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.