A month without Taza would make Darby realize how close they had become and he felt the loss of his companion within days. Things were changing, evolving as Chappo might say. Three weeks after the Sunrise Dance Great Hawk had announced that a group of young men would be leaving to visit the reservation to the east, and Taza would be among them.
Darby was sure this was all a part of Great Hawk’s plan to have Taza meet a young woman and get married. They were well into the last part of July and some of the hottest days of summer, especially out in the desert scrub lands.
The journey on horseback would be a trial, although Chappo suggested the Chief would see it as a spiritual awakening for the men. Darby stood silently among the villagers watching them go. It was bound to take a week of travel just to reach their destination, riding from dawn to dusk, stopping only to rest the horses at a watering hole.
Operations at the mine had been suspended due to the heat and the miners once again resumed their roles as farmers and herders. It was important to make sure the corn and grains survived and so they hauled water from the river to nourish the crops. The sheep were sheared of their wool coats and spent a lot more time in the shaded pens down by the river.
All this was important to village life even while their leader was away. Darby knew the son was obeying his father by going, but he did not think the bride hunt would be successful, at least not for Taza. Darby just hoped it didn’t infuriate the Chief even more than he was feeling now but it probably would.
The first week Taza was gone Darby spent time with Chappo talking about the current needs of the Apache and their ancient past. As an educated man, Chappo understood the role he played in village life as a medicine man and spiritualist. But he also knew of the broader world and how ritual and ceremony was only a means to focus his healing ability for the people.
“Our view of healing is part ritual and part medicine,” Chappo explained. “Herbal medicine has been used by my people for centuries but it will not cure unless the patient believes in the healer.
“All of my wives and daughters used to gather the plants and roots for my medicine chest, but not all of them were easy to find. Indigo has been of great assistance these past few years.”
“Indigo knows about herbal medicine?” Darby asked.
“A little and he had some knowledge of what his Chinese family used for themselves. But his greatest contribution has been to visit the apothecary in Tombstone for some specific compounds I needed.” And here Chappo laughed. “Modern times call for modern methods, just don’t tell anyone.”
These conversations filled the void after Taza left, as did the reconstruction of the barn. The Apache may have lacked many of the materials necessary for a traditional barn but with their imagination it came out rather well as a large hogan for animals.
The only things missing were the hardware items needed to hang a door as the old pieces had been damaged and twisted in the heat of the fire. Indigo said they would have to get them in Tombstone so they made plans for a trip into town, and then Chappo fell ill.
He awoke one morning with a fever and chills which confined him to his bed. His granddaughter went to fetch Indigo who mixed a concoction of bitter roots and herbs, the standard native medicine for such an illness.
“What is it, do you know?” Darby asked.
“A reoccurrence of a past illness,” Indigo said. “He caught malaria when he was incarcerated in Florida.”
“Florida? He never mentioned going there.”
“It was twenty years ago after Geronimo surrendered. The U.S. Army took the old chief and nearly two hundred warriors to Fort Marion as prisoners, Chappo among them. It was there he caught malaria and nearly died of the disease, but he survived. It is still in his blood and this is the fourth time he has been sick…there is no cure.
“But I will stay and treat him. I want you to go on into town and visit the pharmacy, see if they have any of that quinine bark left, I could sure use it.”
“I’ll go,” Darby said. “Will he be all right?”
“Age is his biggest problem. But I need to make sure he doesn’t develop pneumonia which is always the most difficult thing to treat. You go on, get the hinges from Drucker and spend the night in the hotel. Oh, and don’t forget to check in with Mrs. Randolph.”
Darby smiled. “I’ll get your pipe tobacco, don’t worry.”
He left early in the morning taking Branna and one mule to carry the few supplies he would bring back. Driving the wagon had no appeal since he really didn’t have the experience. He could leave the animals at the stable overnight while he stayed in the hotel. The idea of a nice bath and a meal in the restaurant seemed to have the most appeal.
Branna knew the trail which allowed Darby some time to think about the situation with Great Hawk and Taza. He was sure the Chief would not be happy when he returned without a bride for his son. The whole situation was beyond his ability to solve…and yet.
