Hide and Seek

We spend the remaining dark hours in a squat position, pouring over a dirt map that Seedling has drawn in on the sprawl of the river bank. It is all he knows about the area, painfully extracted by repetitive questioning. He would keep getting side-tracked, talking about the items they took, mumbling a verse of this song and that. He seems very disturbed by the robbery. It isn't until we actually ask him that we find out he knows who they are.

"Why didn't you tell us you know the bastards?" Andy says in place of the usual tisk in these instances.
"Didn't ask?"
"Are you trying to be funny?"
"Nope." Seedling stands up to face Andy, who has been pacing around. "You fella's loose your hard earned valuables in that there robbery? I been working the soil for months for that gold."

"You had gold?" Mike asks, just slightly behind the curve on this one.
Seedling looks at him like he might be holding a spear and have a bone through his nose. He turns his attention back to the map.
"Them boys are the Keene gang. Orlis Keene, he was the one that stole my keep."
Lou stands and shakes his legs out.
"You know this Orlis Keene?"
"Only knew of him until last summer. Looks a little like you, Louis." Seedling stands and kicks the soil at his feet. "Saw him and his gang rough up the Trading Post, killed two fellas right out in the street."
Seedling is silent for a beat or two, remembering the carnage.

"This guy is a gunslinger?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"The worst... the best." Seedling corrects himself and then explains, "Worst temper, quick and deadly on the trigger."

"Oh... GREAT." Andy seems to have cured himself if the tisks. Haven't heard one for a while now.
"So this guy is like Jesse James or something like that?" Mike asks with a wonder only he can have in moments like these.
"Don't rightly know this James fella. He run in Arizona Territory?"

Lou puts a hand on Seed's shoulder, "This Orlis, he is a fast draw?"
Seedling turns and looks him right in the eyes. Lou finally sees a little clarity in the man's face.
"Orlis Keene is the fastest, most deadly gunfighter they have seen in these parts." He averts his eyes, "He don't care who he kills... woman, little ones, don't matter to that devil."

We watch as Seedling traces possibilities in the soil of directions they went, areas that might serve as hiding places, and their relationship to our original destination of the trading post.
"What's over here?" Lou is off the map to our east.
"That there is the Salt River Canyon, Rio Salinas. There are spots up in there where you could hide a herd of buffalo."
"Then we head that way."

They took Seeds coffee along with his saddle bags. Luckily he had made a full pot before all this occurred. It seems like an hour before we have enough light to move out. It was enough time to drink the hearty pot and boost our energy.

The trail is easy enough to follow. Who, after all, is wants to track a lion back to its den. We all start out in a group, but as the sun climbs we spread out. Lou has taken point. Ollie walks with him, both of them in silence. Apparently Ollie has a tracking talent that had gone unnoticed until now. Every once in a while one of them or the other would take a knee, pointing out broken plant life, the depth of tracks, a pile of horse shit. Lou did everything but take a bite. But with this examination he says he can tell where the horse had been... meadow or sage covered desert.

At one point the trail branches off. Lou points out that two of the gang broke off and head North. There is a ridge that starts maybe five miles off. We surmise that they sent scouts up that ridge to watch for pursuers. It is at this point that we begin to scan the ridges and the path ahead with renewed interest.

"Jesus... where the hell is Seedling?" Lou looks back behind the group.
Seed seems to be in no hurry, not wanting to tax ole' Bess in the compounding heat.
"Come ON, Seedling."
Pretty soon we hear some little song or piece of conversation and there he comes around the bend. He looks at us for a second as though he has never seen us before, and then there is a flash of recognition and he gives a little wave.

"We can't be waiting on this guy all FUCKING day." Andy stands with his hands on his hips.
"What happened to you when we tripped back here with the Clarok? You find your bad-ass in that flash, or what?" Lou asks him, giving him a little shove.
"I just want to get back to the boat. Get our thing back, do what we have to do and get back to our time... that boat." He holds his brow for a moment then puts his hand back on his hip. "I can't believe any of this."

