Marshal Downy and his new deputy, Tadd Higgins, both rose from their chairs.
“Well, is this Joseph Taylor?” Downy asked.
“Fresh off the Nogales stage,” Burt said. “And he’s all yours, Marshal.”
“Guess your men are entitled to the reward. Drop by, and I’ll see that they get it. Well, Taylor, nice of you to drop by.”
“You men may not have jobs when this is over.”
Downy shook his head and undid the cuffs. “Here, Burt. Well, Taylor, you’ll be looking at snow out that Detroit prison window if they don’t hang you.”
Burt nodded to both men and gave a head toss to Pedro. The job of Taylor’s incarceration belonged to Marshal Downy henceforth.
Burt and Pedro were outside and ready to get on the buckboard, when a rig came racing down the street in a cloud of dust.Two red-faced men bounded out, and Burt could see Mrs. Taylor trying to recover her hat and get her clothing in place after the wild ride.
“You arrest Bishop Taylor?” the fattest one shouted.
“Yes,” Burt said, ready to face the windbag. “I delivered him to U.S. Marshal Downy and the U.S. commissioner as per the federal grand jury instructions.”
“This is a slap in the face of justice—”
Burt stepped up on the seat and shook his head warily. “Not in my book.”
“Giddup,” Burt said, and drove off with the smiling Pedro on the spring seat beside him. They left Red Face, the other blustering man, and the indignant Mrs. Taylor standing on the curb, as she fought with both hands to get her dress into place.
Chapter 27
THEY SPOKE OF OLD DAYS AND NEW ONES AT THE campfire. Chako and Mica had returned with word from San Carlos. Thirty to forty bucks wanted to join them. They did not know how many more in the far corners of the reservation wanted to ride with him, too.
Deuces looked into the blue flames eating at the pieces of oak.Too many.No way could he lead that many and stay away from officials. No way to provide food. No way to keep them in arms and ammo. No, they would need to be secret—and small numbers. He had managed to avoid all white men in Texas, even an Apache scout. But so many would leave too many tracks.
“Ten is all.” He shook his head over any more. “There are hundreds of buffalo soldiers. They would track us down if we had so many.”
“Fill my cup,” he said to Deer Runs, who sat aside from the three men.
She rose and brought the enamel coffee pot, poured for him and the others. In the fire’s light, the dark stripes where the riata struck her cheek showed. She said nothing, put the pot back, and resumed her place at the edge of the light.
“Come and talk to them,” Chako said. “They want to eat and drink with you. And hear your stories. No one will tell a word about you coming, or they will cut their throats.”
“Death,” Mica said, and then nodded in solemn agreement.
“Why should I go up there?” Deuces asked, feeling they must make the reason good.
“Geronimo is gone, and all the real ones with him.We have old leaders who drink whiskey all the time and agree with the tribal police, who are bullies and would never be warriors in an Apache society. They swagger around in their uniforms and use rifle butts on anyone who challenges them.”
Mica agreed.
“So,” Chako said. “Come and tell them what it is like to be free.”
“I will come, then, but we must act quickly, or someone else will know about it.”
“We can be ready.”
“In a week, then, I will meet one of you on the Gila. Be sure that no one knows. I will look for an eagle feather at the old outpost. It will be tied on a cottonwood limb. I see no feather, I will not come to the Gila.”
“Good, you won’t come by Fort Grant,” Chako said, as if relieved to hear he would go east of Mount Graham and come in from that direction.
“What day counts?” Chako asked.
“Tomorrow is the first one.”
“We must leave tonight, then.” Both men jumped to their feet.
“The old place where we used to stomp on the Gila. It has many ways to escape from there,” Chako said.
Deuces agreed. “Get them some food,” he said to her. She rushed off in the night.
Both bucks were on their feet. They clapped each other on the arms. The deal was made, and he would come to talk to the ones who hated the white eyes and their resurrection.
