Apache Trust
The town of Tucson is situated in the middle of the Sonoran desert. The summers in this part of the world are very hot and dry, except during the monsoon when the air becomes extremely humid. The winters, on the other hand, are comparably mild with temperatures of about 16°C / 60°F. From mid-February on the heat gradually rises again until it reaches its summer height of more than 32°C / 90°F in July and August. The desert is home to some succulent plants, many small animals, and of course lots and lots of sand. At the outskirts the sand gradually changes into more fertile soil, and the desert becomes grassland. During the nineteenth century, pioneer ranchers began to settle this grassland. Apart from the climate, they had to come to terms with economic shortages, native tribes, and also bandits.
Buck Cannon and his nephew Billy Blue were in the middle of the usual morning ride to check the fences. They ambled along at the foot of the Santa Rita Mountains on the road to Nogales. This road served for a few miles as the designated boundary of the Cannon Ranch.
"This heat would burn the back side off an Appaloosa," Buck complained. "What a land. Not a sensible thing, Blue Boy."
"You're tellin' me," Blue commented.
It was mid-April according to the calendar, and therefore spring. But the sun was burning down on them unusually hot that morning. Buck hoped a breeze would spring up soon to cool the air and hopefully bring along some clouds as well.
"Next time I get born I'm going to be one of the Indians. They sure know how to stand this heat," Buck decided.
"That's an idea," his nephew agreed.
Blue imagined how life would be as an Apache when his uncle's elbow jabbed him in the ribs. "Look, over there." Buck pointed ahead.
Blue noticed the tracks of a wagon. Looking up further, he saw a uniformed rider. The man held a standart of the US Army in his left hand. He appeared to be a guard for as soon as he had seen them he turned his horse around to report to his commanding officer.
"Riders coming, Lieutenant," Blue heard him say.
"Indian?" the voice of the Lieutenant asked.
"No, sir, they're white," the guard replied.
The officer mounted his horse and rode a few paces towards Buck and Blue. "Lt. Simon Mulvaney, Seventh Cavalry," he introduced himself.
"Where are you headed?" Blue asked, bewildered. In the background he noticed the vehicle that had made the tracks. A few soldiers stood nearby. They all of them seemed to be not much older than Blue himself.
"To Fort Marcy," Mulvaney answered. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to indicate the wagon. "We were temporarily shipwrecked. Broken axle. But everything is in order now."
"Well, a broken axle?" Buck said, studying the vehicle with a critical eye. "But your wagon is in order now? What're you holding in there? A brass cannon?" he laughed and continued at once, "I don't know, maybe the sun's got to me. But seven man escorting a lone wagon across the Apache front lawn? Tell me, Lieutenant, has the Army run out of men, or brains, or - both?"
"Colonel Willkampf is riding with another wagon by way of the flats," Mulvaney answered, pointing. "He figures that will draw the Indians off. And we can make Fort Marcy in a breeze."
Buck and Blue looked at each other in disbelieve.
Buck shook his head. "You have to be in the Army to believe it," he commented dryly.
"All set, Lieutenant," the soldier who had carried out the repair put in. He threw the wrench into the wagon and went to his horse. The rest of the escort had already mounted.
"Well, good luck to you, Mulvaney," Buck told the man in parting.
"Oh, we'll make it," the officer said lightly, raising his arm. The escort set out again, heading in the direction of Tucson.
Buck watched them go, a frown appearing on his face. "You know, there is a lot of young fellows like him in every army. Won every battle, lost war," he sounded off to his nephew.
Mulvaney was in high spirits. The road was in good shape, and the wagon ran smoothly. At this rate, they would reach the fort without delay despite their unscheduled stop. An instant later, shots rang out. Horsemen galloped down from the mountains towards the soldiers. Deafening war cries erupted. Mulvaney recognized the superior force of their attackers and shouted for his men to flee.
Uncle and nephew had not ridden far when they heard the sounds of battle and the distant call of the commanding officer, "We'll have to run for it."
"Come on, Blue," Buck urged and raced back, his nephew following hot on his heels. Unfortunately, they did not reach the scene as fast as Buck had hoped. The escort rode ahead of them now, striving to escape.
The horses had bolted at the first shots, gallopping faster and faster on the flat, even road. The charioteer had no chance of reining them in. The wagon skidded around the next bend and toppled over with a mighty roar. The man had barely found the time to sever the drawbar before he had to jump off to avoid being buried under the heavy vehicle. Through the dust he dimly saw the horses ran on unhurt. His fellow soldiers fended off the attackers. Once the charioteer had mounted behind one of them, they galopped away at their fastest clip.
When Buck and Blue finally neared the scene, the whole nightmare was already over; the Indians were busy checking the loot.
"Up there, Blue." Buck pointed to the rocks ahead. He was well aware that the two of them could not fight so many enemies and expect to win. Still, the sight that greeted them as they looked from their safe hiding place down on the picture of devastation shook him. He heaved a sigh and lowered his head.
"We should have stayed and helped them, uncle Buck," murmured Blue.
"They did not ask us," Buck countered.
"But we should have stayed anyway," his nephew insisted.
"Blue Boy, there is a lot of things in life we think we should have done. Especially when we see how bad not doing them turned out. But just don't go looking out of your way for blame." Buck heaved another sigh. After a moment of reflection he continued. "But Blue, one of us better ride back and get the rest of the boys. The other better stay here, see which way they go with them guns."
Blue sat up straight in his saddle. "I'll stay, uncle Buck."
"Well, I don't know." Buck rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He did not like the notion.
His nephew remained firm. "I will be all right. I'll just stay out of sight," he promised.
"Well you make sure you do that," Buck relented, riding off in a hurry.
Blue dismounted and tied Soapy to a bush, then lay down beside the rock spur to his right. He pulled off his glove, checked his revolver, and put the gun back into the holster. Breathlessly he watched the Indians load the boxes onto their ponies. Suddenly his face took on a puzzled expression. He slowly looked over his left shoulder. A pair of suede boots stood beside him in the grass. His eyes moved higher. Leather trouser rose above the boots. Still higher, he saw a leather jerkin. At the top of it all sat a head with clearly Indian features. Blue looked thoughtfully from the warrior to the overturned wagon. It dawned on him that he was in very deep kimchee.
