Canyon of Skeletons

Days after the journey to Tuskegee, Don Manolo de Montoya reined in his horse at the top of the hill and surveyed the view. He took a deep breath of the dry air. He found it so much easier to breathe in the dry desert air of his homeland. Nothing moved in the three miles or more within his view. The quietness surrounded him. He wondered why his beloved wife preferred the city – even complaining that Tucson was too small – to the beauty of the desert. She understood the reason she could not go with him to Tuskegee; but, the journey had cost him the promise to go with her later in the summer to accompany the girls to their school in Atlanta. Perhaps a couple days in Atlanta and New Orleans would satisfy her for a while. He hated cities – even la Ciudad de México – he hated the crowds, the people. As small as Nogales, Tubac – even Tucson – were, they were too crowded.

A horse and rider galloped from a canyon about a mile distant. Mano watched him ride in the direction in which he knew Teresa had ridden with her team of four riders – and the baby Beatrice strapped to her back like an Indian papoose. Mano knew his eldest son Sebastian had gone up that canyon with his team of cowboys.

"Rodrigo!" Mano called. He motioned with his hand and led the way toward the canyon.

It probably took an hour for Mano and his four cowboys to arrive in the canyon. His foreman Rodrigo called, "¡Patrón!" He pointed up the hill to the east. Sebastian and three other men stood a couple dozen steps from their horses. Mano and his men rode up to the other horses, dismounted, tied their horses to the same clump of mesquites, and joined Sebastian and his men, staring at the rotted and scattered remains of seven or eight humans.

"The animals have been busy," Mano stated to his son.

Sebastian answered, "The four-legged and the two-legged."

Mano nodded, "Murdered."

Sebastian motioned with his head, "They had a safe in that building back there. It was blown open. I sent Garcia to the main camp to alert Teresa and her team – and to get some shovels. These poor devils deserve a decent burial."

Mano nodded, "Yes, I agree, my son. Have you decided on a location for the graves?"

"I was thinking that rise above the mine opening," Sebastian answered. He motioned to his men and began to climb the ridge.

"Patrón," Rodrigo, who had grown to manhood with Mano, had seen Mano at his worst, had stood beside the family from the time of Don Sebastian, through the short reign of Don Domingo and the painful transition to the reign of Don Manolo, used the word patrón with more respect than Mano could fathom. They had shared much, Mano and Rodrigo; now they shared the coming of old age. Mano could see the slowing of Rodrigo's step at the same time as he felt his own stiffness from four hours in the saddle this morning. "I believe that body is Señor Behr," Rodrigo pointed at a body whose few remaining clothes hinted at middle class wealth rather than the Chinese clothes of the workers of this mine.

"Sebastian!" Mano called to his son, who was climbing to the ridge above the vertical mineshaft. "This is the Golden Rose, isn't it? Bill Behr's mine?"

"¡Sí, Papá!" Sebastian answered. He turned, told his man behind him to continue looking for a good place for a grave, then he returned to Mano's side. "There were at least ten other men who worked here and lived in those shacks across the way." He pointed to six or seven ramshackle, tarpaper-covered shacks. There were also vegetable gardens that sprouted green rows. "There are missing bodies of women and children, too. Unless the other men got the women and children out of here."

"Have your men searched everywhere?" Mano asked.

Sebastian shook his head, "No, Papá."

Rodrigo turned quickly to initiate a more thorough search. The mine was on Montoya land – the C Bar M – so Don Manolo would feel the guilt, just as he always felt the guilt from every injustice he ever encountered. He was the son of Don Sebastian de Montoya and Don Sebastian had never allowed the child Manolito to forget that it would be his place to find the justice for his people in an unjust world. Against such an unforgiving task, Don Manolo had rebelled after his years at the Universidad de México, making himself a companion of outlaws for a time, even causing Don Sebastian to believe he did not want the responsibility of the Rancho de Montoya. In the end, Don Manolo ruled the ranch with a fine balance of ruthlessness and justice. But Don Manolo was aging and the C Bar M had become the responsibility of young Don Sebastian and his bride the Doña Teresa Cannon y MacPherson de Montoya. Don Manolo would allow the young ones to seek justice for these murdered chinos. Or would he?

By the time Teresa arrived with her men, the bodies of Bill Behr, the other seven bodies that had been found near the mine – along with the bodies of eight others found scattered between the shacks and the mine – were prepared for burial and buried in the rocky sand above the mine. Teresa's arrival heralded another search, within the mine itself, which brought to daylight two women and five children. With the seven survivors were the bodies of another man and a woman. These last two joined the others in the new cemetery on the hill as one of the men went to camp for a wagon.

Mano looked at Sebastian. "My son, what do you propose?"

Sebastian looked at the men, his wife, the two women and five children found in the mine. "I suggest we stay the night here. We can use the shacks." He looked again at the two Chinese women and asked, "Is there food here?" He motioned with his hand to his mouth.

"Food? Shee," the elder of the two answered. She led the way to a shack and showed her meager supply of rice and beans.

Sebastian told his men, "Check the other shacks." The men spread out to the other shacks and returned with bags of rice and beans and other victuals with which to prepare a meal. The two Chinese women and Teresa joined to make a filling dinner from the ingredients.

After dinner, the two women looked at Sebastian as Teresa took Beatrice to a dark corner of the room to nurse.

Sebastian stated, "Papá, Teresa and I will stay here with the women and children. You and the other men can maybe find beds in the other shacks."

Mano nodded. He stood, "Then I think I will go find my bed." He stretched. "So, my son, what of tomorrow?"

"We will take them to Sheriff McKnight in Nogales. He will know what to do," Sebastian stated.

