“Of course!” De La Nobleza said. “From the looks of them, they have come through a most unhappy experience.”
“We damn near got kilt,” Donaldson said. “We even had to ride hell-for-horseflesh bareback to get outta there in one piece. Ain’t that right, Roberto?”
Weismann nodded. “And we were forced to leave seven male Apache scalps behind.”
“Que paso?” Perez asked. “What happened?”
Weismann spoke while Donaldson downed his coffee and roll with loud slurps and smacking of his lips.
“We had bivouacked in a draw located in the foothills of the Culebras,” Weismann said. “A couple of hours previously we had ambushed and scalped a hunting party of seven Chirinatos.”
“All men like Roberto told you,” Donaldson interrupted. “That was a loss o’ seven hundred pesos, by God!” He punctuated his anger with a loud belch.
Weismann continued, “We were all very tired and since there was no other sign of Indians in the vicinity it seemed safe enough to rest up for a day or two. The concealment in the area was excellent. We had found a small barranco—a ravine.”
“Lucky for me and Roberto we was down on the far end from the attack,” Donaldson said.
“Most of the men had settled in and were napping or playing cards when the charge was launched,” Weismann said. “It was handled very expertly. Fire came at us from the center and both flanks. Most of the muchachos were caught and killed without realizing what happened,” Weismann said. “Those that fought back did not last much longer.”
“Were all your men killed?” De La Nobleza asked.
“All were hit,” Weismann said. “I do not know if all died.”
“That means Capitan Drummond might have a prisoner or two,” Perez remarked.
“Capitan Drummond?” Weismann asked. “Who is he?”
“The Gringo commander,” Perez said. “He had come here asking us to help in ending the scalphunting.”
Donaldson burst into laughter. “Now ain’t that a caution!”
“He did not know His Excellency was involved,” Perez said. “But if he has captured any of your men alive, he may well know now.”
Weismann glanced at De La Nobleza. “He will send a message to that effect to his headquarters.”
De La Nobleza reached over and nudged Perez. “Dispatch a half-dozen men up to El Vano. Have them watch the area of the Gringo camp. They are to intercept and kill any dispatch riders either in or out of that place. I suggest you send Lieutenant Montoya.”
“We have just executed him, Excellency,” Perez said. “I suggest Sergeant Valverde. He is an excellent scout and tracker.”
“Very well,” De La Nobleza said. “Remember to have them wear civilian clothing. Now see that it is done, Capitan!”
“Inmediatamente!” Perez said getting to his feet. He rushed off to tend to the matter.
Weismann, who had yet to touch his refreshments, finally took a sip of coffee. He was silently thoughtful for several long moments. After awhile he asked, “How many Gringo soldiers are there in El Vano?”
“Not many,” De La Nobleza said. “That is why he came here seeking assistance from me in ending the scalphunting.”
“Of course,” Weismann said. “That makes sense. His force probably wasn’t much larger than my own. The element of surprise weighed in his favor.”
“He prob’ly figgered there was only a dozen or so of us when he tracked our happy bunch to that ravine,” Donaldson said.
“The Gringo will not do that to me again,” Weismann said.
De La Nobleza’s worries had begun to melt away as he noted that Weismann gave no sign he was beaten. “You are thinking over the recent developments, are you not, Don Roberto?”
“I most certainly am,” Weismann assured him. “I believe the situation is salvageable. Or at least we can keep things going our way long enough to get plenty more scalps before a larger force of Americanos shows up to force us to withdraw.”
“What is it you wish to do, Don Roberto?” De La Nobleza asked.
“I need money to recruit more pistoleros in Juntera,” Weismann said.
Donaldson snapped his fingers at Luis. “Mas cafe, damn it! More coffee!” He turned to Weismann. “You ain’t gonna get enough gunslingers there to fight soldiers, Roberto.”
“I realize that,” Weismann said. “That is why I will need some soldiers from here to augment the force. If the Gringo camp is kept isolated, we can wipe them out.”