It was a typical, quiet morning on the High Chaparral. The ranch hands not on duty were playing cards in the shade of their bunkhouse; others were dozing or daydreaming. The man at the gate slowly paced in front of it to pass the time. Pedro sat on his lookout on the water tower, bored to death. Only Big John was busy. He had chosen the shady veranda to do his book-keeping.
Victoria, a smile on her face and a spring in her step, left the house with a bucket in her hand to fetch water for the kitchen. She halted in front of her brother who had made himself comfortable in the shade of the water barrel. She slowly looked from Mano to her bucket and back to her brother, waiting. Mano did not budge. Finally, Victoria took the lid off the barrel herself. "Manolito, if you were a gentlemen, you would get on your serape, and you would help me," she commented.
Mano did not even open his eyes. "You are right, my dear sister," he answered lazily. "A gentleman would."
Mischief in her eyes, Victoria lifted her bucket. She poured the water over Mano's head and began to giggle. Her brother licked his lips with gusto. He seemed to like the cooling. Disappointed that her ploy did not have the desired effect, Victoria's mood changed. "Do you know that I am ashamed of having a brother so worthless?" she cried, slamming the lid back onto the barrel.
The commotion caused Mano to grimace. "And I am ashamed of having a sister so noisy," he countered.
"Noisy, Manolito?" Victoria yelled indignantly.
Victoria took her bucket and went back to the house, ranting and raving in Spanish. "Naughty boy. He can be so charming and courteous, but I'm just his sister. Just you wait, lad, next time, I promise you, you will be in for it!"
"What was that all about?" Big John asked. He sat hunched over his books and listened with only half an ear.
Victoria stopped behind his chair. "You know that Manolito is not only lazy, he is insulting." She sat the bucket down and put her hands on her hips. "Do you know what he called me? He called me noisy."
Big John threw her a quick glance over his shoulder. "Oh, that is not fair," he said absently, still more interested in his book-keeping than in his wife.
Victoria did not know exactly how John had meant that, but did not let herself be deterred. "I'm not noisy," she insisted, enraged.
Before she could start fighting with her husband, too, Pedro called down from his outlook, "Hay atrás. Atrás."
The High Chaparral crew approached the lookout. Even Mano struggled to his feet.
"What is it, Pedro?" Sam called up to him.
Pedro stood up on his seat, squinting in the bright sunlight. Someone raced across the pasture and was just entering the home stretch. "It's Senor Buck," Pedro announced finally. "He is riding like loco."
"Isn't Blue with him?" Big John asked.
Pedro shook his head. "No, one. Only one."
Victoria worriedly turned towards her husband. John looked strained. Wordlessly he waited what message his brother would bring.
Buck made a running dismount. "John, Apaches attacked an escort of soldiers," he exclaimed.
"Where?" his brother asked curtly.
"Back in Tsink."
"Where is Blue?" Big John urged.
"He is back there. He's all right," Buck answered quickly.
"He is back there alone?" Victoria snapped.
"We saw it happen," Buck told her. "But there was nothing we could do. So Blue Boy stayed back to watch the A-pach."
"How could you leave him there alone?" his sister-in-law rounded on him.
"I did not leave him there, Victoria," Buck defended himself. "Blue is a big boy now. He made up his mind all by himself."
John, a stony expression on his face, turned to his foreman. "Sam, tell the men to get ready to ride out."
Sam nodded. "Yes, sir. Let's go, boys," he addressed the ranch hands, starting for the corral.
Buck chanced a look at Victoria and Mano. His sister-in-law was almost in tears. Mano, too, looked upset.
Big John turned to his brother. "Buck, you can't set a boy on a man's work," he stated in a deliberately calm voice.
"A boy?" Buck gaped at his brother in utter disbelief. "John, he's got more man juice in him than anyone I've ever known, that Blue Boy."
Victoria stepped towards him, grabbing his jacket. "You should not have left him," she insisted.
"Victoria," Buck sighed, turning his eyes skyward. His sister-in-law turned her back on him and went with her husband into the house. Buck was left standing all alone in the courtyard. Frustrated, he forcefully hit his right palm with his left fist.
Mano came to him. "Apaches, huh?" he asked. "Are you sure?"
Buck took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "We saw them, Mano," he answered sulkily.
"All right, all right," Manolito said with a placating gesture. "Was it Cochise?"
"It might have been Cochise, it might have been any one of them," Buck replied dejectedly. "It was easy pickings."
"What do you mean?"
"Seven men alone and a wagon. Seven men. It seems some bright-eyed colonel strategist-," Buck let fly, then stopped abruptly. The younger Butler brother had led his horse to them to eavesdrop. Buck turned to him. "Joe, out there in the flats is a military column. You better find them and tell them what happened."
Joe nodded and rode off at once.
A moment later Big John signalled the rest of the crew to head out. "Let's go, boys."
The guard locked the front gate behind the search party. Victoria stood in the middle of the courtyard, worriedly staring after the men until the distance had swallowed them.
Buck led them to the mountains. "He is right up there in them rocks," he declared and rode up the path, calling out Blue's name. "Well, he was here, John. He was," he told his brother nervously.
Big John searched the area with his eyes. Apart from the smouldering wagon on the plain below them he noticed nothing unusual. Finally he rode on. After a few paces he stopped again. He had discovered Blue's glove. John held it up for his brother to see, shaking it a little. "Blue's," he remarked darkly.
Buck looked at him guiltily. "It's all my fault, John. I never should have left him here alone," he admitted.
John turned to his foreman. "Sam, have the men spread out, see if they can pick up some tracks."
Sam nodded. "Yes, sir. Pedro, you and a couple of boys come with me. The rest of you guys spread out. We'll meet down below."
The men rode off. Only Mano remained, looking thoughtfully down on the plain. "John," he exclaimed suddenly. "I'm going to ride down to where the wagon was attacked."
"You think he's there?" his brother-in-law asked.
"No. Blue has more sense than to ride out there alone," Manolito replied haltingly. "I just want to take a look around, all right? Adios."
John nodded curtly, and Mano rode down.
Buck chanced a quick glance at his brother. If looks could kill, he thought. He crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh, adjusted his hat with one hand, and gazed straight ahead. He watched Mano circling the wagon. His brother-in-law seemed to have found something he thought worthy of closer scrutiny. When Buck could no longer bear the silence, he looked back at his brother. "Well, John, it is like they say. No fool like an old fool. A fella gets so many years they ought to put him out to pasture like an old horse."
