For The Uniform
By Diana Turner
Mark Cannon lifted his face into the April wind blowing down the canyon. The wind was cold but the sun was warm. It felt good to be out of the house. The battle there raged for days – Victoria and Buck squared off again Blue and Wind over Johnny. Mark jumped at the chance to be out of the house, even though the "adults" had declared a truce the night before when Joanne produced the book she'd found hidden in Johnny's room – The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx. This morning he left the four of them in Wind's study reading the book aloud.
Matthew rode up beside him. "Cold yet?"
"Nope," Mark answered.
Matthew laughed, "You will be!" He pointed up the canyon. "Let's go up that way."
Mark kicked his heels into the flanks of his palomino. Matthew raced to catch up. About a quarter of a mile later, they both reined in, laughing at their impetuousness. They allowed their horses to blow.
They suddenly stiffened and looked at each other. They both heard the sound again. A moan from among the bushes to their left raised the short hairs on the back of Matthew's neck. Matthew drew his pistol as Mark dismounted and carefully walked toward the bushes. On the ground, well-hidden by low juniper branches, rested a young man in the greenish-brown battle uniform of the Mexican army. Mark crawled among the juniper's branches as the young man moaned again. He touched the soldier's face. Hot. Fevered hot. Blood covered the young man's right leg. Mark pulled his knife and slit the young man's pant leg. An oozing wound with angry red flesh radiating from the torn, ragged edges met his eyes. He turned, "Matt! Bring my canteen and bed roll!"
Matthew dismounted, pulling his own canteen from the saddle horn. He quickly untied his twin's bedroll from the back of the saddle. He carried the items to his brother. While his brother removed the cork from the canteen and gave water to the injured man, Matthew tucked the blanket around him.
The water roused the young man. Matthew spoke to him softly, "¿Cómo te llamas?"
As the young man answered, Mark thought to himself that the man looked more indio than blanco; he was not an hidalgo. He was young – not much older than Johnny – but he was dressed in a soldier's uniform with the insignia of a Mexican infantry private. Mark thought the arm patch belonged to the unit stationed at Agua Prieta. That would make him from the unit that was trounced a few days before under the embarrassing gaze of estadounidenses watching from the roofs of the businesses across the border in Douglas—across the border but close enough to the fight that several Douglas businessmen were killed by stray bullets. There had been a few brave enough – or stupid enough, depending on your point of view – to actually cross the border and the Mexicans (Federales and rebels alike) took American prisoners. The Federales released their prisoners when they reached Naco but the rebels still held their prisoners.
"Me llamo Diego. Diego Bendecido," the soldier answered as he looked from one blond, blue-eyes young man to the other. Ángeles, he thought. Must be ángeles. The two men had exactly the same round face, broad cheeks bones, yellow hair like the sun, eyes as blue as the Sonoran sky. They even had an identical large mole on their cheeks, directly under their left eyes, that looked like a berry complete with seeds.
Matthew asked in Spanish, "Can you get on a horse if we help you?"
Must be ángeles, Diego thought again. Gringos don't speak Spanish. "I can ride," he answered.
"Let's get you out of here, then," Mark said in Spanish.
The two Cannons assisted him to crawl from the bush and they half-carried him to the horses. Mark mounted and between him and Matthew, they pulled and pushed Diego into Mark's saddle. Matthew mounted and they turned toward the High Chaparral.
Blue stepped from the house into the evening light and stretched. Buck, leaning on his cane, came out behind him. The light struck his pure white hair, giving it a halo effect. Buck spoke, the same gravelly, gruff, Southern accent that he had embraced during the Civil War and had never renounced, "Maybe you boys be right. But I don't think so. I think the boy's misled by someone. Whoever that teacher is what give him that book maybe."
"Maybe both, Uncle Buck," Blue argued. "Maybe that teacher introduced him to a new way to prove he's a man."
"You boys are stuck on the idea of him proving he's a man," Buck accused.