Seed finally catches up. "What? You boys already tired? Well... we can make camp and have a little... "
"CAMP?" Andy is going to pop a blood vessel.

"No, Seed, no camp. We don't camp when it is still morning. What I was going to suggest is that you take your time. We are going to forge ahead and see where these guys went. When we find them you won't want to be there anyway."

"Oh... you'd like that there, wouldn't ya, never'd see ya after that one, eh?"
Lou takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky for a moment.
"Seedling, if you don't stop with this SHIT I'll kill you right where you stand. We don't care about your crap. We need the Clarok. That is all we care about."

Seed looks at each of us for a moment. "There's another of you fella's?"
Lou puts a hand on each of Seedling's shoulders and makes sure they are looking eye to eye.
"You are going to keep walking, follow our trail. We are going to walk on ahead and see where these guys went. If there is any danger, I will make sure one of us is there to let you know."
Lou watches Seedling's eyes and sees them drift back over his shoulder. Lou shakes him. "SEEDLING... are you listening to me?"
"Probably just make your way over to that smoke in the canyon."

We all turn slowly and see the ribbon of smoke. It is coming from somewhere in the canyon miles ahead of us. A fire that can pinpoint your position is one only a fool would start. Either a fool or someone that fears no one; Indian, outlaw, or Cavalry.
I wish we were dealing with a fool.

The canyon walls start to climb around us as we wind our way up river. Lou decides we had better take the high ground. If we get caught in the canyon we will have no where to run. We convince Seedling to make camp and wait for our signal... three rifle shots in quick succession.
"You ain't got no rifle." He says suspiciously.
"If we succeed we will." Lou tells him.
"Well... make sure ya do." He pauses, looking Lou in the eye. "You might need this."
He pulls what used to be a hunting knife from a pocket on the side of his britches above the knee. The blade has been sharpened down over the years until all that exists is no more than an awl with a hell of an edge on it.
Lou takes the blade and runs it up his arm. It shaves a spot where it meets the flesh.
"That will do."
"I wannit back."
"Just make camp... and make the best of it. We should be back for you tonight."
"Tonight?"
"With their numbers I don't want to chance taking them all on at once. Better to thin them out in the dark."

Seedling watches as we start up the canyon wall.
"Don't go gun to gun with Orlis. He kill ya sure as there's flour in biscuits."
Lou looks back at him as he puts his arm around ole' Bess' neck.
"Don't be so sure, Seed. We'll be back for you."

It seems well passed noon before we make the top of the canyon, winding our way toward the smoke in the distance. Lou is on point, waving us on or stopping us when he feels we might be in danger. He is certain that we will find a couple of men,at least one, up here keeping watch on the trail below. It's a good thing we are on the look-out. Before long, Ollie throws a hand up and then motions us to the ground just as quickly. Lou sidles up next to him and Ollie points to a man in the rocks up ahead. He is perched on a look-out that oversees the canyon and the scrub trail we are following on the ridge. I crawl up between them.

"You going to take him?"
Lou looks at the man and his surroundings.
"I was hoping to pick them off in the dark."
"Well... this guy is off by himself. Why don't we start with him?"
In the silence that follows, we see the man take a swig off a bottle.
"Yeah... take him now." Lou looks at the approach.

The man is perched on an overlook maybe five feet above our trail and the ridge. To his back the canyon wall continues up maybe six feet and then crests. There is no way to take him without climbing up behind him.

Lou pulls the knife that Seedling gave him and gives it a quick look. The five of us back off and get into hiding as best we can as we watch Lou scramble up the rocks to our left. Within minutes he is above the man on watch. Even though the man has tossed that bottle back he is alert enough to see the shadows cast from the ridge above him.

As Lou jumps the man turns. He is holding a rifle in the one hand, the whiskey in the other. Nothing but suprise in his eyes as Lou drops in from above. The bottle drops as Lou jabs the tips of his fingers on his left hand into the man's windpipe. His right hand thrusts several times just below his rib cage. It all happens in the time it would take to pull change out of your pocket.

