Coyote Whisperer

The Nagual moves around the edge of the fire, keen eyes piercing... burning... searching until they lock on Lou, then they cut to me and I feel my skin blossom in goosebumps. The Nagual steps slowly up to Lou, as though Lou is not aware. He glows... to me, like he did in the desert so long ago. His spirit guide steps into the light of his aura and sits, content and comfortable.

There is communication with the Nagual. Neither he nor Lou talk, but you can see the words between them like heat waves off the dancing flames. I am envious, curious... a lonely wanderer in this world, confined by the light of this flame and infinite thought. As I watch Lou's Nagual, all around me fades to the black of space and there is just the firelight, the Chief, and me. He looks my way and I am bound to his stare, unable to look away or blink the disbelief from my eyes.

"You are a Warrior" He says to me, lips not moving, eyes locked on me like a hawk and his prey.
"You have lived many times on this Earth. You have fought for justice, for those who have been wronged by powerful forces, for innocence robbed and love sacrificed for greed and material things."

I feel myself nodding, acknowledging this sacred communication. Then I hear him tell me to close my eyes. I don't know that they are open, but he does. I make the effort to close my them... like a heaving portcullis in a castle keep my eyes close one at a time and I listen to the voice that speaks to me.

"I am here as I have been here, before and after, today... yesterday, and tomorrow."

There is silence and I feel a presence that has not been with me moments ago. I keep my eyes closed, afraid to open them... to see what might be before me.

"Open your eyes."

Oh shit, I knew this would happen. I slowly open my eyes. The blackness is breached by a sliver of light. This light gathers before me, taking form and size until I am looking at a small white rabbit. My brow rises as I look at this bunny, crouched and unmoving before me. The voice I have heard all this time emits from its little pink lips and I am told that this is my spirit guide and that it has been with me for all time. I have died many deaths, most heroic and in battle... some as an unsuspecting bystander. But in all of my former lives I have had a constant, unwaivering dedication to those close to me.

A pipe is passed to me and when I touch it I am back at the fire and all are here with me. I hit the pipe and look over at Lou. He smiles back knowingly, the Nagual by his side like a faithful pup. My bunny is nowhere in sight, but I can hear him.

When I look toward the Chief I see my spirit guide in his lap like a content. He is surrounded by animals; the Nagual, my rabbit, a hawk, a smaller... might be a fox, a big, black spotted lizard, and a tortoise. There is a communion of sorts between the animals and the chief. My guide no longer speaks to me, but seems to speak collectivley with the rest of the animals through the chief.

He chants, continuing in a low hum until a Apache song emits in a stepping rhythm. The warriors stand, as do we and all of us begin around the fire and the chief. Our feet move and within seconds the unbroken group of warriors around this ceremonial fire are in step, moving with a single voice. The night goes on, our minds speak to the chief, our bodies move with the cadence of age old ritual. We loose ourselves in this, give ourselves to it.

With the dawn of a new day, we greet the sun still in the grips of the peyote, but now using the trailing effects to stimulate us, like a powerful brew. We watch as the warriors prepare for their journey and the women break camp. As all of this happens around us, we realize that we better be ready to roll in the next ten minutes.

We gather at the wagon. The boys have the gun bolted to the back of the buckboard, the mount moves a hundred and eighty degrees. We load the weapon and ready clips for quick loading. Andy and Chris will take gun duty. Mike will take the reigns on the wagon... should be an easier ride for him. There are extra rifles and rounds at the ready in the back of the buckboard. Lou, myself, and Ollie will ride alongside, the boys horses in tow. We all have extra rifles lashed to our scabboards for a quick change up. Guns are loaded and checked... but not a word is spoken. The ceremony is still with us... with me. I feel no urge to speak, but feel communication taking place. If you calm the voices in your head, you can hear direction, you can hear the chief... his words pressing you forward. Like an ant in a vast colony, we feel the words that drive us.

Within the half hour we watch as the warriors lead the tribe out of camp, a slow but steady and purposeful pace. We take up the rear, our heads on a swivel. Even though we are looking at the remains of the camp, we feel on edge... ready for a fight.

The warriors lead us through the small hills and valleys, keeping out of sight of any well traveled path. I feel that this shelter from the coming storm is only a temporary thing. This movement of the tribe is a seasonal thing, a traditional thing. One that can be expected... anticipated.

We ride in silence for a while. Then Mike breaks the calm.
"My spirit guide, it's a lizard... a talking lizard. You boys have anything like that happen to you?
"Mi guía del espíritu es un halcón." Ollie says.
"Ollie's is a hawk." Chris offers the translation, "Mine is the fox." He adds.
"Mine is a rabbit." I tell them.
Lou smiles as he pulls a fresh cigar from his vest, "Mine is the coyote... the Nagual."

