by Logan, Jake
“Not all of us will,” Slocum said while nodding over to Jack.
Although Jack was obviously perturbed by being the butt of so many jokes, he was too nervous to speak up about it. Slocum had thought about easing up on the poor fellow, but saw how much the Apache archer enjoyed hearing those jokes. Sometimes, a man had to take a few short knocks to avoid the killing blows. And since that man wasn’t him, Slocum felt even better about it.
After Snake Catcher was through, the chief looked at the rest of the men while opening his arms as if he meant to embrace them. Beads and feathers hung from his sleeves and rattled in his hair whenever he turned his head. As he spoke in his rasping monotone, his head continued to bob up and down.
Flying Spear leaned over again and said, “He asks to hear the story told by all of you.”
“Yeah, I caught that much.”
The archer looked at Slocum with newfound respect. “You understand our tongue?”
“Bits and pieces. I picked up a few words here and there.” In truth, most of what Slocum had acquired as far as Indian languages came from having to know when a raiding party meant to kill him or not. Since relations with this tribe seemed to be coming along so nicely, he decided to keep that part to himself.
Without needing to be asked, Flying Spear went first. Although he relayed his account purely in his native language, his expression remained stoic and his hands stayed upon his folded legs. Slocum could understand enough to recognize a bare-bones retelling of the hunt. The tales picked up a bit once the other members of the hunting party lent their voices to the mix. They waited for Jack to speak next, who looked over at Slocum.
“What are they lookin’ at?” Jack asked.
“They’re telling about the hunt,” Slocum reminded him. “Now it’s your turn.”
“What should I say?”
“You were more than ready to brag to that lady outside. Now’s your chance to impress the rest of us.”
Although Jack brightened up at that prospect, he sobered quickly when he saw the stern expressions worn by the tribal elders. Gopan especially took the wind from his sails as he stared expectantly at him with his clouded eyes. “All I did was try to shoot the damn things when I got the chance,” Jack muttered.
“You shot one?” Ilesh asked.
“That’s right. One of them rushed me.”
“Which one?”
“The black one, I think.”
Half of the elders nodded approvingly, and the others followed suit once Jack’s words were translated for them. Seeing that was enough to lift Jack’s spirits again. “That was a mean one, all right. But not as mean as that flat-nosed son of a bitch.”
“You . . . faced Cha’to?” Gopan asked.
Hearing him speak English seemed to surprise the rest of the Apache as much as the two white men. Jack maintained his composure well enough to nod and say, “Yes, sir. I did.”
“Tell us.”
“I was in my camp. It was outside of a town called Rocas Rojas. Do any of you know where that is? Maybe you call it by some Injun name.”
“We know it,” Ilesh snapped.
“All right. Well, I was in my camp and this wolf ran up and attacked me. Chatto,” Jack said, slaughtering the pronunciation. “That’s what you call him. I think that name must mean devil or demon in some language because that’s what it was.”
Although many of the elders bristled at the loose translation that had nothing at all to do with their language, none of them bothered to correct him.
“It ran up like it was spat from the bowels of hell!” Jack proclaimed. “Charged at me, ran me down, and tore me up no matter how hard I fought back.”
“You fought back?” Ilesh asked.
“Well . . . like I said . . . it took me by surprise. What matters is what it done to me. Look for yerself! I ain’t whole no more. That’s why I had to come after that thing.”
Slocum had to give Jack credit. Even though he’d already admitted his story about needing to find the piece of himself that was lost was absolute bullshit, he stuck to it like it was gospel. When he got nothing but a bunch of blank stares from the Apache, Jack even had the gall to look surprised.
“You were wounded,” Ilesh said. “Like many of our men were wounded.”
“But . . . that wolf took away part of me.”
“And Cha’to took the lives of women and children. Do you expect to find their spirits in the bellies of those animals?”
“Not as such.”
“Then do not try to make the blood you spilled seem more important than what was spilled by others,” Ilesh scolded. “Tell us why you needed to hunt Cha’to. I look upon you and don’t see the same kind of man as when I look at that one. John Slocum walks like a hunter and speaks like a hunter.”
“But he ain’t even had his turn to speak yet!” Jack groused.
Slocum thought about telling Jack to quit before burying himself any deeper, but knew it wouldn’t do a lick of good.
“I have watched him, and Snake Catcher has told me of his deeds,” Ilesh continued. “Even now I can see he is closer to our warriors than you could ever hope to be.”
Jack seemed genuinely offended by that. “But—”
“And do not try to tell me of how you must make yourself whole again. You have been speaking about rituals that mean no more to you than does the smoke rising from this fire.”
Jack looked at the fire and then to the smoke as if he actually needed to see the black wisps in order to comprehend what he was being told.
“So,” Ilesh said with a sober finality, “why would a man like you make it your business to pursue Cha’to?”
“I’m a hunter.”
Gopan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, and half of his wizened mouth curled into a grin to match.
“All right,” Jack said. “I’m after something else.”
Snake Catcher looked at Ilesh while Flying Spear looked at Slocum. When he saw the archer’s questioning glance, Slocum merely shrugged his shoulders. He could have spoken up about the ring, but none of the elders seemed interested. Also, it was somewhat refreshing to see Jack get raked over the coals for all of his double-talking flimflam.