Big John wordlessly turned his head away.
Sam rode up to them before the silence could get even more oppressive. "Boss," he yelled. "Up there. Pedro has found some tracks that lead east. They got Blue. We can tell by the heel prints."
"Apaches?" John asked curtly.
The foreman nodded. "Yes."
Buck looked anxiously at John. His brother still did not say a word, following Sam instead. Buck rounded up the rest of the crew. "You two fellas, come on. Join up. Get moving." He then called out to his brother-in-law. "Mano! Come on, we got some."
Manolito waved to him. "Go on," he yelled back. "I will catch up with you."
Buck looked at him doubtfully, but said nothing. Mano knew what he was doing. Buck had no right to interfere and give wrong advice.
Mano waited until the others were out of sight, then followed the tracks he had found.
Big John halted at the foot of the mountains. "They are headed for Horsehead Canyon," he announced.
"That's Morales' bailiwick. He has never given us any trouble before," Sam sad, confused.
"No, never," John agreed with him.
"John, this don't make sense," Buck interjected. "They left a trail a pack of blind vultures could follow. Why?"
His brother looked straight ahead, his face stony as ever. "They've got Blue," he answered finally and rode on.
Buck felt as if there was more behind it, but let it be.
When they entered Horsehead Canyon, they saw an Apache sentry on either side at the top of the canyon walls. The gorge was narrow enough that anyone who came this way would be caught by their crossfire. The slopes were completely overgrown with bushes, offering excellent cover for more defenders, should the need arise.
John called a halt. He handed his gun belt to Buck and dismounted.
"John, I'll go with you," Buck offered.
"Nope. I'll go alone." Big John's tone brooked no argument. Without another word or glance he went up the pass which led into the village.
Buck watched him go, then motioned for the others to dismount as well. They got comfortable - after they themselves had placed sentinels to keep an eye on the Apache guards.
The village was situated in a deep circular valley. Big John got down the pass on the other side, walked around a bend, and suddenly saw the Apache warriors before him. Morales, their chief, stood a few steps ahead of his men. He awaited the rancher with his arms crossed over his chest.
John halted within a reasonable distance and made the peace sign, lifting his right hand to his chest, and then extending his arm. "Where is my son, Morales?" he began. When no one stirred, Big John became impatient. "Where is he?" he repeated in a sharper tone.
The chief stepped aside; the circle of warriors opened. John was greeted by the sight of Blue whose hands had been tied behind his back.
"Morales, I want my son." Big John started to get agitated. "What the devil is going on? I thought we made our peace. We have been good neighbours up to now. What's happened?"
Morales looked at the rancher calmly. "We have council."
"Coucil be hanged. I want my boy. I want him now," Big John insisted.
The chief quietly shook his head.
"You've got to be out of your mind," Big John let fly. "Taking my son, attacking those soldiers. You don't think you can get away with this, do you? When the army gets through with you, you and your tribe, you are gonna drink bitter water."
"We attacked no soldiers," Morales said.
"You were seen. That's why you took Blue," the rancher countered.
"No," the chief said firmly.
"What other reason then?"
"We have council," Morales repeated firmly.
The chief and the rancher stubbornly looked at each other in silence. Big John realized they were at an impasse. He relented. "All right. You release my boy, then we'll have council."
The chief nodded to his warriors. "Do it," he said quietly in Apache.
Blue went to his father as soon as he had been released, rubbing his wrists.
Big John took his son by the arm. "You're all right, boy?"
Blue nodded affirmatively. "Yes, as soon as I get some circulation. I hope you're not blaming Buck for this. It was my fault."
"We'll worry about that later," his father replied, then turned to Morales. "You wanted council. Let's get on with it."
But the chief was not ready yet. "How many men out there?" he wanted to know.
"Ten," Big John replied.
"They stay there?"
"Yes, they stay there. I told them to."
Morales nodded, satisfied. "We smoke pipe, have council," he declared.
"Forget the pipe," the rancher urged.
"We smoke pipe, have council," Morales repeated calmly. He turned to go into the village proper. John and Blue had no choice but to follow him.
Manolito followed the tracks. From time to time he dismounted to take a closer look at the ground. At first he had ridden quite fast. Over time, however, when he realized that he neared his destination, he became more cautious. Riding down an embankment as quietly as possible, he suddenly saw a man stand guard. Bored to death, the man took his task very literal. He had turned his back to Mano and played statue. He might have been asleep standing up. One of us is going to get the surprise of his life, Mano thought. He tied his horse to the bushes and crept towards the sentry. The trees and shrubs gave him sufficient cover.
As soon as he had come within gun range, Mano drew his weapon. "Stand tall, amigo," he said calmly. The man instantly froze. Mano took the guard's gun. "Adelante, hombre," he ordered.
The sentry obeyed. Halfway to the camp, Mano stopped behind a tree to assess the situation. He saw Griswald who held one of the captured guns in hand.
"Like a woman, Sancho," he heard Griswald tell one of the bandits, "smooth to the touch with a wicked kick, eh? How many did we get?"
The man, who seemed to be Griswald's right hand, shrugged his shoulders. "One hundred and twenty guns, maybe. Twenty thousand rounds ammunition."
"Once over the border, that automatically makes me a general. We gonna live fat and fancy," Griswald bragged. He and Sancho grinned at each other.
Mano deemed it time to make himself known. "Hey, Griswald," he cried, rejoicing inwardly as every bandit jumped for cover. "Qué pasa, hombre? Soy yo, Manolito."
Griswald left his cover after a moment and holstered his gun. "Hey, that's my old friend Manolito," he grinned, surprised.
Mano entered the camp. "I don't know what he did, but I'm sure he belongs to you," he laughed, kicking the guard in the back and throwing the gun after him. Then he went to Griswald who embraced him effusively.
"How long has ist been?" the gang leader laughed. He hugged Manolito again, then jabbed him boisterously in the stomach. Mano doubled over. "It's soft, not like it used to be," Griswald commented with disdain.
"Amigo," Manolito countered once he had recovered somewhat, "not many things are like they used to be."
"No? Look at me. Every time I kill a man, rob a stage, see a pretty woman, I get stronger here, " boasted Griswald, grinning. Mano grinned back. The gang leader turned to the camp, making introductions. "This is Manolito. Durango, Sonora, Chihuahua, once we owned the law."
