The graves were side by side. Sean and Hank laid to rest as partners in life and death…not something Darby wanted to think about this early in the morning.
The sun had barely brightened the sky when Indigo broke camp and urged Darby up on the horse. Branna pawed impatiently, ready to go. Darby figured he’d better get used to it.
“We’re wasting daylight,” Indigo said. “The more distance we cover before the day gets hot will be better for you.”
But on the way out of town they stopped at the Boot Hill cemetery. Darby stood, hat in hand, looking down at the graves. Sean had affected his life since he was a small boy, and even after death. Reaching beyond the grave, bringing him here to…to what?
“I don’t even know why Sean wanted me here. I don’t know anything about ranching or mining…why am I here?”
Indigo put his hand on Darby’s shoulder. “In many ways this isn’t about you but about Sean’s obligations to other people. Let’s go out to the house, I need to show you some things.”
Branna followed along behind the wagon as Indigo took the road out of town. North, they were headed back on the route the stagecoach had taken the day before. But long before they reached the first Modoc corral Indigo turned off the road onto a trail heading west.
Rock, sand, and brush for miles with only a glimpse of hills in the distance. The land looked desolate and as the hours rolled by Darby grew anxious, what was he doing out here? His eyes scanned the brush on either side of the trail looking for threats.
“What are you looking for?” Indigo asked.
“Snakes, coyote…does anything live out here?”
“Mister Coyote hides in the bush during the day, they’re nocturnal creatures. Rattlesnakes like to sun themselves on the rocks or hide under them. Trust Branna, she’ll know when one is around. As for living out here, the desert is teeming with life you just can’t see…but most of it lives near water.”
“There is no water,” Darby said.
“We’ll see about that,” Indigo laughed.
They ate jerky and drank water on the move because Indigo said they should not stop. The hills grew closer and Darby figured that was their destination when he saw the trees. After most of the day in the sun they seemed a most welcome sight. The trail turned before they reached the trees and Darby was disappointed.
“Trees…does that mean water?” He asked.
“Have patience,” Indigo replied and finally the trail led them towards the trees. “The mesquite is about the largest tree on this land, but you will find oaks and willows in places like this.”
Darby was digesting this when they rode into the trees and came to the river. Indigo drove the wagon right into the shallows and the mules stopped to drink. Darby dismounted and Branna edged into the water to drink her fill. Mosh jumped off the wagon and rolled in the water to cool off.
“The San Pedro River,” Indigo said.
“I didn’t see any rivers on the way down from Tucson.”
“No doubt, this water comes up from Mexico. This is one of the few fords a wagon can use without sinking in the sandy bottom. But the river is not deep so a man on horseback can cross most anywhere, but I don’t want to get our supplies wet.”
Darby moved upstream of the animals and splashed water over his face and arms. Indigo climbed down off the wagon and squatted, splashing water over his head. He looked up at the hills which were barely a mile away at this point and Darby followed his gaze.
“Indian land over there,” Indigo said. “Apache land.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Apache can be dangerous if you cross their land without permission. The white man will find little welcome.”
“So…how far to the ranch?” Darby asked.
“Over there,” Indigo said, pointing to the other river bank.
“What? You said that was Indian land.”
“It is, and they’re fiercely protective of it. Mount up, I’m getting hungry.”
Indigo drove the wagon through the shallow waters and up the sloping bank on the other side. The trail was clearer over here and the mesquite gave way to rocky ground. Darby couldn’t take his eyes off the hills and that’s why he saw the Indian seated on a horse up on the ridge.
“Apache,” Darby said and pointed.
Indigo looked up and smiled. “Well, so it is….and look there are others.”
The others he was referring to were a half dozen Indians on horseback blocking the trail ahead. Some of them were holding rifles but they weren’t covered in war paint or dressed in native clothing. In fact they looked to be wearing clothes much like Darby had on. Indigo drove the wagon forward and stopped to dismount. The Apache did the same and they all came together in the middle of the trail.
“Indigo, you have returned,” One of the Apache said in English.
“Itza-chu, good to see you…how’s your mother?” Indigo replied.
“Okay, she ask about you. Chappo said you are coming today.”
“Did he guess or has he been divining the bones again?”
Itza-chu laughed. “Both. So…this him?”
