I said, Sam, you got to listen to reason.
She commenced to hum some tune she knew. I will tell you what. It was irksome, the way she sat there with her hair sticking out all over her head like a bunch of switchgrass and just worked at her fingers.
I said, That is not a answer, and it ain’t polite.
She said, If you want to be woebegone, and cowards, then fine. But I got better things to do than turn back.
I was ashamed having a girl talk to me like that in earshot of others. I pointed out that she had no horse.
I walk fine, she said.
I said, Nobody is going to leave you to follow the panther afoot. You can’t out walk a panther.
She neither looked at me nor answered, but hummed her tune.
Mr Pacheco laughed at her being ornery, and I said, It ain’t funny.
She is mooee fwairtay, he said.
I asked what that was.
He said, She is a very strong girl.
She was a great deal of trouble was what she was, and I told him so.
But Mr Pacheco was in agreement with her and did not want to turn back. The pinto would not mind a extra passenger no bigger around than a blade of grass, he said, and Sam was welcome to ride with him. Mr Pacheco was of the opinion the dog must of found his way to us by recollecting the way he had followed after the panther and returning by the same route, meaning he had trailed the panther down the very canyon we was sitting in. We could start down the canyon the direction the dog had come from and look for signs.
I have put my dog through too much already, Preacher Dob said. He’s had a good time remembering the days of his youth and getting the panther scent in his nose once again. But the party is over for him and me and my horse. The panther will be long gone by now and without a useful panther dog we are more likely to get lost than find it, and this is not a area I want us lost in. There’s too much chance of coming across Indians.
I figured we was lost already. I could hardly tell which direction was forward and which was back and could not so much as see the direction of the sun for the clouds. Even if I had still of been wearing the spectacles, those was not going to show me the way. We was at the bottom of a canyon that looked like any other, in the middle of no place, as far as I could make out. I figured either Preacher Dob or Mr Pacheco could track us backwards and get us home, even if I could not, but none of us was going back without Sam. We was in deadlock.
We paused from argument and ate corn bread Ida had packed and pecans that was dropped, and Preacher Dob went up to get Zechariah and bring him down to wash him again, as he did not want to head in any direction whatsoever with the dog still smelling as bad as he done. We was none of us getting along, and there was a good many tense words when Preacher Dob come back down with that foul smelling dog. Sam and Mr Pacheco was strongly for trailing down the canyon a ways, and Preacher Dob and me was both certain that to do so would only mean traveling further into dangerous territory when we had no chance of catching up with a panther that was likely a hundred miles off by now. No matter how far we went, if we did not have a dog that could track and tree the panther, the cat would keep ahead of us, as they are long walkers.
We pitched in and done our part washing Zechariah again, and the dog put up with us better than the night before, but I was feeling ill treated and wrathful with Sam for making it so clear to everybody that I would have to either leave her behind or hog tie her and take her against her will, when I could not do neither. I might as well of been hog tied myself for all the say-so I had over her.
Me and Preacher Dob and Mr Pacheco stood in our bare feet and time and again filled the pot with cold mucky water, and handed it to Sam to try to clear the water with prickly pear, then dumped it over the dog.
Sam continued to argue her claim, saying, I have my four-shot pepperbox and you won’t see me going back.
Preacher Dob said, Little girl, it is my pepperbox and it was only borrowed to you.
She said, It was borrowed to me to shoot the panther. Until I done so it’s mine, unless you’re a Indian giver.
He said, God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.
She said, I favor the hide over grace. I don’t give a snap about grace.
I told Preacher Dob, I am sorry she has no respect for her elders.
Preacher Dob then led Zechariah out of the water and tied him to a low branch of a big sycamore alongside the creek and said, We are at cross purposes here. We have consulted the wishes of all, and fallen to disagreement, and found ourselves at a impasse. There is but one amongst us who has not yet been called on nor heard from, and that is the Lord. We would do well to call upon him.