Blue grinned, "You didn't ever try to prove you're a man, Uncle Buck?"
"Well, yeah, I reckon I did. But I never deserted the family," Buck argued.
Blue examined him, "What about – "
"Riders coming!" a voice called from the roof of the house.
Blue and Buck turned to watch Matthew and Mark ride through the gate. They saw the blanket-wrapped figure on the front of Mark's saddle. Blue turned and stepped swiftly to the door. He stuck his head through the door and yelled, "Mother! Someone's hurt!"
Victoria, Charly, Elizabeth, and Margaret came from the house, followed by Margaret's fiancé Dr. Andrew Burkhardt. Mark and Matthew rode up to the door. Matthew dismounted as Blue, Andrew, and several hands rushed forward to help lower the blanketed form to the ground. Andrew dug into the blanket and went straight to examining the young man.
When he finished, he stood. He looked at Victoria, who still knelt beside the young man. He addressed Blue, "Mr. Cannon, may we move him to your kitchen? I'm going to need to operate."
Blue deferred to Victoria, "Mother?"
"Of course," she answered.
Blue, Matthew, Mark, and one of the hands picked up the boy and carried him through the house to the kitchen. Victoria and Elizabeth followed Andrew while Catherine and Joanne scurried up the stairs to the supply room for bandages. The four men left the kitchen after depositing Diego on the great kitchen table to be subjected to Andrew's ministrations. Margaret went to the spare bedroom and dressed the bed with fresh sheets and blankets.
The hired hand left the house as Wind returned to the living room from the study. Blue turned to Matthew and Mark, "You both didn't need to bring him here."
"Pa!" Mark gasped.
Matthew continued his thought, "We couldn't leave him for the wolves!"
Blue shook his head, "That wasn't what I said. I said you both didn't need to bring him here. Mark could have brought him here while Matthew rode to the border checkpoint and had them send a telegram to La Ciudad or to Fort Huachuca. The way it is, it will take longer for the consulate to send someone here to claim him."
"I sent the telegram, Blue," Wind stated. "But, Matt, if you had gone to the border crossing, the doctor from Fort Huachuca would already be on his way."
Buck coughed. They all looked at him. "I swear. John Cannon lives in the both of ya." Leaning on his cane, Buck stumped from the room and up the stairs.
Wind and Blue looked at each other. "He isn't about to surrender," Blue stated.
"Agreed," Wind nodded. "Fort's sending a patrol and Mexican consulate is sending a representative."
Blue rolled his eyes. "I don't mind the representative from the consulate but I hate having soldiers around the place again."
"Wouldn't have been any different if I'd gone to the border crossing," Matthew stated.
Mark growled, "Army has to send a patrol regardless. Mexican soldier on U. S. soil. Might be different once we're a state."
"I doubt it," Matthew scoffed. "Border crossers will always be a problem."
Wind stated softly, "But the Army will have a different role. Although, with the rebellion in Mexico, we need the Army to guard the border."
Blue nodded, "Absolutely."
The hours passed. Diego, dressed in one of Wind's nightshirts, slept under the influence of morphine and the watchful eyes of Victoria and Elizabeth.
Morning dawned. Wind sent one of the hands with the surrey to meet the Mexican consulate at the train station. The man from the consulate arrived at the ranch surrounded by a patrol of Buffalo Soldiers from Fort Huachuca, which had been in the baggage car with their horses on the same train in which the man from the consulate rode first class.
Blue introduced himself to the diplomat and the white lieutenant assigned to the patrol of black troopers – and the black Army doctor the Buffalo Soldiers had brought with them. "Please, come in the house," Blue invited them. "We have the young man in one of the bedrooms."
He led the men up the stairs and to the spare room where the soldier was. As they walked, the man from the consulate asked, "Has this young man said anything?"
Blue answered, "He told my sons his name is Diego Bendecido but he's been too sick to really say much else."
Blue opened the door to the spare room. The men walked in and found Andrew removing the dressing from Diego's leg. The Army doctor stepped forward and joined Andrew. "Dr. Michael Zurbriggen," the Army doctor introduced himself to Andrew.