There is silence. Andy refuses to take possession of his spirit guide.
"Hey, Andy... what is your spirit guide?" I ask him.
"Yeah, Andy, which was yours?" Mike asks, as though he doesn't know the answer. Maybe he doesn't, I don't know.
"Right, Andy, we haven't heard from you." Lou adds between puffs, "What is it, man, a mountain lion? The mighty buffalo?"

There is silence for a beat.
"Andy?" Mike asks.
"Fuck you guys."
"ANDY, don't be upset. A tortoise is a... a... well it's got an armored shell." Mike tells him.
"Kind of like a shirt buttoned all the way to the top, right Andy."
"Like I said, fuck you."

The sun rises in the sky and continues until we begin to melt in the light of midday.
Lou and Ollie ride up to the warriors near the front of the column. We watch as they try to converse with them. Seedling is there, ambling along on the back of Ole' Bess. I assume he is helping with translation, but I don't see his arms or hands moving... a must when he is communicating.

After a minute or two, they slowly make they're way back to the end of the column to our position.

"We are going to cross the Salinas near a village called Coco Marikopa. Should be across in a couple of hours. Then it is probably midnight until they make camp at their sacred spot in the mountains."

"No shit. Since when did you start speaking Apache?" I ask him.
"I didn't have to. The Nagual translates."
"Is that what Seedling is going by these days?"

We ride for what seems forever. The sun beats down on us and we realize that in our peyote haze we didn't bring any water from the river... not that we had anything to put it in. Even before the thought has taken root, a squaw on a pony rides up with several boda bags made from hide, bulging with water. She leaves one with the three of us on horseback, and one on the wagon. We all realize that this may be our only ration until we get to the Salinas, so we gulp it sparingly.

Some time down the trail, when the sweat is stinging our eyes and our horses seem to have lost the spring in their step, we see him. A lone rider, or at least we hope, off to the east. He remains long enough to assess our number and our bearing, and then disappears.

"Did you see that?" At this point I feel the need to question what I believe is reality. Even though I have sweat out several gallons I can still feel the effects of last night's ceremony.

"Yep. Probably a tracker for the infantry. They know the habits of these folks... know where to find them and when. They are not compliant with the wishes of the government to put them on the reservation. From what the chief tells me, they have helped Geronimo more than once... and would do it again in a heartbeat."

"Thee Geronimo?"
"No, Geronimo Jones. He has a barber shop in Prescott."
"Now... fuck you, Lou, and the coyote you rode in on."

A few hours after noon, as the sun crawls, we get a call from the wagon behind us. The three of us stop our horses and turn to face them. Andy is gesturing to the the vastness to our east. There is a cloud of dust, dirt, and sand boiling along about ten miles away. It has to be infantry, a lot of them, make that much of a mark on the desert. We watch for a moment, each of us gauging distance, time, and numbers.

"Here they come." Lou says, looking up at the sky for a moment, then back at the trail.

There is commotion in front of us as well. We have reached the Salinas River and the column has stopped for refreshment and replenishment. They don't know of the danger behind us. We have to warn them.

The Warrior Way

Mike is in quite a bit of pain, but up and moving. He has a tremendous thirst and spends the next several minutes drawing handfuls of water out of the river.

The elders that we followed from the sacred ground are still with the warriors. There is gathering interest in our presence to the point that all activity with them has ceased and they are all looking our way. It is unnerving.

"What do you suppose they are looking at?" I mentally check my moves, not to reach for my gun or rifle... even if it is just to take off the gun belt.

"Good idea." Lou tells me.
"What?"
"To not touch your weapons."
"Knock that shit off."
"These guys are ready for war, all painted up like that. One false move and we might be target practice for them."

I am surprised to hear this coming from Lou.
"You think they are a match for all of this iron?"
Lou stares back at them for a moment.
"These guys are hear to protect their tribe... at all cost, Jake. They wouldn't hesitate to kill us all and take our scalps to hang off those war ponies over there."
I hadn't seen the ponies up behind the clutch of teepees.

He digs a couple of cigars from that general store out of his pocket and hands me one. We bite off the ends and he strikes a long match.
"They aren't all done up like that for us."
He puffs his cigar to life and then holds the match out while I light mine.
"They have business with some unfortunate souls. Unless it is well armed cavalry they will probably win the day."