“Forgive me,” Indigo said. “Darby O’Brien, this is Great Hawk, Chief of the Verde Apache.”
Darby raised his hat. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Come down from horse,” Itza-chu said, “I don’t bite you.”
Darby dismounted as the others laughed.
“I think he was afraid of being scalped,” Indigo said.
“You have not told him?” Great Hawk said.
Indigo shook his head. “There wasn’t time.”
“Fine, he is here now.” Great Hawk stepped forward and shook Darby’s hand. “Welcome, Mister O’Brien. Shall we eat?”
Indigo mounted the wagon and everyone else walked up the trail leading their horses. It occurred to Darby that all his reading about Native Americans had only misled his thinking. These seemed like good people, and except for their heritage, little different than the other hard working men he’d experienced in life.
There was smoke wafting through the trees and the smell of something cooking. The ranch was nothing like he expected, but then everything else he’d been thinking was wrong, too. The house was not some great big wooden structure. Instead it was a low stone building with a strange looking roof.
Great Hawk saw him looking and nodded. “Sean make this house, very smart man.”
“You knew my uncle?”
“All knew him. He was Apache friend…we miss him. Come, unsaddle horses and we eat, then talk.”
“What’s that smell?” Darby asked.
“Mutton, very good. Women raise sheep, grow vegetables…keep man well fed.”
Darby unsaddled Branna and helped Indigo with the mules. The wagon was left sitting in front of the house while the mules were placed in a corral around back. Unlike the stone house, there was a barn made of wood and several sheds, along with some farming implements.
Mosh was moving around the campfires where the meat was being cooked by several women. He sat patiently until one of the women laughed and tossed him a morsel. He snatched it up and ran off towards the river.
Indigo assembled the men and Great Hawk introduced them one by one. Some of the names would take some time to learn, except for Chappo. He was an elderly man with long gray hair that lay in braids down his back. But what made him so interesting was the huge silver necklace hanging around his neck. “Chappo is one of the medicine people, a healer,” Indigo said. “Unfortunately for you he doesn’t like to speak the English he knows. On the other hand Sean tried very hard to get the others in this group to learn and most of them did pretty well.”
Darby could only agree. Great Hawk spoke English like a child, but then it was enough for him to communicate what he wanted. As for learning Apache, Darby doubted that would be possible after listening to several of the men speak to one another.
There was shade under the trees by the river and short coarse grass to sit on. Several of the women distributed plates of food. Mutton, corn and flatbread, something they had adapted from south of the border. The mutton was wrapped in the bread and dipped in a spicy tomato sauce. Hot, Darby noted, but well worth learning to eat.
The meal allowed him to observe the eight men sitting around in the circle. As he had noticed earlier, most of them dressed in shirts and pants much like he was wearing. There was a profusion of colored bandanas, most of them folded and wrapped around the head.
Their features were weather beaten and their hands looked rough and calloused. Without being told Darby realized these men were probably the miners who worked Sean’s claim…it made perfect sense. And then Indigo began to talk.
“When Sean arrived in Tombstone about five years ago he came to seek silver. He had the mining knowledge and told me he was going to spend a considerable amount of time in the mountains searching for it.
“He spent two months wandering the hills in search of signs. What I learned from him is that silver is generally a byproduct of copper mining because they are found in the same places. I asked questions and Sean gave me answers so I learned to trust him…that’s when I told him about this.
“The Indians have mined silver for centuries to make the jewelry like you can see around Chappo’s neck. Silver and gemstones were once part of the healing rituals of the medicine people until we discovered that the white man valued the metal. So once I had learned to trust Sean I brought him here to the Apache.”
Great Hawk had been quietly translating Indigo’s words for his fellow tribesmen and Darby could see them all nodding.
“Officially this place is not Apache land, but the territorial government is too weak for anyone to come check that out, but someday they might. Until then O’Brien and Apache are silent partners, this is why you were needed here.”
“Why did they need Sean if the Apache were already mining the silver?” Darby asked.
“To protect their asset they felt a white man was needed. The location of the mine has been a secret for years to keep the speculators off their land. Sean’s claim is here and across the river, all nice and legal. The Apache mine the ore and haul it over there for processing.”
“I don’t know how that’s done.”
