any strangers come around, you best be careful." He grinned, "'Course with that passel of animals, maybe the stranger best be careful of you. G'day to ya."
11: German Miner
The evening after the Indian encounter, Thomas and Amy were finally out of the Superstition Mountains. Having slept little for two days because of nightly vigils—the first night because of the bear and the second because of his distrust of the Indian brave—Thomas could barely keep his eyes open. He feared for his daughter's safety more than his own. A cunning adversary knew that harming the loved one of an enemy was more potent than harming the person hated. He only hoped that having reached the Salt River Valley he was now far enough away to avoid trouble.
Amy pointed and said, "Papa, there's someone in front of us."
Thomas jerked his head upright. As they came closer he realized their fellow traveler was an old miner whose mule was giving him trouble. The sour-faced man released a litany of foul language every time he tugged on the mule's rope and the animal stubbornly refused to budge. Apprehensively, he kept glancing at Thomas and Amy as they approached.
Being from Globe, a mining town, Thomas had often treated miners and he knew how cantankerous and suspicious they could be. Several yards out, he halted Stanton and called, "Sir would you like some assistance?"
Walking to the flank of his mule, the miner shuffled his feet, studied Thomas and Amy, and finally said, "If you want to shoot and gut this pile of bones and eat her for supper, I'll not stop you."
Thomas smiled at the disgruntled man who spoke with a German accent. The mule stepped backwards and brayed.
Thomas laughed. "I guess your threat of turning her into supper didn't sit well with her."
The dirt-caked man scratched his unkempt gray beard and replied, "Never does. I've threatened her with every imaginable torture and she's still just as stubborn." He spat on the ground and asked, "You prospecting for gold?"
"Not hardly. We're on our way to Fort Verde and then the red rocks. My name is Dr. Thomas Matthews and this is my daughter, Amy. We make our home in Globe."
The old man nodded, pulled on a bushy eyebrow the same color as his beard, and said, Guess you'll have to go around us because Sadie isn't moving 'til morning."
Thomas had noticed the miner favoring his left arm and asked, "Did you injure your arm? You seem to be in pain."
The man spat on the ground again, pulled on his eyebrow again, and said, "That ornery mule kicked me about an hour ago."
"Well, sir, since I'm a doctor, would you like me to check your arm to make sure it isn't broken?"
The old-timer frowned and looked down, kicked up some dirt, and then looked up again. "Yes, I guess. And by the way, my name is Jacob Waltz."
Thomas dismounted, lifted Amy to the ground, and looped Stanton's reins around a small creosote bush. "Pleasure, Mr. Waltz." He started forward holding Amy's hand and chuckled. "I think your mule gives new meaning to the word stubborn."
"You got that right. If I had any smarts, I'd sell her and buy a less ornery beast, but she and me been together for ten years, so I guess that counts for something."
Throughout the conversation, Amy had remained silent. Now she said, "Howdy, Mr. Waltz. Have you found a lot of gold?"
Suspicion flashed across the miner's face and Thomas wanted to groan. Asking a man about his gold was not wise. Quickly, he said, "Amy, that's not a question you ask miners. It's their personal business."
Amy immediately lifted her hand to her mouth and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Waltz." Since Thomas rarely chastised his daughter, she looked like she was about to cry. Later, he would explain the wariness of men like Mr. Waltz and why such questions should be avoided.
Her sorrowful expression, however, must have satisfied the miner, because he replied, "Nope. Haven't found much at all."
Thomas had a gut feeling the man was lying, but he really didn't care one way or another. "Mr. Waltz, if you'll sit on that rock, I'll check your arm."
Obviously, Mr. Waltz liked to spit, and he again sent a stream into the dust. Then he gave a curt nod and walked to the rock Thomas indicated.
Thomas smiled at his daughter and motioned to another rock. He didn't want to take a chance of her falling down. "Honey, you sit there while I take care of Mr. Waltz." He then covered the ten feet separating him and his new patient. First, he gently felt for broken bones and the miner barely winced, but when he probed his shoulder, the man gasped. Thomas lowered his hands and said, "It looks like your mule dislocated your shoulder, Mr. Waltz."
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," the old man grunted. "I kind of thought that myself. Damn!"
"I can relocate it, but it will hurt."
Mr. Waltz rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. "What choice do I have?" He answered his own question. "None." Projecting another stream of spittle onto a prickly pear cactus, he said, "Go ahead, Doc. Do what you have to."
