Savage Territory

Chapter Twelve

San Carlos Indian Reservation

For the first month after he returned, Delshay felt isolated from the rest of the people. Many, he knew, blamed the slow delivery of meat and other supplies to the reservation on Goyathlay, and, by extension, Delshay as well, since he had ridden with the raiders. And because Delshay was the only one of Geronimo’s band present at the reservation, some took their anger out on him.

However, there were as many on the reservation who respected and looked up to Geronimo because he was carrying the fight to the white man. And because Delshay had ridden with him, they treated him with respect and honor.

From his cousin, Chandeisi, whose name meant Broken Nose, Delshay learned to make jewelry from the silver and turquoise that they were able to mine on the reservation. Sagozhuni, Delshay’s wife, was particularly skilled in weaving baskets of various shapes and sizes, all incorporating beautiful and intricate designs.

It had been two months since returning to the reservation, and Delshay was sitting in front of his hogan when Chandeisi came to see him.

“I have spoken with Baker,” Chandeisi said. “He has given permission for us to go to Picket Post to trade jewelry and baskets.”

Delshay spat on the ground. “Are we children, that we must have permission?”

“Delshay, it is the way of life on the reservation,” Chandeisi explained. “If we live here, we must follow the rules.”

“Cousin, are you content to follow the rules of the white man?”

“I have no choice,” Chandeisi said. “I have a family, as do you. Would you rather be with Goyathlay than with Sagozhuni and your children?”

Delshay looked over at his youngest child, who was sitting on a blanket.

“Soon, the child will be old enough to go and I will take my family and leave this place.”

Chandeisi looked around quickly to make certain no one overheard.

“Delshay, you must not speak of such things,” he said. “If the Indian police hear you, they will report you to Baker and Baker will put you in jail.”

“Maybe,” Delshay said. He smiled. “Or maybe I will kill the Indian police before I leave.”

When Delshay saw the shocked look on Chandeisi’s face, he laughed out loud. “I am making the joke, cousin,” he said.

“I think one should not joke about such things.”

“Very well. Tell me about the trading we will do.”

“The white men like the jewelry and the baskets. Tomorrow, we will go to the white village called Picket Post and trade.”

Before the sun rose then next morning, Delshay and Chandeisi, along with their families, left the reservation for the twenty-five-mile trek into Picket Post. When they were within two miles of the town, they halted.

“Wait here for us, Sagozhuni,” Delshay said. “Chandeisi and I will go into town and see if they will trade.”

“Very well, Delshay, my husband. I will feed the children while you are gone.”

Delshay’s wife found a place in the shade and spread a blanket for the three children. Because some of the merchants of the town resented the Indians coming in to trade, Delshay and Chandeisi thought it would be best to leave their inventory behind as they went into town to invite customers out to trade. The Indians would trade for tobacco, coffee, blankets, and other goods and trinkets that would make their life on the reservation somewhat easier.

Meechum, Philbin, Cantrell, and Oliver had been on the trail for three days, and were now giving their exhausted horses a much needed rest.

“I gotta take a piss,” Meechum said. He walked a few feet away from the others, then stopped. “Well, now,” he said, looking over the edge of a rock. “What do we have here?”

“What?” Cantrell asked.

Meechum put his finger across his lips. “Be quiet,” he hissed.

“What is it, Meechum, what do you see?”

“Come here and take a look for yourself, but be quiet and don’t show yourself.”

The other three men came up to stand beside Meechum.

“What is it?” Oliver asked.

“Look down there,” Meechum said, pointing to two Indian women and children.

“What?” Cantrell asked again. “All I see is a couple of squaws.”

“Yeah, that’s ’cause you don’t know what you’re lookin’ at. Why do you think they’re out here?” Meechum asked.

“I don’t have no idea,” Cantrell said.

“Me neither,” Oliver said.

“Why do you think, Burt?” Meechum asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but if I had to guess, I would say that it is more than likely they’ve come to trade,” Philbin said.

Meechum smiled and nodded. “My cousin is smarter than any of you,” he said. “That’s right.”

“You mean them squaws has just come out here in the middle of nowhere to trade?” Cantrell asked. “That don’t make no sense.”

“They ain’t by themselves,” Philbin said. “Not really. Whenever they come out to trade like that, they never actually go into town. If you was to ask me, I would say that the men that was with them have prob’ly rode on into town to get it all set up.”

“Burt is right,” Meechum said. “And you know what that means, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Cantrell answered. “I reckon it means the men is in town.”

“Yes, and that also means there ain’t nobody watchin’ over their trade goods but them two squaws and the young’ins,” Meechum said.

“So, what does that have to do with us? What do they have that we would want to trade for anyway?” Cantrell asked.

“Could be they got some of that turquoise and silver jewelry. Them Indians is just real good makin’ them things. And it’s right down there just waitin’ for us,” Meechum said, pointing to the Indian women and children.

“What’s that got to do with us? What do we want with a bunch of Injun jewelry anyway?”

“You don’t never think, do you, Cantrell?” Meechum said. “We can sell it.”

“We ain’t got nothing to trade for it.”

“We ain’t goin’ to trade. We’re just goin’ to go down there and get it,” Meechum said.

“Go get it?” Cantrell replied. “Meechum, it ain’t very damn likely they are goin’ to just give it to us.”

Meechum chuckled. “Hell, I didn’t say we was goin’ to go down there an’ ask for it. I said we was goin’ to take it. Their men are gone. How much trouble can a couple of squaws and a few snot-nosed kids be?”

“Yeah,” Cantrell said. “Yeah, I reckon I see what you are talkin’ about now. We can sell it, you say?”