Mano waved to them. "Hey, muchachos."
"Where have you been?" Griswald asked his friend.
Mano shrugged his shoulders. "Well," he drawled.
"All the time … I have been in a bad way without my friend Manolito," Griswald went on. Mano put his hand on his heart and inclined his head, flattered by the compliment. The gang leader guided him to a ledge under a tree. "Come on, sit down, tell me everything."
"Sí, hombre," Mano concurred. "But first, amigo, I must have a drink. My throat is carrying half the desert."
"Whisky. A bottle of whisky for my friend Manolito," Griswald ordered, then turned back, a questing look on his face. "Now, how did you know?"
"Well, you know, Grizzly, you have a smell that would trigger a shotgun at fifty paces. I'm sorry, it's true." Mano raised his hands apologetically, smiling a bit to take the sting out of his words.
"Yeah, that's me. That's stinking old Grizzly," the gang leader admitted with a laugh.
"You know, when I saw the burning wagon and read the signs, my nose began to twitch. I remembered a little plan you told me about years ago. You … the guns and make it look like it was the Apache." Mano looked meaningfully at Griswald.
"Yes, right. That's right," the man confirmed.
"So I turned towards the border," Manolito continued, "and took a deep breath. And came right here."
"Yeah, homesick for your old Grizzly," the other said dryly.
"Mucho homesick," Mano admitted.
Grizzly handed him a bottle of whiskey with a smirk. "Here, drink. Then we'll talk. And then we'll drink some more."
Mano drank deeply. He was pleased. Everything seemed to go like clockwork.
In the Apache village the conversation was in full swing as well. The council had finally started. John, Blue and the warriors sat in a circle in the village square. The chief stood in the middle.
"We attacked no soldiers, we stole no guns. But who among the white eyes is going to believe us?" Morales asked Big John. "They will see what they wish to see. The soldiers will come. Their fire wagons will roar. But who will ask questions of dead men?"
John looked thoughtful. What the chief said had the uncomfortable ring of truth. It certainly would not be the first time that the natives had to atone for a crime that had actually been committed by whites.
"My braves are not afraid," Morales continued. "They want to fight. I am the …, I am their chief. But my task is to protect my people, not to destroy them. We will go to Cochise and say to him 'Morales' braves will war with your braves against white eyes'. And Cochise will say 'Give me a sign'. I will give him a sign." The chief pointed to Blue. "I will give him John Cannon's son."
Blue drew in a sharp breath. His father put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Big John rose. "You can't join Cochise, and you know it. You won't get a dozen miles from here before my men and the soldiers are on you."
"We'll fight," the chief insisted.
"You can't win."
"We have no choice."
"Yes, there is a choice." Big John pondered his idea, then spoke up. "I guarantee you that no soldiers are coming in this village. If you just give me time to get the ones that are responsible for the attack. You can't turn me down," the rancher finally declared when Morales kept silent.
"How much time do you want?" the chief asked slowly.
John wondered how much he could ask for. "Two days, " he decided, fervently hoping that it would be enough.
The chief nodded. "Two days."
Big John allowed himself a slight smile. "Thank you, Morales."
The council was over. The Apaches rose. Their chief disappeared into his wigwam; the others stopped to listen in on what Blue and John were discussing.
"How will you find them? " Blue asked anxiously.
"I don't know," the rancher replied.
"Where will you look?" Blue enquired further.
"I don't know that, either," Big John was forced to admit.
Blue had another issue on his mind. "Don't blame anybody. It was me, my own fault. It seems that all my bones grow faster than my brain," he smiled.
Big John had to grin, too. "Blue Boy, no trouble," he admonished his son. "As I said, I'll be back."
Blue nodded. Big John turned to leave. After a few steps, he stopped to look back. Blue was being tied to a stake. The rancher vowed to find the bandits, whatever the cost.
A few clouds dotted the sky. A light breeze took the greatest heat out of the midday sun. Buck was sweating nevertheless. He stood next to Sam, watching the guards, feeling like a cat on a hot tin roof. "Sam," he said ominously, scrubbing a hand over his face, "if John don't come out in five minutes, I'm going up there and get him."
"He just might need more time, Buck," the foreman tried to reason with him.
"I don't like to take that chance," Buck replied worriedly. Right at this moment Big John came back. "Well, is Blue all right? You seen him?" Buck asked, taking the gun belt to his brother.
"Yes, I saw him. He's all right."
"Well, John, how come Blue did not come back with you?" Buck asked in confusion.
"You mount up, and I'll explain," his brother told him.
"Yes." Buck hesitated. "John, along witth the other trouble I don't like to tell you more."
"More what?" John grumbled, shooting his brother a dark look. He had already mounted, impatiently waiting for the others to get a move on.
"Well, Manolito has not caught up yet," Buck replied with a troubled expression. "He said he'd be along."
That had been three hours ago, John thought, scowling. He did not have the time to search for Mano. His brother-in-law simply would have to take care of himself. Unlike Blue he surely was not in mortal danger. At the moment it was more important to chase down the Army squad. Fortunately Buck had sent Joe to relate the news. If Joe led the soldiers, Big John knew where he would find them. "Get the men moving," he commanded and rode off.
"Sam, have the men mount up," Buck relayed the order.
"Mount up, boys," the foreman spoke up.
Buck glanced one last time at the Apache guards before he followed his brother with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Griswald took a last swallow and deposited the bottle on the ground. "Mano, my friend, you want to ride with ole Grizzly again," he said.
"You're all right, too, hombre," Mano hurried to confirm.
"Tell me why."
"Er, why." Manolito hesitated. He had not expected Grizzly to grill him like that. "Er, why not," he began slowly. "You know, for three years I have tread the straight and narrow. And what do I have to show for it? I'm three years older, I'm not any richer, and I'm wondering, you know, if honesty is the best policy that …"
"Honesty is a curse," Griswald said with a wink. "You listen to me. It's doing no more good to a man than whisky."
Mano nodded absently, and Grizzly moved in for the kill. "I love a liar. That's why I love you," he declared.
Manolito's smile froze on his lips. He looked earnestly up to Griswald. "No, hombre, no, I would not. I would never lie to you."
"Sure you would. Without batting an eye," Griswald countered.
"Why should I? You are my friend," Mano insisted.
"If that's who you tell the biggest lies to, save them for your friends," the gang leader commented dryly.
