by Verna Clay
Mule and man stared at each other and Sadie must have taken Jacob's words to heart because she lowered her head and started munching on desert grass.
Amy said, "Mr. Waltz, the coffee is boiling."
Jacob grabbed a rag to lift the pot and pour the steaming brew into his canteen. He screwed on the lid and walked toward Sadie.
Thomas followed and watched him stuff his canteen into a saddlebag hanging beside a gold pan dangling off Sadie's flank. He offered his hand in a friendly goodbye. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Jacob. How's the shoulder feeling? You don't seem to be favoring it today."
"The shoulder feels great. Not bothering me at all. And likewise, Tom, I've enjoyed keeping company with you and Amy. Maybe we'll cross paths again someday."
"That would be nice, Jacob. Good luck to you."
Jacob smiled and winked, "Yep. Luck is the right word and I'll admit I've had my fair share these past few years." Grabbing the lead to his mule, he nodded a final farewell, waved at Amy, and started down the trail. After a few steps he belted out a German song and Thomas smiled before turning around.
Amy said, "Papa, my eyes are getting blurry again."
Thomas rushed to his daughter and gave her a quick perusal before grabbing his medical bag beside his bedroll. As usual, an examination revealed no reason for her blurred vision. He said, "Darlin', let me know if it gets worse. Would you like to chew on some jerky until I get the bacon fried up?"
"No. I'll wait." She hesitated and then asked, "Papa, am I going blind?"
Thomas sucked a breath. "No, you're not. And I don't want you thinking like that."
Even though the words sounded confident for Amy's sake, this latest incident made Thomas anxious to get back on the trail. The way he figured it, barring any delays, they could reach the Verde River in about four or five days. From there, they would turn northward and follow the river for about a week before reaching Fort Verde. After resting at the Fort they would begin the final leg of their journey to the red rocks. Thomas released a long sigh. Whoever this healing woman was, he hoped she could help Amy.
For the next four days Thomas pushed himself to travel about fifteen miles a day and they reached the Verde River late in the afternoon. Setting up camp early, he settled Amy on a blanket beside the fire and she watched him roast the rabbit he'd shot. As he turned the spit, she said "Sometimes I think it's sad that we kill animals to eat. Does it make you sad, too, Papa?"
Thomas studied the roasting meat and thought about his response. Finally, he said, "Because I've dedicated my life to helping the sick and injured, and sometimes that includes animals, it does make me sad. But that seems to be the way of survival. The Indians have hunted buffalo for hundreds of years because the meat nourishes them, the hides protect them, and the bones are made into tools. They use every part of the buffalo for survival. I guess my response would be that killing an animal for sport and leaving the carcass, is wrong. But if it's done for survival, it's allowed. A big difference between some white men and Indians is that the Indians don't take the animals for granted."
Amy frowned. "I wish I understood things better. I have so many questions."
Thomas turned the spit again and lifted his eyes to a sunset as orange as the flames in the fire. "And I wish I could answer those questions, honey, but I'm full of questions myself."
"Maybe when we join Mama in heaven, she'll know the answers."
A lump formed in Thomas' throat and he said softly, "I think she will."
13: Meeting the General
Unfolding and lowering his map to the ground, Thomas traced his route with his finger. It had been six days since they'd changed their course northward to follow the Verde River and now posted markings along the trail indicated they would reach Fort Verde before sunset. Thomas was bone tired and paused at a riverbank offering easy access to the water. Washing the dust off was just what they needed to refresh body and spirit.
During the past week Amy's spells had increased. She was also having difficulty clenching her hands. Her muscle function was deteriorating rapidly, just as her mother's had. Panic became Thomas' constant companion and even though he prayed the healing woman could help, he often found himself berating his decision to travel so far with his child. One question haunted him—would her condition have progressed less slowly if she hadn't been subjected to this arduous journey? Of course there was no answer to that question.
