I dug a pit and built a small fire near the corral. I didn’t want to go back in the shack again, at least not for a while. I cut venison steaks from a deer Yellow Boy had taken earlier in the day and put them on skewers to cook slowly over the fire. Then I cut some potatoes, put them on to boil, and made a pot of coffee. My stomach felt bottomless and reminded me I hadn’t eaten much of anything in three or four days.
Yellow Boy soon came and sat by the fire, but neither of us spoke. Somehow, it didn’t seem appropriate to say anything. The smell of fat dripping in the fire and watching the steaks turn dark with flavor made us ravenous. We pulled the meat off the skewers, still hot and dripping, and wolfed our food down like starving men. When we finally sat back to drink our coffee, Yellow Boy offered me a cigar. I shook my head because my throat still felt raw from the last one. He lighted his, blew smoke to the four directions, and studied my face as I watched the fire.
A little later, I cleaned up our cooking site and covered over the fire pit. We left no sign of anyone being around the cabin and kept the animals out of sight up the canyon. We took our weapons and spread our blankets up on the ledge where we’d watched the shack when Stone had come back to kill Rufus and me. For a long while, we lay back and watched bolts of lightning being pitched back and forth between the clouds collecting over the Floridas and south toward Mexico.
Lying there, I began to have doubts about the rightness of what we had done. Revenge left me feeling hollow, a vessel with no bottom. It had left one of the men who saved me as a little boy dead. Now it was keeping me from my family, and it had placed a seed of desire in my soul to kill again.
“Brother,” I said.
“Ummph? Que es, Hombrecito?”
“We’ve killed those who murdered my father. You’ve cut off the head of Red Tally. I shot Jack Stone and smashed in his head. You killed Bentene. The others with Stone, we killed in Dog Canyon. They are no more, but the price has been high. I would give them all back their lives if Rufus could still be alive. This thing we have done, was it a thing that had to be done?”
He was quiet for a long time, not moving. I expected to hear him snoring at any moment, but after a while, he rose up on one elbow and spoke to me, looking straight into my eyes. “What is worse than death, Hombrecito?”
My mind was blank. “I can think of nothing worse than death.”
“Ummph. You very young, but have seen death many times now. Still, you do not know? I tell you there are many things worse than death. To be separated from your Power, that is worse than death. To live in fear, that is worse than death. To live without honor, that is worse than death. To have no courage, that is worse than death. To leave your family to mercy of wolves, that is worse than death. Comprende?”
“Sí, comprendo. Perhaps what you speak is true. I do not know.”
He nodded and said, “You haven’t lived enough to know this is true. It is true. Your Power is your guide. It shows you the light in life. If you find your Power and are not true to the vision it gives, the light goes. Maybe you stay alive, but your life is dead. Fear comes and stays. Fear is a wolf. It always hunts you. Always in darkness it waits for you. If you run, it comes after you. No let you live as un hombre lives. It runs from the shadows and tears you to pieces. Then you live as coward, bent over with your burden. You cannot stand straight and face sun. Your honor, Hombrecito, is your will to keep the law you make for yourself, law your father gives you, and his father before him. Honor keeps you a man. It says to the wolf, ‘You have no power over me.’ Without honor, no light is in your life. Without honor, no peace is in your spirit. Walk a straight line, and let no man push you from it. Always keep your honor.”
He paused for a moment, probably to give me time to absorb what he’d said. I frowned slightly, wondering exactly how I was to be sure I always kept my honor. I thought it had to be more than just following my instincts.
Then he said, “Other men must know you have no fear. Other men must know you will not let them dishonor you. If they strike you or your family, they must know you will strike them, even if it means dying. There is no greater value than life lived with honor. Men speak of courage and admire it. What is courage? Courage is to know the wolf, but keep your honor even if it means death. Su padre kept his honor. He kept his courage. He lost his life for his honor. He lived well. You are proud of him. This I know.”
I listened, almost stunned as Yellow Boy spoke. I’d never heard him say so much at one time, but I felt his words resonate deep within my being. He sat up fully, placed a hand on my shoulder, and said, “When Tally, Stone, and Bentene took your father’s life, there was no turning from your honor. They had to die, too. That is justice. That is law my father taught me, and his father before him. It is the law Rufus knew. It is law even the Indah, the white man, believes but chooses not to follow. White man gives burden of his honor to others to carry. You didn’t do that. Rufus didn’t do that, and I didn’t do that. We pay debt ourselves. Now Rufus has gone to grandfathers. There are many things worse. He had rather be with grandfathers than for his friend to live without honor. That, too, is my belief.”
He sat there silent for a while, then lay back and looked up at the stars. I assumed he’d go to sleep soon, but with my grief, memories, and the awareness of decisions I had to make, I knew I wouldn’t sleep anytime soon. A few minutes passed, and Yellow Boy asked, “Will you find your mother now, Hombrecito?”