“Right!” Donaldson said. “Then we can turn on them goddamned Injuns and scalp ’em down to the last yowling papoose!”
Perez returned and reported, “Sergeant Valverde and six good soldiers will be on their way to El Vano within the hour, Excellency.”
“Thank you, Capitan,” De La Nobleza said. “Now I have another job for you. Take command of the Second Company. You and those soldiers will also dress as civilians. You are going to El Vano to attack the Gringo soldiers.” Perez smiled and clicked his heels. “With pleasure, Excellency.”
“You will accompany Don Roberto and Señor Donaldson to Juntera where they will hire more gunmen for the expedition,” De La Nobleza continued.
“I am pleased to hear that,” Perez said. “I appreciate having even more men under my command.”
“They will not be under your command, Capitan,” De La Nobleza said. “You, the soldiers of the Second Company, and the hired gunmen will all be under the command of Don Roberto.”
“I must protest, Excellency!” Perez exclaimed. “I am an officer in the army!”
De La Nobleza’s expression turned sinister. “Do you recall what happened to the last officer in the army who displeased me, Capitan?”
Fresh memories of Montoya being shot by the firing squad flooded Perez’s mind. He swallowed hard. “I will be most happy to serve under Don Roberto, Excellency.” Weismann got to his feet. “Let us get moving! There are Gringo soldiers to kill.”
He hurriedly left the dining room with Donaldson and Perez on his heels.
Fifteen
The hooves of the horses kicked rocks loose, sending the stones clattering down the narrow trail as the dragoons slowly made their way into the higher reaches of the Culebra Mountains.
Now and then an abrupt, angry expletive was uttered when someone accidentally allowed a limb to snap back and hit another trooper in the face.
“Watch it!” Sergeant Clooney snapped. “We’re moving slow enough for yez to watch out fer the man behind.”
The column’s lack of speed could be attributed to the fact that each man in the formation led a second horse. These extra animals bore not only the cadavers of slain scalphunters across their backs, but also the dead men’s belonging which had been quickly stowed into the saddlebags of the former owners. The only items not packed for this trip were the firearms and shooting accoutrements found in the camp, along with any liquor.
Nine horses carried these gruesome burdens. The tenth dead man had been left where he died. He was the one caught in the act of defecating, and knifed to death by Eruditus Fletcher. This particular fellow was left to rot in his own filth. Not even Sergeant Clooney, who had no problems with ordering troopers to perform disagreeable chores, would force one of his men to take charge of that mess.
This particular corpse’s belongings now rode atop those of another deceased scalphunter.
There had been no survivors among the scalphunters after the attack. All had fought to the death. The one exception had been found inside his tent, lo everyone’s surprise, a quick investigation revealed this death to be a suicide. He had evidently shoved a pistol in his mouth and fired it, splattering the inside of the canvas shelter with blood and brains.
“I would assume he thought their camp had been attacked by avenging Apaches,” Eruditus told Grant after examining the self-inflicted wound. “No doubt he preferred a quick death to the slow, drawn out agony the Indians would have forced him to endure.”
“That’s a shame as far
as I’m concerned,” Grant said. “Not out of any misguided pity, I assure you, but I could have used a prisoner for interrogation. We are woefully lacking in information about this scalphunting situation.”
“I hope we have ended these unhappy circumstances here and now,” Eruditus said. “To assure this, I have a most strong suggestion. We must take these dead and show them to the Chirinatos. They will be impressed if they see we have already avenged their dead.”
“Yes,” Grant agreed. “Perhaps any young hotheads among the warriors can be dissuaded from attacking innocent travelers crossing the Vano Basin if they see we have already taken prompt action.”
“We should also turn over the belongings of these wretches to the Indians,” Eruditus said. “Such an act will go a long way in soothing angry grief.”
“Then we shall,” Grant said. “An excellent suggestion as usual, Eruditus.”