Andrew responded, "Dr. Andrew Burkhardt. The leg wound is infected. I removed a lot of damaged muscle from the wound but I suspect the leg will have to be removed."
Dr. Zurbriggen nodded, "You mind?"
"Be my guest," Andrew answered.
Dr. Zurbriggen examined the wound. When he finished, he spoke, "You did a good job cleaning it, Doctor. I think you may be right about the final outcome but, for now, the wound is clean." He looked at Diego's face. "You have him sedated?"
Andrew nodded, "He was in severe pain last night."
Dr. Zurbriggen nodded. "I would expect so." He turned toward the consulate's delegate and the lieutenant, "Right now, he's unconscious. It'll be a couple more hours before you can question him."
"We'll wait," both men answered in tandem.
Blue invited, "Gentlemen, come downstairs for some coffee."
"I'll remain with Dr. Burkhardt," Dr. Zurbriggen stated.
The lieutenant and the diplomat followed Blue down the stairs. As they came to the landing, Wind yelled, "Hugh! Coffee, please! Make it four!"
Blue waved at the couch, "Have a seat, gentlemen."
Matthew and Mark entered the house, almost on tip-toe. Both young men felt like teenagers listening to an adult conversation – made worse by the knowledge that they were older than the lieutenant.
Wind, his back to the twins, spoke loudly, "Hugh! Make that two more!" He lowered his voice, "Matthew. Mark. They're going to have questions for you. So come on in here."
Mark grinned at Matthew and nudged him with his elbow, "You can't sneak past Uncle Wind." The twins came forward.
Blue pointed at the two chairs the twins habitually used. "Sit down, boys." He turned toward the lieutenant and the diplomat, "My sons Matthew and Mark. They found the young man." He introduced the two men, "Boys, the consul Alejandro de Barucú and Lieutenant Elijah Thompson of Fort Huachuca."
"Señor Barucú. Lieutenant," Matthew said. Mark nodded in greeting.
"Gentlemen," the lieutenant said.
"Señores," the diplomat stated.
Lieutenant Thompson drew a deep breath and asked, "Where did you find him?"
Matthew and Mark looked at each other. Mark spoke, "About a mile north of the border."
Consul de Barucú stated, "You are athletic gentlemen. Were there any tracks?"
"I – " Matthew started.
Mark rolled his eyes, "There were tracks; but, we didn't follow them. If he traveled the line most lost men would, he would have been traveling from the direction of Agua Prieta."
Wind nodded. Mark had learned his tracking skills well. If there were any imperfection in the boots of the soldier, Mark would be able to identify them at the scene of the battle. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. There would be too many tracks at the battle scene to pick out one set of imperfect boots. But certainly he would have been able to pick up the tracks again by knowing which direction to look for them.
"Agua Prieta makes sense – there was a recent battle there. The Federales were routed," Consul de Barucú stated. "You are certain the uniform was Federal?"
"Oh, yes, sir," Matthew answered.
Mark added, "And his accent is from central México. He is not from Sonora or Chihuahua. I'm not sure the accent from Morelos."
"That would be Nahuatl," Consul de Barucú stated.
"Didn't sound Apache to me," Matthew stated.
"Hopefully we can get a good debriefing from the soldier himself," Lieutenant Thompson stated.
The consul nodded, "Let us hope so."
Several hours later, Andrew came down the stairs. The men were sitting comfortably in the living room, although Matthew and Mark had left the house to attend to chores. Andrew spoke, "He is ready for debriefing."
Blue, Buck, the consul, and the lieutenant went up the stairs to the spare bedroom while Wind wheeled himself to his study. The four men entered the room. Diego sat propped with pillows; his face pallid. The consul spoke to him in Spanish, "I am the Consul de Barucú. What are you called?"
The young soldier spoke, "Diego Bendecido. I am a private in the Mexican Army. I am from Cuautla, Jalisco. My father is a sergeant in the Army. I am loyal to México!"
