Apache Canyon

"What are you complaining for?" Brady said. "I'm not even getting paid for it. My contract ran out, remember?"

Harris chuckled softly in his throat. "Well, if we don't get back, maybe somebody will write it all up for the newspapers, and we'll be the heroes. I hope Inyo's in a good mood."

"Yeah," Brady breathed by way of answer. They broke out of the canyon, trotting at an easy pace and soon, on the side of a mountain that commanded a good-sized district, their Apache guides brought them into the rancheria.

This was a big, pattemless scatter of Indian wickiups, spread out over the humps and hollows of the hillside without apparent plan. Water ran by at the foot of the slope, the volume of the stream increased by the night-long rain and the continuing drizzle.

As they rode through the community, old women came out and stared at them with heads thrown back against the rain, eyes blazing defiantly; one woman picked up a handful of dirt and flung it at, them. It hit Brady's saddle; he ignored it. Harris said, "I know how much these people like to beat around the bush, but with Inyo I want to get right down to brass tacks."

"So does he, I reckon. He's pretty direct. This ain't a horse trade. Just say a few pohte words, then tell him what you want."

Harris nodded. Brady said, "Don't make any judgments from the size of this camp. It's not the only camp they've got up here." "I guessed as much."

"You'll do," Brady said, with a quiet grin. "Here we are. Don't step down until we're invited."

A woman with long gray hair turned stringy by the rain came out of the big wickiup, and thereupon one of the bucks escorting the party wheeled his horse and drummed away.

Harris looked at Brady. "What was that for?" "Most likely the old woman's his mother-in-law. They ain't supposed to look at their mothers-in-law or talk to them."

Harris smiled faintly. Tucker gigged himself up alongside; -and thus, thi'ee abreast, they faced the chief's lodge.

Stooping to clear the low doorway, Inyo came through into the rain. He was a tall man, very tall for an Apache, and lean like his son Tonio; his face was a seamed map of creases and shelves. He raised a hand in greeting to Brady and said softly, "Enju."

"Enju" Brady replied and said to Harris, "We can get down now."

A brave came forward with obvious intent, whereupon Harris said, "Tucker, take care of the horses," and the brave apparently understanding him, changed course and went away. Tucker grunted without pleasure and gathered up the reins of the four horses. The pack horse kicked a fly away with a rear hoof, startling Tucker. Brady had to smile; they were all jumpy today, and no wonder. On the ground, facing Inyo across a four-yard distance, he heard Harris's quiet question; "Does he speak Eng-Hsh?"

"Some. He'd rather speak his own language-it's a matter of saving face. I'll interpret."

"All right," Harris said, and stepped forward, giving the Indian sign for friendship. "Enju," he said. Brady stayed right beside him.

The tall chief nodded carefully and indicated the doorway of the lodge, afterward pushing the blanket-door aside and entering. "After him," Brady said dryly, and followed Harris into the damp dimness of the wickiup.

A small fire burned in the center of the place; its smoke made exit through a hole in the roof. Now and then a drop of drizzling rain sizzled on the fire. Inyo sat down cross-legged on a blanket, indicating to Brady that he and Harris should take seats on the far side of the fire. Inyo's eyes were level, lighted by an immense pride; he waited patiently.

''May the god of the sun be kind to the great war chief," Brady said in Apache dialect.

The chief dipped his head in reply. Brady spoke a few more pleasantries, obeying the Apache code of etiquette, and turned to Harris. "You can speak your peace.''

"You can do it better than I can," Harris said. "Tell him about the telegram from Sherman."

"All of it?"

"The whole thing."

"All right," Brady said, and turned to the chief. He spoke for some time, telling Inyo in carefully chosen words the offer to move the Apaches to the San Carlos, and the condition appended to the offer: that Inyo lead his renegades to the reservation.

Afterward, Inyo made answer in tones that were not so much guttural as low and soft-throated.

Harris said, "What did he say?"

"About what we expected. He says it sounds good to him, but he doesn't speak for all his people. He's only a war chief. There's a difference between a chief of the people and a war chief."

"Who's the chief of the people?"

"They haven't got one," Brady said dryly. "In wartime they don't need one."

"Then who gives the orders?"

"In battle, the war chiefs. Other times, nobody. Everybody makes up his own mind. They run a pretty free society. For all practical purposes, everybody's free to come and go as he pleases."

"That's just fine," Harris said, with a dour turn of his lips. He locked his hands together and leaned back a little. "Tell him the alternative—tell him we're prepared to mount a big expedition against him. Tell him we respect his fighting abihty and the pride of his people but we've got a whole lot more soldiers than he does, and sooner or later we'll kill all of them if they keep on resisting. Tell him his children will all be orphans and his women will all be widows."

Brady told it to Inyo, though he was fairly certain the chief had understood Harris's English. Inyo considered the two of them over a stretching interval, after which he spoke again, and Brady translated: "He says he knows all'that now. He didnt know it when he jumped the reservation, but he's figured out the odds. He knows we've got him hcked in the long run. But he still says he can't speak for anybody but himself."

Harris scratched his head and tugged at his ear-lobe. "Ask him to talk frankly--ask him what he thinks the chances are of him talking his people into giving up and coming back to the reservation."

Brady asked, and waited with half-held breath for Inyo's answer.

When it came, the answer was carefully thought-out and spoken. Brady said, "He says it wouldn't work. The braves have suffered too long and taken too many empty promises from the Government. They prefer to stay in the mountains and fight as long as they can-at least it's an honorable way to Uve and to die, if they must."

"But Inyo has a lot of prestige with them. He's a respected man. Why shouldn't they listen to him?''

"It's not in their way of doing things. They'd listen to him. They'd give him all the respect he's due. Then they'd go off and do as they please."

Harris turned to look away for a moment; he said, "Frankly, I can't say I blame him. If I was in the shoes of one of these Apache braves I'd probably make the same choice myself."

Brady said, "That kind of attitude wont get us anywhere right now."

Harris grunted. "All right. Will, can you think of anything else we can say?"

"No."

"That's what I thought. We've said our piece. Inyo has our offer. You might tell him it's a good offer, and we'll stand by it. It's no empty promise."

Brady translated the words into Apache and relayed them. Inyo said nothing. Harris turned his palms up, raising his shoulders in a sign of resignation. "That's it, then. Ask him if we'll have safe passage out of the mountains."