He lowers the man to the ground and immediately begins to remove the clothing, trying to keep the blood off of it. The five of us move up to his position in silence. As Lou removes the clothing from the man, Andy is already out of his dress. He puts on each piece of clothing as soon as Lou has it free of the man. He opts not to don the man's underclothing.

Lou stands, holding the dead man's gun belt and pistol. He fastens the belt around his waist and draws the weapon. A tick of a smile comes across his face. He buries it in the holster.

It is early afternoon. We have a rifle, the shotgun, a pistol, and ammunition. Even though we only have the two rounds in the shotgun, the rounds we have in reserve for the other two weapons make up for it. We back off the ridge and gather to look at our new inventory. Andy even finds some hard candy in the pockets of the vest the man was wearing. He hands us each a piece.

Ollie goes on ahead to survey the situation. Andy is all smiles, tugging the sleeves of the new shirt. There are three bloody holes in the chest of the garment but that doesn't seem to matter. It is gender correct and that is all he cares about right now.

There is a canteen with water, and of course the whiskey. Lou takes a couple of slugs to take the edge of this latest fatality. He passes it to me and I take a pull.
"What now?"
Almost on cue Ollie scrambles back over the hill and gives a quick report to Lou. Antonelli listens, then translates.
"The whole gang is over the next rise and down in the canyon. He counted eight of them."
"Eight? Including this guy here?" I point to the semi-nude body face down in the scrub. Antonelli asks the question.
"No... eight more."

Lou goes with him to recon the situation. When he returns he hustles us off of the trail a ways. "There is a guy riding up from the camp toward us. Probably this guy's relief."

"Well that's perfect then, we can take him the same way."
"Maybe so, but they're going to start missing these guys just the same."
He looks at the five of us.
"Let's just hope this next guy is packing the same firepower."

Shadows

Don't really know what time it is. Late afternoon, I suspect. It has been about an hour since we left Rio Salinas behind and took up on the bank of the Rio Verde. The going is easy as we amble our way up toward the safety of Fort McDowell.

No one is talking all that much, except Seedling... who hasn't stopped talking since we came upon him. He is a constant flow of questions, answers, songs, and poems. None of them make too much sense. He seems content with the monologue. I get the feeling it's the same banter you would get from a bag lady or a man in an overcoat with a foil hat.

"We'd be there by now if we weren't waiting on this guy." Antonelli leads his mount along the shore as he gestures toward Seedling.
"Yeah, but at least he knows where he is going." I tell him.
"He said the river goes right by the Fort. What is there to know?"
"Pretty much everything, I guess." Lou adds as he walks up between us, the scattergun resting in the crook of his arm. "We gotta watch where we step. Our footprints don't belong here."

We pick through the rocky shore for several hours until we get to a bend in the river. There is a natural camp of sorts here where the river turns. It looks as though it is a regular stop on the road so to speak. Seedling stops in his tracks and takes a long stretch.
"Well, s'pose we ought to make camp, eh?" He gives ole' Bess a pat on the nose, as though it is just the two of them and the rest of us are just other voices in his head.

"Make camp?" Andy looks at his arm where his watch had been, then up at the sky for a beat. "It's still light out, for Christ sake."
"Only a fool waits for dark to set camp in these parts. Libel to set your bedroll on rattler or worse."

"Is he kidding?" Andy pulls on his dress where is has ridden up. "Bedroll? We don't even have clothes, or food. Spending any more time out here than we have to is
a stupid waste of time."

Seedling is unloading ole' Bess. Frying pan, bedroll, a banjo with no strings, a couple of flour sacks that he takes particular care that they don't end up in the dirt. He grabs a leather strapped canvas bag, like one you might find in a bank. He can't help but look over his shoulder at us for a moment, a suspicious squint in his eye. When he realizes we are all looking at him he turns sharply back to his business, leaving the canvas bag and grabbing some other junk he has strapped to the old donkey.

"You don't have to worry about us." I tell him. "We don't want your money."
He turns quickly, "Ain't gone none no how."
"Got any coffee?" Lou asks, resting his hands on his hips.
"Now that I got."

