Comanche Dawn (66 page)

Finally, Hair-Like-a-Mane rode Noomah to a rise on the open plains. They trotted, then loped across the grass. Noomah could see a long way, which pleased him after so many days in the creek bed near the water hole. He heard the good noise of the two-legged on his back, felt the soft heels nudge his ribs. Noomah began to run. He had not run this fast in a long time. Hair-Like-a-Mane stayed with him like a part of him. Noomah ran faster. It seemed he had never run this fast.

Then, he heard something strange. It seized his heart like the jaws of a meat-eater and shot power through his massive muscles. A lion's scream and a wolf's howl and a hawk's cry had come together and burst from the throat of Hair-Like-a-Mane. Realizing this, Noomah's fear turned to sudden joy, and he felt the wind pull at his tail as his heart connected with his rider's. Never had he run this fast. The joyful sound of his two-legged made him lengthen his stride and pound the earth with his hooves. He ran faster than any horse had ever run.

Noomah loved to run.

59

January, 1712
Santa Fe, New Mexico

Governor Del Bosque opened
the door to his
sala
and gaped in disbelief. “
Gracias a Dios!
” he said. “Juan, you look half-dead!” He stepped aside and gestured indoors.

Jean smiled as he entered with his servant. He pointed to a corner in the governor's cozy
sala.
“Throw the burden down there, Paniagua, and that will be all for the night.”

The
Tiwa
servant lugged the heavy leather pack saddle pannier to the corner indicated by his employer and dropped it. Without a word, he left the
sala
and entered the night.

The governor's mouth was still open, but now he scrambled for a bottle of wine. Pouring a glass, he looked through the door Paniagua had left open, and shouted across the plaza of the
Casas Reales
toward the kitchen. “We have a guest! Bring something to eat!” He kicked the door shut to close out the evening chill and handed the glass to Jean.

“Thank you,” Jean said, sitting near the fire to warm himself. He added another billet of split pine to the flames without seeking permission to do so.

“You look half-starved, my friend. Your face is drawn up like a corpse.”

“It was a difficult journey.”

Del Bosque glanced at the leather pannier. “That
Indio
servant—Paniagua. Do you trust him?”

“As you would trust me.”

“And the bag. Full of gold?”

“Four thousand pesos to put back in the treasury. It is only the first installment. We have many good French guns to sell, my friend. The prices are high. The buyers will come to us.” Jean could feel himself beginning to relax, finally, after months of hard travel, hiding, fighting, guarding his goods. He had not let his guard down, even in his sleep, until this moment.

Yet it was Del Bosque who seemed more relieved. He sat down and heaved a huge sigh. He seemed almost ready to weep. “Thank God. I thought you were dead out there. What happened?”

Jean pulled his chair close the governor's and told about Quivira, the stabbings of Night Hunter and Henri Casaubon. “It is strange, but there are rumors out on the plains. Some
Tiwas
at Tachichichi claim they have seen Henri Casaubon leading a party of raiding
Pani.
”

“But, you have just told me you stabbed him to death at Quivira.”

“I stabbed him good. I thought he was dead. It seems impossible, but perhaps he could have survived.”

“He will be looking for you.”

Jean chuckled. “I am safe in Santa Fe. If Casaubon survived my blade and desires revenge, he will have to catch me out there some other time.”

Jean went on with his tale, describing the Osage battle where he recovered the governor's ill-gotten gold. “The Comanches suffered two dead, and more wounded in the fight. They refused to go on with me, and I do not hold them at fault. I gave them their share of the horses, and went on by myself after we recovered the gold from the Osage thief. I have heard that the Comanche camp on the Rio Napestle was attacked by Battle Scar's band of Apaches in Acaballo's absence. The Comanches have split over the entire escapade. Now there are two bands, and the one under Whip is raiding the settlements in the north for horses.”

“Forget the Comanches,” Del Bosque said. “The trade, Juan, the trade. How did you do it alone?”

