Doc reached into the cabinet to pull out a bottle and two glasses. He poured the whiskey, then handed one of the glasses over to Falcon.
“Here’s to old times,” Doc said, lifting his glass.
Falcon returned the salute. Then, stepping over to the cabinet, he examined Doc’s collection of photographs.
“That was my mother,” Doc said, pointing to the photograph of an attractive woman who was sitting with the stiffness so necessary for photographs.
“And that one is ... ?” Falcon asked, pointing to the photo of a younger woman.
“Big Nose Kate,” Doc said.
“Oh, yes, I thought I recognized her. Whatever happened to her?”
Doc picked up the picture and looked at it for a while, then put it down.
“She went back to whorin’,” he said dismissively.
“Sorry.”
“Hell, it don’t matter none to me. If she can still sell her ass, more power to her, I say.”
“Here’s one of Wyatt, I see.”
“Yes.”
“You ever hear from Wyatt?”
“From time to time,” Doc said. “I think he’s out in California, or maybe up in Alaska now. You know how he moves around.”
“Yes,” Falcon said.
Part of Wyatt’s moving around, Falcon knew, had to do with the fact that he had revenged the murder of one brother and the crippling of another by going on a killing rampage that didn’t end until every one of his adversaries were dead.
“So, do you stay in MacCallister all the time now, or do you still move around a bit?” Doc asked.
“I move around.”
“Do you ever get back down to Arizona?”
“I haven’t been there for a while.”
“Would you like to go back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I would someday. If I had a reason to go.”
“What if you owned a silver mine? I mean one that actually had silver. Would that be reason enough for you to go back to Arizona?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps it would. Why do you ask? Do you have something in mind?”
“It just so happens that I own a silver mine down there in the Cababi Mountains, near Oro Blanco.”
“Do you now?” Falcon said, smiling. “How is it doing?”
“I can answer that in two words,” Doc said. “It isn’t.”
“I thought you said it actually had silver.”
“It does, and that’s the hell of it. Truth is, I think there’s probably ten times more silver still there than has been taken out. But I can’t get anyone I trust to run it.”
“That can be a problem.”
“How would you like to own the mine?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’ll sell it to you for five thousand dollars.”
“Doc, if, as you say, there is still a lot of silver in the mine, you know it is worth more than five thousand dollars. Why would you sell it so cheaply?”
“What good is a lot of money to me now?” Doc asked. “Look, I figure I’ve got no more than six months left to live ... a year at the absolute most.” He took in the room with a wave of his arm. “I’m running out of money, and when I can no longer pay for this room, I’m going to be kicked out. I’ll wind up in the poorhouse.”
For the first time since he had known Doc, Falcon saw a little bit of fear in Doc’s eyes.
“I don’t want to wind up in a poorhouse, Falcon,” he said. “Five thousand dollars would keep me in comfort, here in this room, for the rest of my life.”
Falcon stroked his chin. He had more money now than he would ever spend. He did not need a silver mine. He would rather just give Doc five thousand dollars and be done with it, but he knew that Doc wouldn’t take a handout from him.
Falcon smiled.
“Sure, why not?” he said. “I’ve been looking for a reason to go back down there anyway.”
“Thank you, Falcon,” Doc said in genuine appreciation. “Thank you more than I can say.”
“I’ll go to the bank tomorrow and cash a draft, then bring you the money.”
“No hurry, I’m not dying tonight. Oh, by the way, speaking of dying ... you do remember your run-in with the Apaches last time you were down there, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” Falcon said. “I remember.”
“Good, because you damn well better believe that the Apaches remember. So, look out for yourself while you are down there, okay?”
“I will,” Falcon promised.
In his room that night, Falcon recalled his encounter with Naiche, the last chief of the free Chiricahuas. Falcon and Mickey Free had fought the Apache in the Apache way, scalping those they killed, poking out their eyes, and carving out their hearts. Falcon had sent fear into the hearts of the Indians. They had never encountered such savagery from white men before. They were accustomed to being the ones who struck terror into the hearts of their enemies; now that terror was being returned, many times over.
At first, even the whites were put off by the ferocity of Falcon’s campaign. But when he tracked down the Indian butchers and killed them, one by one, the raids on white ranches, farms, and travelers stopped, and Falcon brought peace back to southern Arizona.
As he drifted off to sleep that night, he wondered if anyone in Arizona would remember him.
CHAPTER 2
The dancers were making their own music to accompany their dances. Bells were attached to a strap of leather at their ankles and as they danced about, the bells jingled. They also had bells strapped to their knees and elbows. The dancers moved to and fro around the sitting council, accompanied in their dancing by the singing of children.
Ha-nam-a yo-o ya hai huh-wurt ...
Far on the desert ridges stands the cactus
Ka-na-hu-va muh-muhk
lo the blossoms swaying
Ka-cho-wuch-chi ka-no-ya ki-moi
to and fro the blossoms swaying, swaying.
When the dancers, and the young Apache children, were finished, Keytano stood from his position at the head of the council and smiled at them.
“You dance and sing well,” he said to them. “And you have brought joy to the hearts of all who heard you.”
After the surrender of Geronimo most of the Chiricahua, who were deemed the most aggressive and warlike of all the Apache, were removed from Arizona. What remained were the Western Apache, Mescalero, Jicarilla, and Lipan. The Apache occupied some two million acres of reservation and designated land.
They were not required to stay with their particular band, but could move around freely within the area designated for them. As a result, many of the subgroups began to blend, and the Cababi Mountain settlement was, in fact, a mixture of Western Apache, Jicarilla, and what few remained of the Chiricahua.
Keytano was the leader of the Cababi Mountain settlement. He was a nephew of the great Indian leader Cochise and first cousin to both Geronimo and Nachie.
Since the capture of Geronimo, a condition of relative peace had existed. But now that peace was being strained by the steady encroachment of the white man. More and more white men were wandering into land that had been promised to the Apache by treaty. And most damaging of all, a tributary from the Santa Cruz River had been dammed up by some of the white settlers, thus depriving the Cababi settlement of its water. The lack of water was having disastrous effects.
Then, recently, three white prospectors who were trespassing on Indian land had been killed, and that had raised the tension between the whites and the Apache. The situation had reached the point where it was necessary for Keytano to call a council to discuss what should be done.
“They put their cattle on our land, and they roam our mountains looking for the white and yellow metal,” Chetopa said. Chetopa was several years younger than Keytano and, lately, had been challenging the older chief for leadership.
“Chetopa, I know that it was you and some of your followers who killed the white men,” Keytano said. “By your foolishness, you have brought danger to all of our people.”