Preacher Dob then gathered us under the sycamore, and we took our hats off, and bent our heads, all except Sam who did not bend hers, and we heeded the preacher’s words, although I feared Sam would not be swayed to the Lord’s verdict if it should be other than what she wanted.
What Preacher Dob said went something like this, although I don’t claim to recall it by the word. Dear Lord, said he, we call upon you for guidance. We have a judgment to make and would like for you to set us on the path you want us to be on. Mr Lorenzo Pacheco and Miss Samantha Shreve would choose to go in search of a panther that Benjamin Shreve and me both firmly believe to be long gone. They desire to kill the panther as a matter of revenge, a matter of safety, a matter of money, and a matter of humanity toward them that the panther has preyed on by feasting on livestock and tormenting folks with fear. That is their position. It is likely a large tom with about a hundred square miles of territory it thinks is its own. Whilst I can see killing it might be worthy, I fear, as does Benjamin, that the effort might lead us onto a path that would end amongst savages such as Comanches or Apaches, or a unforeseen peril. In following after the panther, we might meet our own doom. I am a old man, as you must know, and Mr Pacheco has also crossed most of the hills of tribulation that he will traverse. The Bible says there is a time appointed to every man, and if this should be mine, and you should want to call us home, then I, for one, will be ready to heed the call. Mr Pacheco strikes me to be of a like disposition. But we have two kids in our midst, and although the boy is verging on being a man, and the girl is tougher than might do her good in the long run, and obstinate, and set on what she wants, and fixed in her ways, I am not anxious to lead them into danger. As much as they could make use of the bounty offered for killing the panther, and as much as my family could, and Mr Pacheco could too, a bounty will not buy us a day of life, nor buy our scalps back, if we should run into Indians or other fatal things to encounter. Guide us, therefore, dear Lord, away from the wrong path, whichever way that might be, and set us where you want us to go instead. Amen.
Sam give him a look and said, You did not say it fair.
Preacher Dob said, How would you have me say it, little girl.
Sam said, Fair is to say Lord, let us know if we is to go on, or turn back. Amen. That’s what’s fair. Saying more is not fair.
Preacher Dob then prayed, Lord, do show us the way.
We stood there with our clothes wet from the splashing we given the dog, our campfire burned to embers nearby and too small to warm us, and the day growing darker instead of more light. There was a wind, as I recall. A cold one. I felt the presence of winter coming, and possibly rain on the way, and a certain dread in my bones with the thought of the long nights before me spent stoking the fire of our broken-down house, and watching the door, and listening to every snap of a twig beyond it, and wondering if the panther might be watching and waiting from the far side.
And a change, ever so slight, come over the way I felt inclined, and I begun to lean more toward the idea of mounting up and moving on down the canyon. I knew what I would find at the end of a ride back home. I would find nothing but back home, and it was a place I had already been in my life, and knew well, and I was not sure it was any more safe than where the canyon might take us. If instead we was to go on down the canyon, and happen
across the panther down the way, a third of two thousand dollars would go some distance toward making our home a more decent place and keeping us well fed.
And whilst I was having these thoughts I seen that Preacher Dob’s eyes was closed, and Sam’s was looking off down the canyon, and Zechariah’s, even the bad one, was fixed on Sam as usual when he had a moment to fix them so, and Mr Pacheco’s was raised up to the branches overhead dropping their big yellow leaves. And then I seen Mr Pacheco lean his head farther back, like he was looking at something of interest, and I seen his mouth drop open and his eyes squint hard, and I followed where he was looking. And there I seen, hanging limp and bloody over a twisted limb of the sycamore we was standing under, the carcass of a porcupine that I was sure had not got itself into that tree in the half eaten state it was in.
Mr Pacheco then looked straight to the ground, and bent over to look more closely amongst the yellow leaves that laid there. He squatted upon his heels, and moved the leaves about, and raised his gaze to the rest of us, and said, Deeos meeo.
And the rest of us bent to look, and we seen what he seen, and a silent moment fell amongst us, for there in the mud at the creek’s edge, filled up with water, was a deep pad track of a panther, a lot bigger than my fist.