“I never should have attempted it, but I thought that perhaps I could fill the void left by Casaubon before any other
courier de bois
knew he was dead. I traveled mostly at night until I reached Arkansas post, where the Rio Napestle empties into the Messipe. I traded the horses and gold for guns, along with some trade goods, iron, lead, cloth, honey, and other things. I am wanted for treason in Canada, but the potential profits resulting from a trade with New Mexico are worth more to the
couriers de bois
at Arkansas post than the price on my head.”

Del Bosque nodded. “How did you get back across the plains?”

Jean shrugged. “I rode.”

“You rode alone? All the way from the Messipe to the Rio Grande?”

“Not always alone. I traveled well south of the Rio Napestle to avoid the Osage and the Raccoon-Eyed People. I passed among nations I had encountered with La Salle. The
Tejas,
and the Caddoes. I even met a Frenchman whom I had known. He deserted from La Salle's expedition, many years ago. His name was Mousset, but he did not remember his name, nor me, nor even La Salle. He could not speak French.”

Del Bosque frowned. “It is odd how easily white men turn heathen and forget their teachings. Did the savages trouble you?”

“I gave each chief a gun. The Caddoes guided me west of the timbers, but would go no farther for fear of Apaches. I went on from there alone. I came to the base of a great escarpment. Ascending it, I rode west across a vast plain—a high, treeless void—following a river that gradually dwindled as I went west.”

“But, you had water all the way?”

“No. The river vanished in a series of draws and dry tributaries. I was completely lost, Antonio. Two of my horses died of thirst, so I had to cache the guns. I knew I had to go west to get back to New Mexico, but I also knew the rivers ran east out there in the land of the cows. So, I went north, hoping to find another stream. I was lucky. The only horse I had left survived until I reached a river I knew by its red water. I found a village of Faroan Apaches whose chief I had traded with before. I traded them six ponies for six guns.”

“You only had to give them six guns? I am amazed that the Apaches did not simply kill you for all the guns, my friend.”

“I was too smart for them,” Jean said, motioning for the governor to fill his empty glass. “When I cached the trade goods, I hid all but six guns in a different place. The Apaches were convinced that I had only six guns. They took the guns and left me to load the other things—the lead and iron bars, the kegs of sulphur for making gunpowder, the deerskins filled with honey and tallow. To further assure that they would not kill me, I promised to bring them more guns from the east on my next trip. I camped for two days to make sure they would not return, then loaded the rest of the muskets I had hidden—almost two hundred.

“After seven days, I was out of water again, but God was with me. A party of
Towa
hunters found me out on the
llano
and took me back to Pecos Pueblo. I gave them all the honey and tallow, but I had the guns wrapped in deerskin by pairs, and I convinced the
Towas
that they were stocks for shackling Apache slaves. The
Towas
approved of this idea very much. You know how they have suffered from Apache attacks lately.”

“Where are the guns now?” the governor asked.

“Most of them are hidden at my hacienda. Some are already in El Paso del Norte. I arranged months ago for a buyer to wait for me in Santa Fe and take them south into New Spain.”

“And the profits?”

Jean gulped his wine and grinned. “Sinful. We have perhaps fifteen pesos invested in each gun, so rich are the French in muskets, and hungry for gold and horses. I sold the first shipment of guns to my buyer for two hundred pesos each. He will demand twice that much in New Spain.”

“
Gracias a Dios,
” Del Bosque whispered. “This is a feat beyond any I have ever heard. From the Messipe to the Rio Grande. Alone, from Arkansas post to Santa Fe! It is a pity that history cannot record your adventure, my friend.”

Jean chuckled. “Forget history. We are going to get rich. It is not necessary to go every year, for the inventory will sustain us through two, maybe three years. We do not want to sell our goods too quickly and draw attention to our trade, or bring the prices down. In time, we will supply good French guns to every Spanish officer and
rico
in New Spain. The Crown will benefit from its own ignorance of our secret trade. Even our own colonists will gladly pay a year's wages for the security of a good weapon. I told you long ago, Antonio, that such a trade would make us wealthy partners. New Mexico will become our kingdom.”

The door opened and a girl entered with a carved wooden platter stacked with steaming tortillas, sliced goat cheese, sausages, scrambled eggs, peppers, chopped wild onions, and an
olla
filled with butter.

