Revenge of Eagles

by Johnstone, William W.

  Beyond the last circle the children, who were too young even to sit in the last circle, played in the night, watched over by a few of the older women of the village.

  Falcon, by Keytano’s personal invitation, was sitting beside him in the inner circle. There were a few sentences passed back and forth between Keytano and Chetopa, but as they were spoken in Apache, Falcon had no idea what they were saying. Then Keytano held up his hand to call for quiet.

  “Because Dlo Binanta is among us, we will speak only in English,” he said. He turned to Falcon. “Dlo Binanta, tell us what you know of my daughter.”

  “I will tell of Yaakos Gan,” Falcon said.

  Using Cloud Dancer’s Indian name had the impact Falcon had hoped for, because several of the Indians repeated her name, then nodded in approval.

  “I am pleased that you knew my daughter by her name,” Keytano said.

  “I am pleased to have met and known your daughter,” Falcon said. “As I told you, I met her on the stagecoach and we knew each other only a short time. But the desert flower that lives for but one night differs not in heart from the mighty saguaro that lives for five hundred years. So too is the time I spent with your daughter, for I learned in that short time that she was a very smart, and very brave, young woman. You and the entire village should be very proud of her, and you are rightly grieved ... as am I ... that such an evil thing was done to her.”

  “Who did this evil?” Keytano asked.

  “The leader of the evil ones is a man named Fargo Ford.”

  “Why did you not stop the evil?” Chetopa asked.

  “When the stagecoach stopped, I was shot,” Falcon said. He took off his hat to show the scalp wound, a visible scab line through his hair.

  Several got up and came forward to bend over and personally inspect the wound, and it was a moment or two before the conversation resumed.

  “The bullet knocked me out,” Falcon continued when everyone had regained their seat. “When I came to, I saw that our shotgun guard had been killed, and Yaakos Gan had been taken from the stage by the evil men.”

  “Taken by them?” Keytano asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I do not understand. If they took her, why did they kill her?”

  “I believe she fought them,” Falcon said. “And she fought very bravely. I know this because when the men stopped in Pajarito, one of them had knife wounds in his leg. Some way Yaakos Gan managed to get a knife and she stabbed him.”

  “Better she should have stabbed him in the heart,” Chetopa said.

  Falcon shook his head. “No, it is better this way,” he said. “A doctor in Pajarito saw the wounded white man. The white man has gangrene.”

  “What is gangrene?” Keytano asked.

  “It is when you begin to die here first,” Falcon said, putting his hand on his leg. “And it moves up so that your body dies a little at a time until your heart dies as well.”

  Several in the village nodded, for all had seen cases of gangrene, which they referred to as the “creeping death.”

  “Yes, it is good that he has the creeping death,” Keytano agreed. “He will die slow and in much pain.” He nodded. “I am glad that my daughter killed the man who killed her.”

  “We must go to war to avenge Yaakos Gan,” Chetopa said.

  “No,” Keytano replied.

  “Yes!” Chetopa said.

  “No,” Keytano said again.

  Angrily, Chetopa stood, then walked back and forth within the inner circle.

  “Why do you say no? Are we women, to do nothing?” Chetopa challenged. “Or are we warriors?”

  Some of the others shouted out then, some in support of Chetopa, some in support of Keytano.

  Keytano held up his hand to call for quiet. Then, when silence was restored, he looked at Falcon.

  “Dlo Binanta, I would ask that you wait in the wickiup,” he said. “We must speak of this, and the things we say are for our ears only.”

  Falcon could have told him that, if they spoke in Apache, he wouldn’t understand what they were saying, but he knew that Keytano knew that and had his own reasons for asking Keytano to leave.

  Nodding, Falcon stood up, brushed the dirt from the seat of his pants, then stepped into the wickiup indicated by Keytano. Almost immediately thereafter, one of the Apache women came in behind him, offering him a piece of fry bread.