In minutes, they were gone into the night. Deuces turned to look for her. She stood apart, wrapped in her blanket.
“We will go there in three days.”
“Wear your best clothes,” she said.
“Why?”
“So Ussen will know you when you meet him.”
He studied her form for a long moment. She knew nothing. He smiled to himself. It would be good to speak with old friends—his exploits must be reviewed in his mind to have stories ready for them.
She bent over and put another log on the fire. “Better be sure to wear them.”
Chapter 28
THE FRESH CANVAS SHEETING WAS LAID ACROSS THE roof. Obregón was hauling up buckets of mud from Juan to plaster it down with. On the ground, Burt operated the hoe, mixing the next batch, and Angela poured more water in the boat for him. The job was arduous, but Burt felt satisfied the effort would solve the roof ’s leak problem.
“Well, see what you end up doing when you marry a woman with a ranch?” Angela teased him.
He laughed and winked at Juan. “She thinks this is hard work.”
“Plenty hard for me,” Pedro said from the roof, where he and Obregón were spreading the sealer over the material with trowels and floats. Juanita brought them fresh water from the well at breaks.
Juanita and Estrella were also barbecuing a fat calf. The smell of the mesquite smoke caught Burt’s nose every once and a while.
“Rider coming,” Pedro said. “He’s not wearing a hat. I bet it’s One-Eye. He have your good roan horse?”
“Yes,” Burt said, trying to see.
“Not quitting work,” Angela said. “We have to finish this job.”
“Boy,” Pedro said. “She’s a worse slave driver than my own wife.”
Everyone laughed.
Burt laid down the hoe and went to the front gate when the Apache dismounted. The dried salt on the roan’s chest and the dust caked on his legs told lots about the distance the roan had covered.
“How have you been?” he asked One-Eye, as the weary scout dropped to his haunches and shook his head.
“Good. Got big news for you.”
“What’s that?”
“Deuces is coming to big meeting on San Carlos.”
“What for?”
“They say he will lead the Apaches who want him as their chief.”
“When?” Burt asked as he undid the cinch on the roan.
“Soon.”
“Where’s he now?” Burt gave the roan’s reins to Juan. “Put him up, and feed him some grain after he cools down.”
“Sierra Madres.”
“When will he come north?”
One-Eye shrugged. “Soon, maybe.”
“We need to notify the army.” Burt looked off to the south and chewed on his lower lip. Whom should he report this information to?
“He sees the army, he won’t come.”
Pedro nodded, standing with his arms folded over his chest. “He gets any sign of detection, he’ll flee back down there. Army units would spook him. Besides, by himself, he could sneak around most of them.”
“How could we intercept him, then, if he’s coming from Mexico?” Burt said, looking at the Apache for an idea.
“If he comes down the Sulphur Valley, someone might see him, and on the east side of the Chiricahuas the same thing. But there is an ancient trail on the spine he might use—or he could stick close to the base and make better time.”
“Which one is he most likely to use?”
“If we watch the spring at Erickson’s ranch and the ancie
nt trail on top, we maybe catch him.”
“When’s he supposed to come north?” Pedro asked.
“Soon.”
“He could already be up there?” Burt asked.
One-Eye shook his head to dismiss the notion. “They need time to get those young bucks word of the meeting.”
“You think he’ll try it?”
“They went to offer him to be chief of all the Apaches. He can’t turn that down.”
Burt agreed. No way Deuces was likely to deny such an honor or the obligation. Three men to guard thousands of acres of tough terrain for the passage of one man. They’d have to get very lucky.Worse than that, they had no time to waste.
“What can I do to get you ready?” Angela asked.
“Pack some jerky, dried apples, food that won’t perish. We better get some horses ready. This roan won’t make it.”
“We going to ride there?” Pedro asked.
“No. We’ll load our horses on the train at Tucson, jump them out at Wilcox, and we can be there by night-fall.”