Mano hid his rising apprehension, letting offence show on his face instead. "Now, Grizzly, you have hurt my feelings." He stood up to walk out on the man. After three steps Griswald caught his arms from behind and held him in place.
"Stay here, Mano, my friend. How can I insult a man who tells such wonderful lies? You go on about how unhappy you've been for the last three years, being honest." Grizzly turned Mano around, but did not let him go. "That be the full ox of a lie," he hissed.
"Hombre, no," Mano protested, trying to free his arms.
"Sure it was." Grizzly grabbed him more firmly, and Manos arms were getting numb. "And there was even a better one - a cougar, a puma, a lion of a lie on how you wanted to ride again with old Grizzly."
"Grizzly, I really do," Manolito insisted again.
"Who did you tell you was coming here?" the gang leader wanted to know.
"Nobody," Mano said in a small voice. He had the suspicion that it was not wise to admit this, but he did not know what the other was up to.
"You think you're smart enough to trip old Grizzly," the man concluded grimly.
Mano shook his head, trying with all his might to suppress his panic. "I would never do that."
"Sancho," Griswald called out, finally letting the cat out of the bag. "Ride out in the desert. Find a good spot. Take him there," he ordered.
Mano's heart jumped in his throat.
"Should I squeeze a little harder?" Grizzly gloated.
"My back," Manolito gasped.
Grizzly took him in a bear hug and squeezed. Mano now learned the hard way that the man had got his nickname for a reason. His muscles were as strong as his smell. Manolito knew what was in store for him. He would be staked in the hot desert sun to wait for the end - with no hope of rescue since no one knew where he was. Mano closed his eyes to hide his trepidation.
"My good friend Manolito. Oh no, that would cheat the desert. That should do it," Grizzly decided at last. "Sancho," he ordered with a look at his 'good friend', "bind him."
Manolito's panic surged. He had thought that he could somehow win free of Sancho once they were on the way. Realizing that his last chance of escape had just vanished into thin air, he started to struggle in earnest. Grizzly squeezed him a little tighter, cutting off his air supply, and the world began to fade. Mano's resistance flagged. His head finally sank onto Griswald's shoulder. He barely felt Sancho binding his legs.
Grizzly put him back on his feet and let him catch his breath. Manolito needed all his strength to stay upright. His senses gradually cleared, but he preferred to keep his eyes closed. He heard how the gang leader shouted, "The sleepy guard fetch the horse. I sincerely doubt our guest came here on foot."
Mano felt Grizzly unbuckle his gun belt, peel him out of his jacket and shirt and tie his arms. When Mackadoo was brought forth, the gang leader laid Manolito across the saddle, rubbing his hands with glee. "Now, Sancho, he won't give you any more trouble."
Sancho had already mounted his own horse. He took Mackadoo's reigns and rode unhurriedly out to the desert.
Halfway between Horsehead Canyon and the ruined wagon the High Chaparral crew met the flatland escort. They had ridden straight towards the soldiers. Big John was relieved. At least some things went smoothly that day.
Joe raised his arm to stop the soldiers. He had in the approaching cloud of dust detected the ranch hands from the High Chaparral.
"Mr. Cannon, glad to meet you. I'm Colonel Willkampf," the officer introduced himself.
Big John nodded in greeting. "Colonel."
"It was good of you to send Mr. Butler to me with the news," Willkampf continued. "Fortunately, it was not needed. My troop got to safety with the word. Most unfortunate to loose that wagon, but I get those thieving savages. Even if I have to string up every Apache in the territory."
Big John was not exactly pleased about what he was hearing. After a brief look at Buck, who nodded in agreement, he turned to the officer. "Colonel, maybe we better talk about this."
John handed the reins to his brother, dismounted and walked a few steps to the side.
The Colonel followed him. "Well, what is it, Mr. Cannon? What do you we got to talk about?"
"Colonel, Morales' Apaches have my son. The moment you lead your men into Horsehead Canyon, they kill him," John explained.
"That must be very agonizing for you, Mr. Cannon. But I am going in after the savages who attacked my men."
"Morales' people have nothing to do with it," Big John stated.
"How do you know?" Willkampf asked in astonishment.
"He told me."
"Morales?"
"Yes."
"And you believe him?" The Colonel was, to put it mildly, skeptical.
"Yes, I believe him," Big John confirmed.
"You believe an-" the soldier began.
The rancher cut him off. "Now, wait a minute. Don't you tell me you can't trust an Apache. I'm sick of hearing it. I've lived with these people. I trust them, and they trust me. I've never known one who lied in all the years."
"Mr. Cannon," Willkampf answered heatedly, "our mission in this territory is to pacify the Apaches. It's going to be hard doing. And the moment we show any weakness-"
"Who said anything about weakness?" John put in, his tone deliberately neutral.
"-or start taking them at their word-"
"Let me tell you something," Big John interrupted angrily.
"-we're dead," the Colonel finished.
"Morales said his people stand accused, innocent or not. He is ready to lead his people over the hills to join Cochise of the Chiricahua. You're gonna have one very tough job of pacification when they are getting together."
Willkampf's face transformed into a pretty thoughtful expression. "What's my choice?" he asked finally.
"Morales gave me two days," John let the cat out of the bag. "Will you do the same?"
"Meaning?" the colonel asked cautiously.
"Stay out of Horsehead Canyon for forty-eight hours."
"What about your son?"
Big John looked at Willkampf grimly. "He's got the same forty-eight hours."
"Well, all right," the soldier acquiesced. "I'll camp at the foot of the canyon, but I won't go in."
"Thank you." Big John answered with heartfelt relief. Now he was finally able to devote his time and energy to his proper task of finding those who really dunnit.
While the army rode towards Horsehead Canyon, the men of the High Chaparral rode back to the destroyed wagon. This time they were approaching it from the flatlands. John called a halt at some distance. "Well, there is no use of going down there. The troops have fouled up whatever signs there might have been," the rancher said, turning to his foreman. "Sam."
"Sir?"
"Let's ride a circle two hundred feet out from the wagon clear around. Maybe we'll find some tracks."
Sam handed out the assignments. "Pedro, you guys, come on."
The men rode off.
