Chase The Wind

by Janelle Taylor

  When Jim halted a few minutes to secure a dark-blue bandana around his right forearm, Beth reasoned they must be nearing the rendezvous site and that was his identifying signal to the Apache leader. She halted and dropped Sunshine’s reins to the ground, leaving the animal free to escape danger if necessary. “Stay, girl,” she commanded, and was obeyed.

  Beth used trees, bushes, and rocks for concealment as she slipped forward to locate her unknowing guide. Jim walked his sorrel at a slow pace and glanced from side-toside. She stopped and remained where she was as a precaution against braves scouting for shadows before showing themselves. As another precaution, her hat was left on her pommel and her hair was masked by Navarro’s green-andbrown splotched bandana. Amidst the greenery, she wished her buckskins matched the disguise cloaking her head, and resolved to have a seamtress make her an entire masking outfit for future use.

  Beth heightened her alert as several Indians left the trees and joined Jim Tiller. Her gaze scanned the area for companions, in particular guards, and saw none. She listened for telltale signs of a foe’s presence or approach. She crept nearer and nearer as the white man and five Indians dismounted and secured their horses’ reins to bushes.

  “Ink-tah,” the leader said, motioning for Jim to sit down on a grassy spot. “-Ch’ uuné’ and Eagle Eye talk.”

  By the time the men were settled, Beth was as close as she dared to sneak, but close enough to overhear the conversation. Since the men appeared to be strangers, she didn’t know why the Indian called him the Apache word for “friend” her partner had taught her.

  “Cordell was happy you stayed free long enough for him to get your weapons made and bring them to you.”

  “Eagle Eye cunning; he wait for sun be strong to fight enemy. On sun Eagle Eye have big magic, Chiricahua, others, leave reservation, follow, fight with Eagle Eye. Whites run like coyote; brave Chiricahua take back land. Eagle Eye not coward, not hide; Eagle Eye wait, grow, like magic flower for many moons. Ysun—The Power, Giver of Life—send you to Eagle Eye to bring magic. When tasinaaghai…wagons, come?”

  “In seven suns, Eagle Eye, to Bear Mountain where you camp.”

  The Apache leader turned to his followers and repeated the number of days, “Guusts’iidi duuna’.” He focused on Jim again. “Camp at Keenteeli Dzil: Bear Mountain. -Ch’ uuné’ bring sticks with magic fire arrows, Eagle Creek, seven suns. No, Bear Mountain; trade, Eagle Creek.”

  “Where’s Eagle Creek? It should be close to your camp because it’s dangerous for you and your band to drive the wagons very far. Indian scouts or soldiers could see you. We can move across the land without trouble, but you can’t do it without taking big risks.”

  The Indian nodded and pointed northwest, then drew a map in a dirt spot on the ground between the speakers. Beth peered through foliage and used the fieldglasses but couldn’t distinguish anything from her position. Jim studied the crude drawing and nodded understanding.

  “You have a good trade for white friend, Cordell. Don’t forget and don’t break our bargain. No trade from Eagle Eye, no guns and bullets.”

  “Thunder Gods and Earth Woman guard bilaahda -ch’ uuné’ Cordell want for magic sticks. Eagle Eye not forget, not trick. You trust Eagle Eye. Word good, true. Eagle Eye no want bilaahda. You want, you take.”

  Beth wondered what the Apache word meant and committed it to memory to tell Navarro later, as it supplied their target’s motive for such heinous crimes. It was obvious the Indian knew a sufficient amount of English to communicate but had difficulty with some words. The warrior’s appearance was more intimidating than the tall and lanky blond’s, even with Jim’s icy gray eyes and nefarious demeanor. She didn’t want to study either man closer or longer as both caused her to tremble from a tangible evil that seemed to exude their pores. As Jim struggled with the language in an attempt to explain what types of weapons were en route, the nervous redhead reasoned she had vital facts that shouldn’t be endangered by possible capture so she sneaked from the risky location.