  “Thank you,” Falcon said, accepting the proffered food.

  The woman withdrew then, and Falcon ate the bread, pleasantly surprised to learn that the inside of the bread was filled with honey. He enjoyed the treat as he listened to the discourse from outside. They were speaking in Apache so he had no idea what they were talking about, but it sounded quite heated.

  “I do not believe this white man,” Chetopa was saying to the others in the council. “I think we should kill him. Give me the word, and I will kill him.”

  “Why should we kill the one who brought my daughter back to me?”

  “I believe he killed her. I believe he lies when he says there were others who killed her.”

  “If he killed her, why would he bring her back?”

  “Like all white men, he is a man of deceit. Remember, this is Dlo Binanta. He has killed many of our people. I believe we should kill him. Then we should take up the path of war and kill the others who come to our land.”

  “Dlo Binanta killed your brother, so you are angry,” Keytano said. “But your brother was making war against the white man, and those who kill in war are honorable. I believe Dlo Binanta to be such a man. He is an enemy of great honor.”

  “He is a white devil!” Chetopa shouted loudly. “And I say kill him now!” He held his war ax above his head and gave a blood-curdling yell that caused fright among some of the children.

  Chetoka and Keytano were beginning to get very angry with each other. Then Lapari, a medicine man who was known for his wisdom, held up his hands to call for both to be quiet.

  “I have the answer,” he said.

  “What is the answer?” Keytano asked.

  “We will ask Dlo Binanta to find the white men who did this to Yaakos Gan. He will find them and kill them, then return to us with word that he has done so.”

  “How will we know he has killed them?” Chetopa said. “He is a man of deceit. He might say that he has killed them when he has not.”

  “We will make him prove that he has killed them,” Lapari said. “We will ask him to bring their scalps so that we might see them.”

  “A white man will not scalp another white man,” Chetopa said.

  “I will ask if he will do this,” Keytano said. “I believe if I ask this of him, he will do it.”

  “What makes you believe he will do it? Remember, he is an enemy of the Apache.”

  “Yes, he is an enemy of the Apache, but he is an enemy of much honor. If he says he will kill these evil men and bring their scalps to us, I believe he will do it.”

  “Call him from the wickiup and ask him,” Chetopa challenged. “He will say no.”

  Keytano shook his head. “I will not ask him before others. I will ask him alone.”

  Chetopa shook his head. “No, that is not good. If he says he will not do so, I think you will not tell us.”

  Keytano glared at Chetopa. Chetopa was younger and stronger, but he had just questioned the veracity of his chief, and in doing so, was stepping into very dangerous ground, for Keytano had many who would fight for him.

  “Do you say that I lie?” Keytano asked challengingly.

  “No,” Chetopa replied, dissembling. “I call back the words I spoke. I do not believe the great chief Keytano would lie.”

  Keytano glared at him for a moment longer. Then he looked at Lapari, the medicine man.

  “Lapari, you may come with me and watch and listen as I question Dlo Binanta. Then, you can bear witness that what I will tell the council is true.”

  “You do not need Lapari,” Chetopa said quickly. “I will believe the word of Keytano
.”

  “I will take him so that all may believe,” Keytano said resolutely.

  The conversation outside the wickiup had grown quiet, and Falcon was beginning to wonder if he should be concerned about his fate. They had not taken his guns from him when he arrived and that was a good sign. He didn’t believe they would let him keep his guns unless they planned to release him.

  Still, the argument in the council had grown very heated, and he knew, instinctively, that he was not only the subject of the conversation, but the cause of the heat.

  He loosened his guns. Whatever happened, he was not going to go down peacefully.

  The flap opened and Keytano and an even older Indian came in. Falcon stood, not only to show the Indians respect, but also to be ready for any contingency.

  “We have talked much about you in our council,” Keytano said.

  “Yes, I have heard the talk,” Falcon replied. “I know there is much anger.”

