“Let’s wait until we get closer to the Peloncillo Mountains,” Clint suggested. “It’s too soon to do it now. We’ll let them keep trailing us.”
“Meantime, Reynaldo and me, we should be able to figure out if they’re switchin’ off or not.”
Pershing returned to the fire, crouched down, and poured himself some coffee. Clint and Horn told him what they’d discussed about building the fires closer together.
“Excellent idea,” Pershing said. “That way there’ll be no separation between us.”
“That’s probably not something your captains, or even General Crook, would approve of,” Clint observed.
“You’re right,” Pershing said. “They would insist on the separation of ranks. But they’re not here, are they?”
Clint reached for the coffeepot, found it almost empty.
“I’ll make some fresh coffee,” he said. “Tom and I want to talk to you about something.”
“Very well.”
While they waited for the fresh coffee to be ready, Clint and Horn explained what they had discussed about the Apaches who were watching them.
“It sounds like a good plan, if it works,” Pershing said. “But that’s true of all good plans.”
“We have another day or so before we reach the Peloncillos,” Clint said. “Let’s try and figure something out by then.”
Clint picked up the pot of coffee and poured them each a cup.
FIFTEEN
Clint woke to the nudge of somebody’s foot in his side. He rolled over and looked up at Tom Horn.
“What is it?”
“They’re gone.”
“Who?”
“The Apaches who were watching us.”
Clint got to his feet and looked around. Some of the buffalo soldiers were milling about. First light had been in the sky for about half an hour. Pershing was approaching.
“Did he tell you?” Pershing asked.
“Yes.” Clint looked at Horn. “When was the last time you saw them?”
“Reynaldo said they were there before first light,” Horn said. “As soon as the sun came into the sky, they were gone.”
“So they’ve seen enough?” Clint asked.
“Maybe they’ve seen too much,” Pershing said.
“Like what?” Clint asked. “We haven’t done anything yet.”
“Maybe,” Pershing said, “they’re just concerned about us. After all, we’re only seventeen men.”
“And isn’t that the size of some of the raiding parties?”
“There’s another possibility,” Pershing said.
“What’s that?”
“They might not think that my buffalo soldiers are any danger to them.”
“Maybe they’ve never seen a black man before,” Horn suggested.
“Then why did they watch us all night?” Clint asked. “They could have left and come back this morning.”
“Want Reynaldo and me to go lookin’ for them?” Horn asked.
Clint dry-washed his face with both hands.
“Is there coffee?” he asked.
“Full pot,” Pershing said.
“Let’s take this to the fire, then.”
They walked to the fire, poured out three cups of coffee, and drank while standing.
“Gentlemen,” Pershing said, “I need some suggestions as to a course of action.”
Horn looked at Clint and nodded for him to go ahead.
“I think we don’t do anything,” he said. “We just keep on riding for the mountains. Horn and Reynaldo scout up ahead, but they don’t try to find anybody.”
“And we forget about the two Apaches?”
“Unless they come back.”
“I could send a few men out with Horn to try to find them,” Pershing said.
“You asked for suggestions,” Clint said, “but you’re in command, remember?”
“It’s only our second day out,” Pershing said. “My men aren’t that antsy yet. Later, I may send them out just to give them something to do.”
“Let’s get some breakfast going, get the men fed, and then we can move out.”
“I’ll have a few men go and mount the horses,” Pershing said.
“Leave mine,” Clint said. “I’ll do him myself. I don’t want anybody losing their fingers.”
“I’ll warn them.”
When Pershing had walked away, Clint turned to Horn.
“No comment, Tom?”
“I don’t like the way they disappeared,” Horn said. “Somethin’ is goin’ on. Reynaldo is spooked by it.”
“And the other men?”
“We haven’t told them anything.”
“That’s probably best.”
“I think some of them sense it, though. I mean sensed it. They’re gettin’ nervous.”
“Tell Pershing,” Clint said. “Let him decide whether to tell them or not.”
Horn looked pensive.
“What is it now?”
“They might be waiting to ambush us,” Horn said.
“That’s why you and Reynaldo are going to ride up ahead and keep your eyes and ears open,” Clint said. “At the first sign of trouble you can ride back and let us know.”
“How about if I let you know right now,” Horn said.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting nervous, Tom,” Clint said. “You aren’t the type.”
“Never mind the type,” Horn said. “I didn’t expect them to spot us the first day out. It’s kinda . . . spookin’ me.”
“Well, get unspooked, Tom,” Clint said. “What we don’t need is a spooked scout.”
“Oh, I’ll be all right, Clint. Lemme just get the bacon and beans on.”
Clint found himself hoping he wasn’t going to end up the only one who wasn’t spooked.
Pershing invited his sergeant and corporal to the fire. They had bacon and beans for breakfast with Pershing, their leader, alongside Tom Horn, Reynaldo, and Clint Adams.