  When she reached Sunshine, Beth decided to make certain those clues reached her partner in the event something happened to her. She pulled a short fringe from her waistband and placed it on the ground. With deft fingers, she shaped it like the pad of a bear paw, then cut four short pieces to add as claws. Beside it, she made a triangle; together, he should read Bear Mountain, if she recalled the symbols right. She cut more small strips to make out the letters E E in line with her previous message to imply it was the Indian’s campsite. She used her knife to scratch a line below those patterns as if it were a period at the end of a pictorial sentence, then designed a circle with a long fringe and placed seven stones inside of it to stand for Seven Suns. If Navarro thought she meant moons, it mattered little. Next to it, she stretched out a length like a stream. Atop that, she tried to create the shape of an eagle. Since he was familiar with the area, hopefully he would grasp she meant Eagle Creek. She couldn’t resist knifing another period line before forming B B as her signature. With care not to shift the revealing symbols, she covered the markings with a flat rock, and scattered broken grass blades to seize her lover’s keen eye. Now, she would sneak ahead to wait for Jim to ride for Morenci and expose Ben to her.

  After she led Sunshine to a safe distance, she backtracked to brush away their prints, knowing Navarro wouldn’t be duped if he arrived later and searched the location. During their past journey, he had amazed her several times by reading a trail that wasn’t visible to most eyes. She walked her horse until she deduced it was safe to mount to retreat a mile or so. But trouble struck without warning when suddenly the Indian party engulfed her.

  Alarmed but quick-witted Beth pretended not to recognize them as she asked, “What are you doing? Why are you stopping me?”

  Eagle Eye maneuvered his roan closer to her. His jet eyes seemed to bore through her flesh as if seeking bone to crush. A midnight mane hung loose around his broad shoulders of bronzed skin. An open vest exposed scars on a muscled torso. But it was the healed slashes around his cold eyes that caught her attention: as if a compass with them as the center, a line traveled for an inch in all four directions. His hand snaked out and yanked off her bandana. As fiery hair tumbled free, he gaped at her.

  Eagle Eye murmured, “Indaa ’ent’iin…”

  Beth was worried by his reaction to her coppery tresses: first, shock and fear, then, fury. The word scalping came quickly to mind. “I don’t understand. Do you speak English?”

  “White witch. You bad sign. You have evil magic. You come.”

  Startled and dismayed, she asked, “Come where? Who are you? What do you want with me?”

  “You Indaa ‘ent’iin: white witch! No talk! Come!”

  Beth recalled in chilling clarity what Navarro had told her about the Indians’ belief in and fear of witches. Such unfortunate victims fared the same tortures and executions as those whites in the past accused of being witches or warlocks! Try to frighten or outwit him. “If you kidnap me, my family and the soldiers will come after you and attack. Surely you don’t want your family and friends to be harmed by your mistake. I have to hurry home before dark or they’ll worry and come looking for me. I was only taking a ride and traveled too far into the hills. Move and let me pass.”

  “You Eagle Eye prisoner. Soldiers and whites not find you. Indaa ‘ent’iin must die, not do evil, not hurt Eagle Eye victory.”

  It was Beth’s turn to gape in astonishment. “Kill me? Is that what—”

  “You die in Eagle Eye camp. You talk, cut out evil tongue.”

  Shut up, Beth; he’s crazy and dangerous. Just watch and listen.

  Her rifle, pistol, and derringer were taken by his followers. None of them thought to check her high-top moccasin for the hidden knife. She shuddered as they bound her hands and led her in the opposite direction from Morenci. She wondered if they’d seen her spying and if they’d destroyed her signals to Navarro—that is, if he had followed her. But perhaps her lover had decided he tru
sted her skills and wits enough to wait for her in Mexico.

  The trek across rugged terrain went on for hours; every chance she got, Beth pulled a fringe from under her shirt and released it to drop to the ground. She comprehended her peril, but the mission was safe: all Navarro had to do was shadow Charles and get a message to Dan to set a trap. But if he told the Army to meet him and Zack in the Gila Mountains, they would be at the wrong location. Yet, if he reached this area in advance of the caravan and soldiers, he might find her signals, if nothing and no one disturbed them. She recalled that one of the Indians had left the party after her capture and was perhaps lying in wait to see who came after her. If it was her partner, he could be ambushed and slain like her father and husband. If no one came, they’d know she lied and was a bigger threat than first imagined. Stay strong, alert, brave, and hopeful, Beth.