With Andy's objections voiced for most of us, still echoing off of the slight canyon we sit in, a fire is made and like moths to a flame we all find ourselves gathered around it in the waining light of day.

Sundown this time of year must be around seven or so. Before the coffee is done brewing we see the sunset. No one is talking much, except Seedling, who seems to carry on a constant conversation with Bess, taking his cue off of the flick of an ear or slap of a tail.
Each of us is involved in our own inner dialogue... questioning what has happened to us, what we are doing here, and how we will get back. Lou and I had a short discussion about Seedling. A miner... obviously, and we were in need of gold. Could it be this easy.

When the smell of coffee is thick in the air it is finished. Seed produces two metal cups, both of them patched in spots and filthy as hell.
"Don't you wash these?" Andy asks as Seed hands him one of the cups.
"Oooo, Fancy pants wants his cup washed." He slaps Andy on the back, "You ain't in the Ritz, fella. Take the first splash and swirl it around in there. That'll kill anything you're afraid of."

Seedling fills his cup, not about to wash it out, then splashes some in Andy's. Andy rolls his eyes and swirls the brew and then splashes it at Seedling's feet.
"Careful now, don't want you washin' off any of the stains on my boots."
He pours the cup full.
"You take your sip and pass it on." Seedling sits on a rock near the fire and rocks side to side for a moment until he finds a comfortable spot. He holds the brew between his leathered hands, not wasting the heat. When the cup passes to me I try the same, but it is way too hot.

The cup passes to Lou and he walks over to Seedling and squats down beside him.
"Tell me, Seed, where did you come from?"
"Born out Missouri way, north of Hannibal a spell. Come out by wagon two years past. Lost my brother to consumption just after we started working the... "
He stops and looks right at Lou, as though he has tried to part him with a family secret.
"Now I don't believe I'll take to all these questions." He stands, "You folks are the ones that should be answering questions."
"Seedling, you know our story." Lou tells him.
"Story... that's all it is. You ain't no priests. Not the way you all carry on, cussing up a storm. Specially that one in the dress. Mouth like a Teamster."

I can hear Andy tisk from the other side of the fire.

Lou takes the scattergun and rests it on Seedling's shoulder, which has an immediate calming effect... and an even better quieting effect.
"Where did you come from?"
"This is it, huh... you gonna rob me now?"
"No, goddamnit, we aren't going to rob you. We just need to know where you came from. Where do you work your claim."

Seedling pauses for a moment. You can almost hear the rusty wheels turning in his brain as he decides.
"Back down south a spell. No wheres you folks would know."
"Well, I tell you what." Lou grabs him by the collar and lifts him gently. "Let's take a look in that bag of yours."
Seed struggles a bit... coffee cup hits the ground.
"Now you done it."
Lou snaps him up a little harder.
"Okay, okay... don't get jumpy now. We can take a looksee."

Lou guides him over to Bess, who has been standing peacefully at the firelight's edge. Seedling opens the bank bag and peers in, "Can't see much. Best wait till daylight."
"I don't need to see anything. Just grab a some of it and hold it up."
"So you can snatch it?"
"Seed, I could have blown your head off and had the whole lot and the donkey too."

He pauses for a moment and then reaches in, pulling up a small cloth bag.
Lou turns his arm to the bag and I understand.
"Jake... come here."
I walk over and grab the gun from him.
"No, not that, just... do you feel anything?"
I present my chipped arm and try to discern any difference. "Nothing"
"Me neither."

"You fellars are a might queer. You ain't no thieves, I'll give you that."
Seedling replaces his gold and closes the bank bag. "Mind if we go back and finish our coffee."

We sit by the fire for a while longer. Seedling sings a little song to himself about trains, trying to lighten things up a bit. He sips his refilled cup of the black coffee. It is an aquired taste for our twenty-first century pallets. Once you are passed the bitterness and the grounds in every sip, the aftertaste reminds you that you are drinking coffee.