“Sean built a smelter. They crush and melt the rock, separate out the silver and copper traces, and then cast it. The Apache trade some of it with the Navajo to the north who also make jewelry, the rest they keep for their own use.”
“But you said Sean was partners with the Apache, did he get to keep any of the silver?”
Indigo smiled as Great Hawk’s translation caught up and the Apache all laughed.
“Sean was offered a half share by the Apache and to their surprise he refused it. He told them that a man might be changed by all that wealth and that change was not always good. They negotiated and Sean settled for whatever payment the tribe decided.
“As I said, Sean was a most unusual white man. The grateful Apache protect this land, helped build him this home, and probably gave him more silver than Sean ever wanted. He used to take his share with him to town and bank it. Besides the money in the Tombstone Bank there is a much larger account in the Bank of California just waiting for you.”
Darby felt himself blush as everyone turned to look at him and see his reaction. Dammit Sean, what have you done to me? Indigo sensed his discomfort and said something in the Apache language. The men rose to their feet and one by one came over and shook Darby’s hand. When they had finished Indigo led him down to the water’s edge.
“Sean used to tell me about his nephew. He said he once took you to see the fine homes built by the wealthy men of New York City. He called it a lesson, a piece of your education. The lesson was that any man who sits back and builds his dreams on the sweat and toil of others is a failure as a human being.
“He worked as hard as any of the miners and that is what made him a friend to the Apache. But I had to show you this and tell you about the partnership before you could decide.”
“Decide what?” Darby asked.
“To stay and work with us. I’m sorry that I was so mean to you when we first met but I had to make sure you were committed to Sean’s legacy. This mine supports nearly two hundred people and the Apache have no other source of income. The O’Brien name means a lot to them and they want to continue the partnership.
“But I suppose you could travel to California and take that money home with you to New York. No one could stop you if that’s what you want to do.”
“But it isn’t mine…it’s their money. And if I stay?”
“The mine is hard work, the smelter is even harder. But Sean built it from scratch and it often needs repair. I understand your family did things like work with machinery and do the repairs. I was hoping you might have some experience doing that.”
Darby sighed. “I do if it’s anything like the forges a blacksmith uses, Sean used to build them, too.”
Indigo nodded. “Then the Apache will do whatever they can to make sure your stay here is a good experience. So tomorrow we’ll go see the operation, but I owe you a bath since you didn’t sleep in the hotel last night.”
“Yes, a bath would be nice,” Darby said. “Where would I find one?”
Indigo smiled and led him towards the wagon. “Let’s grab your things and put them in the house. I believe you’ll find a bathtub waiting for you.”
Darby eyed the building as they approached. He’d seen many houses but there was something different here. It almost looked like a fortress. The walls were about six feet high above the ground and the roof sat on top of that. It seems a little low, Darby thought, and then they came to the door.
Now he could see the steps and realized the house was halfway underground which seemed odd. Indigo paused at the top of the steps.
“As I said, Sean built this home and called it his castle,” Indigo said. “I’ve never seen a castle but they must be strong places. The walls are made of tailings from the mine. The crushed rock is pretty damn hot when they’re done with the smelting process so Sean had it dumped into molds cut in the ground.
“If you look closely you can still see traces of the copper which holds the stones together. Imagine it might take a cannonball to punch a hole through that wall. But we dug a big hole before the walls went up and Sean chose this spot because it’s above the water table. This place is warm in winter and cool in summer…I think you’ll like it.”
Indigo went down the steps and Darby followed, fascinated by the walls now that he knew what to look for. The stone castings appeared to be two feet thick, a veritable fortress indeed. Indigo pushed the door open and stepped inside.
There was only the one big room but it was filled with a table, chairs, and a bed against the wall. The floor was dirt, packed so hard it might as well have been stone. On the side away from the bed was the kitchen. Here there was dried meat hanging from the rafters and an iron stove which looked big enough to heat the entire room.
“Your bath is out back and Taza is heating the water for you,” Indigo said.
Darby eyed the one bed and then asked the inevitable question. “Do you live here, too?”
“Me? No, I live in the village when I’m here. Put your things on the bed and follow me.”
Indigo opened a back door and pointed down at the stone sill. “Be careful, this is easy to trip over.”
Darby stepped over the sill and they went up the steps which led to the rear of the house. Here Darby saw a young Apache heating a huge pot of water over an open fire and beside it sat a large copper bathtub.
