“I cannot just leave her in the wild, sir.”
“Agreed, that’ll never do. It’s far too rough and dangerous for a girl of sixteen, particularly one who has not grown up in the land.” He looked over at Dan and smiled. The secretary was busy at work, oblivious to the conversation.
“Where do you suppose she headed, Mr. Tuckman?”
“She continues to return to the same place in the mountains, west of our homestead. There is an abandoned mining operation there. Some of the dwellings still afford shelter. I am hoping she is still there, but when I tried to track her, I lost the trail. My wife urged me to come to look you up, as you and Captain Welles were so kind to us.”
He urged Tuckman to go back to his hotel, and promised he would go with him later that afternoon. He assured him that he would have his daughter back by the end of the day, and was certain she would stay home, once there.
Tuckman shook his hand. “Please, tell me your fee, Captain, and we will gladly pay it.”
“You don’t worry about that, just get some rest and be ready when we come to fetch you.”
Arvel got clean clothes from Donny’s rack and washed up in one of the vacant holding cells. He stood in the doorway to Dan’s room. Dan was a careful fellow with money, and had made a deal with Dick that he could set up living quarters in the office. He lived here and thus avoided paying rent. It was a small room with a desk and single bed. He stood in front of a mirror and washbasin when Arvel knocked on the door. “Big plans, Dan?”
“Going to the Opera House. They’re doing excerpts from The Mikado. Opening night. There’s a sweet lass from New York there, and I intend to meet her.”
Arvel wandered around the man’s room, looking at books stacked by his bed. Dan was working on Lectures on the Early History of Institutions, and beneath that, Village-Communities in the East and West. These sat precariously on a half dozen books on philosophy. The room was not decorated in any way. Everything was business, selected only for its utility.
“When you going to do some man’s work and give up this damned lawyering nonsense, Dan?” He began paging through a thick textbook.
“Hah, what do you know of man’s work, Arvel?”
“Breaking mules isn’t?” He grinned at the back of Dan’s head.
“Shit, everyone knows Uncle Bob does all the work on your ranch, Arvel. You’re just there to take up space.” He spoke to Arvel’s reflection in the mirror. “What’s on your mind, Arvel?” He could tell that the Captain was up to something. He knew Arvel too well.
“Just wondering why a man of such learning,” he picked up one of the weightier tomes, “would be interested in that tripe. Rebecca dragged me off to see that in New York back in eighty-five. Can’t believe they’re still playing it.”
“Well, you haven’t seen the principal singer, or you wouldn’t wonder.” Dan dried the shaving soap from his neck. He looked at his reflection, first left, then right. He was a handsome man.
“Well, I kind of need some help.” He waited. Dan turned and faced him, draping his towel over a bar on his washstand.
“What kind of help?” Dan did nothing free. He knew that Arvel knew this. He would begin negotiating now.
“That fellow, Tuckman. He’s got a real problem on his hands. I was just thinking, if we could give that girl a real adventure…”
“What kind of adventure?”
“Well, something that would kind of get her thinking that being at home on the farm is not such a bad place to be.”
“You mean to scare her?” Dan smelled under the sleeves of a shirt, then pulled it over his head. He picked out a cravat. He was dressing for the theatre. “Like to help you out, Arvel, but, like I said, I’ve got plans.”
“Not even for twenty dollars?” Arvel knew that with Dan, you started low.
“Hah.” He smiled at Arvel as he got into his best striped trousers. He pulled the braces over his shoulders. “That’s funny Arvel.” He began sniffing his waist coats, looking doubtfully at the first two, then settling on the third.
“Well, what would be considered not funny, Dan?”
“One-fifty.” He began buttoning his watch chain into his vest, and wound his watch. Arvel watched him and laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?”
Arvel waved his hand. “Nothing, sorry. Just had a funny thought. Nice watch.”
“How about fifty?”
“How about one-fifty?”
“How about one-twenty and I’ll buy you dinner?”
“What do I have to do, Arvel?” Dan was pleased with making nearly a month’s pay in one evening. The little Mikado singer could keep for one day. “Nothing dangerous.”
“Nope, just a little theater.” He picked up one of Dan’s books, Blackstone on Law as Theatre. “It’ll surely be a cinch for a fellow like you.”
“I don’t like that look on your face, Arvel. I’ve seen that look before, and it usually means some kind of foolishness. What do I have to do?”
Arvel put up his hand. “Now, now, Dan. I am paying you top wages. No questions.” Arvel was not certain what he was going to do, as he was making this up as he went along. “I’ll be back in an hour. You might want to change out of that pretty outfit and save if for Yum-Yum.”
They collected Tuckman and rode on through the afternoon, arriving at the brother’s ranch by early evening. Mrs. Tuckman came out to greet them. She shook Arvel’s hand and held it tightly, giving it a squeeze.