Pedro nodded his approval with a smile. “What should I do?”
“Well, get provisions. One-Eye may need some rest—”
“No, me plenty good.” The solemn-faced scout dismissed his concern.
“Pedro, you ride ahead and have the depot master get us a car on an eastbound to load the horses into.We’ll be coming on your heels. Tell him this is an emergency.”
“What if—”
“Tell him it’s for the safety of the entire territory.”
“What if he—”
“Show him your badge. But don’t mention Deuces’s name; that will only stir up a hornet’s nest.”
Pedro took off at a lope for the corrals and a horse. Burt watched him, thinking of all they would need. Three rifles, ammunition, spy glasses. He would have to pick up some items in Tucson.
“You had any food lately?” he asked the scout.
“Some.”
“Come on. Angela will have something.” Burt turned and shouted to Obregón on the roof. “Can you finish that without us?”
The man’s brown face appeared, and he smiled. “Oh yes, Señor. I already figured on that.”
“You’re a good man, Obregón.”
“Gracias, and God be with you, Señor.” Then the man disappeared behind the wall.
Burt hurried for the house, waving his scout on. Get One-Eye some food, pack a few personal items. He wouldn’t bother wearing his suit. Canvas pants, a thick shirt. It could get cool up there in the higher elevations of the Chiricahuas, especially at night. No telling where he’d end up waiting. A hurried-up plan that might work. He still had doubts about their final success. Mostly the insurmountable area the three must cover. And the time factor.
“Be careful,” Angela said privately to him in the hallway.
“Yes. I should be back for your party. I’m sorry—”
“If you aren’t here, I’ll tell everyone they’ll have to wait a while longer to meet my busy husband.”
“I’ll be back here.” He bent over and kissed her on the lips. A quick hug, and he sighed, listening to the sounds of the men working on the roof. “Good thing you have Obregón and Juan,” he said, and kissed her lightly.
“And you.” Her smile warmed him to his heart.
Five hours later, the rock and sway of the express car made the horses restless. But not nearly as restless as the fidgety mail clerk armed with a scoop shovel, keeping a watchful eye on the horses and any effort they made toward releasing their bowels.
Burt was amused. Obviously, that depot master took Pedro at his word. The fastest way to get to Wilcox was the afternoon passenger train.Without time to hitch to anything else, he slid back the car door, issued the mail clerk a shovel, and waved the three men and their horses into the yellow-sided car.
“No time for arguments, these men are federal marshals, and they are only going as far as Wilcox.”
It would be close to dark by the time they reached there. Burt kept wondering if this was a fool’s chase or if they would be successful. Deuces proved to be such a ghostlike figure in Texas. He didn’t want to recall that senseless shooting of the girl and all the confusion of the stampede of the horses. The girl dying in his arms, still trying to save Deuces from capture. No one would probably ever know the whole story. Her devotion impressed him the most.
“We coming to Wilcox?” he asked the shovel-bearing clerk.
“I think so.” The man had a look of despair on his perspiring face.
“We need to unload on the platform.Will this car be close to it? I don’t want these horses having to make a big leap out of here and get hurt.We need them.”
“I’ll signal the conductor.”
“And we need to unload quickly.”
“Yes. I want that, too.”
The engine whistle blew for the first crossing west of town, and the clerk put down the shovel, slid the door back, and went to waving.
“Get ready,” Burt said to Pedro, who held the reins.
One-Eye, who had slept most of the way on some mail sacks, stood up and stretched.
“First time I ever took a shortcut with horses on a train,” the Apache said, amused about it.
“May not be the last,” Burt said, taking the reins to Brown, a powerful bay horse from the ranch string.
Angela’s late husband kept several good horses—for that, he was grateful.
“I sure hope so,” the clerk said. “You guys after bank robbers?”
“Yeah,” Burt said as the train’s wheels screeched steel on steel and the train stopped. He could see they were beside the platform.