Lou starts in a quiet conversation with Ollie. Antonelli joins in for a moment and is sucked into the conversation. This leaves me, Andy, and Mike with Seedling. He rifles through one of the canvas sacks in the dirt and comes up with something wrapped in brown paper.
"Don't have quite enough for a belly full for each of ya, but enough to take the edge off."
He passes out a little slab to each of us, then stands and walks over to Lou and them and hands them each a piece.

I give it a sniff. It smells like something you might loose in the corner of your pocket for a week or two and then find it again. It is hard, smells a little smokey, and I assume it is meat.
"Buffalo jerky... never git tired of it." Seedling puts a corner of it in his mouth and starts sucking on it. "Once you soften her up it makes fir a mighty long chew."

There is marked silence as we all partake in the jerky. It is completely dark outside of the glow of the campfire. The horses are tied up to some scrub at the water's edge. There seems to be a lot of commotion. Rather than loose them to panick over a coyote or something, Lou and I take the shotgun and walk that way.

"Easy now... " Lou puts a hand out in the dark and finds the withers of one of the mounts. I do the same and find a muzzle for a moment, then some reigns which I hold steady. Just then there are splashes in the water up river from us. We watch from the darkness as seven riders make there way into camp.

"Uh oh." Lou whispers, hiding in the darkness beyond the horses. I join him and we both watch.

The riders don't dismount. They pound into camp, guns drawn. The boys freeze where they are. Seedling stands, hands up... more in the way of welcome than surrender. I can hear pistols cock, a shotgun is brandished and pointed at Seedling. The boys stand, each of them paired off with an appropriate firearm being held on them from horseback. The outlaw on Seedling gets off his horse and proceeds to rob our man of his bank bag and two pistols that ole' Bess had been hiding for him.

Mike looks our way more than once, awaiting rescue I can only presume. There are too many of them for a double barrel shotgun. Better they think there are only five. Mike's constant peering into the darkness at us doesn't go unnoticed. One of the men starts toward our position. We step out into the river and lay on our bellys.

"Found three good horses." The man calls out, jumping down off of his mount to gather the reigns of our three horses. He hops back in the saddle and leads the horses back to camp.

We can hear Seedling pleading with them not to take Bess. They don't. But they take pretty much everything else. As an after thought on their way out they spot the pile of robes.

"Hold it."
The gang slow their horses, then stop.
"What do we have here?"
One of the men dismounts and yanks the robes out of the Clarok. As he uncovers it, Ollie makes a move and catches a rifle butt to the side of the head, knocking him to his knees.

"Looks like a fancy bowl of some kind."
In the dark it doesn't look like much. I am hoping that when they try to lift it they will leave it behind.

"Ox, get over here."
A huge man in a duster rides back from the departing gang and dismounts, gathers up the Clarok, and they all ride off up river.

"Oh SHIT. GODDAMN FUCKING LUCK ANYWAY." Andy is in rare form tonight.

We rejoin the camp, wet and cold. After explaining the strategy of keeping ourselves hidden, we field a flurry of questions from the boys. How, where, when, they all depend on first light and our ability to track.

The Road to Fort McDowell

Up close the man looks like the quintessential miner right out of the old west. It looks as though everything he owns is being carried by either him or the donkey. Dusty and dirty, every place there is to tie, hook, or hang something is being used to hold everything from picks and shovels to spatulas and a weather-beaten iron frying pan. The only thing that looks fairly new and quite operational is the shotgun. Two barrels, both cocked, and maybe two feet of steel.

Lou seems a little on edge with this development.
"Easy... easy now."
The miner looks passed Lou at the five of us in bloody uniforms, then behind us at the burned hulk of the wagon.

"What's going on here?" He motions with the tip of the sawed off shotgun. "What happened? What happened to your wagon?"

A thousand things go through my mind... all of which, if spoken outloud, might just get us killed.
"Indians." I say from behind Lou. The miner's eyes dart to me and then right back to Lou. He must feel a threat from him. Good instincts.

Lou slowly puts his hands down, even with the prompting of the shotgun barrel for him to keep them up.
"Hey, friend, we need help."
"You're gonna need someone to spoon feed you if you don't leave those hands up."