  At dusk, Navarro found the rendezvous spot where Jim Tiller had met with the Indians. The evidence told him the talk had occurred this morning and everyone was long gone. What worried him was he found only one set of tracks returning to Morenci. He knew that print pattern belonged to Charles Cordell’s best friend. Since Beth wasn’t shadowing him now, he worried, why not and where was she?

  Alarmed, he examined the area and its surroundings with sharp eyes and wits. He found where she had spied on their targets, and followed her retreat to an enlightening location. There, he tested the edges of the grass blades to determine when they had been broken; the results confirmed his prior calculation of time. He hunkered down, lifted the rock, and sighed in relief when he saw the pictorial message. Since she had left her writing paper and Waterman fountain pen in Mexico, she had used signs he’d taught her to communicate with him. Impressed by Beth’s precautions and skills, he warmed with pride and love, then chilled in rising trepidation.

  He read the symbols with an ever narrowing gaze and increased heart thudding. He knew where Eagle Creek ran; it was a well-chosen exchange point that offered easy approach for wagons, needed privacy, and many escape paths if danger threatened. The criminal trade would take place in seven suns, if she recalled the difference in the sun/moon symbols. Even if she didn’t, a few hours spread on that dark day wouldn’t matter when laying a trap for them. He grasped she was reporting the place where Eagle Eye was staying for the next week because of a Tepee symbol beside the bear’s paw. His fingers traced the initials she left as a signature, and he smiled.

  He collected those two fringes, stuffed them in his pocket, and destroyed the remaining message. There was nothing said about where she was going and why, but she’d clearly halted trailing Jim for some unmentioned reason. Either she left by another route or she was surprised by peril. She also had confidence in his talents because she’d brushed out hers and Sunshine’s tracks; this time, with more care and skill than she had used in Mexico. It was getting dark fast in the dense forest; that meant he had to decide her whereabouts in a hurry or be forced to wait until morning to search for clues. He didn’t want to waste time because he sensed she was in jeopardy.

  If she’d been taken prisoner by the renegades, what his beautiful and clever -tsíné didn’t realize was she’d left an unclear signal in the animal paw line: Bear Canyon, Bear Wallow, and Bear Mountain were all within a day or less riding distance from Grey Peak and Eagle Creek; and all were cunning campsites for the escaped Apaches. One was north, one was northwest, and one was northeast. If he chose the wrong one…

  Navarro examined the ground and identified her departure route. When he reached the spot where five horses left the concealing forest and joined her, his heart froze in panic. The hooves that had surrounded Beth were shod, but so were the ones back at the rendezvous point, no doubt belonging to horses stolen by the renegades from whites. It was evident from markings on the ground that a talk had ensued and several captors had gotten very close to her, probably to remove her weapons. Six sets of tracks moved into the woods where, within a few feet, one of the Apaches had done a superior job of obscuring the direction they had taken.

  Navarro recalled the saying: “Only an Apache can track an Apache.” He studied the ground for clues and errors. The lawman was worried: he was only half Indian with a few years’ training in his mother’s camp, but the man concealing the rendezvous party’s tracks was a highly trained and skilled full-blooded Apache warrior with a lifetime of experience. With that undeniable disadvantage and with night closing in on him, was there any hope of finding Beth before something terrible happened to her? Was his first duty to the woman he loved or to the crucial mission that involved saving so many lives? If he spent time trying to track and rescue his partner or if he was ambushed and killed or snared by the same party, he couldn’t get a message to Dan and the Army about what his brave and cunning heroine had learned. Yet, if he went to the nearest town to telegraph new information to them, he could lose Beth forever—if she was still alive. If he didn’t locate and save her and if he didn’t get word to Dan and if the worst happened because he made the wrong decision, Beth’s deed and death would be for naught. The loyal and dedicated female agent wouldn’t want it to go that way.

  Navarro looked skyward and took a deep breath. It’s your choice, hombre: Beth’s survival or the lives of thousands of people.