Without a word spoke between us we went about doing what any right-minded persons would do. We commenced to search the ground for other tracks. And wouldn’t you know, it was Sam who come across one with two toes.
Mr Pacheco said, El Demonio de Dos Dedos has been here.
Preacher Dob agreed it was so, against his own will. He said, The Lord has now spoke. He has told us to complete the journey. He has reminded me that journeys will not often be of my choosing. We stand in a crossways place, and he give us a Which Way tree, the same as he done for Sam Houston at the fork in the road to San Jacinto. He has shown us the way we are to go, and it is onward.
We found more tracks then, and we seen how they doubled back and went forward again, this way and that, and we conferred, and it come to us all whilst eyeing the tracks and thinking how fresh that carcass was in the tree, that the dog had followed the panther down the canyon, and then the panther had followed the dog when he come back this way, and the panther had eyed us in the night, and watched us smoke our pulkee puros, and ate his porcupine dinner whilst we slept not twenty yards from this tree.
The question come to us then as to whether we was tracking the panther or if, by some unknown hand we was dealt, the panther might be tracking us. I am uneasy to wonder at it even now, and I was sure uneasy at that time. I had seen the size of that panther twice. I had beat its hind end as it gone up the tree after Sam on the night it done in Juda. I had seen the lantern light in its yellow eyes in the goat pen. But the thought of them eyes being on me whilst I slept, and watching me in the dark unawares, was a worse thing to think about than meeting face-on with the creature. It give me a frosty feeling in my soul.
There was four good things taking place at this time, however. One was that the panther had not pounced on us in the night. Another was that it had not pounced on Zechariah whilst he slept alone above us, perhaps on account of his foul odor. A third was that we now agreed on where we was to be traveling, as the tracks seemed to be going and coming and going again, headed down the canyon. The fourth was that the Lord had shown us by a sign that we was doing right to go on, so we no longer had that question to argue over. We was now of one purpose.
We packed up, saddled up, and struck out. We led the horses, as we was compelled to start afoot to keep our eyes on the ground for sign and tracks. When Zechariah seen we was going after the panther he again become like a young dog, heedless of his wounds and bleeding feet and the sick stink. There was no more need of a horseback ride for that dog, and it give Preacher Dob a good deal of satisfaction to see him acting so hearty. The dog’s own tracks from the night before was jumbled amongst the panther’s and confused us at times, as it was not easy on dry soil to tell one from another. But the dog was going by scent and not sight and had a good knowledge of his own odor, so he did not take notice of those tracks nor of tracks from other creatures. There was a good many varmint and coyote tracks and some from a bear. At times Zechariah took hard whiffs on dry land, and sniffed about in circles, and appeared to light upon the scent. However, his nose always taken him back to the mud, where he lost it. There we seen tracks trailing into the water and stood about, scratching our heads.
I kept Hanlin’s pistol at the ready and one eye trained on trees overhead and regions of dense brush in case of Indians or the panther. Sam had the pepperbox at the ready and kept saying how she was to have the first shot.
After a while of walking, Preacher Dob come on scat. Further on we seen a pile of dirt and twigs scratched together that was surely sign of a tom marking his territory. Zechariah huffed and chuffed at the pile, and followed the track a ways until it sidled against the water again and he lost it.
Preacher Dob said, That cat is playing with us.
The day got colder the farther we walked. The clouds was thick and dark and we seen from the way they was moving, and the way the high up branches of trees on the rim was behaving, that the wind was picking up speed. We was glad of the wind in spite of that it was cold, as it carried off some of the skunk odor. However, we did not like what it foretold, and we felt ourselves in a hurry. We was certain to lose the tracks as well as the scent if we should have rain.
After some time we come on duck feathers with duck feet laying alongside.
Preacher Dob said, Dos Dedos does not care for duck feet.
That struck me and Mr Pacheco as funny and we laughed about it. However, Sam would not laugh about that or nothing else, as she was too busy looking for panther sign.