“Sorry, folks,” he said, and led Brown out of the car parting the wide-eyed onlookers and people ready to board, so he and his posse could pass through them.
Mounted, they headed south, leaving the train depot, curious onlookers, and the shovel bearer behind.
“Good thing your horse was the only one crapped in his car,” One-Eye said as they loped past the adobe jacals and wide-eyed naked children for the desert beyond. To their right, the playas shined like oceans. Barely inches deep, the large shallow lakes without any outlet made the arid land look blessed with water.
“What will we guard?” Burt asked.
“One watch the big spring. The other the ancient trail. I will scout for any signs.”
“Good,” Burt said, and they hurried southward. Across the valley, the bloody Dragoon Mountains looked afire in the blazing sunset.
Long past dark, they made camp in a live oak and cottonwood grove a few miles from the mouth of the canyon.
“If we leave Pedro to watch the spring, how do I get up to the ancient trail?” Burt asked.
“I can go up there,” Pedro offered as they chewed on their jerky supper.
Burt shook his head. “If One-Eye learns anything, you’ll be easier to get hold of down here. Besides, I want to see that crest again. Been a few years.”
“You know the trail up there?” One-Eye asked.
“Just follow the canyon above the spring, that will lead you up the canyon?”
“You will need to leave your horse.”
“Why don’t you ride up there with me and bring him back? Then he won’t be in the way, nor will Deuces spot him.”
“What if you need a horse?” Pedro asked, concerned.
“I’ll have to walk, or one of you can bring me one.”
“Be a good way,” One-Eye grunted. “If he comes to the spring, he will expect some extra horses. Everyone uses it.”
“Sounds dangerous. Up there alone and no horse.” Pedro shook his head in disapproval.
“It’ll work,” Burt promised him. “A few hours’ sleep, and we need to get in place.”
Before dawn, they rode past the dark ranch house and entered the canyon. Stiff live oak brushed Burt’s legs, and the ride up the tortuous trail in the starlight made for slow travel, but by the time the sun came up over New Mexico and the Panatello Mountains, he w
ould be in place.
He yawned big and picked Brown’s head up when he stumbled on a rock in the trail. The pathway presented close quarters through thick pines and house-size boulders. Many times, save for the rush of the small watercourse below them, he had the feeling of being in a cave.
Then they emerged into the silver light that shone on the towering eroded upright pipes across the canyon. This was a pretty place in the daytime. He looked after the rump of One-Eye’s horse and shook his head at the night wind—getting cooler up there, too.
Despite Burt’s view of the golden rays reaching across the land, little warmth came with sunup. Left alone on the crest in a grove of young pines, he scoped the country. One-Eye had suggested they not take their horses up to the crown and leave any tracks to spook Deuces. Before he left, the scout had checked the small trail that came from the south.
“He has not passed here.”
“If he’s using this way,” Burt said, and grinned at the Apache.
“I would come this way,” One-Eye said.
“Good. I’ll watch out and be sure not to shoot you.”
They both laughed.
Then Burt was left alone. One-Eye took the horses back. Under a blanket for warmth and facing belly-down, he scoped the ridge line with his new glasses. He gave his old telescope to One-Eye to use. Some small birds frittered in the limbs above his head. A doe and her spotted fawn crossed the top and grazed around undisturbed on various shrubs. At last, they went off the east side toward the San Pedro drainage.
His canteen water tasted cold. Mid-morning, he saw something coming from the south. A paint horse, bobbing its head. Good-looking animal. The binoculars in his hand, his heart stopped.
He spotted the familiar face from the posters of the handsome Deuces. A grim set in his eyes, he rode the paint. Burt watched him turn in the saddle and speak to someone following him. A woman. He focused the glasses better and saw two mules under packs come into view. He needed Deuces to get much closer. At the range of one-fourth mile, his Winchester would only raise some dust and spook him away.
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