“Only too happy to help,” Eruditus replied with a smile. After loading the scalphunter dead and their possessions on extra horses sent out from camp, the column left the scene of the attack to meet with the Apaches. Upon reaching the place where the scalped Chirinatos had been found, the dragoons discovered the bodies had been removed during the time of the attack on the murderers’ camp.
Eruditus had been worried. “Now it is most imperative that we speak with the tribal council. If the tribe does not hear about our killing of the mutilators, they will go to war en masse.”
“You are right, of course,” Grant said. “And time is of the essence. Meanwhile, I am going to dispatch a rider back to departmental headquarters at Santa Fe to request additional men and supplies. At least that way we shall be able to handle any more trouble that might be forced on us.”
“Excellent!” Eruditus said in approval.
“I want you to ride ahead and make arrangements for us to meet with the tribal council,” Grant said. “For God’s sake! Tell them we’ve killed the men who murdered their clansmen.”
“Of course,” Eruditus said. “I’ll waste no time at all in taking care of that matter. I shall be sure to mention the presents we have for them and where the gifts came from.”
“Have them meet with us in the same place we met before,” Grant said. “It is an easy spot to find.”
“I shall!” Eruditus said.
“I’ll have the column with the bodies up there as quickly as I can,” Grant said.
Eruditus, after giving a wave to the officer and dragoons, rode out to meet with his Indian friends.
Now, with Eruditus already in the mountains, and the messenger heading toward New Mexico Territory, Captain Grant Drummond rode at the head of the formation. He controlled his horse to make sure he didn’t outpace the men with the extra mounts.
Grant reached the summit of the climb and wheeled aside to wait for the rest of the detachment. Sergeant Clooney quickly appeared. Then the nine dragoons leading the horses bearing the corpses followed. The dead men bounced and swung grotesquely in movement with the animals on which they were tied. Finally the three-man rear guard led by Corporal Rush came into view.
“Ever’body’s present, sir,” the corporal reported with a salute. “No stragglers back there.”
Pulling on his mount’s reins, Grant turned and cantered up the column to the head. Once again he led his men into the wooded area as the trees grew thicker and taller with each ten to fifteen yards of increased elevation.
“Grant!” Eruditus Fletcher’s voice sounded in the thickness of the woods. “Ho, Grant!”
“Ho, Eruditus!” Grant shouted back.
The old man rode up to him and reined in. “The council is waiting. As we suspected, they had already recovered the bodies. I feel it is imperative we talk to them as quickly as possible to avert any bloodshed in the Vano Basin.” He glanced back at the column. “It is a good thing you are bringing those bodies and the gifts with you. It should save valuable time.”
“Don’t be modest about your valuable contributions in this sad situation, my friend. It was your idea,” Grant said. “Your value on this mission seems to increase daily.”
“I thank you for those kind words, but we mustn’t tarry,” Eruditus said.
The scout led them up to the former spot where the dragoons had picketed their horses. This time, after dismounting, the rear guard took care of the mounts, while the troopers who manned animals with corpses led them forward under Eruditus’s instructions.
The Chirinato council, with a good deal of the tribe standing behind them, rose to their feet as the grisly parade appeared. Lobo Cano, the chief, stepped forward and went to each body examining it to satisfy himself of the revenge that had already been taken.
Eruditus’s old friend Aguila grabbed the hair of cadavers and lifted up the heads to gaze into the blank features of death. He then checked out the knives the dead men still had in their scabbards.
“Ayee!” he turned to the assembled tribe, crying out, “These are scalphunters! No doubt! The soldiers have killed them!”
Grant stepped forward holding a greasy, leather bag. “Here are the scalps of the seven dead members of your tribe. We bring them to you for the proper ceremonies to honor your departed clansmen.”
“Yes,” Aguila said. “I must do that because my brother Nitcho has already died under these evil ones’ knives.” Then he added under his breath, “We have no medicine man because of these dogs.” He spat on the nearest body.
Eruditus immediately went to work as a translator for both sides of the meeting.