“What are you after?” Ilesh asked.
“That wolf took my fingers. Do you doubt that much?”
Ilesh and the chief looked at Snake Catcher. The leader of the hunting party nodded. “I believe that.”
Looking back at Jack, Ilesh said, “Then so do I.”
Jack sat up straight as if to accept high praise instead of the minor concession he’d been given. “When those wolves attacked me, I was wearing a ring. Ask him,” he said while waving toward Slocum. “He’ll tell you!”
Every Apache eye turned toward Slocum, making him feel as if he’d been tossed into the pot that was cooking slowly over the fire in the middle of the room. “That’s what he told me,” he said.
Again, Jack reacted as if he’d gotten a reprieve from on high. “There you go! You trust him, so you can trust me.”
“I trust that you told this same story to John Slocum,” Ilesh said. “I tell many stories to our children. That does not make them all true.”
Jack began to squirm. That happened to most weasels when getting called out on something, but lying about a rite to the people who should have held that rite as sacred was a whole different animal. When the ones he had to answer to were old men who looked as if they’d weathered more storms than Jack had ever known, squirming wasn’t quite strong enough of a word.
“That wolf took something from me other than my fingers,” Jack said. “I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles to that effect . . . or whatever you Injuns want me to swear on.”
“Good lord,” Slocum sighed.
Jack’s ignorant talk barely made a dent in the Apache chief or his shaman. Gopan drew a breath, reached for a pouch on his belt, and handed it to Ilesh. The younger of the two elders opened the pouch and dropped something into his hand. “You say you are missing a ring?
” Ilesh asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you will swear on your life to this?”
When Jack paused, Slocum whispered, “Just swear to it, for Christ’s sake.”
Jack’s mouth tightened into a grim line and his eyes fixed upon Ilesh’s hand. Finally, he said, “Swearing on my life . . . may be a little drastic.”
“Drastic?”
“Yeah. It means harsh or—”
“I know the word, white man!” Ilesh bellowed in a voice that filled the teepee and caused even the strongest among the hunting party to recoil. “What about disgraceful? Do you know this word?”
“Yeah.”
“I know this word because your people have thrown it at mine for many years. You call us savages and disgraceful for raiding your towns and killing in retribution for all that has been done to us. I know what this word means, and now I want to make sure you know what I think of a sniveling little coward who tells lies to the same men who fought and bled against the wolves that would have killed you without a thought.”
“Look, I . . .” But Jack didn’t have to be scolded for his mouth to be shut. All he needed was to see the chief’s clouded eyes boring through him like sunlight focused through a magnifying glass.
“Three of our hunters were killed,” Ilesh continued. “Three more are resting now after spilling their blood while you sit here healthy enough to speak to our chief. Tell me why you hunted Cha’to or you disgrace our people by disgracing yourself in front of them.”
Jack took a breath and shot half a glance over at Slocum. He didn’t seem to have it in him to do much more than that before saying, “That wolf took my fingers. When he did, I wasn’t wearing no ring.”
“Damn it,” Slocum growled.
“I came after that wolf because I was holding something when I was attacked. I hid it in my camp, heard the wolves, and dug it up so I could get the hell away from there. The wolves got to me quicker than I thought they would. I was still holding it, and when they came at me, they took it with my fingers.”
Ignoring everyone else in the area, Slocum faced Jack and asked, “What was it? What the hell was it that caused this much grief?”
Although Jack’s words had come out of him like water from a cracked bucket, he was squirming too hard to say much of anything anymore. Slocum lunged, grabbed the front of his shirt, and stood up while dragging him along with him. “Tell me, God damn it!” he said while drawing his Schofield and jamming its barrel underneath Jack’s chin. “Or by God, I’ll give these men a treat by blasting your head clean off’a your neck!”
“It was a key!” Jack said.
“A key?”
“That’s right! I swear it!”
“Why the hell should I believe you?”
“Because,” Ilesh said, “I also believe him. It was a key.” Extending his hand so Slocum could see what he’d taken from the pouch, he opened his fist to reveal a small key that glistened in the firelight. “I also believe this is the key.”
16
That was the key all right. Slocum could tell as much by the look on Jack’s face. Like any liar, he was relieved to finally have the truth brought to light. It was a difference that was so drastic, Slocum felt like a fool for not having pieced it all together before. He threw Jack aside as if he were tossing garbage from a moving train and stormed out of the teepee. Rather than walk among the rest of the tribe that was still preparing the feast, he circled around the back of the teepee and walked until there was nothing but open ground and trees in front of him.
Slocum patted his shirt pocket and found half of a cigar that had been stuck in there since the last poker game he’d played just over a week ago. It was burnt and stale, but tasted good enough to distract him for a few moments until his heart stopped hammering within his chest. His pulse quickened again when he heard footsteps coming around the teepee.
“If that’s you, Jack, do yourself a favor and walk somewhere else.”
The other person didn’t say a word, which was enough to tell Slocum that it wasn’t Jack. When he looked over, Slocum was surprised to find a face that looked as if it had been fashioned from weathered driftwood.