Money was the key, Darby was sure of that. With all of the assets in his name what would the Apache do if something happened to him? He should talk to Pennington about that since he didn’t know what the law said. Could he leave a small fortune to an Indian who wasn’t even considered a citizen? John Mobley had married an Apache woman, could she inherit his estate? Darby certainly hoped so because the man had a dangerous job.
By early afternoon Darby reached the Tucson road, turned south and was soon entering the town on Allen Street. It had been nearly a month since his last visit and he didn’t expect to see much change, but there were a few differences.
A house on the edge of town had burned down and across the road a new one was under construction. The main street had always been filled with bars and dance halls, but now some of them were boarded up. What was going on?
“Miner’s strike,” the clerk at the hotel told him after he had arranged for the animals to be boarded at the stable. “Every time it happens we lose a few bars, a few jobs, and then it all comes back when they resume work. A room for one night did you say?”
“Yes, and what will I have to do to get a bath?”
“If you want a shave and a haircut to go with that you’d best go over to Sam’s barbershop. He just remodeled that bathhouse of his with hot water right out of the tap, it’s a marvel.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Darby said and took his room key.
The Willard’s hotel rooms on the second floor were nothing fancy, just a bed, a washstand and a dusty window that looked out on the street. Darby tossed his saddle bags on the bed and looked around.
There was a mirror on the wall above the washstand and the image he saw was that of a different person. In all that time out at the ranch he’d never thought about his looks. The face that looked back at him was browned and his eyes seemed to squint from all that exposure to the sun.
His hair was nearly down to his shoulders and needed a good washing. Bathing in the river was fine for everyday appearances, but he looked older. Even if he was interested in a woman none of them would find him attractive looking like this. But Taza had never said anything either.
What a change his life had undergone in just a few months. His mother would be dismayed if she could see him now. It made him wonder what Sean had looked like before he died. Darby seated his well-worn hat on his head and had to smile. Damn, he looked like a cowboy.
A little bell tinkled as Darby entered the barbershop with his saddle bags draped over one shoulder. There were two chairs but only one barber at the moment cutting a man’s hair. The second chair was empty although there was another man waiting.
“Good afternoon, how can we help you?” The barber asked.
“I need a bath and a haircut,” Darby said.
“You came to the right place. Go on back to the bathhouse, Sam is already there and he’ll fix you right up.”
“Thank you,” Darby said. He passed the other customers and went through a door into a hallway. A man was mopping the floor and he looked up as Darby approached.
“Bathhouse?”
“Right through there,” the man said. “Are you new in town?”
“Pretty much,” Darby said. “I don’t get to spend much time here.”
“Sam Morris,” the man said.
“Darby O’Brien.”
The man looked a little shocked but quickly recovered. “Well, everything you need is in the tub room. Just be careful, that water is hot.” And with that he turned away and carried the mop through another door.
He could have soaked in that tub for hours but there were other things on his schedule and so he reluctantly climbed out feeling like a new man. The only thing he had in his saddlebags were clothes and even after he had changed Darby decided he still looked a little rough around the edges.
His boots were worn and scuffed, and the hat…well, he decided it was time for a new one if he wanted to keep up appearances. Mrs. Randolph would fix him up. He strode up the hall back to the barbershop just in time to hear a loud voice declare:
“Just another stupid Irishman, and an Indian lover at that…the town is going to hell I tell you.”
Darby opened the door and saw Sam standing behind the barber’s chair stropping his razor. The customer in that chair had a hot towel wrapped around his face and was unrecognizable. Sam smiled, the look on his face about as disingenuous as his commentary.
“You ready for that haircut and a shave?” Sam asked.
“How much for the bath?” Darby asked.
“Fifty cents.”
Darby slapped two coins on the counter and started for the door.
“Don’t you want that haircut…?”
Darby gave the man a look that made him step back. “I don’t trust ignorant people with sharp objects in their hands.” He said. “I’d rather grow a beard than let you hold a razor to my throat.”
“Now wait a moment you little…”
The man in the chair sat up and whipped the towel off his face, it was the sheriff.
“He has a point, Sam…you have been saying some ignorant things. My advice to you is don’t pick a fight you can’t win.” And with that Behan tossed the towel down and followed Darby out the door.
