will move the camp to Skull Mountain where they cannot find us; besides, the hunting is become poor here. Tomorrow we will leave. Tonight the boy can stay with his mother.”
That night Spotted Bird was tended by the women as Chaps set beside her in the wickiup. Before the morning the old woman stopped breathing. Chaps ran to get Talks A Lot who was asleep outside on a blanket, “Come quick, the woman has quit breathing!”
When they got to the hut, the women were all crying, and carrying on beside Spotted Bird. Talks A lot knelt down, and felt for a pulse. He stood, and laid his hands on Chaps shoulders, “Spotted Bird could not rest to go to our ancestors until she saw you…now she has the rest that she needed…such is the circle of life.”
“Lawsy me, it sure has been some doins’ these last days, I can’t hardly take it all in.” Chaps said, as they walked out into the early morning light.
“Look! A wild dove has lit in the camp. It is a good omen. Come with me, it is time to move the camp.” Talks A lot said, as he headed toward the horse herd. Chaps got his rope, and caught up his three horses. He threw his saddle on the gelding, and as soon as he stepped into the saddle the horse began bucking. The people that saw it began laughing, and whooping as Chaps rode the horse to a stand still.
After the show was over, the people carried Spotted Bird to a place in the rocks, and laid her there, then almost as one the people turned their backs on the place, and began preparing to move the camp.
Chaps found a piece of sage, and laid it on his Indian mothers body. He whimpered a little at the unfairness of life, and then followed the people.
By mid morning the tribe was on the move, scattered over a quarter mile as they threaded their way over the desert. They kept getting higher into the mountains, and on the fourth day they arrived at a valley with a stream flowing through the trees. They crossed the stream, and began making camp on the other side.
Chaps found a place among the trees, and laid his saddle at the foot of a large pine. Talks A Lot walked over, “You can stay in my wickiup when I get it built.”
“I just as soon sleep outside; wickiups leak when it rains anyhow.”
“That is true, but not much.”
“Well, I got my tarp to throw over me. What I need is some .45 ammo for this pistol; I aim to do me some practicing with it. I got some money.”
“There is a Mexican mission with a store about a days ride south, I could go with you. They may sell you bullets there, but why do you need them?”
“I gotta go back, and settle up with some men, but first I got to get a sight better with this pistol.”
The next day he rode about a mile away from camp, and began to practice drawing, and firing the gun. He expended what ammo he had, and then the following day he and Talks A Lot rode for the Mexican outpost. He was able to buy ten boxes of ammo to fit the pistol, and a box for the rifle.
After that he would practice drawing the weapon without firing it. He found that the holster was way too high on his waist, so he lowered the holster by adding a piece of leather to it so that it hung just where his hand would brush the butt of the pistol when he walked.
After that he found that he could draw a lot faster. He found a rock sitting atop another rock about the size of a mans chest. He put another rock about the size of his head, then he set his hat on that. He drew, and hit the chest rock the first time. He pointed the pistol like he was pointing his finger, and soon it felt natural to him.
Talks A Lot went with him one day to practice, and stood and watched as he drew the gun and fired, “Soon you will leave us, is this not true?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Why do you have to go; you are among people who care for you?”
“They kilt my boss, and then run me into the ground Talks A Lot. I just can’t let that slide. Besides, I don’t really belong here either; I don’t guess I belong anywhere.”
“Where ever you go, I wish you well my brother.”
Chaps laid his hands on the shoulders of the Indian, “And I you my brother.”
Two days later he bid goodbye to the Indians, and threaded his way back north, following the trail the travois had made over the Sonora desert.
Two weeks later he came to the Rio Grande, and urged the gelding into the water, and a day about sundown he rode into the sleepy little town of Shafter that lay along the banks of the river. He heard music coming from the saloon, and a dog followed him along a bit, but no one came out of any of the buildings. He rode past some of the merchant’s houses, the horse’s hoofs making a soft chuffing sound in the sand.