“I told Ariel you would come. Thank you, Captain Walsh.”
“It is our duty and pleasure, Mrs. Tuckman.” Remaining in the saddle, he introduced her to Dan. They continued to the old mining camp. They stopped a mile out, and Arvel handed Dan an overstuffed carpet bag. Dan opened it and looked into the bag.
“You are kidding me, Arvel.”
Arvel laughed. “Come on, Dan, it is for the welfare of the girl. And you agreed, as a good lawyer, I expect you to honor your contract.”
“You owe me, partner. You owe me.” Dan dismounted and began to change.
“There’s paint in a couple of tins in there, too.”
“For what?”
“Well, your face, of course.”
In short order, Dan was in full Sioux regalia. He wore a buckskin beaded shirt, a headdress and breastplate. He looked up at Arvel. “Can I just wear my trousers?”
“Sure, that’ll be fine. You look…”
“Like an idiot. Where did you get all this junk?”
“No, no, you look very authentic. And I got it from the Bisbee Opera House. And, my friend, I put in a good word about you to Yum-Yum.” Dan brightened and then thought of how Arvel could possibly make matters worse for him.
“What did you do, Arvel?”
“Oh, not much.” He pulled an envelope out of his vest pocket and handed it to Dan. “Here is a box seat ticket for tomorrow’s show, and a note to get you backstage at the end of the performance. You make certain to clean up nice, Dan. I built you up pretty good.”
Dan was pleased, but would not show it to Arvel. He thought he might be able to extract more out of this deal. “What am I to do with the paint?”
“Well, I don’t know. How did your ancestors wear it?”
“I have no idea, Arvel. They all starved to death on a reservation. I never saw or wore any of this.”
By now Tuckman understood Arvel’s plan. He got off his horse and took the paint. He placed lines on each side of Dan’s face, as he had seen on the cover of one of his daughter’s dime novels. He finished and stood back, admiring his work.
“Well?” He looked at Arvel.
“Perfect, Mr. Tuckman. Are there any Indian Jews?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can we please get on with this? I feel like an ass.”
“Not so fast.” Arvel removed the saddle from Dan’s horse, and motioned for Tuckman to proceed with the paint. He painted a circle around the horse’s right eye, then put a red hand print on the horse’s rump. Arvel
tied a feather to the mane, just below the animal’s right ear.
“Damn it, now the horse looks the fool. This paint better come off, Arvel, or you will be finding me another mount.”
“I’m almost certain it will come off, Dan. No worries!”
“Almost certain?”
“Well, pretty certain. At least I know it’ll eventually wear off.” Arvel thought for a moment. “No, it will wash off. I’m sure.” He wet a finger and rubbed a spot where Tuckman had just finished applying a red design. He looked back at the horse and then at his hand. He shrugged.
Arvel and Ariel got onto their saddles. Dan jumped up onto his horse’s back. He complained the entire way about riding bare back. “Didn’t you learn anything about being an Indian?”
Dan mimicked Arvel’s voice: “Didn’t you learn anything about being an Indian…Didn’t you learn anything about sailing a ship when your ancestors came over on the Mayflower?”
Arvel laughed. “Mr. Tuckman, does your daughter know Latin?”
“No, she does not, Captain.” He looked on, confused at the question.
“Good.” He winked at Dan. “Very good.”
They came into view of one of the more complete shacks at the abandoned mine. Smoke poured from the chimney. It was coming on dusk. Dan peeled off and rode south. Arvel and Tuckman dismounted and hobbled the horses. Arvel advised Tuckman to take up a position on a high rock, overlooking the shack. He then took out his Henry rifle and tied a white flag to the end of the barrel, and called out to the girl.
“Miss Tuckman?”
The door of the shack opened slightly. “What do you want?”
“I am a Captain of the Arizona Rangers. I have been sent by your parents.”
“Go back, Captain. I have no intention of going with you. Please do not make me shoot, Captain. I am a capable shot.”
“I am not here to make you go back.”
“You aren’t?”
Tuckman grabbed Arvel’s arm. He whispered, “What are you doing?”
Arvel pulled away, “It is okay, Mr. Tuckman. Just let me play this out.”
He turned his attention back to the girl, “No. I just need to talk to you. About an Indian chief in these parts. Have you seen him yet?”
“I have seen no Indians, Captain.” She spoke haltingly.
“Okay, that is good. May I come up and have a parlay, Miss Tuckman? I have some important information about this Indian. You are on his burial ground. It is very important I warn you.”
She was silent for several moments. Then he heard her call out. “Okay.”
“I am coming up unarmed, Miss Tuckman. I need you to come out the same way.”
“This better not be a trick.”
Arvel smiled at Ariel Tuckman. “She’s a clever girl.”
He snorted. “Lokh in kop.”