“I hope he’s not the only barber in town,” Darby said when they reached the street.
“Nope, we got two others,” Behan replied.
“You didn’t have to leave on my account.”
“Figured I did. Folks around town don’t know much about Indigo, they can’t see past the Indian face. But he’s a smart man, although I figure you know that by now….and there’s Mrs. Randolph waving at you,” Behan said.
Darby turned to look and saw the woman standing in front of her store waving a hand.
“Oh, Mr. O’Brien…you have a letter at the post office…all the way from New York City.”
Behan chuckled. “Woman knows everyone’s business. You have a good evening, young fella.”
“Thank you, Sheriff….you do the same.”
Mrs. Randolph was just bubbling as Darby walked in the store to place his order. The letter could only be from his parents and he hoped the news was good. He picked out a few items, managed to get Indigo a few pouches of pipe tobacco and chose a new hat.
“Sorry to say hats don’t last long for a working man,” Mrs. Randolph said. “That one looks plumb wore out.”
Darby placed the new hat on his head and folded the other into his saddlebags. It had lost all its shape by now but was still usable to keep the sun off his neck. He told her the letter was probably from his mother and thanked her for telling him it had arrived, and then he left.
The postmaster seemed glad to see him. “Didn’t know how to get these letters to you, but I figured you’d be in town soon enough.”
“Letters? You mean there’s more than one?”
“Yup, one from New York and the other from El Paso,” the man said as he handed them over.
El Paso? And then Darby saw the return address on the envelope. Alex Morgan, Palace Hotel, El Paso, Texas. Well I’ll be, Darby thought.
“Thank you kindly,” Darby told the postmaster and carried his letters out the door. He waited to open them until he reached his room in the hotel. The letter from New York carried a slight scent…his mother’s for sure.
“Thank God, you’re alive,” her opening line said and that made him smile.
In all fairness he had probably scared his parents half to death by disappearing like that nearly four months ago. He didn’t have the courage to tell them what he was going to do. They might have reacted badly, although that would not have stopped him from leaving the city.
The family news was good and that was a relief. His sisters were growing up and the eldest was already working in the millinery shop over in Newtown. His father’s business was thriving, which was backhanded way of saying Darby should have stayed to work there.
Their comments to his news about the train travel and the arrival in Tombstone was well received. They knew of his attachment to Sean and seemed to understand his need to take over the mining operation. The reaction to his friendship with the Apache was less than he hoped. His mother warned him about associating with bloodthirsty savages.
That made Darby smile and wonder what would happen if he appeared on their doorstep with Taza at his side. It might be funny to see his mother’s reaction but he wouldn’t subject his friend to the insanity of the white man’s world in New York.
He read through the letter twice, trying to absorb any subtleties the words might convey. But then his parents had always been straightforward in their thinking and their world had always been black and white. Then he picked up the letter from Alex.
El Paso…that is where Alex had been headed to investigate this film business. Darby had read in the paper that there was only one theater here in town, Old Schieffelin Hall, which had been built as an opera house. But just about the time he had arrived in town they had shown their first moving picture as an added attraction to a play called The Banker’s Daughter. Perhaps Alex was onto something with his ideas.
The letter went on to describe Alex’s adventures and trials in El Paso. He had developed acquaintances with several gentlemen, and others he described as less than gentlemen. Some of these men had been involved in the development of equipment for the Edison Company in New York, but left town to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Darby did not recognize any of the names Alex mentioned, except that he said these men were in the forefront of production development.
It seems at issue was the climate in Texas which was not consistent throughout the year. “Too hot and wet or too dry….we would waste a lot of time here waiting to film a story until the weather cleared up, and time is money,” Alex had written. This is where he mentioned a man named William Selig who was headed for California to establish a studio…and Alex had been invited to come along.
“I plan to take the train from El Paso to Los Angeles in the last week of September. Not just any train, mind you, but I have been loaned the use of my grandfather’s rail car and all of its amenities.”