Good one.
Lou's hands go back up, as do the rest of ours.

He looks at our little gathering, focusing on Ollie.
"What the hell are you, big fella? Ain't never seen a Mexican the likes of you."
His eyes move from face to face, stopping on Andy. Without looking away, he talks out of the corner of his mouth to Lou.
"She's a might homely, friend. I reckon she must be a good cook." He looks back at Lou from head to toe.
"Not so good with laundry, is she."

Lou is looking behind the miner.
"Is your donkey hurt?"
In the split second of distraction the shotgun changes hands and the miner is on his ass.

"Awe, hell." The man get's to his feet and knocks the more recent dust from the seat of his pants.
"I knew it."

I look at the peculiar fellow, "Knew what?"
"That I'd be dry gulched on one of these little trips."
"Dry gulched?"

"Ambushed." Lou translates. Great, another language I don't know.
"Where you headed, old timer?"

The miner cocks his head, "Old timer? Just how old do you think I am?"
He doesn't wait for a response. "Well I ain't no old timer."

"How old are you?" Mike asks him.
The miner does an odd looking count on his fingers, "I... I reckon I'm...forty-one?"

Andy tisks, "Fat chance."
The miner looks at him, "That sounds like a helluva cold you got there, honey."
"I'm not a woman, you half-wit."
The miner's eyes go wide for a moment, then narrow a bit, "You one of those fancy lads I heard about?"

"I'm going to kill him." Andy says, totally out of character.
Mike, the only one to realize he is not kidding, grabs him by the arm as he starts toward the man.
"Easy now, Andy... you don't want to kill that guy now."

"So your a fella? I didn't mean to get your bustle up."

I try to get us on a more effective line of conversation.
"What do you go by?"
He looks at me, "What do you mean by that?"
"Your name... what's your name? What do they call you?"
He pauses for a moment. "I don't reckon I talk to too many folks where they call me by name. Just to ole' Bess." He gestures at the donkey, "and she don't talk much."
He puts his hand out, "My friends, when I had 'em, called me Seedling."

"Seedling?" I shake his hand.
He nods at me. "I... I wasn't gonna shoot you boys. Just about scared the breakfast outta me. I don't want no trouble... if that's okay by you."
He reaches out and grabs the old rope he has tied as a bridle around the nose of the animal.
I look at the old donkey who has been watching us intently. Could be an attack donkey, but I doubt it. I reach out and give it a gentle pat on the nose. Seedling pulls her away gently... a little jealousy, perhaps.
"Where are you heading Seed?"
He gets the tick of a smile at the nickname.
"I need supplies. Only place to trade around here is Fort McDowell."
"No shit?"

Seed is looking at the wagon, the bodies, and then at us.
"What's goin' on here, boys. You ain't cavalry, not with that Mexican and that ugly woman."
Andy's brow furrows.
"You boys made a big mistake if you tangled with these boys."

Lou checks the load in the shotgun.
"We didn't do this, Seed. We came over that ridge and watched about a dozen men on horseback ride away. I had my suspicions, but it wasn't until we came up on them that we found the arrows and these poor fucks. All of them scalped... no weapons, wagon burned."

We had already told him about the Indians when he drew down on us, but I don't think he was listening. Now it seems to have sunk in and he is a little more on edge.
"Damn savages. They are at war with the men at Fort McDowell, renegades and all that. Them are the ones who don't take to the reservation life. Following that Gernimo... causin' nothin' but trouble."

"Geronimo?" Antonelli's eyes go wide, "are you shitting me?"
Seed's nose wrinkles a little bit at the statement.
"It wasn't me."

He guides ole Bess up away from the river, "Now I do trade with some of these savages. Not the one's that did this. We're on the edge of the Salt River reservation. Their women are good weavers. Ole Bess' blanket there is a Salt River blanket."

As he walks toward the burned out wagon to take a look, he sees the Clarok, which is now holding the robes.
"You boy's get caught doing laundry?" He shakes his head, knowing that not one thing adds up except for the Indians.
"It ain't none of my business, fellas, but what are you boys doin' out here."