About noon Zechariah turned of a sudden and gone straight up the side of the canyon at a dead run with his nose about stuck to the ground. Preacher Dob took off after him, leading his horse in haste up the side of the canyon and yelling for the dog to wait, to no advantage. Both the dog and him gone up over the rim. The rest of us started up after them. It was a rocky slope, but not steep. We topped the rim and found ourselves on a open mesa of Indian grass up nearly chest high. The wind there hit us hard. Preacher Dob was already there. The grass was thick and a lot taller than the dog, so mostly what we saw of him was the commotion he made in it as he went about sniffing for the track.
I now had a better look at the sky and how dark it was to the south. There was a storm heading up from Mexico. The wind was blowing from that direction, laying the grass down in waves as it come. I wished I had been prepared for rain, as I felt sure when it met with the air coming down from the north we was going to have some, and it would not be toasty. It was not winter when we had left our house the day before, only nippy, but now it was downright cold.
Zechariah trailed along the edge of the canyon in the same direction we had been going when we was down in it. The horses wished to graze but we mounted up in haste to keep after the dog.
We had not gone far when the wall of the canyon got steep below us. The panther must of known that canyon well to climb out when he did. Zechariah lost the scent here and there, and run about making a trace in the grass.
We was paused and looking off over the mesa, discussing the dark sky whilst the dog sought out the track, when of a sudden we was taken aback by a voice hollering at us from the far side of the canyon, saying, Stop where you are!
Upon hearing this we was perplexed, on account of two reasons. One was that we was already stopped where we was. Another was that we had neither heard nor seen anyone approach, as we did not have the wind of that side of the canyon and was busy looking the other way.
We turned in consternation and seen three riders reined in across the way with their guns drawn at us. I could not make out much about them, as by my estimate the canyon was sixty yards across, if a inch. All I could make out was one of them was a fat man with a rifle on a good sized gray horse, one was a thin man riding a chestnut and aimi
ng what looked like a bore musket, and the third was of a regular constitution, wearing a Sesesh uniform and mounted upon a dun. He appeared to have a pistol. The sky over on that side was light, not dark like behind us.
Preacher Dob made a attempt to be friendly. He shouted back, Howdy!
The fat man commenced to yell. He said, Lorenzo Pacheco, get your hands up, dismount, and step away from the horse! If you make a move we’ll shoot you! Get that girl off the horse too!
It seemed like he meant business. Mr Pacheco told Sam to get down from behind him and move away from the pinto.
She did not at first do so. I told her to do so. Preacher Dob said, Little girl, get off that horse, and she then done so, although in a balky manner.
Mr Pacheco then done the same. He said a few words to the horse in Spanish and stepped away and raised his hands in the air. The pinto stayed where it was.
The fat man hollered, Dobson Beck, you are traveling with a horse thief! Lorenzo Pacheco, you stole that horse from me! I have the law here with me and we intend to get the horse back! If you resist us we’ll shoot you! If you run we’ll hunt you and hang you!
Mr Pacheco hollered, I paid you for the horse!
You paid me counterfeit! the fat man replied. Confederate counterfeit!
The man in the uniform yelled, And goddamn it, you give me counterfeit, too, Pacheco! Uncle Dob, you are about to get yourself hanged for a accomplice if Pacheco don’t turn that horse over and pay me what I earned, that he owes me, in US dollars!
Preacher Dob hollered, Is that you, Clarence!
It seemed like it required a lot of effort to shout across the canyon into the wind. However, Hanlin done so for a good while at Preacher Dob. The bills Pacheco give me ain’t worth their paper! he said. I come across Mr Samuels here at Camp Verde! He was asking about a Mexican horse thief on a good looking pinto that had paid him counterfeit for the horse! I did not have a question who that might be! We got a member of the state militia here with us who come along to see justice gets done! If the lot of you don’t comply then somebody’s going to get their head shot off! If Pacheco tries to make a run for it, we’ll shoot his horse!
The Which Way Tree Page 14