"Then what happened?" the consulate asked.
Diego closed his eyes, "I was wounded. I could not keep up." He opened his eyes, "The others of my unit, they did not want to wait for me. The medical unit – I don't know where they went. I fainted. When I woke, my unit was gone. It was dark. I started walking. I didn't know what direction I was going. I fainted several times more. The last time I woke up to two men standing over me."
The lieutenant spoke, his Spanish was broken, "You were with the garrison at Agua Prieta?"
"Sí, Señor," Diego answered. "They attacked from out of nowhere. We knew they were coming but not from where. It was like they came from Hell itself. They routed us." He pushed his head back into his pillows. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "¡Dios, ayúdame! I never saw anything like it! It was terrible!"
"Gentlemen," Dr. Zurbriggen stepped forward. "He is enlisted. And he's seriously wounded. I'd like to take him back to the Fort Huachuca hospital for the sake of the uniform. I'd like to request any further questioning be done after he's settled at Fort Huachuca."
The consul nodded. "It is a good idea, Doctor. I will go with you to the Fort."
The men left the room and walked downstairs to the living room.
"In the morning we will take him to the station," the lieutenant stated.
Buck offered, "My private car is there. I'll have my son telegram the station to have it ready. You can use it to move the boy as far as Benson."
"Thank you, sir," the lieutenant stated.
Buck saw Wind come from the study. Wind's face was pale; his jaw muscles were taunt; his hands shook as they moved the chair forward. Buck spoke, "Wind?"
Wind looked past his father to where Charly sat with some mending in her lap. "Mother," Wind's voice sounded tear-filled. "Get Elizabeth. Please."
Buck examined his son's face. The weathered skin and salt-and-pepper hair almost hid the native beauty he had inherited from his mother along with her black eyes – black eyes that brimmed with tears? The inability to hide his emotions he inherited from Buck.
Charly saw the same pain in her stepson's face. She dropped her sewing and ran up the stairs. She returned behind Elizabeth.
As Elizabeth came down the steps, Wind held his hands to her. She took his hands as she knelt before him. "Wind? What's wrong?"
Wind held her hands tightly. He looked deeply into his wife's hazel eyes. In his eyes, the white streaks in her once-mahogany hair remained invisible; the laugh-lines around her eyes were non-existent. He loathed the pain he was about to inflict. His lips trembled as he spoke the traditional Pawnee words he knew Elizabeth MacPherson Cannon would understand and react to as a Pawnee Medicine Woman, "I speak of Understands White Man Tracks. He and First Son's Wife. They are one with Morning Star and Evening Star."
Elizabeth's eyes widened. Fear spread across her face. She removed her right hand from her husband's hand and reached for the neckline of her dress. She pulled a small doeskin bag attached to a rawhide strand from the front of her dress. She kissed it as she opened it enough to place one finger inside. She licked the tip of her finger, inserted her finger in the bag, and removed corn pollen on the tip of the finger. She drew her finger across her forehead and her cheeks, leaving a trail of corn pollen over the freckles that dotted her face. She held the bag out to her husband. Wind took the bag and mirrored her motions. The streaks of golden pollen shone brightly against his dark cheeks and forehead.
Thus protected from the evil that had attacked his family, Wind spoke in English, "Daniel and Oriana," he swallowed before continuing, "have been murdered. I got a telegram from Mr. Washington. He has the children in his home."
"No! No!" Elizabeth buried her face on Wind's left leg. She gripped his pant legs. She sobbed uncontrollably. The evil was worse than she imagined. Murder!
Wind stroked her hair as he looked at Buck, "Father. Will you and Mother go with us to Tuskegee to retrieve our grandchildren?" Tears broke free from his eyes, causing the corn pollen to streak down his cheeks.
"Of course, my son," Buck choked. "We leave in the morning."
Wind bent over his wife's head and kissed the back of her hair line as his tears dripped down the back of her neck.