“I’ll take that as an insult.” He called out to the shed. “No tricks.” He handed Tuckman his Henry rifle. “I am coming out now. Please meet me halfway.”
The girl slowly emerged. She had put together a rather impressive cowboy outfit. She had dutifully removed her gun belt and carried no shooting irons.
Arvel approached her slowly. He held his hands in the air. He beckoned her to sit on the remnants of a trough. He sat across from her. He removed a packet of cigarettes and offered her one. She nearly refused, then thought better of it. A female cowboy should smoke, and it was time she did.
He lit the cigarette and looked off in the distance. She thought certain she heard cursing in Yiddish. She inhaled the smoke and began coughing.
“Okay?” Arvel leaned forward, ready to offer assistance.
“I am fine, thank you. Just not used to this brand. I prefer a different kind of tobacco.” She looked off again. “My father did not accompany you, did he?”
“No, no. I am alone. I was contacted by your father to find out if there was anything he had to do, legally, to cut the ties.” Arvel smoked pensively, looking about, a little nervously. He pulled a flask from his pocket and took a drink. He wiped the rim and handed it to the girl. She hesitated again, then took the vessel, and threw her head back. The strong drink burned her throat, and she thought that she might vomit.
Suddenly, Arvel jumped up, pulling his Navy Colt. He looked around suspiciously. “Did you hear that?”
“No! Hear what?” The girl looked about nervously.
Arvel sat down. “Okay, then.” He took another drink and smoked some more.
“What ties, Captain?”
“What?” Arvel was distracted. He continued to peer into the shadows which darkened as evening turned into nightfall. A strange animal sound could be heard off in a distance. Not quite a coyote, more like a human imitating the sound of a creature from the wild.
Arvel held up his hand, commanding the girl to be quiet. “He is coming.”
“Who?”
“Shh!”
“What is it, Captain?” The girl’s eyes widened.
Arvel froze; he turned his ear toward the sound. “It’s him!” He whispered. “Dear sweet Jesus, It is him! Don’t move.” He pulled his revolver out of the holster again. He lunged forward, stood up and emptied the gun into the night. He dropped the hammer a couple more times on empty chambers. Then peered off into the darkness.
Suddenly, behind him appeared the great warrior. The girl screamed, “There he is.”
“Where?” Arvel looked everywhere but behind him.
“There, there!”
The Indian chief jumped from his horse and pounced on Arvel, knocking the empty revolver from his hand. He held a big knife to Arvel’s throat and spoke in hushed tones: “Who dares to trespass on my land?”
The girl fell backward, onto her back, and began crab-walking toward the shed, away from the wild Indian. The Indian commanded her to stop.
Arvel cried out. “Miss Tuckman, stop! For God’s sake don’t move another inch.”
The girl froze and began to cry. Panic washed over her.
The Indian picked Arvel up, off the ground and sat him next to the girl. He raised his head and screamed into the night in a tongue the young girl could not understand. “Arvel Walsh, Vos es a stolidus ass.”
Arvel worked hard at suppressing a laugh. The girl grabbed Arvel, a death grip on his shirt. She tried to get inside his skin. “What did he say?”
“He said we are trespassing on his ancient burial grounds, and we must pay.”
Dan began to enjoy the drama. He started dancing in circles, crying out to the heavens.
She whispered, eyes fixed on the chief, “I thought this belonged to the mining company.” Arvel looked at the girl for a moment, then back at the wild savage.
“It did, but they had to abandon it.” He thought hard about what to say next. “This chief killed all the workers.”
Dan called out again, in Latin, “Who is this girl who boldly tramples the bones of my ancestors?” He pointed the big knife at her.
“He wants to know who you are.”
“Tell, tell him, that I am a woman cowboy and am just passing through. I will be gone tomorrow.”
Arvel relayed the message. The Indian became furious. He kicked dirt about the ground and screamed more loudly into the night. “You will owe me one hundred dollars extra for this performance, Arvel Walsh!”
“How does he know your name?”
Arvel began to shrug, then thought better of it. His mind was racing to come up with an answer. “He, he knows all the whites of this territory. He is not only a chief but a shaman. He has magical powers.
The Indian looked up into the heavens. “Magical powers to drain your bank account.”
Arvel suppressed a laugh. “That’s for certain.”
“What? What did he say?
Arvel looked at the girl. He wanted to end the performance before it was too dark, and before Dan figured any other forms of compensation.
“He requires a blood sacrifice.”
“No!”
“I am afraid so.
He says that the people living down below. The ones with the queer dark clothes and strange religious rituals must die.”
“That’s my family, Captain!” Tears welled up in her eyes and Arvel wondered if he was not overdoing it. “That can’t be, Captain. Tell him I am sorry. Tell him to kill me, but please leave my family alone.” She began sobbing.
Dan stopped and looked down at the girl. The sound came to him automatically: “Awe.”
The Mule Tamer Page 11