“The village is through those trees alongside the river,” Indigo said, pointing out the direction. “Not too far but just enough to give you some privacy. As you saw earlier, this area is under watch by the Apache warriors…and this is Taza, the youngest of that bunch.”
Taza looked up and nodded at the mention of his name. “Great Hawk is his father and he has been teaching the younger ones some English so don’t be surprised if he understands what you say.”
Darby nodded and looked at the boy. “Hello,” he said.
Taza nodded and looked at the bathtub. “You want bath now?” Taza asked.
“The water looks hot, you better take advantage of that while you can,” Indigo said. “I’m going over to the village so take your time. I’ll see if I can rustle up some coffee for later on.”
And with that Darby was left alone with Taza. Indigo had named the boy a warrior, but he only looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old. Maybe he was older, but Darby couldn’t really tell. Taza was a few inches shorter, but then Darby had never been a tall person. The boy looked rugged and well-muscled, like all of the Apache men Darby had seen so far.
Taza knew he was being inspected and smiled. “Put water in tub now,” He said. The pot looked big, heavy, and dangerous because it was filled with boiling water. But Taza wrapped a leather pad around the handle and hefted the load with ease, pouring the water in the tub.
He carried the pot over to the well head beside the house and pumped cold water to add to the bath. Once that was poured he nodded at Darby. “Take off clothes. Wash in tub.”
There was a bench with soap, a brush, and a towel beside the tub and Darby took the hint. It was odd to be removing his clothing out here in the open, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around except Taza. He finished undressing and when he was done climbed in the tub.
The soap made good lather and Taza stood and watched while Darby scrubbed himself with the brush. Okay, perhaps the boy was curious about their manly differences but Darby was beginning to feel awkward about it. Darby wiped the suds out of his eyes and that’s when he heard the voices…women’s voices.
There was nowhere to hide his nakedness so Darby crouched in the tub hoping the suds covered his private parts. Three of the women who had been doing the cooking walked around the corner of the house and stopped to talk to Taza. Of course their eyes were fixed on Darby as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He knew he was blushing but there was nothing he could do about it.
Taza finally shooed the women away and sat down on the bench. “Sorry…women like to see white man with no clothes…bad girls.”
“Maybe I should build a fence around the bathtub if they are going to be around every time I bathe,” Darby said.
Taza smiled. “That funny…girls will come when they see Taza heat water just to look at you. They see Sean many times…maybe like what they see?”
“I do not like being naked in front of women. Perhaps it’s all right in your culture but white men do not think it is proper.”
“What is meaning of proper,” Taza asked.
“Um…acceptable, a good thing.”
“Sean not care. You ready to swim now?”
“Swim?” Darby asked.
“Yes, wash off soap in river, make clean.”
Darby looked at the retreating backs of the women and looked over at the trees. Rinsing off in the river made sense so he climbed out of the tub. He picked up his clothing and the towel and headed for the trees with Taza on his heels.
The cool water felt good after Darby placed his clothing on a rock and waded in. It seems Taza agreed as he stripped off his pants and a loincloth before he dove in, surfacing beside Darby with a smile.
“I call you Dar-by?”
“Darby. What does Taza mean?” Darby asked.
“Name is N’ta- zaan, old Apache name, come from son of Cochise. Chappo say… mean Big Man in English.”
“Indigo says you are a warrior…how does a boy become a warrior?”
“Father is chief, son must be warrior,” Taza said, touching the necklace lying against his chest. Darby had noticed the silver beads when Taza disrobed, but now he could see that there in the middle was the claw of some animal.
“Teach hunting, fighting, riding horse. I learn English and he name me warrior in manhood ceremony. I kill bear to make my place, but warrior not mean same thing like old days. Apache have peace with white man.”
“Be thankful for that,” Darby said. “So how old are you?”
“I have sixteen summers.” Taza gazed at Darby. “You have manhood…much hair on body.”
“I’m eighteen and my whole family is hairy. You must have seen Sean at some point. Did you make the bath for him?”
Taza shook his head. “No, Sean make his bath, but he swim in river with Apache boys.”
“So why did you make the bath for me?” Darby asked.
“Indigo say keep watch on you…show things.”