After washing, he and Amy lay side-by-side on the bank staring at a cloudless sky through the cottonwood trees hugging the water. The sound of approaching horses had Thomas jumping to his feet. He whispered and motioned for Amy to hide behind a nearby tree while he pulled his rifle from its scabbard. Hastening for the cover of another tree, he peered around it, holding his rifle in position. A moment later, the source of the pounding hooves rounded a bend. It was a cavalry troop led by a man Thomas easily recognized, General George R. Crook. The famous military man yelled for his men to halt when he saw Thomas' horse and mule.
Thomas lowered his rifle and stepped from behind the tree. General Crook smiled. "Doctor Matthews, what in the name of god are you doing way out here? I thought you relocated to Globe."
Thomas returned the imposing man's smile. The General wasn't called Nantan Lupan, or Gray Chief by the Indians for no reason. His full beard, streaked with gray that matched his gray eyes, fulfilled the "gray" part of his Indian name, and the "chief" part was obvious. Although his age appeared to be somewhere between fifty and sixty, he was still tall, broad-shouldered, and fearless. Thomas, having been the civilian doctor at Fort Apache, knew the General was well-respected by his men and the Apache Scouts he so ingeniously enlisted to track renegade Indians. He was not a man to shirk hardship and lived, traveled, and fought in the same pitiful conditions as his soldiers.
The General dismounted, handed the reins of his horse to his Sergeant, and walked the short distance to shake hands with Thomas. Thomas said, "I still make my home in Globe."
General Crook nodded toward the tree Amy was peeking around. "And is that Amy behind a tree?"
Thomas laughed and motioned his daughter forward. "Amy, come on over and greet General Crook. Do you remember him?"
Amy smiled and walked forward, but halfway to them her legs went weak and she fell down. Thomas and General Crook both ran toward her. Thomas lifted her into his arms, met the General's gaze over the top of Amy's head, and silently conveyed his concern. General Crook did not press him for an explanation.
Amy said, "I remember you General Crook. You always had a piece of candy in your pocket."
The General laughed, reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper-wrapped hard candy. "I never go anywhere without them because I never know when I'll meet a little girl with a sweet tooth." He handed the candy to Amy and she grinned widely. "Thank you, sir."
Thomas sat Amy on a rock beside the river. "Enjoy your treat, honey, while the General and I talk."
"I will, Papa."
Thomas walked far enough away so Amy couldn't overhear their conversation. He said, "My wife died of a strange illness after we moved to Globe and Amy's showing the same symptoms. It's a disease that destroys muscle function."
General Crook laid his hand on Thomas' shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Tom." He frowned and said, "But that doesn't explain why you're out here in the middle of nowhere."
Thomas met the General's gray eyes. "This may sound crazy, but I overheard a conversation by two drifters about a woman living in the red rocks who is known for her healing ability. It's a long shot, but I have to take Amy to her. I did everything I could to save Ruth, but nothing helped. I don't want history to repeat itself, General."
General Crook nodded. "I understand, Tom." He pulled on his beard. "Seems I recollect hearing something about her, myself. But I don't remember the particulars. How are you going to find her?"
"The drifters gave me good directions. My plan is to rest at Fort Verde and then head out again. If the directions are accurate, it shouldn't tak
e more than two or three days to find her. What happens after that, only providence knows."
General Crook pulled on his beard again. "As you can see, we're on our way to Fort Verde now. You can travel with us. When you leave for the red rocks, I'll send a soldier with you for protection. These wars won't cease until Geronimo is captured and the Indians are on their reservation."
At the mention of Geronimo's name, Thomas kept his expression impassive. He wanted the wars to cease, of course, but he'd be damned if he broke his promise to the Great Chief to keep his whereabouts secret.
General Crook didn't appear to notice anything out of the ordinary and slapped Thomas on the shoulder once again. "Do you think you can be ready to leave in the next ten minutes?"
"Yes, sir. We'll be ready."