  Keytano looked surprised. “You speak our language?”

  “No,” Falcon said. “One does not always need to understand the words to know what is being said. I can tell by the sound that there is anger.”

  “This is true.”

  “And the anger is with me,” Falcon said. It wasn’t a question, it was a declaration.

  “Yes.”

  “Keytano, do the people believe that I killed Yaakos Gan?”

  “No,” Keytano answered. “Chetopa has said this, but I do not think that even he believes you killed my daughter.”

  “That is good.”

  “But Chetopa and many want to kill you anyway,” Keytano said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And they want to take up the path of war against the whites.”

  “This would be wrong,” Falcon said. “I will not let anyone kill me easily. And if they try, I will kill many before I die.”

  “Yes,” Keytano said. “I know this is true, because I know you are a brave warrior.”

  “Why do you wish to take up the path of war?”

  Keytano pointed in the direction of the stream. “You have seen our water,” he said. “Once, the water was wide, and so deep, that one had to find places to cross. Then, the white men build a ...” He made a motion with his hands.

  “Dam,” Falcon said, supplying the word.

  “Yes, a dam. The white men build the dam to steal the water, and now we have but a small amount. Our horses and our cattle die of thirst. And sometimes, if we go long without rain, there is no water in the stream at all, and even our people die of thirst.”

  “Keytano, I must tell you that if you take up the path of war, this time the white man will not stop. His soldiers will kill all of you, not just the warriors, but the women and children as well. Your numbers are small now. When the war is finished, there will be no Apache left.”

  “Yes,” Keytano said again. “I know that this is also true.”

  “So, what is going to happen?” Falcon asked. “Are you going on the path of war?”

  “I think there is a way to not have war, if you will help.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Falcon replied. “What do you want?”

  “We want you to find the men who killed Yaakos Gan and kill them,” Keytano said.

  Falcon smiled, and nodded. “That I will do with pleasure,” he said.

  The medicine man said something and Keytano nodded.

  “There is something else,” Keytano said.

  “Something else?”

  “Yes,” Keytano said. “When you kill these men, we want you to take their scalps and bring them to us so that we may see that you have done as you said.”

  Falcon took a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. He shook his head.

  “Keytano, I will find them and kill them, but I will not scalp them.”

  “You must, for it is the only way the council will know that you have done as you promised. And only if the council knows that the evil ones are dead, will I be able to keep the village from following Chetopa on the path of war.”

  “I’m sorry,” Falcon said, “but scalping isn’t something I do.”

  “Did you not take the scalp and gouge out the eyes of many of our young warriors during your war with Naiche?” Keytano asked.

  Falcon was caught and he knew it. He had done that very thing, in part out of anger, and in part to send a message to the Indians: that he was someone to fear.

  Sighing, Falcon nodded.

  “Yes,” he said. “You speak the truth. I did scalp your people.”

  “You took the scalps of our people, but you will not take the scalps of these evil men? Are these evil ones not as evil as the Apache you killed?”

  “Keytano, the Apache I killed were not evil,” Falcon said. “They were just warriors fighting me.”

  “Is Fargo Ford evil?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, why will you scalp my people who are not evil, but you will not scalp the white men who are evil?”

  Suddenly, and inexplicably, Falcon laughed.

  “Why do you laugh?” Keytano asked.

  “Keytano, you should be a lawyer,” Falcon said. “I believe you could get a light sentence for ole Satan himself. All right, you win. I will chase Fargo Ford and his group down, and I will kill them. And I will bring you their scalps to prove that I have.”

  Keytano smiled. “That is good,” he said. “Come, we will tell the council, then you will be free to go.”

  Falcon chuckled again. “Free to go, huh? Yes, I figured it was sort of like that ... that I would not be able to leave until you gave me permission.”

