  Light from a thin slice of moon glanced from the Bavispe River, stole through thinly leaved trees, and painted a lichen-crusted boulder with moonbeams. But the moonlight made not the faintest impression in the grove of thick-limbed, heavy-trunked trees on the river's bank. Beneath the trees it was black enough for devils to dance. But any devils who might have been there would have been frightened away by the Apaches who had come to Mexico in peace but who knew now that there must be war. This grove was their appointed rendezvous should anything go amiss while they were trading. Geronimo sat as though he had lost everything that made him alive but was still not dead. He knew dimly that Mangus Coloradus was talking in low tones with men whom Geronimo was too dazed to recognize. The Mimbreno chief said, "We must go to our village." "And leave our dead?" The question was laden with heartbreak. Mangus Coloradus said, "We are deep in enemy country, with few arms, no food, and no horses. Is there another way?" "I will not go," Nadeze said firmly. "Then you will not return to meet again those who massacred our people," said the chief. "Return?" Nadeze was puzzled. "We will come again," Mangus Coloradus promised, "but with warriors only." "Ha!" Nadeze snarled like an angry puma. "If my dead know that, they will forgive me for leaving! I must go and tell them!" Others announced their intention to return to the encampment for one last visit with their dead. "Go we may, but we must go cautiously and we must not linger," Mangus Coloradus said. "The rurales may still await us there. If they do not, the night is our friend. And we must ask our friend to shield us while we travel far." A clear thought penetrated Geronimo's numbed brain. At the time when the massacre must have occurred, the people of Kas-Kai-Ya had set up a deafening racket. Why, if not to make it impossible for the warriors in town to hear rifle shots? The thought faded and Geronimo was again a live body with a numbed brain and sick soul. He understood dully that they must return to their village, but that first they would have one last visit at the encampment. He rose only because the others did, and started out of the grove. They found and traveled the trail to the Apache encampment. It was a bold move and, under a lesser chief than Mangus Coloradus, might have been disastrous. But the Mimbreno chief had rightly decided that Mexicans gauged Apache hearts by their own. If such a disaster had stricken Mexicans, the survivors would never have dared show themselves on the trail. Neither would they have visited the scene of the massacre. When the angry and grief-stricken Apaches reached the encampment, they found that the rurales had left. The moon was merciful. The crumpled figures that lay all about seemed like so many sleeping persons. Geronimo sought the wickiup where he had left his family. He stopped suddenly. Alope lay full length before him, head turned and cheek resting on her right hand. Her long black hair tumbled at her side. Many times had Geronimo watched her sleep in just such a fashion, and now she seemed asleep. But she did not wake. Geronimo's mother had fallen at the entrance to the wickiup, and the children were near. The two little girls had embraced when the Mexicans overtook them, and had fallen with their arms still about each other. The boy was at his sisters' feet. His right arm was stretched toward them, and he still clutched the rock which he had intended to throw at the treacherous Mexicans. Geronimo was unaware of the hand that touched his arm, until Mangus Coloradus said gently, "Come with us, brother." Geronimo responded like an obedient dog. He felt no grief, no shock, no pain, for he was too numbed to feel anything. He knew he must follow only because he had been told that he must. By sunrise the Apaches were many miles from the scene of tragedy. Mangus Coloradus had led them over the roughest and rockiest places. They had waded streams wherever streams flowed and done everything possible to hide their trail. At last Mangus Coloradus called a halt and sent some out to hunt while he told others to build a smokeless fire from dead wood. One by one, the hunters returned. Since a shot from a gun would have attracted attention, the game had been brought down with thrown rocks or knives. Their bag consisted of some jack rabbits and a crippled peccary. They ate, rested, and went on. Geronimo remembered nothing of the flight. On reaching the village, he went first to his mother's wickiup. He entered, but at once ducked out again and sought his own house. Slowly the fogs faded from his brain. He discovered that he still carried the basket of beads for which he had traded half a pouch of gold in Kas-Kai-Ya. He had not realized, that night while the thin moon lighted the scene of the massacre, that the beloved people upon whom he looked were dead. Nor had he understood since. But he knew it now. Geronimo plunged into his wickiup and sought his store of weapons. Shotguns, rifles, muskets, powder, shot, knives, hatchets, lances, bows, and arrows were carried a safe distance from the wickiup and put carefully down. The basket of beads was placed near them. Then Geronimo strode to a nearby fire. Catching up a burning brand, he fired the wickiup he had shared with Alope, then cast the brand against his mother's house. He turned his back on the burning wickiups. Like his old life, they would soon be ashes. But there would be a new life, he told himself. A life of revenge! Pedro Gonzalez was attracted to the fires, and Geronimo asked him, "Do you have weapons?" "Bow and arrows, a knife, a lance, a hatchet." Geronimo indicated his own store. "Choose what you will." Pedro's brows arched in surprise. "You make gifts of such?" "I give a weapon to whoever will ride with me and meet the rurales who murdered our people." "I will ride, but only when Mangus Coloradus says to. He is still chief." "Coward!" Geronimo spat. Pedro's face tightened with anger, and he drew his knife. Geronimo grunted contemptuously and snatched at his own knife. Before either could make a thrust, Mangus Coloradus stepped between them. "What insanity is this?" the chief thundered. "I offered him his choice of weapons if he will return and fight the rurales!" Geronimo flared. "He will not go!" "I will!" Pedro snapped. "But I wait until Mangus Coloradus leads!" Mangus Coloradus whirled on Geronimo. "Have you turned fool?" "I go to fight the murderers of my family," Geronimo said flatly. "None of us has forgotten our dead," the chief replied. "We will go to avenge them, but to do so we must not only fight the Mexicans. We must defeat them. To defeat them, we must plan." "Plan?" Geronimo inquired. "We will seek Cochise, chief of the Chiricahua Apaches, and Whoa, chief of the Nedni," Mangus Coloradus said gravely. "We will ask their help. Then we will prepare. And then we will ride!" |
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