“You should not treat your friend so harshly,” Gopan said.
Shocked to be in the presence of the Apache chief, Slocum forgot about the cigar in his mouth until the smoke stung the back of his nose. When he removed it, he didn’t know whether he should stamp it out or apologize for not having one to offer the old man. He settled for keeping the cigar in his hand as he said, “That one’s hardly a friend of mine.”
“Then you walk many miles through much fire to protect a stranger.”
Gopan’s voice was barely more than a grating wheeze and yet it carried more weight than most men’s loudest boasts. Hearing it, Slocum couldn’t help calming himself so he could behave properly in the chief’s presence. “He fed me a lot of bullshit,” Slocum said with a wince afterward. “Pardon my language.”
“I have heard much worse,” Gopan chuckled. “Your friend is a liar.”
“Yep. And I’m a fool for riding with him this far.”
“No,” Gopan said while gazing out at the trees surrounding his tribe. “He is a liar. Just as Cha’to was a strong, hungry animal. We had to hunt Cha’to, but it is not our place to condemn him.”
“He was just doing his job,” Slocum said.
Gopan clasped his hands in front of him and laughed as the faraway look once more drifted into his eyes. At that moment, he just seemed like a gentle old man taking in the sights. “Yes. Just doing his job. I like that.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, you’re not like most of the other Indian chiefs I have seen.”
“I am just a man. Older than most. My tribe is made of people. They want me to lead them. I do.”
“I’m sorry about Jack.”
“Snake Catcher told me about the hunt. I listened to the stories that were told around my fire. I heard enough to know that Jack Halsey did his part to make the hunt a victory. Some of my own warriors rode after Cha’to in righteous anger over losing their loved ones to the teeth of those wolves. Some rode for motives that were not so noble. In the end, Cha’to will kill no more. That is what matters most.”
Slocum nodded and took a puff from his cigar. The stale taste was growing on him, and since the chief didn’t seem to mind the smoke, he refrained from stamping it out. “So . . . about that key.”
Gopan smiled and stood like a totem that had been planted deep enough to withstand an earthquake. “Ilesh brought it to me.”
“How did he get it?”
“I do not know. Does it matter?”
“Yeah. It does to me. There’s been too many things getting past me and I’ve been too content to let them slide.”
“Why would you help a man you dislike so much?” Gopan asked.
“I took the job because I knew Jack had the money to pay the fee he offered. I also knew Jack was full of shit . . .” Slocum paused and felt a pang of conscience when he cursed in front of the chief. He was no stranger to harsh language, but speaking that way to Gopan just didn’t set well with him. “Knew that, but didn’t think he was into anything terrible. Also, there are men after him. They came at us in Rocas Rojas and we were lucky to get away.”
“Of course there are.”
“Do you know about them, too?” Slocum asked.
“No, but men who lie frequently have to run from those they have angered.”
“Yeah, well, the men coming after Jack are a bit more than angry. I was gonna head out to see if they’ve tracked us this far.”
“What will you do when you find these men?”
“I don’t know. Maybe hand Jack over to them. The little bastard’s got it coming.”
“You don’t think that,” Gopan said with absolute certainty.
“I don’t?”
“Maybe he has it coming, but you don’t think about handing him over to be slaughtered. You are not that kind of man.”
“Maybe you don’t know me very well,” Slocum said.
“I have gotten to be this old by being able to see who men are as soon as they reveal themselves. You may be surprised with how little time you have to wait for them to do this. John Slocum is not the sort of man to hand another over to be killed. Not unless he is a much worse man than the weasel who rode with him against Cha’to.”
Slocum had been the cause of many deaths, but the chief was right. He wasn’t about to end a man’s life just for being a pain in the ass. “I should still go and see if those other fellows are coming after him. If not for Jack’s sake, for the sake of your tribe.”
“Our scouts always protect us. My tribe has many enemies. We have withstood the guns of the white man’s army. We can withstand a few bandits chasing a weasel.”
“I saw these men before. I’ll be able to pick them out as something other than a couple of men riding through the Potrillos.”
“Then go with my scouts, but fill your belly first. The feast, after all, is for all of those who killed Cha’to.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Slocum wanted to shake the chief’s hand, but the old man kept his hands clasped firmly in place across the front of his body as he turned to walk back around the largest teepee. After he was gone, Slocum stood and finished his cigar. Another set of footsteps found him, but he knew his luck wasn’t good enough to dodge the same bullet twice.
“John? Mind if I have a word?”
“Figured it was you, Jack. What do you want?”
Jack approached tentatively and made certain to stop just outside Slocum’s reach. “Like I said. Just a word.”
The cigar flared in Slocum’s mouth. He chewed on the smoke and then expelled it in a strong breath.
“Didn’t mean to lie to you, John.”
“Really? So it just slipped?”
“I suppose I just—”
Slocum wheeled around to stare directly into Jack’s eyes. His jaw clamped shut almost tightly enough to drive his teeth clean through his cigar when he said, “You don’t owe me an explanation. I knew what kind of asshole you were the moment I heard you scream like a little girl as you staggered into that doctor’s office.”