“Yeah, we can sell it. We need to go someplace away from here like, say, Phoenix or some such place, but we’re headed that way anyway. Once we get there, we can sell the jewelry for fifty, maybe as much as a hundred dollars. I’d kind of like to have a little money in my pocket when we talk to Willis, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I would,” Cantrell agreed.

“Come on, boys,” Meechum said, mounting his horse. “This is goin’ to be the easiest money we ever made.”

“Sagozhuni, white men are coming to trade,” Chandeisi’s wife, Natanh, said. “I do not understand why they would come before our husbands return.”

Sagozhuni looked toward the four men who were riding in single file down the slope of the hill.

“Natanh, hide the jewelry,” Sagozhuni said quickly. “I do not think they are traders.”

Natanh laid a blanket over the turquoise and silver.

“Hello, ladies,” the man who rode in front said. He touched the brim of his hat. “Have you got something to trade?”

“These baskets,” Sagozhuni said, holding up one of the baskets that had the most intricate design.

“Baskets? Is that all? I was thinking more along the lines of turquoise and silver.”

“We have baskets,” Sagozhuni said. “They are very beautiful. Your wife will like them.”

“My wife?” the rider said. He laughed. “Did you hear that, boys?” he said to the others. “Our wives will like the baskets.”

The other riders laughed as well, but rather than easing her fears, their laughter frightened Sagozhuni even more.

The rider in front quit laughing and a snarl crossed his face. “Don’t lie to me now, you redskin bitch. Give us all your jewelry and we’ll just ride away and leave you alone. Otherwise, we’ll have a little fun with you two women, then take the jewelry anyway.”

“Aiyeee!” Natanh yelled, rushing toward one of the men, brandishing a knife.

“Natanh, no!” Sagozhuni shouted.

Sagozhuni’s shouted warning was too late. Natanh slashed out with her knife and brought blood from the leg of one of the riders.

“You crazy bitch!” the wounded rider shouted. Jerking on the reins of his horse, he managed to pull away from her before she could make a second swipe at him.

Natanh’s attack was answered with a flurry of gunshots, and Natanh went down. With a shout of anger, Sagozhuni grabbed Natanh’s knife, but before she could get to any of the men, she was shot down by a second volley.

“Son of a bitch!” Meechum said angrily. “What the hell did they do that for?”

The children began crying.

“What about the damn brats?” Philbin asked.

Meechum shook his head. “We got no choice,” he said. “Shoot the little bastards.” He shot one of the children and the others, following his lead, began shooting as well. For several seconds, the valley echoed and reechoed with the sound of gunshots. Finally, with the air stinking of spent gunpowder and the last echo dying away, the four men, who had not even dismounted, sat their saddles, looking on, shocked at their own actions.

“Son of a bitch, Meechum, did we have to do this?” Oliver asked.

“Didn’t look to me like we had all that much choice,” Meechum said as he dismounted. “Let’s find the silver and turquoise and get the hell out of here.”

“You sure there’s any here?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Meechum said. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t of put up such a fight.”

Meechum turned back one of the blankets, and was rewarded with the sight of a pile of silver and turquoise trinkets. He smiled and looked up at the others.

“Well, now, lookie here, boys, lookie here what I just found.”

The other three riders dismounted and began gathering up the jewelry.

“Damn,” Meechum said. “This is fine stuff, and there’s a lot of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t get two hundred dollars for it.”

“Two hundred dollars?” Cantrell said. “That’s fifty dollars apiece.”

Meechum chuckled. “Ahh, you are all for it now, I see. Maybe you think ole Meechum is pretty smart after all.”

“Well, this don’t quite make up for sendin’ us to rob a bank that didn’t have no money,” Cantrell said. “But it makes up for a little of it.”

“It wasn’t that the bank didn’t have no money,” Philbin said. “It had lots of money.”

“Which we couldn’t get to because of the time lock,” Cantrell said. “So, as far as I’m concerned, that was the same as having no money.”

“Let’s quit the palaverin’ and get out of here before the men come back,” Meechum said. He ran his hand over the top of his head. “I’ve grown just real partial to my scalp.”

Delshay was feeling good as he returned to the campsite. He and Chandeisi had found at least ten people who agreed to come out and trade with them. He thought of the smile he would get from his squaw when he traded for some bright red silk.

Even as he was riding back, Delshay began planning the display for them. He knew that if the silver was highly polished so that it shined brightly in the sun, the white men would be willing to give more than they would if the silver was tarnished. He didn’t know why that was so. It was the same silver, whether tarnished or shining, and it was very easy to make the silver shine, yet the whites would sometimes pay twice as much for a shiny piece as they would for a piece that was tarnished.

As the two men continued the ride back toward the camp, however, Delshay began to feel a sense of apprehension. He didn’t mention it to Chandeisi, because he had no reason to be perturbed and he had no wish to cause Chandeisi worry. But even before the camp came in sight, he began to feel anxious.

Why was he so uneasy?

“Delshay, there is no smoke,” Chadeisi said. “We should see smoke.”

“Perhaps our dinner has already been cooked,” Delshay said.

“Yes, I think that is it,” Chandeisi agreed.

Despite Delshay’s reassurance, the restlessness continued. Then, the disquiet grew to a strong fear when he saw the large, circling black birds.

Delshay didn’t have to speak to Chandeisi. He saw the circling turkey vultures as well. Delshay slapped his legs against the side of his horse, urging it into a gallop.

They were all dead, both women and every child. All had been shot, even Delshay’s infant child. The silver and turquoise was gone; only the colorful and intricately woven baskets remained.