Pershing explained about the Apaches who had been watching them. The two men listened stoically, and then the sergeant addressed Pershing. “Whatchoo want us to do, Cap’n?”
“Just stick with it, Sergeant,” Pershing said. “There’s no need for the men to know, but I wanted the two of you to be aware.”
“Aware?” the corporal asked.
“Keep your eyes open,” Pershing said. “Let me know if you see anything, but otherwise keep it to yourselves. Understand?”
“No,” Corporal Jefferson said.
“But we do it just the same,” Sergeant Washington said, looking at Jefferson. “Right?”
“Yes, suh.”
“Okay,” Pershing said. “Break camp and have the men mount up. We’re moving out.”
SIXTEEN
Many Words listened to the two braves who had been following and observing the soldiers.
“They are not white men,” one of them said. “They have brown faces.”
“But not brown like the People,” the other Apache said. “They are . . . black.”
“No white men?” Many Words asked.
“A white soldier leads them, and three scouts,” the first Apache said. “Only one of them, he does not look like a scout.”
“What does he look like?” Many Words asked.
“He wears a gun here,” the man said, touching his hip, “and he walks straight and tall, his hand always ready.”
“Among the whites,” Many Words said, “he would be called a gunman. He is not a scout.” He frowned. “Why would the soldiers have such a man with them?”
Both braves shrugged, even though the question was not really directed at them.
“You will ride back and watch them.”
“And if they see us?”
“Who are their scouts?”
“Horn, and one of his tame Apaches.”
“Then he will see you,” Many Words said. “He has sharp eyes, that one.”
“We can kill him.”
“No,” Many Words said. “If they see you, do noth
ing. Just keep watching.”
“And if they come after us?”
Many Words folded his arms.
“Then you will lead them here,” he said. “We will be ready. The man who leads them, is he Crook?”
“No.”
“Go,” Many Words said. “If you have news, one of you stay with them at all times.”
Both braves nodded and went to their ponies.
Many Words now had to decide whether or not he wanted to share this news with Golden Princess. He did not know what to make of these black soldiers. He had not had any experience with men of that color, did not know if they were superior fighters to the whites, or inferior. Perhaps Golden Princess knew of them from her mother’s stories.
Better to ask her and see than to be surprised if he had to deal with them.
The two braves Golden Princess had watching the soldiers reported to her on the same night. She, too, listened with great interest to their report of soldiers with black faces, and the man who wore a gun in an open holster rather than the military holster with the flap. It meant he could get to his gun faster.
“Were you seen by Many Words’s men?” she asked.
“No.”
“Good. Keep watch and do not let your brothers see you.”
“Are we not all of the People?” one of the braves asked.
“Of course we are,” she said, “but do as I tell you to do.”
“Yes, Princess.”
“Go!”
As they mounted their ponies and left, Golden Princess cast her eyes toward the next mountain range, where she knew Many Words was camped. She had every intention of following Geronimo and honoring his decisions, but she knew that Many Words—like Nachite—had his own ideas and would not hesitate to act as he pleased. She knew the black soldiers were ex-slaves of the whites. She also knew that Many Words had no such knowledge, so she had a small advantage there.
She just didn’t know what to do with it.
Horn rode back to Pershing and Clint and said, “Reynaldo and I just compared notes and realized somethin’.”
“What’s that, Horn?” Pershing asked.
“The two Apaches I saw watching us and the two he saw are not the same.”
Pershing exchanged a glance with Clint.
“So we were being watched by four different men?” Clint said.
“At least.”
“Any around now?” Clint asked.
“Not that we can see, but they might be keeping well out of sight.”
“Not from your eyes,” Clint said.
“Remember,” Horn said, “they’re Apaches.”
“Believe me,” Pershing said, “we remember. All right, let me know if you see them again.”
“Okay.”
As Horn rode away, Pershing asked Clint, “What do you think?”
“I don’t know why they’d have four braves just watching us,” Clint said, “unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
“Well, suppose two of them were riding with, say, Nachite, and the other two with Many Words, or whoever. They are raiding in bands, aren’t they?”
“That’s right, but they’d be aware of each other, wouldn’t they?”
“That’s what you’d think, isn’t it?” Clint asked.
SEVENTEEN
They camped the second night just miles from the Peloncillos. They built their two campfires closer together, the result of which was they pretty much all ate their supper together.
Both Pershing and Clint ended up deciding that the two fires close together had turned out not such a good idea. There were certain concerns that the command would like to have discussed that they couldn’t discuss in front of the enlisted men.
In the end Clint and Pershing took a cup of coffee each with them on a walk. They only went as far as the perimeter of the camp.
“Okay, so the fires were a bad idea,” Clint said.
“Agreed,” Pershing said. “I’ll go back to what I was doing, eating with the men occasionally. Meanwhile . . .”
They turned as Tom Horn joined them.
“Any sign of the Apaches today?”
“I saw two,” Horn said. “Not the same ones I saw before.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “so either we’re only being watched by two now, or you just haven’t spotted the other two. What about Reynaldo?”