Toward mid-morning the following day, the wagon arrived. Sebastian and his men loaded the women and children in the wagon. Teresa mounted her horse as Mano climbed into the driver's seat of the wagon. Sebastian opened his mouth but Mano spoke first, "It is better if Teresa and I take them than if you send two of your stronger men. There are still cattle to find."

"Sí, Papá," Sebastian agreed. "Be careful." He turned to Teresa. "Be careful, Teresa."

"Do not worry, my husband," Teresa leaned from the saddle and kissed his upturned face. "I will see you at the High Chaparral."

"The Chaparral? Why the Chaparral?" Sebastian asked.

"Because Mother will kill me if I don't come soon for a fitting for the dress," Teresa stated. "The wedding's only a week away."

Sebastian nodded. "I will join you there as soon as I can."

Teresa straightened and looked at her father-in-law, "Vámonos."

Mano clicked to the team and they pulled out of the canyon. Mano watched how his daughter-in-law sat her horse, the infant on her back. She rode in the fashion of her father – although she had not yet reached the age of ten when Wind lost his ability to ride. Even if he had not suffered that accident, three years later she joined Victoria's daughter Annalee in the Atlanta finishing school. Teresa sat as easily in a sidesaddle as astride. Teresa had her father's dark skin and her mother's dark auburn hair but her eye color came from the Cannon blood – pale cornflower blue. Truth be told, when she attended school in Atlanta, spending most of her time indoors and her face covered with the fashionable veils of the time when she was outdoors, her skin took on the alabaster glow of her mother's Scots heritage – but, at home in Arizona Territory, she spent most of her time outdoors with only a floppy hat protecting her face. Teresa transitioned from rancher to stately lady to rancher easy enough but the Arizona sun betrayed her paternal grandmother's line.

Not that it mattered to Mano. He had watched her grow up; he knew her strengths, her weaknesses, her loyalties. From the time she could walk she followed Sebastian around anytime he visited the High Chaparral or Wind took his family to the Rancho de Montoya. Separated by miles during their years at preparatory schools and universities, they corresponded. When it was they decided to marry, Mano was not sure – he thought it was after Sebastian had returned from Oxford and while Teresa was still at Radcliffe. When they married, he presented Sebastian with his half of the C Bar M and Wind gave title of his half to Teresa. The Rancho de Montoya in Sonora would go to Carlos – assuming there was anything left after the revolution in progress. Married now two years and with little Beatrice to show for it, Mano doubted Teresa and Sebastian ever fought. Not that Teresa hesitated to tell Sebastian if she thought he was wrong! But, when that happened, she did so as an Indian woman and she never wounded his machismo, even when what she said evidenced that she thought he was the stupidest creature on two feet! Mano had to admit to himself that he loved Teresa and was pleased beyond measure that Sebastian had chosen her above the other girls presented to him – more than anything, that Sebastian loved Teresa instead of Margaret! Mano shook his head, telling himself to not even imagine that scenario.

The moon shone full on the U. S. side of Nogales – and also the Mexican side of Nogales – as Mano, Teresa, and their passengers entered the divided city. They went directly to the sheriff's house rather than the office. Mano lighted from the wagon and walked to the sheriff's front door as Teresa dismounted.

Mano knocked on the sheriff's door and asked the young woman who answered if the sheriff was at home. Teresa heard the sheriff yell, "Patsy, who is it?"

The young woman's answer was equally audible in the night air, "Don Manolo, Sheriff!"

In almost an instant, the sheriff was at the door, greeting Mano in that manner by which politicians greet those on whose money they rely for future elections. He accompanied Mano to the wagon and greeted Teresa in the same manner – after all, she was a Cannon! Teresa noticed the difference in how the sheriff greeted the two Chinese women. The sheriff stated to Mano, "Let's bring them to the hospital. Make sure they are all right."

Mano nodded as he pushed and pulled his stiff body back into the wagon seat. The Cadillac Open Touring car would be so much more comfortable! He yearned for the thick leather seats! Teresa mounted her horse as the sheriff climbed into the wagon seat next to Mano. They moved out again.

When they reached the small Nogales hospital, Teresa accompanied the women and children inside. The Catholic sister in charge of admissions looked suspiciously at this young woman in a floppy hat, extra large men's flannel shirt, riding skirt, boots, and papoose cradle. Teresa spoke, "Sister, I'm Teresa Cannon de Montoya. These ladies and children were found hidden at the scene of a massacre – these are the survivors. The sheriff wants to be sure they aren't injured."

"Do they speak English?" the sister asked.

Teresa answered, "Not well, Sister."

The nun nodded as she stood. "We have a sister who is Chinese. Let me get her." She walked sedately into the interior of the building. She returned with another nun, whose delicate oriental features radiated calm, as Mano and Sheriff McKnight joined them.

The first nun introduced the second, "This is Sister Mary Ann. She is from Hong Kong and speaks Chinese and English."

Sheriff McKnight spoke, "Sister. We need to find out what happened at the Golden Rose Mine."

The sister nodded and turned to the older Chinese woman. She spoke slowly but confidently. The older woman answered. When the older woman finished, Sister Mary Ann turned to the sheriff, "She says a large group of men rode in. They took the men to the mine office. There was a large explosion. The men ran. The intruders rode them down, shooting. Several of the men took three women and the five children to the mine. The men were all shot and one of the women was shot also. These women were afraid to leave the mine until Mr. Montoya came into the mine to search for survivors."

Sheriff McKnight asked, "Do they know who the intruders were?"

The nun asked the older woman the question; the older woman answered. Sister Mary Ann translated, "They were Mexicans. They wore sashes of bullets. They had big hats. One was young, American. Yellow hair, blue eyes. He gave the orders."

Teresa gasped, "Johnny!"