14: Clues
Every night for the past week Tana's grandmother had spoken to her in dreams, and every dream brought more bewilderment. Each new phrase was preceded by, "He's coming…"
"…and he's not alone."
"…and he will challenge your knowledge."
"…and sickness isn't your only adversary."
And the most puzzling, "…and the eagle must follow you."
Tana knew her grandmother was giving her clues about a future event involving the man who would someday come to her.
The sound of hooves from a lone horse interrupted her musings and she opened her door to watch an approaching rider. A weather-beaten, middle-aged cowboy halted several feet from her cabin and she stepped onto the porch. The drifter was dusty and haggard looking, like he'd been on the trail for a long time. Tana stared into the eyes of his horse and then shifted her gaze back to him. She waited for him to speak.
"Could you spare some food, ma'am? I've been on the trail for days."
She lifted a finger indicating she needed a moment and reentered her cabin. Retrieving one of the baskets she'd woven, she filled it with bread, dried vegetables and fruits, smoked fish, and jerky made from animals she had treated, but that had not survived. She also added a jar of pickled okra. Returning to her porch, she saw that the man had dismounted and was watering his horse at her trough. He glanced up and his expression was blank. However, there was something in his eyes that revealed violence was either part of him or had been forced upon him.
Tana stepped off the porch and walked a few steps to set the basket on the ground. The drifter watched her every movement and asked, "You got a voice, lady?"
She pointed toward the basket and then made a shooing motion, indicating he should take the food and leave.
The cowboy frowned and asked, "Has a U.S. Marshall come to your place recently? I was deputized in Tombstone and I'm trying to catch up with him."
Tana's gut kicked and she knew he was lying. Again, she pointed to the basket and made a shooing motion.
The cowboy narrowed his eyes and said, "Thank you for the food, ma'am, but I got no intention of leavin' just yet. I'm gonna stretch out in your barn and rest my weary bones."
Tana smiled slightly, shifted her gaze to the barn, and waited for the lying cowboy to turn around. His eyes narrowed as he slowly turned to see what had attracted her attention. Warrior, now able to walk in his splint, blocked the entrance to the barn. With teeth bared, a low snarl shattered the silence and the cowboy inhaled on a curse. But Warrior wasn't the only reason for his palpable fear. On one side of the barn Warrior's pack held the same stance as their leader.
When the loner slipped his hand toward his holstered gun, the pack growled and stepped closer. The cowboy hastened a glance back at Tana, who again pointed toward the basket and made a waving motion.
The man rasped, "Are you telling me that if I leave with the food they'll not harm me."
Tana nodded once.
Slowly, the stranger edged toward the basket, lifted it, and backed toward his horse that was unperturbed by the wolves.
Tana again made eye contact with the horse. In a rare vocalization with a stranger she said, "You're driving your horse too hard. He wants to rest in that alcove by the river."
The horse neighed in agreement and the cowboy's eyes widened in surprise. Quickly, he mounted his gelding, but before galloping away, met her gaze again and said, "You're a damn witch."
Tana watched until the drifter was out of sight and then turned to the wolves. "Thank you my friends." The pack retreated into the trees and Warrior retreated back inside the barn.
15: Tracking Indians
Thomas and Amy, traveling with General Crook's cavalry, reached Fort Verde at sunset. Thomas knew the fort had been in operation since the early 1870s, so it was well established and stocked with supplies. There were several outbuildings, including storehouses, commissary, guardhouse, barracks, officers' quarters, married officers' quarters, surgeon's quarters, and commanding officer's quarters.
When General Crook introduced Thomas and Amy to the commanding officer, Captain William Wallace, the captain ordered his striker to prepare the quest bedroom. The striker was very welcoming to Thomas and Amy and hastened to obey, asking if they had any special dietary or other requests. Of course they had none. Thomas stifled a grin. After having lived at Fort Apache, he knew a striker received better pay and living quarters and would gladly do whatever was necessary to keep the commanding officer happy.
