by Jake Logan
“Perhaps,” said the chief, turning to face him. “But so would you in trying foolishly to stop her. You would never make it in time. But she will die as she chooses, with the truth in her heart. And with her brother. And that is better than dying angry and wrongheaded and alone, is it not? Living a long life, but with the knowledge that she could have helped him but chose not to, as he was massacred before her eyes?”
Slocum understood what the chief was saying, but still he struggled in vain against the iron grips of the warriors. Everything in him screamed to help her. Eventually he nodded, knowing that the chief spoke the truth.
“It is as she wished it to be,” said the chief. “We spoke much last night, she and I, and we each helped the other to understand better our places in the world. Family, it seems, means as much to them”—he nodded toward the battlefield, and Slocum assumed he meant Deke’s army—“as it does to the Apache.” He thumbed himself in the chest.
In a few short minutes, the battle, except for random shots, appeared to be over. The U.S. Army had swarmed over, then ultimately trounced, Deke’s poorly assembled ranks of ragtag rebels.
Slocum collapsed his brass spyglass and handed it to the chief. “For you. May you always see your enemies before they see you.”
The chief handled the fine piece with care, admiring it, then tucked it inside his tunic. “I would wish the same of my friends.”
Slocum nodded, appreciating the man’s wise words.
“You are welcome to visit my people anytime, John Slocum.” The chief leaned close and said, “But you will sleep far from my lodge.” He smiled and reined his horse around toward their hidden home in the rocks.
Slocum suspected they would soon be moving.
• • •
As he rode northwestward, Slocum was overtaken by a cavalry soldier, who ordered him to stop. “My sergeant told me to question you, mister.”
“Fire away, then.” Slocum kept a hand loose, hovering near his Colt Navy, just in case.
“Do you have any idea where they came from, mister?”
“Who? Those crazy rebels?”
“Yes, sir, that’s who I’m talking about.” The army man seemed miffed with Slocum’s answer.
He was about to mention the canyon, but something held the thought just on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he suppressed a smile. “No. No, I don’t. I’d guess they were just passing through, looking for a better life out West.”
“What about the Apache?” said the soldier.
“Oh, I expect they’ll find a place to call home. They know this area well, after all. They’ve been living here peacefully for a long, long time.”
“Frankly, mister, I don’t know how anyone could live out here,” said the soldier, reining his horse around. “It’s so . . . unforgiving.”
“To them, it’s paradise,” said Slocum. And with that, he touched his hatless forehead, reined his horse northwestward, and rode away.
Watch for
SLOCUM BURIED ALIVE
424th novel in the exciting SLOCUM series from Jove
Coming in June!