He pulled up to the gate of the Driskel ranch about ten o’clock that night, and rode carefully until he came to the cottonwood trees that surrounded the ranch house. He tied the horse to a tree, and crept up to the light coming through the window. He looked through the dirty glass, and could make out Buckeye, and Dover bent over some papers. He walked softly around the house, and knocked gently on the door, then stepped back.
Some one shoved a rifle barrel through the door, and Chaps called out, “Hey, don’t shoot me with that thing!”
Buckeye peaked around the door, “Whose out here?”
“Its me, Chaps, you darned galoot!”
“Chaps?
“Yeah.”
Buckeye grabbed him, and hugged him, “Dover…its Chaps!”
“Well I’ll be darned!” Dover exclaimed as he stuck his head out the door, “Boy, we thought you was daid fer sure!”
“Well, I ain’t dead Dover, but I’m dang near starved to death for some of your beans.”
“If you eat Dovers beans, you’ll fart yoreself to death, get on in here, and let us look at you to make shore you ain’t a hant.”
The two boys hugged again when they got into the living room, and Dover hugged them both.
Dover got the oil lamp off the desk, trimmed it down to very low light, and set it on a table in the living room.
“What you trimming the light so low for Dover?” Chaps asked.
“Fraid some of them crooks from the double J will back shoot us for starters.” Buckeye said. “You shouldn’t have come back here Chaps. Why did you anyhow?”
“Cause I don’t take kindly to some sum bitches running me into the ground that’s why, I darned near kilt a good horse getting away from’em. I been living with the Mescalero apaches for two months.”
“You don’t say? Mescalero huh? How did you do that?” Dover asked.
“Well sir; it turns out I sort of belong to them I reckon. This guy by the name of Talks A Lot found me, and takes me to my Indian mother, It’s the darnedest thing you ever heard of. Some of the Apaches was wanting to fight, but the chief said no, they would move the camp, which was wise since if they fought, the soldiers would end up killin’ them all I reckon.”
“Them Mescaleros would be a hard bunch to kill, they gotta find them first I reckon.” Dover said.
“Say what you boys still doing here? I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”
“Mr. Driskel willed us the ranch with part of the will stating that old Dover here was to be taken care of till we put the sod over him. So we been sittin’ on our own property, carrying on the same as always, cept Morton who owns the double J says it’s his. The sheriff in Shafter says he can’t do anything to help us, but he was willin’ to ride out here with Morton, and put on a big show, but when we showed him the papers he backed off a little. Morton just kept stompin’ around yelling it warn’t legal.”
“You mean we don’t have to leave our home?”
“Nope, cept maybe in a casket. Me and Dover had made up our minds to just fight them till they kilt us.” Buckeye looked away.
“Don’t Morton come to the saloon on Saturday night, and drink with his men?”
“Yeah, they been doin’ the same thing fer years. So what?”
“Oh, nothin’. Well, I’m beat boys, just show me a bed, and I’ll go make love to it.”
“In the back room there, but I don’t know whether we should
allow someone filthy as you in our ranch house.”
“Stuff it Buckeye, you ought to have to sleep with the hogs.”
“One of us’ll stand guard till morning boy, you go ahead and get you some shuteye.” Dover said, and picked up his rifle to walk outside.
Chaps walked outside the next morning, stopped on the porch, and pulled on his boots, then strapped on the forty five caliber pistol.
“Where’ed you get that darned thing at Chaps?” Buckeye asked as he followed behind him with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Want some coffee?”
“I reckon I got plumb out of the habit Buckeye, it may take me a while to get back to drinkin’ it.”
“You didn’t tell me where you got the hog leg.”
“Dover slipped it to me when I ran.”
“I didn’t know Dover had one.”
“Well, there’s a lot of thing we don’t know about Dover ain’t there?”
“Come to think of it, yeah, they is, I never thought much about it before.”
“So who have we got if it comes to a fight with the double J?”
“Well, there’s me, and you, and Dover, but he can’t really see to hit anything. Then there’s the old Mexican who mucks out the barns.