  His heart drummed with indecision and worry. What should I do? God and Ysun, help me; for once, I don’t know which trail to ride first. I can see the one to Morenci in the night but not covered tracks in the forest, not even with a full moon rising. I love you, Beth Breed. Am I going to lose you, too? Damn you, evil spirits, if you take her away from me! Losing Jessie won’t even compare to losing Beth! Is it Morenci and duty and peace, or pick a choice of three locations where she might still be alive and I might rescue her?

  Night Cloud sensed his master’s anguish, approached, and nuzzled the lawman’s shoulder. Navarro stroked the animal’s forehead in affection and gratitude. He mounted the ebony stallion and murmured, “We have no other choice, my friend. Let’s go do what we must and pray for the best.”

  Chapter twenty-two

  For what must be the hundredth time since yesterday, Beth tested the rope that bound her to a tree in a sitting position. If a tough strip of rawhide didn’t secure her chafed wrists at backward angles on each side, perhaps she could reach the knife in her moccasin, cut her bonds, and escape. Despite the large pine’s support, her back, shoulders, and neck ached from the unrelenting position and length of confinement. Her buttocks and legs grumbled with near numbness. Her tailbone screamed at the exposed root that was gnawing at it like a famished dog. Her hair was caught and pulled by rough bark if she shifted her head too fast when something seized her attention. Pieces had fallen into her lap this morning as squirrels played or foraged on limbs above her.

  The region’s mountainous air had been chilly, almost cold, last night with only her garments for cover. But the sun warmed the area with speed. A rotation of braves watched her and several more guarded the encampment, which stayed prepared to flee at first notice of an impending attack. Possessions in “burden baskets” outside their shelters were ready to grab before leaving. Of course, she reasoned as a diversion from her woes, wickiups and brush arbors would be abandoned without a second thought. She grasped how those ramadas were built in such a clever way as to disperse smoke from cooking before it could rise above the woods in a noticeable pattern and amount. For water, a river and stream were nearby. Lush grass provided grazing for their stock, a herd Sunshine had joined by coercion. The loyal palomino was hobbled to keep her from seeking out her mistress among human and animal strangers.

  Beth was given nothing to drink or eat during the ride to this site or last night after her arrival. But she had received bread and water at dawn. Otherwise, she was avoided as a rattler, and her attempts to speak with anyone were ignored as if she hadn’t spoken or wasn’t present. In a way, she understood their ill-feelings. Having lived in Arizona for months, she had heard many things about the Indians who had ruled the territory before the
whites came. Their domain was so vast long ago that it was called Gran Apacheria, and encompassed all or parts of six states and a section of Mexico. Now, they couldn’t ride or walk or hunt anywhere in freedom, and were forbidden to raid ancestral foes across the Mexican border. Their chiefs had shouted that Mexico couldn’t sell this territory to America in the Gadsden Purchase because they didn’t own it or even rule it by conquest.

  She had been told Apaches were cunning, fierce, skilled fighters who showed no mercy and felt no pity to enemies; to do so marked them as weaklings or men who could be duped. There was no doubt in her mind that she was being treated as an enemy. It didn’t matter if she was innocent of hatred and hostility or that she was a woman, as the Apaches were one of the few Indian nations that had female warriors. All that counted was her “white blood,” and it went against her.

  Despite her mishandling by the leader, Beth remained sympathetic for now, fearful but discerning and compassionate. She assumed there must be no reason in the Indians’ eyes as to why they should trust or befriend her when her people scorned, taunted, and humbled them. According to allegations those Indians on most reservations were cheated of promised supplies, delivered skinny or sickly cattle, infected with diseases, and forced to stand in long columns under a blazing sun for hours to collect meager or rotting rations that ran out before the line was half gone. Those at San Carlos were said to be humiliated, reduced to begging, deprived, and imprisoned on what this area’s Apaches called Hell’s Forty Acres, exiled to a section of near wasteland. She had heard charges about appointed reservation lands being given, sold, and loaned to miners and farmers and ranchers by corrupt politicians or deceitful agency officials. The shocking list of alleged physical and emotional abuses went on and on in Arizona and elsewhere, according to Navarro and numerous other sources who were working to get those wrongs righted for the sake of peace and honor.