“Teresa!” the governor said. “Why do you behave as a servant?”

Jean stood, realizing that it was the governor's daughter who had brought the food. He had not recognized her at first, for she become a young woman since he had seen her last.

“Forgive me, Father,” the girl said. “The servants have gone to bed. I saw
Señor
Archebeque arrive, and decided I should help the cook.” She placed the platter in front of Jean and looked up at him. “
Señor,
you look very hungry,” she said. She reached for his face and brushed her fingers across the hollowed cheeks and the tattooed chin.

“That will be enough of that,” Del Bosque said. “You are too young to consort with a rogue such as the intrepid Archebeque, my dear. Now, run along and play with your dolls.”

Teresa fumed and turned away, yet she paused at the door to glance over her shoulder at Jean, the dark pupils hard against the corners of her glistening eyes.

The governor clapped Jean on the shoulder and pushed him into a chair that stood in front of the food. “My daughter has no idea how much embarrassment you have saved her, Juan. Now she will live without care because of you. How will I ever repay you?”

Jean shrugged and reached for a tortilla. He had an idea of how the governor might repay him. Teresa had blossomed in the past year. Though only sixteen, she had already mastered many of the wiles of the provocative
señorita,
Strange to think of it, Jean mused, imagining himself paying court to the governor's young daughter. He had come to this colony a penniless, tattooed traitor. Once, an audience with the governor would have struck fear through his heart. Now, the governor came to him for help in his hour of darkest need.

Perhaps it was only the fact that he had not lain with a woman in months that made his flesh prickle with desire for young Teresa, who was, after all, more than twenty years his junior. Perhaps tomorrow, as he woke in the arms of his favorite harlot, who even now waited for him across the Santa Fe plaza, he would cast off even the most cursory thought of the virginal Teresa. Perhaps.

Still, the image of himself with the
señorita
hinted at certain advantages beyond the possibilities of conjugal pleasure. Across the plains, he might be hanged as a traitor. Here, he was a hero of the colony for defying the edicts of the very crown under whose flag he flourished. The governor poured wine for him. The governor's daughter made eyes at him. Perhaps Jean L'Archeveque was, as Horseback had lamented, a man without a nation. On the other hand, he was, perhaps, a nation unto himself, chief among chieftains, the Sovereign of the Southern Plains.

60

Shaggy Hump's lodge felt
cold when he woke before dawn. His heart pounded a hoofbeat in his chest, and sweat covered his body. His breath came like that of a man in battle, rather than a man sleeping peacefully in his lodge. The moon had passed over the mountains, and the lodge was dark as the den of a great bear. For a moment, Shaggy Hump wondered where he lay. Was this the land of humans, or the Land of Shadows? Then he tossed the robe aside and let the cold, dry air of the plains night chill the sweat on his body.

He was alone. Looks Away had slept in her own lodge since River Woman's death, so that Shaggy Hump might concentrate on his grief. Now, he thought of River Woman as though she lay nearby, as she had done many winters ago, in the days before the demons possessed her. “My sits-beside wife,” Shaggy Hump said under his breath, thinking of River Woman as she had been in those times of youth. It seemed as if the memories had been made yesterday.

River Woman, do you bear these glorious and terrible dreams I have dreamt? Do you call to me from the Shadow Land? Have you opened the way to the time that comes? I am a warrior. I have lived well. I am ready. I will die bravely.

He lay still for a while, and young River Woman faded further from his thoughts. For many winters she had served him, aggravated him, amazed him, confused him. Now she was gone. She had possessed mysterious powers. He would not disappoint her. He knew what he must do.

As he listened to the wind fret the smoke flaps above, he began to feel very alone. He groped for the rawhide strap that ran from his lodge to Looks Away's. He found it tied to the lower end of a lodge pole. He pulled on it sharply several times, and faintly heard the noise of the rattles made from deer dewclaws in Looks Away's lodge. She took only a few moments to enter his lodge. She was a good wife. Obedient and willing. She knelt beside him.