John noticed for the first time that Buck had not uttered a single word any more since they had ridden away from Horsehead Canyon. Knowing his son was all right for the time being, Big John could muster some sympathy for his brother. He now could imagine how miserable Buck must feel. Not only had he got Blue into Apache trouble, he was also indirectly responsible that Mano, his brother-in-law and his best friend, had gone missing.
"Buck. Buck, I'm sorry I chewed you out," John finally apologized.
"I earned it, John," Buck answered dejectedly. He rode with Big John to the wagon and looked around half-heartedly, unable at the moment to think straight.
Sam rode past a barely discernible path. "Hold it," he told the others, examining the gound more closely. "Boss, over here," he called to John. As the two Cannon brothers approached, he explained. "Manolito's tracks. He had that bar shoe on the horse's rear foot. He follows somebody. See those tracks? Get the others?"
"To the south?" Big John asked. When Sam grunted, he rode ahead.
"Get them, Sam," Buck ordered, following his brother.
The foreman hollered for the ranch hands to catch up. "Come on, boys. Over here."
They had followed the tracks for about half an hour. Buck suddenly slowed to look at the sky. Vultures were circling overhead, with more coming. If they are getting so sociable, Buck thought grimly, they have found their next meal. It could simply be some prey animal in its death throes - or a horse that had taken a fall and was no longer able to walk - or it could be an injured or otherwise handicapped man. The tracks were forgotten. The men of the High Chaparral rode at a furious gallop towards the spot the vultures watched so keenly. After a seeming eternity they neared the scene. At last they were able to make out details: a man was lying shirtless on the hot desert floor. His hands and feet were tied to four stakes in the ground so that he could not move a single muscle. A yellow shirt and a black sombrero lay beside him.
"Holy cow, it's Mano." Buck made a running dismount and hurried to his brother-in-law. With four quick cuts he loosened the bonds and carried his friend into the shade of the nearest bushes. Buck feared that they had come too late. Manolito lay motionless in his arms. His heart was beating way too fast; his skin was hot and dry.
"Sam," Buck cried hoarsely, "bring me his shirt and two canteens. We need to cool Mano somehow. He is completely overheated."
He had barely finished speaking when the items were handed to him. Buck took the first bottle and poured the water over Mano, soaking him from head to toe. Then he soaked the shirt as well, covering his brother-in-law with the wet garment.
"Bring me another canteen," Buck asked the foreman. "These are empty already."
Sam complied. Then he took his hat and fanned cooling air to Mano.
Buck saw to it that the clothes did not dry up, but could do nothing else. They had to wait and hope that Mano would wake up again. For Buck the time went by in painfully slow increments. Finally, when he almost could not stand it any longer, Manolito began to stir. Moaning, he opened his eyes. An exhausted smile crept over his face when he saw his friend.
"Buck, how did you-" He got no further. A coughing bout shook him. Buck hastened to give Mano water. Pointing with his thumb towards the sky, he answered the unfinished question. "The vultures had already gathered up there for dinner. We kicked up a dust storm to get to you before them. How long did you have to take that sun bath?"
"What time is it?" Manolito 's eyes closed again of their own volition.
"Judging by the position of the sun, it is now around five."
"About three to four hours then," Mano murmured.
"FOUR HOURS?" Buck exclaimed in disbelief.
The volume jolted Manlito out of his exhaustion. His eyes snapped open, and he stared into the suddenly chalk-white face of his friend. Buck became agitated. He made his friend take a large swig from the canteen and poured the rest of the liquid over Mano's head. At the same time he yelled for another bottle of water, and if there was not any, they should move to get them refilled, and pronto.
"Buck, I'm still alive," Mano tried to calm him.
"Hang on to that state, " Buck replied grimly. He offered his friend the canteen again. This time Manolito felt his thirst. Buck had to ration the water to prevent his brother-in-law from gulping it down too quickly. "Who sent you into the desert, Mano?" he wanted to know.
"Griswald. I used to ride with him. Those who attacked the army escort were no Indians. That was Griswald. I remembered his plan. And found his trail; Indian horses do not wear horseshoes, as you know. So I rode to him and told him that I wanted to rejoin the gang. Only he did not believed me."
Buck was horrified. "Mano, Mano. They must have given you a tamale instead of a brain," he commented. He had just poured the fifth canteen of water into and over Manolito, and his friend started to recover.
"Mano, you should have told us where you were going. What did you expect to do?" the older Cannon brother spoke up.
"How do I know, John?" Mano said hoarsely. "I was just being brave. I knew that Griswald was gonna head for the border. I really thought I could hold him up."
"And then what?" the rancher demanded.
Mano sighed. "I don't know. I was not being smart, just brave."
"And dumb?" Buck put in quietly.
Mano looked earnestly up at him. "You said it, amigo." Turning to Big John, he continued with a smile, "You know, if we were all smart, what would the world do for heroes?"
"I will send someone back to the ranch for a buckboard," the rancher declared.
"Wait a moment," Mano stopped him hotly. "I have unfinished business wih Mr. Grizzly."
Buck put his arm around his friend's shoulder. "He is only half dead. He feels cheated and now wants the other half," he remarked dryly to his brother.
"But Mano, you can't ride," Big John concurred.
"Hombre, the sun did not get to the part that rides a horse," Manolito protested. "Besides, I know the exact route that Griswald will take to the border. I know a pass that we can cut through and cut him off before he reaches the flats. That is the only way. We must start now, John."
"He has got too long a headstart," the rancher demurred.
Mano shook his head. "No. He has to come down from the hills. Those pack horses will slow him."
"You haven't got a mount," Big John objected at last. He was not sure if his brother-in-law was up to the chase.
"Well, I- I'll ride with Buck." Manolito looked smiling up at his friend.
"That'll make three," Buck commented.
"Three?" Mano asked, confused. "Three what?"
"Three dumb animals," his friend replied.
"Oh, gracias." Mano grinned sourly.
Big John had to smile. "We'll mount up," he conceded.
"Come on, Mano." Buck grasped his brother-in-law under the arms and hauled him upright. Moaning and groaning, Manolito made it to his feet, leaning heavily on his friend as they made their way to Rebel.
Manolito hesitatingly looked up to the saddle. He was pretty sure he could ride, but he did not feel strong enough to mount. Still, he had no idea how he could relay this particular piece of news to Buck. Big John had to be convinced that Mano had recovered, or he might call the whole thing off at the last moment.