We watch as the elder motions toward us and then he one of the meaner looking warriors start walking our way.
"Hey, boys... don't make any sudden moves or reach for a weapon." Lou says out of the corner of his mouth.
Mike struggles to his feet and is steadied by Andy and Ollie. Chris is the only one absent, having headed over the rise to take a shit.

The old man steps up and starts to talk to us. Lou removes his hat and we do the same. I don't know if this is expected but it seems to be the right thing to do in his presence.

While he talks the warrior is burning holes through us, one at a time, sizing us up like we were cattle for sale. The old man keeps talking and we don't stop him. Not one word that we can understand, but the warriors examination seems to give direction to the old man's words. He looks each of us in the eyes. He stops with Andy and they have a bit of a stare down until the warrior moves on to Mike. He grabs his arm and Mike winces but does not cry out. This seems to please the warrior and he slaps him on his good shoulder. Just before Mike's eyes roll back and the boys have to support his weight the warrior moves on.

When the inspection is over and the old man stops talking. We turn to Seedling who is standing off to one side but has heard and seen everything that has transpired.
"Ohhh... you did it now, you did."
"Did what?"
"You're little interuption in my ceremony... they think you are spirits. Ole' chief here called you "piishii"... the Nighthawk. That there is what they consider to be their spirit warrior."

I look at him, "So what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"From what I can hear they think you boys are sent from the spirit world to lead them into battle." Seedling stops for a moment then cackles.
"You boys put yourselves in a big fix. They think your boy here was dead and you brought him back with your powers. That you are here to protect them as they move through the valley to the Sacred Mountains."

Lou looks at the ground and shakes his head, "Oh for Christ's sake, what else can we stack on this shit pile."
Chris comes back from over the rise and sees us all together, the painted warrior and the elder are returning to the camp. We fill him in on the latest development and he turns around and heads back over the hill.

We are all tired, hot, hungry, and still thirsty. The river cools our bodies and quenches our thirst, but we are still hungry. Tonight we will sleep, but for now we need food. Seedling tells us that this won't be a problem. They will feast tonight on the eve of battle. We will be honored guests.

There are concerns. We only have so much ammunition for our weapons. The one thing we do have is dynamite, but this will have to be saved primarily for cracking the Spirit Mountains. Seedling brings our concerns to their Chief, who shows us a flatbed wagon that they had taken in an attack on a supply column months ago. There are boxes of cartridges, a couple of cases of rifles, and another large crate with a couple of smaller crates banded to it.

"What about those?" I look at Lou, pointing to the banded crates.
"Only one way to find out."

Under the seat of the buckboard we find a couple of tools used to change a wheel, namely a mallet and pry bar. With a little work, we peel off the top of the crate.
"Holy shit... is that a machine gun?"
Lou pulls some of the packing material aside. "Gattling gun."
We both take an end and pull it clear of the crate, setting it on top of the rifle crates.
"With a Bruce loading system... that's new technology for this era."
"Bruce loading system?"
"It uses two cartridge loaders. One can be reloaded while the gun keeps firing."

We go through the crate. There is a mounting system for a pull behind cart that can be modified to mount straight to this wagon. The smaller crates banded to the gun are the cartridge loaders, already stacked with rounds and ready to go. Chris finds four small crates of .45/70 cartridges.

"We can fight a small army with this gear." He says, holding up one of the giant clips for display... shaking it a little.
"We just might have to." Lou tells him.

After talking to the Chief through Seedling, Lou gets an idea of what is going on. These Indians are ready to move up to the high ground in the Spirit/Superstition Mountains. They have been supporting Geronimo and the Apache from Turkey Creek in the New Mexico territory. They have helped his men to fend off the pursuing Cavalry from Fort McDowell near that trading post, and Ft. Whipple near Prescott. They will not be able to make their way to higher ground without meeting up with patrols, and once that happens they are only a messenger away from a full attack.

"How far is it to their Spirit Mountains?"
"Not more than a day's ride from where I found you fellas." Seedling says, pulling a piece of salt pork out of a paper wrapper and consuming it.

Between the six of us we come up with a plan. Ollie and Chris will mount the gatling gun to the back of the wagon. Whatever hardware they need they will have to rob from the wagon itself, or Seedlings gear. We are going to ride out with these warriors and the scattered tribe, their men up front and us bringing up the rear with the wagon mounted gun. The Chief has no idea what he has here and we aren't going to waste any ammunition showing him how it works. We do, however, have plenty of rifles so we will have a little demonstration once we are gathered with them.

Once we near the Salt River Canyon, Ollie and one other man will head to the Keep and grab the Clarok. He is the only one among us aside from Lou who can track well enough to find us once again when he has the device. Plus he is the only of us who can lift the damn thing by himself.