We look at each other. First off we don't know why or how we are out here, and the part we do know he would never believe. In the couple of beats of silence that follows his question, Antonell bails us out.
"We're priests... of sorts."

Good one. I try to help.
"We were just behind these boys on the river and when the Indians attacked we took our... prayer alter and tried to hide." I look too the others for support and they nod.

"Took our damn clothes." Andy says just before grabbing the sides of his dress. "This is all I could find in this mess to put on."
"Why warn't you wearing britches?"
Andy freezes like a deer in the headlights.

"Because we were in the middle of prayer when the attack came." Lou tells him as he stoops down over the Clarok and grabs one of the robes. "We have to wear our robes during prayer... and nothing else." He drops the robe back into the Clarok. "Bad timing, though. Once we started in with our chants the Indians came and started a war with these guys. All we could do was hide and hope they didn't find us."

Seed grabs a short spade off of Bess and sifts around in the ashes, not sure he believes a word he is hearing. He scoops pile of ashes aside until he finds earth, then moves deeper into the pile.
"So you boys find the time to pray out here on the trail, Indians come and attack these boys, and your supplies get hauled off?"

I shrug, "That's about it."
"Hmmm... so what's with the bloody clothes? Why don't you just wear them robes?"
Andy tisks, "Why don't you just... "
"We can only wear the robes during certain prayers." Mike interrupts, happy with his contribution.

"That's right, only at certain times. It is blasphemy."
"It's what now?"
"Never mind. Not important. What is important is that we get our alter and prayer robes out of here before we see more Indians. We can't lose the Clar... the alter."

"So you put on them bloody uniforms and you think you can just mosey on into the Fort. They'll shoot you dead, then ask you questions." He doesn't look up, just keeps on rooting through the ashes.

"Why?" Lou asks. "Do you know where we can get some clothing?"
"There's a little trading post near the Fort. They mostly deal with folks like me that trade what little they take from the ground." He gives us a sharp quick look, like he accidently let lose with something top secret.
"Don't look like you boys have much to trade, though."

"Will you take us there?" I ask, "We can figure out the rest when we get there."
"Oh... I can take you. Don't need me, though. This here river is the Rio Salinas. Back aways it joins with the Rio Verde. If you top that next hill you'll see the Rio Verde, it goes right North a ways and puts you smack dab in front of the gates of Fort McDowell. Before you get there you see a bunch of clapboard shacks and tents and such. That'll be the trading post. But you ain't got nothin' to trade."

"We could trade the horses." Mike says, leading one of them by the reigns over to us. "Should fetch a nice price."

Seed walks around the backside of the horse and points to the brand. "Army. They catch you with that horse and they'll shoot you."
He walks by us and over to the Clarok and moves it with his foot.
"They might take your fancy clothes basket in trade."
"Our prayer alter? Out of the question."

He squats down and tries to move it. "Heavy thing, ain't it?" He starts to remove the robes and Lou steps over to stop him.
"DON'T... move those. You mustn't handle our robes."
"Is that gold on that basket?"
Lou looks at me for a little help.

"Seedling, can we follow you to the trading post?"
Seed stands and puts his hand in one of a dozen pockets and pulls out a cheroot and a wooden match. With a quick stroke he lights the match on the side of his belt and puffs it to life.
"I can do that. Better to travel in numbers."

"Indians?" I ask him.
"Highwaymen... robbers, outlaws. I been hit twice on my trips to the trading post."
"You don't worry about Indians?"
"Nope. There only a few of them that will kill ya. Now if you wear a uniform you're as good as dead. But them savages attacking settlers or miners and such, they don't do that no more. They have enough on their plate dealing with the Cavalry."

"You got another of those?" Lou points to the cheroot in his fingers. Seed pulls another and hands it to him. Then he passes his cigar to light it from. No sense in wasting a match.

Lou puffs it to life, all the while looking at the mule, at Seed, at our three stolen horses and the six of us. It will be hard going, hard to explain, and even harder to figure out what the hell we are supposed to do next.