Darby felt a little anger at that. Did these people think he needed someone to watch over him? He glanced across the river and saw a man sitting on a horse under the trees.
“There’s a white man over there…”
“Yes, he waits for signal to ride here,” Taza said, and then he waved at the man.
The man slowly rode his horse into the river and began to cross. Taza didn’t seem alarmed but no one had mentioned another white man. Taza smiled as the man came closer.
“Yaa-ta-sai, John Mobley,” Taza called out.
“Yaa-ta-sai, Taza, son of Itza-chu,” Mobley replied.
It sounded formal, but then this man obviously understood the Apache people. Mobley was covered in road dust and sweat as if he had been on the trail for a long time. Darby was about to ask who this man was when he spied a silver star pinned to his vest. Mobley was a lawman.
“Come, swim with us,” Taza said.
Mobley nodded. “Perhaps later, I must speak with your father first.” And now that he’d explained his mission Mobley looked at Darby. “In case you’re wondering, I’m Marshal John Mobley, Arizona Rangers.
“Hello, Marshal…I’m Darby O’Brien.”
“Sean’s nephew? Good, I’m glad you’re here, they’ve been waiting a long time for you to arrive.”
“It seems everyone was expecting me,” Darby said. “I just wish someone had told me sooner that I was supposed to be here.”
Mobley smiled, and then quickly wiped the grin off his face. “I’m sorry about your uncle, I really am. He was a good man and a great friend to the Apache. Perhaps we’ll have time to talk later on but I need to go see the Chief.”
With at statement he nodded at Taza and rode on up the river bank heading towards the village.
“John Mobley is good friend of Apache,” Taza said. “He marry Mescalero woman.”
“I don’t understand…what does Mescalero mean?” Darby asked.
“Apache many peoples across land. Mescalero Apache live near sacred mountains to east of Verde Apache. John Mobley ride many miles, make friends with us and Mescalero, but he take woman from them.”
“Interesting,” Darby said. “Will Taza take a woman from another tribe of his people?”
The boy immediately blushed and dove under the water. Not a good subject, Darby thought. But Taza was a Chief’s son and perhaps the marriage would be arranged by his father. Even the Irish had done things like that in the Old Country. Thank goodness this was America.
Taza surfaced and pushed the water off his face. A handsome boy in Darby’s estimation, someone who would make a fine Chief someday. But he didn’t know how that worked, perhaps he should ask.
“We go to village now,” Taza said, “talk to John Mobley.” Darby nodded in agreement and headed for the river bank. Taza put a hand on Darby’s arm and their eyes met.
“Yes?” Darby said.
“I think you make good Apache friend like Sean,” Taza said.
Darby smiled. “Thank you.”
Then Taza looked towards the village and with a straight face said: “Put on pants before go, many women in village.”
“Good advice,” And they both started laughing.
“Come…dark soon. We sit by fire and listen,” Taza said. “John Mobley always bring bad news when he come like this. No talk, we listen to my father.”
“Do they speak in English?” Darby asked.
“John Mobley speak Apache talk…I will tell you what he say.”
“I’ll never learn your language, it’s too difficult.”
“Maybe Indigo teach you.”
“Oh, now there’s a thought…I figured he spoke your language,” Darby said.
“He speak many language…he speak Chinese.” Taza laughed. “Funny words make people laugh.”
Darby had never met anyone like these people in New York. He dried himself and slid into his pants and shirt watching Taza who didn’t seem inclined to dress and just put on his loincloth. Man in his element, Taza seemed very comfortable with his body. Darby figured if he looked like that he would be comfortable, too.
Living here was going to be so different…Darby was just beginning to understand that. He had so much to learn and he had thought Indigo would be the one to teach him. But Indigo had chosen Taza to be his guide and it seemed a good choice. A Chief’s son, the boy had to be important.
Perhaps Sean had foreseen all these things and hoped Darby would take advantage of them. The Sean these people knew was a different person than the one he remembered, but was that so bad? Choosing a man for a partner after all those years of marriage to a woman. It wasn’t like there were no women here, either in town or among the Apache.
Darby still didn’t consider himself ready for a woman…maybe he would never reach that point. He enjoyed the company of men and had been waiting for some sign or the right woman to come along. His choices would be smaller out here…the waiting wasn’t over and sometimes he wondered if he wasn’t waiting in vain.