Thomas nodded, circled his patient until he was standing behind him, and placed his hands on the injured shoulder. Suddenly, Thomas exclaimed, "Heavens, would you look at that gold nugget!"
Mr. Waltz shouted, "Where?"
With a quick jerk, Thomas snapped his shoulder back in place. The miner yelped, but his pain was overridden by his search for the nugget. Then he understood. "Damn, but you're a fine doctor. I hardly felt the pain I was so distracted."
"That was my intention, sir."
Mr. Waltz rotated his shoulder a few times, winced a little, and said, "Hell, it's as good as new."
Thomas started back toward Amy so they could continue their journey, but Mr. Waltz said, "Since Sadie won't budge, I'll be camping here. You're welcome to join me if you want. I killed a rabbit and I'd be pleased to share the roasted meat."
Glancing at the setting sun, Thomas knew he and Amy wouldn't get far before having to set up camp. And the promise of roasted rabbit made his mouth water. He cocked an eyebrow at Amy and when she nodded, he replied, "That'd be right nice, Mr. Waltz. Thanks for the invitation."
After subsisting mostly on a diet of jerky, dried fruit, cured bacon, hardtack, and an occasional rabbit Thomas was able to shoot, the roasted meat was a feast. Amy fell asleep after supper and Thomas leaned back against a boulder, stretched his legs, and sipped coffee from a tin cup. Mr. Waltz offered his flask to Thomas.
"I think the coffee will do me fine, sir. I've never been much of a drinking man."
The scraggly miner shrugged and lifted the flask to his mouth. After a gulp he belched and said, "Ahh." Another gulp and he said, "I got this brew from a moonshiner living outside of Phoenix. Best whiskey I ever tasted. Makes that stuff they sell in saloons weak enough for a baby. You sure you don't want a nip."
"Thanks, but I'm sure."
Mr. Waltz imbibed generously of his whiskey while they made small talk. Soon he let his guard down and said, "I got a farm outside of Phoenix, but I like to prospect, too. I've been coming to the Superstition Mountains for at least a dozen years."
Thomas stretched his long legs and listened.
Mr. Waltz continued, "You're a fine man, Doc, and I think we should be on a first name basis. You call me Jacob and I'll call you Tom." His words were slurred.
Inwardly, Thomas chuckled. Jacob was two-sheets-to-the-wind. He replied, "Sounds fine to me, Jacob."
After a few minutes, Jacob pointed upward. "You see that dark pinnacle against the sky?"
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Thomas followed the line of Jacob's arm. "I do."
"Well, that's called Weaver's Needle. It's named after a prospector and guide from the early part of the century."
Thomas wasn't sure where Jacob was going with the conversation, so he just acknowledged him by saying, "Hmm."
Jacob lifted his flask again. After a swallow, he grinned and slurred, "Weaver's Needle has sure been good to me." Then he winked. "Before I die, I think I'll draw a map pinpointing the mother lode." As if realizing he had said too much, he clarified, "That's just between you and me, Tom."
"I understand and I'm good at keeping secrets." Thomas wanted to change the subject. "From your accent, I take it you're of German descent. Did you emigrate from Germany?"
Jacob's eyes were dull from too much drink. "I did. But everyone calls me The Dutchman." He didn't elaborate as to why that was so, and just as Thomas was about to ask, Jacob's head slumped and he started to snore. The "Dutchman" was quite a character, as were all the miners Thomas had encountered over the years.
Finally, after two days of little sleep, Thomas curled up next to Amy in a protective gesture and closed his eyes.
12: Following the Salt River
The sound of a mule braying woke Thomas. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Amy was already awake and warming herself beside the fire Jacob had started. The miner glanced at Thomas, screwed up his face, and said, "Sadie bellows like that every morning when she's ready to hit the trail."
Sadie brayed again and Jacob rolled his eyes. "Tom, Amy, I'll be on my way after this coffee boils."
Thomas was amazed that the old man didn't show any signs of a hangover. He said, "I've got some cured bacon to fry up. Stick around for breakfast."
"Thanks, Tom, but my time is short. I'm headed back to my farm to do some planting. I got plenty of jerky and hardtack in my saddlebag and–"
Sadie lifted her head and split the air with another wail.
Jacob jerked his head around to glare at her and yelled, "You do that again and I'll gut and skin you and make a blanket out of you, you ornery old jackass."