And then this is where the letter got interesting. “The car sleeps eight and we have a private dining car as well so there would be plenty of room if you would like to accompany me to the west coast. I do imagine the desolate landscape of the Arizona Territory must be awful at this time of the year and perhaps you could do with a change of scenery.
“I admit your description of the encounter with Mexican bandits and the defense of the Apache village was more than a little exciting…and I want to speak further with you on the details. You see, we are looking for subjects to film and Selig would like to make a one hour moving picture that would render an audience speechless…your story might just be the ticket.
“So please write me back soonest and do try to make the arrangements to accompany us to Los Angeles. I understand the closest rail line to you is in Tucson and we would gladly stop there to pick you up. You see, our chance meeting on the 20th Century Limited has borne fruit.”
It was signed: “Your friend, Alex.”
Darby sat on the bed in wonder, thoughts racing through his mind. Yes, he would go with Alex to California, and without a doubt he would take Taza along. Great Hawk could not deny the need for his son to visit the repository of their wealth. Better yet, traveling on a private train would eliminate any obstruction to bringing an Indian on board.
Just a short time before Darby had no idea how a bank handled the funds of their depositors and now he knew the bank made investments. He would bet Great Hawk thought that their money was sitting in piles behind some locked door until they wanted it. He could use that ignorance to make the arrangements for Taza to travel.
The end of September was only six weeks away, that wasn’t much time at all. Darby left the letters sitting on his bed and went down to the lobby. At his request the clerk gave him two sheets of hotel stationery and an envelope to write a reply to Alex.
“I embrace your offer of a seat on the train to California,” Darby wrote. “I have but one request and that is that I be allowed to bring a companion who you will very much want to meet. Taza is the son of Itza-chu, the Apache Chief I mentioned in my last letter and we have some business to conduct in Los Angeles at the Bank of California.
“Since time is short I don’t know how long it will take for your reply to reach me by post. Perhaps it would be best to send me your train’s scheduled arrival time in Tucson by telegraph. You can reach me here in Tombstone care of James Pennington, Attorney at Law. It will be so good to see you once again…”
He sealed the letter and ran up the street to the post office to have it mailed. The afternoon was gone and he still had to get supplies from Drucker and speak to Pennington. Returning to the hotel room had no appeal and so he walked up the street looking for dinner.
It was still early in the evening and so the dance halls were fairly quiet, but the bars never seemed to be without customers. He saw the sign for Miss Ruby’s and remembered Cummings had said he ate breakfast there. Darby approached the door and saw it open just as he reached for the handle…it was the sheriff once again.
“Sorry,” Behan said, stepping out of the way.
“Hello again, Sheriff.”
“I meant to ask you earlier…are you carrying that pistol?”
“Now? No, it’s still in my saddlebags up at the hotel,” Darby replied.
“Good, we have a town ordinance about carry guns within the city limits.”
“I don’t think I’ll need it, do you?”
Behan shook his head. “No, most folks don’t even know who you are. I run a quiet town nowadays, like it that way. Enjoy your supper, Mr. O’Brien.”
“Thank you, I will.”
Strange man, Darby thought as the sheriff walked away. The restaurant wasn’t half full and Darby chose a seat against the wall looking at the door. A young lady brought him a menu and he ordered the chicken fried steak, potatoes and greens for his supper with a beer to wash it all down.
He pulled the letter from his mother from his pocket and reread her lines about the family. She made it sound like his father was almost struggling with the business and all the work they had. Without Sean and Darby there his father should take on some help, but perhaps that was expensive.
Like most of the Irish that had crossed the sea, the O’Brien family was thrifty. Darby recalled his father counting the pennies at the kitchen table. One brother saved, the other spent, but Sean had accomplished so much.
Darby knew he was going to send money home…and then he had a thought. His parents might question the money if he sent them too much. He had been here only a short time and they would wonder how he had come by it so soon. But if the money was in Sean’s name…yes, that would work.
With super finished Darby walked up the street and unconsciously turned by the stables, a short time later he reached the deserted campsite Indigo had established. He was tempted to light a fire and sit for a while but he didn’t want to attract attention. Instead he dropped to the ground and sat staring back at the town.