“You have explained this loss of spiritual guidance to me before,” Grant said. “It made my heart heavy when I heard of Nitcho’s death. But now I laugh with joy that my men and I could kill your enemies who caused you this grievous loss.”
Lobo Cano asked, “Did you kill all of them?”
“We think we did,” Grant said. “If some escaped, they will not be many and they will run away back to Mexico. I do not think they will ever be back. There are also the belongings of these killers for your tribe to have. There are blankets, knives, saddles, tobacco, and many other things.” The warrior Quintero shoved his way through the crowd. A furious expression twisted the features of his face. “Where are their guns?” he demanded to know in a loud voice. “Where is their powder and balls and caps?”
“They are for the Big Chief of the Americans,” Grant answered through Eruditus. “He wants those things for himself.”
“Did they not have whiskey?” Quintero asked.
Eruditus said, “The soldiers took the whiskey. They killed the scalphunters, so they have a right to something.”
“Bah!” Quintero spat.
“Why do you want whiskey, Quintero?” Eruditus asked. “I know you do not approve of it or mescal or tequila for Apaches. Do you want to give it to Chirinato warriors so they will get drunk and crazy and follow you to kill people on El Vano?”
Quintero glared at the old man, then spun on his heel and returned to the crowd where his friends waited for him.
Eruditus decided to lighten the situation which had grown darker because of Quintero’s words. “We left one of the dead coyotes back where he died,” he explained. The old man told of killing the man while he squatted and strained to relieve himself.
The Chirinatos, always appreciative of what tickled their humorous sides, laughed.
“We are glad you did not bring the messy one with you,” Aguila said. “He would stink up the whole of the Culebra Mountains.”
The Indians renewed their laughter.
Now Eruditus saw an opportunity to hold the center of attention. He walked directly in front of three of the four Apaches who made up the council. Aguila went about carefully examining each of the dead scalphunters.
Eruditus began his talk by saying, “My friend Grant and I went to Mexico to find out who paid the scalphunters to kill Chirinatos.”
Zorro, a member of the Apache group, spat. “It is the Mexican soldier chiefs who buy our people’s scalps.”
“Yes,�
�� Eruditus said. “But they are not supposed to do that in El Vano because that is no longer Mexico.”
“It never was!” Quintero called out from the crowd. “That is Chirinato land.”
Eruditus turned and explained what had transpired to Grant. “This calls for much diplomacy, my friend,” he said after the interpreting chore.
“Tell Lobo Cano that the Big Chief of the Americans has told the Mexicans to leave the Chirinatos alone in the Vano Basin,” Grant said. “They disobeyed him, so my dragoons and I were ordered to kill them. This we did. The proof of the Big Chief of the Americans’ love for the Chirinato people is on the backs of those horses.”
Eruditus translated the words to the Apaches, adding, “Now do you believe the Big Chief of the Americans cares for his Chirinato brothers?”
“That is good,” Lobo Cano said.
Aguila, who had spent considerable time with the dead scalphunters, walked back to join the group. “But how do we know the Mexican soldier chief will not send even more scalphunters than ever before to come up here?”
“Because they will be afraid,” Eruditus said.
“How do we know that?” Aguila asked sitting down with the other three members of the council.
“You will know after I tell you of a great fight my friend Grant and I had with Mexican soldiers sent after us by their chief,” Eruditus said. “Everybody sit down.”
The Indians all took seats as Eruditus had bid them. The Chirinatos had a tradition of storytelling. They loved to sit and hear the old ones spin yarns involving ancient adventures, battles, and myths of their people. Many of the tales had been heard over and over again, yet they never tired of them. The Indians were especially excited with this opportunity to hear something brand new. Even the ones who had been hanging about at the edges of the discussion pressed forward so Eruditus could tell of the recent battle. The old man, well-versed not only in the Chirinato language, but the methods of putting real feeling and emotion in the guttural words, dramatized the tale of the fight with suspense, horror, and even a bit of humor as he dragged out the facts of the incident until the telling took almost as much time as the actual fighting.
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