"Get on up, Mano." Buck held the stirrup for him. Manolito realized only now that his brother-in-law had let him go first. He put his left foot in the stirrup - and gave his friend a pleading look. Buck heaved, and Mano was in the saddle. He sat bolt upright as his brother-in-law mounted behind him.
Buck slid his hands under Mano's arms and took the reins. This way he could help his friend without anybody else noticing. Manolito was a far cry from being fit as a fiddle but was apparently determined to chase these bandits down. Buck sighed. He obviously was not the only one who experienced a crisis of conscience in this matter. Buck also knew that it had now fallen to him to make sure that his friend did not overtax himself.
"Okay, Mano," he said, "we're ready."
His brother-in-law pointed south. "In half an hour we should reach the canyon."
Mano's estimate had been correct. Barely thirty minutes later they had made it to the ravine. A collective sigh of relief came from the riders as they entered the pleasantly cool canyon. Buck struck a canter, and Manolito finally leaned against his shoulder. Buck suspected that this had not happened entirely voluntarily on Mano's part. He took the reins in one hand, placing the other carefully around Mano's waist. His brother-in-law gave his arm a quick squeeze. Buck held his friend a little tighter, and Manolito relaxed.
After half an hour Buck slowed the gait to allow the horses the necessary rest. He felt his brother-in-law trembling against him. "Are you cold, Mano?" he asked worriedly.
Manolito rested his head against Buck's neck. "Not much. My sunburn keeps me warm," he answered in a strained voice.
"Is there water in the canyon?" Buck enquired further. He thought it high time that they set up camp for the night.
"In the side valleys. So far I always found some, but never in the same place."
Buck stopped his horse and turned to his companions. "I will stay here with Mano. You form teams of two and search the side valleys for water. Fill up your canteens. Here, fill up mine as well." He handed Sam his water bottles, then continued. "And look for a suitable camp site. But in an hour you come back, even if you haven't found any. Then we'll simply stay right here."
The others took off. Buck stayed with Mano on Rebel and kept watch. Manolito was grateful for the respite. He knew that he would not have been able to go on much longer. When he finally thought he had recovered sufficiently, he looked up to his brother-in-law. "Buck, we cannot stay here. We must ride on, otherwise we will not catch up with the bandidos."
"You need to rest, Mano. If you collapse and we get lost, we'll get nowhere. Besides, the pack horses can't go on in the dark, either. They need to rest, too. Tomorrow at sun-up we'll move on. Now, get down. We're staying here," Buck decided abruptly and dismounted. Mano slid off the horse. He would have fallen if his brother-in-law had not caught him.
Buck carried almost all of Manolito's weight as he led his friend to the canyon wall and helped him to sit down. "How far do you think you can keep going without sleep? Five yards? Or maybe ten?"
Mano heard the sharp undertone in Buck's voice and looked up, startled. "What is the matter, compadre? I've never seen you so angry. At least not with me."
"You haven't almost died on me before," Buck yelled, infuriated. He put a hand on his friend's forehead. "You're running a fever. That doesn't surprise me at all. You fried nearly four hours in the desert sun, got yourself a mighty sunstroke and want to ride through the night?"
Manolito lowered his eyes, his shivering getting worse.
Fuming, Buck stalked back to his horse to set up camp for the night. "Lie down, amigo," he told his brother-in-law more calmly and helped him into the sleeping bag. "Are you hungry?"
"No." Mano minutely shook his head. "Just thirsty."
Buck put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I hope the others find water, or Griswald might reach his goal yet," he said softly. "Big John is going to put you through the wringer when he learns how sick you really are."
"He doesn't need to," the rancher said with a smile in his voice behind him. "Your rant was good enough for both of us."
Buck turned around. The whole crew of the High Chaparral stood three paces behind him, grinning at him. Ten outstretched hands held ten full canteens towards him. Buck took his own and brought it to Mano. "Why did you sneak up on us?" he asked while he helped his brother-in-law drink.
"No one sneaked up on you. You were so busy reading him the riot act that you did not even notice us. I must admit, though," John said to Mano, "that it would have been better to send you home on a buckboard."
"He'll make it all right if he doesn't push himself too hard," Buck countered, watering a few pieces of cloth in his bowl. "I'll take care of him. If the fever goes away, he can ride again tomorrow."
"And when are you planning to sleep?" his brother asked.
"When there is time," Buck replied tersely. He turned to the ranch hands. "We stay here, as you already realized. Set up camp and get something to eat, then hit the sack. At sunrise tomorrow we'll ride on."
Buck put a wet cloth each on Mano's chest and forehead. "Okay, amigo. First you get some cold compresses, then you get something to eat, then try to sleep. Actually, you can fall asleep any time, mind you, the sooner the better. It's almost dark anyway and the night is going to be short."
Around the time the men of the High Chaparral dug into their dinner, the soldiers reached the entrance to Horsehead Canyon. Colonel Wilkampf called a halt. "Mr. Rogers," he said.
"Yes, sir." The man stopped his horse next to the Colonel's.
"Let them camp right here," Willkampf ordered. "After dark, you gonna go out to those hills to patrol. I wanna know what Morales is up to."
"Yes, sir," Rogers nodded.
In the Apache village, the chief's wife brought a plate to Blue and put a spoonful of dinner in his mouth. Blue swallowed obediently, then complained to Morales. "I'm a little old to be spoon-fed. Why don't you untie me, Morales? I ain't gonna run away."
"That isn't the reason your hands are bound," the chief told him.
"What, then?"
"To give spirit to my people."
"I don't follow that." Blue looked up blankly.
"It is a sign that the white eyes are not God," the chief said. "They can be defeated if we have the strength. And if we tie their hands by guile and shrewdness, we can triumph."
Comprehension dawned. "By killing me, it'll be another sign," Blue stated.
Morales nodded. "A sign of strength."
Blue frowned, lost again. "How do you figure that?"
"Anybody can kill an enemy. It takes strength to kill a friend," Morales replied seriously, then turned and walked away.
Blue looked down. He did not long for that much strength.
Manolito's health was restored. The rest, the cool night, and Buck's care-taking had wrought wonders. Mano rode with his friend, this time being able to take the back seat. They had arrived on the other side of the Santa Rita Mountains to intercept a certain path. It was the way Grizzly and his gang should appear on. Manolito had to admit that Buck was right. They should be in time to cut the bandits off. True, they had been forced to rest in the dark, but their shortcut and faster pace should have gained them enough of a lead. Manolito's only concern was that Griswald might have taken another route to the border as a precaution.