Brief snatches of music from the dance halls reached his ears, but he had no interest in those places, much less the ladies who worked there. In conversations with Indigo and Taza he had as much said he didn’t find himself attracted to women, but he still wasn’t sure what that meant.
He didn’t dislike women but the only ones that evoked any emotion were his mother and sisters. It was easy to say he loved his family but beyond that love was an unfamiliar feeling. He admired others, and yet they were all men he had met and come to know. And then there was Taza.
There was something about the Apache boy that went beyond admiration. For most of his life Darby had been the independent sort, doing for himself and going his own way. Taza was like that and the recognition of those shared traits had formed the bond.
Taza was the perfect creature in this environment because he had all the necessary skills to survive…and yet Darby could tell the boy wanted more from life and from him. The elements of the white man’s world could be intimidating even to those from the biggest cities so what chance did someone like Taza have?
Perhaps Darby could teach him the basics of civilized manners, the necessary reading and writing skills, and even the proper way to dress…but would an Apache ever be accepted by society? Prejudice still existed towards the dark skinned members of society and in many places the Indian was even lower on the scale of acceptability.
No, Taza would never be completely accepted unless he was considered something special. But he is already special to me, Darby thought…and then he heard the sound of an approaching horse. Indigo came riding in out of the darkness and stopped to dismount.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Thought you might be over in the hotel.”
“I was just thinking…what are you doing here?”
“You can forget the quinine bark…Chappo died a few hours after you left the village.”
“Oh no,” Darby said.
“He was very old and the sickness finally took its toll. The village will mourn him throughout the day tomorrow and then bury him tomorrow night. I did not want to be there in their time of grief. He was a good man and I will remember him in life as my friend.”
“I’m sorry…he was kind to me.”
“The past few days the fever made him delirious on occasion, but he spoke of you in his better moments. He said to tell you that his death will resolve the problems you two were contemplating. Will you tell me what he was talking about?”
“Great Hawk and his argument with Taza over marriage,” Darby said. “Chappo felt that Taza would never get to be chief unless Great Hawk got his way and saw the boy married.”
“I see,” Indigo said, and then he nodded. “Perhaps he is right because Great Hawk is now faced with a spiritual crisis. Someone must take the role of spiritual leader and healer. It’s a more important position than a chief to the success of the village.”
“Chappo said that he had been training Great Hawk to be their next medicine man…but will he do it?”
“Taza is still very young, perhaps too young to assume the role of Chief. But if Great Hawk nominates him the warriors will accept the change in leadership when Taza comes of age. This is what needs to happen.”
“So I won’t need to interfere after all,” Darby said.
“Interfere? What were you planning?”
“I am going to have the lawyer draw up a document leaving my estate to Taza should anything happen to me. I don’t think that would please Great Hawk, but then he would have to see Taza in a new light, don’t you think?”
Indigo chuckled and then laughed. “You Irish are so devious, but in this case I agree.” “Great Hawk doesn’t even know about Chappo’s death…”
“He will very soon, they have sent a warrior to find him. The old man knew he was dying and told his wife where he wanted to be buried and which of his possessions he will take to the grave.”
“They will probably bury him in the holy place Taza showed me,” Darby said.
“Perhaps, but if we return to the village by afternoon tomorrow we can see the ceremony, although only the warriors will take him to the grave after dark.”
“You want me to light a fire?” Darby asked.
“No fire, I will mourn in darkness. You go on to your hotel and enjoy that soft bed. I’ll see you in the morning. You can see the lawyer before we leave.”
Darby left for the hotel and Indigo sat still as the sounds from the town slowly faded into the night. He gave a sigh and then began to chant a quiet song, a sad song. He reached into the old ashes of the fire pit and his fingers came away black with the soot which he then smeared on his face. Chappo had been right all along. Darby would change Taza and the whole Verde clan would follow. Some would resist change, but that was the way of many people. Taza would lead them well he hoped, unless…unless the lure of the white man’s world and Darby took him away from his people.
The sadness he felt over Chappo’s death could not overcome the smile that came to his face. I am the perfect example of what happens when an Indian discovers what lies beyond the borders of his birth. A little knowledge, the right circumstances, and Taza would leave this place. A sad moment for his people, but then at least he would have Darby to guide him.