  Falcon followed Keytano back to the council fire. Most of the Indians were still there, though by now as many were standing as were sitting. Chetopa was with a group of five or six rather fierce-looking young men. The expression on his face was one of anger and hate and, regardless of what Keytano promised, or what Falcon did, Falcon knew that he was going to have to deal with Chetopa. If not now, someday.

  “Hear these words,” Keytano said, addressing his assembled people in English. “I have spoken with Dlo Binanta, and he has said that he will find the evil ones and he will kill them.”

  “And he will bring the scalps back as proof?” Chetopa asked.

  “Yes, he has said that he will do this,” Keytano replied.

  “Let the council hear him say this in his own words,” Chetopa demanded.

  “Is the word of your chief not good enough for you?” Falcon asked Chetopa.

  “It is not the word of Keytano that I question,” Chetopa said. “It is the word of Dlo Binanta, killer of Apache. I will not believe you unless I hear the words you speak.”

  “Keytano has told you of the words that I spoke,” Falcon said. “You do not wish to believe me and I think you would not do so no matter what I said.”

  “We will not speak of this again!” Keytano said, angrily. “I have told you what Dlo Binanta said. Do you say that I am lying?”

  “I do not say that you are lying,” Chetopa said, backing down.

  Yes, sir, Mr. Chetopa, Falcon thought. The day is going to come when I am going to have to kill you. Or you me.

  Keytano said something in his own language, then, looking at Falcon, pointed to the outer edge of the circle.

  “You are free to leave,” he said. “Go now, find the evil ones. Kill them as you have said, then bring their scalps back so that we may all see.”

  Standing just outside the edge of the circle, Falcon saw a young Indian boy holding the two horses he had come in with. His horse was already saddled.

  Falcon walked to his horse and swung into the saddle. Then the boy handed him the reins of the second horse. Falcon shook his head, then looked at Keytano.

  “Keep this horse,” he said. “This is a gift to you, to express my grief over the death of your daughter.”

  Keytano said nothing but nodded.

  Falcon rode out of the village, fighting the urge to break into a gallop, depending upon Keytano’s honor to keep Chetopa fr
om shooting him in the back. It didn’t take too long before he disappeared into the night.

  CHAPTER 12

  A fly landed on Fargo Ford’s face. Without waking, he brushed it off, but the second time it landed, it woke him up. He lay there for just a second to get his bearings; then he realized where he was.

  Last night he had brought Carmelita to his room. He had kept the whore all to himself, telling the others to share Rosita. Turning his head, he saw her in bed beside him. The bedsheet came up only to her waist and she was naked above it. In the bright light of the morning sun, she didn’t look nearly as attractive to him as she had last night. The dissipation of her profession was beginning to show, and she looked older now than he had thought she was last night. There was a terrible scar on one of her breasts, ending with a split nipple.

  “Damn, woman, someone cut you pretty good,” he said under his breath. He got out of bed, then walked over to the window and looked outside. The window opened onto the back of the cantina, so he raised it, then relieved himself over the windowsill, shooting a golden stream out to glisten in the morning sun.

  “There is a chamber pot under the bed,” Carmelita said from behind him.

  “This’ll do fine,” Fargo said, shaking himself off. He walked over to the chair and started pulling on his trousers. “How’d you get your titty all cut up like that?” he asked.

  As if just now realizing that she was naked from the waist up, Carmelita jerked the sheet up to cover herself.

  “A very bad hombre,” she said.

  “Woman, you ain’t never seen an hombre as bad as I am,” he said.

  “You ... you are going to hurt me, Señor?” Carmelita asked in quick fear.

  “No, I ain’t goin’ to hurt you,” he said. He looked at her as he buttoned his shirt. “But if I had seen how ugly you was last night, I sure wouldn’t of give you as much money as I did.”

  “I’m sorry I do not please you, Señor.”

  Fargo laughed. “Oh, hell, I didn’t say you didn’t please me. You was good enough in bed last night. And like they say, in the dark all cats are gray.”