“He saw the same two I did.”
“Any chance there are two more that you didn’t see?” Pershing asked.
“Well,” Tom Horn said, “they are Apaches, so yeah, sure.”
Pershing looked at Clint.
“When we get into those mountains, there could be a hundred Apaches watching us and we wouldn’t know it.”
“I know,” Clint said, rubbing his jaw. “I guess we should split up.”
“How?” Pershing asked. “Split my command?”
“No,” Clint said. “I mean I should split from you and your men. We should go into the mountains separately. I might be able to spot somebody without them spotting me.”
“Are you half mountain goat?” Horn asked him. “That’s the only way you’re gonna be able to evade Apaches in the mountains.”
Clint looked at him.
“Maybe I could evade them with you along.”
“Two of you?” Pershing asked. “It’ll be twice as hard for you to avoid being seen.”
“No,” Clint said, “not with Tom along. I think we have to do this, Jack.”
Pershing thought a moment, firming his jaw. He obviously didn’t like this idea.
“So, effectively, what you’ll be doing is using me and my men as a decoy?”
“Yes,” Clint said, then, “no . . . well, maybe, but just until we can make contact.”
“We need to grab one Apache,” Clint said, “one man, and make him take us to his leader.”
“Then we come right back to you,” Horn said. “Meanwhile, Reynaldo will keep scouting for you.”
“When do we split?” Pershing asked.
“We can do it in the dark,” Horn said.
“They’re still watching.”
“We need a diversion,” Clint said. “So we can slip out of camp.”
“A diversion.”
“A fight,” Horn said. “Everybody likes to watch a fight.”
“Right around the fire, so they can see it nice and clear,” Clint suggested.
“Reynaldo can get into a fight with one of your men,” Horn said. “Having two black men fight each other might just confuse them.”
“All right,” Pershing said. “I’ll talk to my sergeant and corporal and set it up.”
“Twenty minutes from now should do it,” Clint said.
Pershing nodded, obviously still unhappy. He walked away to talk to his men.
“He ain’t happy,” Horn said.
“He’ll get happier when we come back with a prisoner,” Clint said. “When the fight starts, we’re going to have to saddle up quick.”
“I’ll mosey over to the horses just before the fight,” Horn said. “I can get a head start that way.”
“Okay,” Clint said.
“What about supplies?”
“Water,” Clint said. “That’s all we’ll need.”
“Okay,” Horn said. “I’ll see you at the horses.”
“Right.”
They turned and walked back to the fire. Moments later Horn was gone. Clint hadn’t even seen him go. He hoped the same was true of the Apaches.
Nineteen minutes after they made the plan, one of the black soldiers shouted at Reynaldo and threw a punch. In moments they were rolling around on the ground.
Clint headed for the horses with his saddle.
EIGHTEEN
Clint and Tom Horn walked their horses away from camp. It had been Clint’s thought that they would set up a cold camp and wait until morning to move out.
“I think we should go now,” Horn said.
“In the dark?”
“I’ve been out her
e before,” Horn said. “I know the way.”
“Can you get us to the mountains without any of us breaking our legs?”
“No problem,” Horn promised.
Clint patted Eclipse’s neck. The big Darley Arabian was as sure-footed as a mustang, but Clint was still going to have to trust Horn to know the way.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s do it.”
They mounted up and started riding single file, Clint behind Horn. They’d be in fine shape as long as none of the Apaches had noticed their absence.
Once they made it to the mountains—which Horn assured Clint would be before daylight—they could go ahead and make their cold camp, then go up into the mountains when it was light.
Pershing broke up the phony fight, taking his time shouting at the two men, hoping that they were creating enough of a spectacle to keep the attention of the Apaches.
He wasn’t happy about being used as a diversion, but he hadn’t had an alternate plan to offer. He just hoped that when the commotion was over, the Apaches watching wouldn’t notice that two men were missing.
Sitting at the fire with a cup of coffee, Pershing suddenly had a thought. Out of all the men who could have slipped out of camp, Clint Adams and Tom Horn were among the only white men. How could the Apaches not notice?
Damn it, he was the superior officer. He should have come up with another plan. If the Apaches noticed and went after them . . .
Little Bear watched from atop a bluff as the men in the soldier camp fought. He nudged his brother, Running Free, and said, “They cannot defeat us. They fight among themselves.”
“White against black,” Running Free said, “and it will be the red man who conquers.”
They both laughed, and neither of them saw the two men slip away into the darkness.
Across from them, on another hilltop, two more Apaches observed the altercation in the camp. They did not laugh, or comment. They also did not notice the two men slip away. It was dark, and even in the light from the fire, soldiers were soldiers, the enemy was the enemy, and they did not differentiate between the black and the white.
The soldiers weren’t of the People, and that was all that mattered.
Clint and Horn reached the foot of the mountains before first light.
The Golden Princess Page 5