“I don’t think I can for a while yet. If those men we killed are found, riders will come looking for us, maybe even with the sheriff. They’ll figure out Rufus and I suckered them into Dog Canyon to ambush them, and then they’ll want payback, regardless of why we did it. Rufus told us Stone was liked and respected by most of the little ranchers. They won’t stand for letting somebody get away with killing him.”
I sat there trying to think of what Rufus would want us to do next. Soon the spirit of Rufus spoke to me. “Let’s saddle Tally’s horse and turn him loose down on the edge of the Van Patten ranch. When he comes in without Tally, they’ll think he was thrown or killed by somebody on this side of the Organs. I doubt there’ll be much investigation of his disappearance because he comes and goes all the time anyway, and Rufus said most folks were afraid of him. They’ll be glad to see him gone.” I paused a moment and added, “There’s also a score I have to settle with Oliver Lee before I can go back and face my mother.”
Yellow Boy brought himself partway up again, propping on one elbow, and said, “You not strong enough to get Lee yet. You come to Mexico with me. Stay with the same People in the Blue Mountains (Sierra Madre) as my woman, my second wife. No Indah knows they hide there. You safe there. I teach you more. You learn to shoot pistola. Maybe you find wife, too. I know good woman for you.”
I sighed and said, “I’ll think on it. I know it’s a good thing to do. But I’ll have no wife for a long time. A woman will only slow me down or hold me back.”
Yellow Boy grinned. “You think muy bien, Hombrecito. You come with me.”
I sighed again and said, “I just haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with my life yet.”
Yellow Boy’s brow wrinkled. He said, “You live your life. You make your honor. You make body strong and have courage. You fight, live as man, and die as man. What mas is there?” He pulled himself back to a full sitting position, his eyes boring into mine, and waited for an answer.
I said, “Among the Apache, don’t some men choose to be warriors? Don’t some choose to be hunters or to make weapons? Don’t some choose to work at the sawmill with Doc Blazer? In the white man’s world, there are many things a man can choose as his work. I must choose mine.”
Yellow Boy shook his head. “They don’t choose. Their Power chooses them. My Power told me to be warrior, a killer of witches, a killer of evil like Tally and Stone. My Power told me to go where I want. My Power says bullet won’t kill me, so I sang, knowing Tally couldn’t kill me with his bullets before I sent him without eyes to the grandfat
hers. My Power says I should live free with wife in the Blue Mountains and with her sister in Mescalero. My Power chooses how I live my life. My Power helped me find you and make you warrior, too.”
“I don’t know this Power, brother. How will I find it?”
“Come with me to the Blue Mountains. Fast until weak with hunger. Pray on mountains. Feel cold wind, rain, and snow. Feel hot sun on your body. Your Power will find you. You will know.”
I stared at his dark eyes and the sharp outlines of shadows on his face etched by moonlight. Either I had to go with him or go back to my mother. I couldn’t face her yet, and I didn’t want to be hanged for killing Stone. I knew I could hide out for maybe a year with Yellow Boy in the Sierra Madre. Things would be calm enough by then for me to come back to my family and settle with Oliver Lee. I thought of the horse head on the watch fob resting in my pocket. There really wasn’t much choosing to do, so I said, “I’ll go with you.”
He grinned and said, “Bueno. You’ll find your Power in the Blue Mountains. We rest until sun leaves mañana, then vamonos.” With that, he lay back down and went to sleep.
I lay awake thinking about what he’d said earlier about honor. I knew what he told me was true. I wanted the burden of courage and of honor. I wanted to be a man, a man like Yellow Boy, courageous and honorable. I purposed I would never give my burden of honor to someone else, and I would submit myself to whatever harsh training Yellow Boy thought I needed. There was some satisfaction in the feel of the hard rock shelf under my body as I drifted off to sleep. I imagined Oliver Lee sleeping in a soft bed and thought, When I return from Mexico, there’s going to be a final accounting, and I’ll return as my mother’s knight.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. Michael Farmer, a member of the Western Writers of America, learned about the rich mosaic of historic figures depicted in his books while living in Las Cruces, New Mexico, for fifteen years. He has a PhD in physics and has conducted atmospheric research with laser based instruments he developed. He has published short stories in anthologies, won awards for essays, and published essays in magazines. His first novel, Hombrecito’s War, won a Western Writers of America Spur Award Finalist for Best First Novel in 2006 and was a New Mexico Book Award Finalist for Historical Fiction in 2007. His other novels include: Hombrecito’s Search; Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright: The Betrayals of Pancho Villa; Conspiracy: The Trial of Oliver Lee and James Gililland; and Killer of Witches, The Life and Times of Yellow Boy, Mescalero Apache, 1860–1951, Book 1.
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