"John," Buck spoke up suddenly, pointing to the right. A squad drew slowly nearer.
"That's old Griswald. I can smell him even from here," Mano said with certainty. "If the rascal sees me, he'll think I'm a Fata Morgana."
"Well, we'll cut him off from this end," Big John decided. "Buck, you take some men. You circle around behind. Remember the cross-fire, so be careful where you shoot," he admonished. As Buck and Mano nodded, John rode on with his part of the crew.
"I know old Grizzly. He looks for a soft way out when the going gets tough. You go on ahead. I double back," Mano told Buck and slid off the horse.
"Yes." Buck nodded, dismounting as well. "Let's go, Mano."
Manolito ran to a rock from which he could watch the bandits without being seen. John meanwhile had his men assigned their places. Buck finally signalled his brother that they were all ready.
"Griswald," Big John called out to the gang leader. Grizzly looked around, startled. Buck stepped out of his hiding place behind the gang. John called him again from the front. "You give up now. We've got you surrounded."
The gang leader looked around. "Take cover," he shouted to his men.
The shooting began when a ranch hand shot one of Griswald's men off the horse. The horses panicked. The bandits jumped for cover, then returned the fire.
Meanwhile, Manolito crept towards the slope under which Grizzly was hiding. He did not even have to proceed particularly quietly. The shots drowned out every sound he made. As Griswald started to get out of Dodge, Mano jumped him from behind. He did not possess as much body mass as Grizzly, but his momentum and the element of surprise were enough to bring the gang leader down. Mano sprang quickly back to his feet. He took Grizzly's revolver and loomed over the man, a big smile on his face.
"All right, boys, hold your fire," Griswald commanded once he had recovered from the surprise.
The men obeyed, stepping out from their cover with raised hands. Buck could hardly believe it. The High Chaparral crew also came forward, their weapons unerringly trained on the bandits.
The gang was being arrested and was handed over to the army. While the others rode home, Big John headed for Horsehead Canyon to get his son.
Morales stepped up to Blue who was still tied to the tree. "I'm not surprised," the chief said resignedly. "White eyes break their word. The soldiers come."
"You said forty-eight hours," Blue reminded him sternly.
"Only if soldiers didn't come," the chief qualified.
Blue dug his heels in. "It doesn't change anything. You still said forty-eight hours. You can kill me if you have to. But at least keep your promise to me and wait the full time," he demanded.
"He is right, Morales," Big John cried. The chief turned to the village entrance. The rancher approached, guarded by the braves. "You told me to keep the soldiers away, and I have. I brought one with me. This is Colonel Willkampf."
"My pleasure, sir," the Colonel said with a slight inclination of his head.
"The Colonel wants to tell you personally that he knows your peoople did not attack the army wagon," Big John told Morales. "We found the ones who did."
"That's true," the Colonel added. "I hope your people won't be moving out now. No need for that. No one is gonna bother you, I promise you that."
The chief nodded. A small smile creased the worry lines on his face.
The rancher returned the smile. "Let's get you home, boy," he told his son, walking over to Blue.
"No," the chief stopped him.
The faces of the white men darkened. Cautious vigilance replaced Morales' smile. From one moment to another, the warm-hearted openness had turned to distrust. The chief watched Big John and Willkampf closely. When they both remained passive, he went to Blue to loosen the bonds himself. Big John lowered his head. It had not been his intention to undermine Morales' authority. Wordlessly, the rancher left the Apache village, his son and the Colonel in tow. The chief watched them go, breathing easier.
Big John and Blue came riding back to the ranch. Buck awaited them at the gate.
"Hey, uncle Buck," Blue called to him.
Buck grinned at his nephew. "Welcome back, Blue Boy."
"Thanks. Feels good," Blue replied lightly.
He and John dismounted and tied their horses to the corral fence.
Buck came to stand beside his nephew. "There is something I gotta tell you," he began in a roundabout way.
"Yeah?" Blue turned to his uncle, looking at him blankly.
"Well, I feel bad. I should not have you left out there," Buck admitted.
Blue looked him in the eyes. "Uncle Buck, listen. You did not leave me out there. It was my idea. You're not responsible."
"Still, I shouldn't have done that," Buck insisted.
Big John listened intently in the background.
"Actually, weren't you the one that's been telling me I've got to make my own decisions, to stand on my own two feet?" Blue asked his favourite uncle.
"Me? I said that?" Buck enquired.
"Yeah." His nephew nodded vigourously.
"I guess I did, Blue." Buck smiled in relief and called to his brother, "Hey, Big John, you see? I always told you Blue has got man juice in him."
"Let's get something to eat," Big John said dryly and walked towards the house.
Bucks euphoria dampened, but at dinner he had regained his equilibrium.
"Blue?" Victoria offered her stepson the freshly baked tortillas.
Blue waved her away. "No, thank you. One more swallow and I'll burst at the seams."
"Do you like Apache food better?" Victoria asked pointedly.
"Some of it was really good," Blue admitted.
"I've had it," Buck interjected and took four of the round things. "It tasted like stewed saddle blanket."
"I did not find it too hard to take," Blue countered.
"Especially since you thought it might be your last meal," Mano grinned at him.
"Manolito, you don't say that. You don't bring that up again. That's all over with," Victoria rounded on her brother.
Mano looked up, confused. "Un momento. What did I say? Oh." It dawned on him that it probably was Victoria who did not want to be reminded of the events. Mano decided to oblige his sister. "Victoria, I like your food, too. Most of the time. But this meal could have used more spices."
Face tight with anger, Victoria forcefully put the plate down on the table next to Buck and put her hands on her hips.
Blue grinned. "Careful, Manolito, she's got a wild look in her eye," he warned.
Manolito felt it was better to end his dinner. "I think I'm going to take a walk. Excuse me, gentlemen." He got up and sauntered away.
Victoria followed him. "What did you say?" she demanded.
Her brother gazed at her with an innocent look. "What?"
"What did you say?" Victoria repeated.
Mano shrugged his shoulders. "About what?"
"Manolito," his sister snapped and then continued in Spanish, "I resent your backseat cooking. I put onions, and peppers, and chile in." She took a deep breath.
Big John could not help but smile. "Well, we're back home. Everything is normal," he said cheerfully to his brother.