Before long we have the rifles uncrated and loaded. There are enough rifles for each of the braves with four to spare. We arrange for a group of the Warriors to come to the river's edge where we are hard at work. They look bothered by what is being said to them through Seedling's tongue.

"They don't need to know how to fight from nobody no how." Seed says, looking at the tops of his boots.
"We aren't here to show them how to fight... just how to shoot." Lou tells him, grabbing one of the newly loaded rifles from the back of the wagon.

Two of the Indians turn to walk back to their camp. Lou picks up a rock about the size of a golf ball and hands it to Seed, then gestures at the man that had come up with the chief earlier. He sets the rifle back on the wagon and straightens up his gunbelt.
"Tell this man to throw this rock as high and far as he can."
"What fer, he ain't in no mood no..."
"Just DO it."
Seedling says something in Apache to the Warrior, who takes the rock from Seed and launches it high and far. He then turns and looks Lou in the eye, as if to question him on this silliness.

While locked eye to eye with the man, Lou draws and fires twice, looking away for just a split second. The rock frags into dust and the Warrior's expression changes. As the gunshot echo fades, he calls the departing Warriors back to the river and we give them a crash course on the rifles, their gunsightes, and distance. All in all it is a successful exchange of information. We show them the guns and how to use them, they show us a little knife and tomahawk throwing, and how to use their bow and arrows.

Andy steps up when they are demonstrating the bow and he gestures for turn. They hand him the bow. He takes it and gives it a quick look with admiring eyes. Once he has an arrow in place, he looks out at the landscape.
"Seedling, ask them if they see that flower on the cactus out on the rise."
Seed looks and laughs, "That little yaller one out there?"
Andy nods.
"You ain't gonna hit that thing if'n you were standing ten feet in front of it."
"Just ask them."
With a giggle, Seed translates. The Warriors have a little laugh themselves. Then they say something back to Seed.
"They said One who is Stiff in Shirt should stick to scaring with guns."

Andy lets the arrow fly and pops the blossom off of the cactus that has to be seventy or eight yards away. The Warriors stop talking... and then they let up a whoop and a holler, gathering around Andy and showing their appreciation at his skill. This turns the next half an hour into a contest of sorts. Their best Warrior against Andy. They each, in turn, would tell Seedling of their target and he would translate. Each of them hit what they were aiming for each time. Near the end, Andy seems to be besting "Big Dog" as we started to call him. He is the one that was with the Chief earlier.

It isn't until we realize that Andy is making Big Dog look bad in front of his men that Andy manages to aim off target, letting the Warrior beat him. There is heartfelt admiration from the Warriors for Andy's skill, and they take him away to camp to the gathering celebration of tomorrow's move to sacred lands.

"Looks like One who is Stiff in Shirt has made an impression on our hosts."
Lou gives a smile, "Good thing he threw the match. I don't think those guys take to being beaten at their own game."

In the Indian camp there is a blazing fire. A handful of children run around the base of it, throwing things in to burn. On one side of the fire, the coals are red hot and harvested for several large pieces of meat... buffalo I would assume, but it could be horse for all I know.

We sit with the elders and the Chief. Lou has been invited to sit with him, to smoke with him. With Seedling at his side in case there is a need to translate, he takes the long pipe and looks as though he belongs here... in this scene, in this life. The steel in his eyes is softened in the firelight, the ghosts of days past are not in this time to haunt his sleep.

The meat is passed by and you tear away what you want. There is that and some kind of vegetable or river grass or something. A couple of handfuls of it, that and the meat and I am stuffed. Time passes, I watch a couple of the young women as they look our way... talking, smiling. It isn't until I feel the hand on my shoulder and turn that I see that the boys are no longer behind and beside me. In fact none of the young men and the painted Warriors are at the fire.

I am led away from the gathering and brought to a teepee where all of the young men are standing outside. Inside I find the boys, the Chief, and all the painted Warriors sitting around a small fire. They seem to be waiting for something. That something is me.

When I sit, the Chief begins to speak. Seedling was not invited, so whatever he is saying is lost to the smoke of the fire. As he speaks, a couple of vessels pass around the fire, with each Warrior taking a swallow and then passing it on. The cups are passed in each direction, so you are taking two swallows before they end.

It is a familiar taste. I look at Lou who smiles back through the fire light. It is the same taste when we took that journey in the desert crossing from Mexico. The fire grows in intensity, if only in my mind. The Chief's words become clear to me, and I see in the light of the fire Lou's coyote, the Nagual that is his spirit guide. He is here in this time as well.