Thomas also knew that because General Crook was now the highest ranking officer at the fort, Captain Wallace was obligated to vacate the commander's quarters in favor of the general. However, General Crook insisted he would stay in the officers' quarters. Thomas wasn't surprised. The military man was known for generating goodwill among his subordinates.
Thomas was relieved when the Chaplain's wife took Amy under her wing and within the hour his daughter was bathed, fed, and tucked into bed. Not long afterward, supper was served in the Commander's dining room and Thomas joined Captain Wallace, General Crook, Chaplain and Mrs. Jones, and Lieutenant and Mrs. Johnson. The conversation encompassed such generalities as the weather, renovations being made at the fort, novels recently read, and even the latest fad in ladies' hats. However, after supper, the chaplain and his wife excused themselves for the evening and offered to walk Mrs. Johnson back to the married officers' quarters. Thomas retired to the sitting room with General Crook, Captain Wallace, and Lieutenant Johnson to enjoy cigars and brandy. Lounging in overstuffed chairs, the military men spoke in earnest about the current Indian uprising. Thomas sipped his brandy and leaned against the fireplace listening to the ongoing debate about the best plan for keeping the Indians on their reservations.
General Crook, who did not smoke or drink, said, "Until the government upholds their promises there will be continued attacks by renegades."
The Lieutenant smirked, "Unless we can find and eliminate them."
Thomas found the officer's remark repugnant and obviously General Crook did too. He responded by saying, "That's not the answer. The answer is to find Geronimo."
The officer said, "I agree. Once he's dead, the Indians won't have a leader."
General Crook shook his head. "I wasn't referring to killing him. There's been enough bloodshed. The government needs to meet with him and agree to the responsible treatment of his people. Perhaps you've been in the field too long, Lieutenant. It often leads to bloodlust."
The chastised officer straightened his shoulders in an act of defiance and Captain Wallace avoided a verbal battle by changing the subject. However, within minutes the conversation again shifted to Geronimo. Thomas interjected, "I agree with General Crook. The government needs to fulfill its treaties and respect Geronimo as the leader of his nation. After all, this was their land."
Lieutenant Johnson furrowed his brow and Thomas could see a debate in the making. He decided it was time to make his exit and was about to say a polite goodnight when there was a knock on the door. Captain Wallace excused himself and left the sitting room."
Thomas heard the door open and a soldier say, "Sergeant Milo Henderson, sir. A scout just rode in and said Geronimo has be
en spotted near the Superstition Mountains."
The Captain said, "Wait here, Sergeant." He returned to the sitting room and said to General Crook. "I take it you heard that."
The general nodded.
Captain Wallace asked, "Sir, is it your order to pursue?"
General Crook pursed his lips, nodded again, and said, "It is. Gather all the men, except those needed to protect the fort. I want to leave at sunrise. Also, we need to speak with the scout."
Captain Wallace replied, "Yes, sir."
General Crook glanced at Lieutenant Johnson. "You will remain at the fort to oversee operations."
The Lieutenant's eyes rounded in disbelief. "Sir, that doesn't make sense."
Captain Wallace frowned. "Lieutenant, you are speaking to General Crook. I expect an immediate apology."
Lieutenant Johnson again straightened his shoulders in a rebellious gesture and said, "I apologize, sir."
General Crook gave a curt nod. "Apology accepted." He left the room followed by Captain Wallace.
Thomas was left in the sitting room with an angry Lieutenant. The man clenched and unclenched his hands and said, "You can see how irresponsible those orders are, can you not? I've devoted my life to the military and keeping decent folk safe from redskins."
Thomas sighed, shook his head, and replied, "And I have devoted my life to caring for the infirmed, both white and red. You, sir, are part of the problem." Setting his brandy snifter on the mantle he gladly walked past the enraged officer and exited the room. He had to pass by the dining room while returning to the guest bedroom and he heard the General and Captain talking. General Crook glanced up and motioned him in and extended his hand for a shake. "Thomas, looks like this is goodbye. It was good seeing you again."
