Apache Flame (25 page)

“I don’t know. We’ll have to be careful how we approach
him.”

“I reckon. It’s bound to be a shock.”

“Yes.”

“How do you feel about staying here awhile?”

“I don’t know. How long a while?”

Mitch shrugged. “Long enough for Rides the Buffalo to get
used to the idea that we’re his parents.”

“How long do you think that will take?”

“Hell, I don’t know. But we can’t just say, Hi, we’re your
parents, and drag him out of here.”

“I know. I’m willing to stay as long as it takes him to get
used to the idea.” She paused a moment. “As long as it takes for us to get used
to the idea. I’ve thought of nothing but finding my son ever since my father
told me the truth, but, deep down, I’m afraid I’m not ready to be the mother of
a four-year-old.”

“Sure you are, you’ve had lots of experience, teaching and
all.”

“Yes, but those are other people’s children.”

“You’ll be a wonderful mother,” Mitch said reassuringly. “I
just hope I’m a better father than my old man.”

“You will be. You’re nothing like him.”

“I reckon not.” He slowed, then stopped, as his mother’s
lodge came into view. He wasn’t looking forward to confronting his mother, but
it had to be done. He was sick of lies and half-truths.

“Mitchy?”

His hold tightened on her hand. “Come on, let’s get this
over with.”

He was ready for a fight when he reached his mother’s lodge.
Lifting the door flap, he stepped inside, then came to an abrupt halt. His
mother was in Elk Chaser’s arms, sobbing. Several women and a couple of men
were gathered around. Red Clements stood beside the door, his arms folded over
his chest.

“What’s going on?” Mitch asked.

“Rides the Buffalo is missing,” Elk Chaser said.

“Missing?” Alisha exclaimed.

“He has been gone all afternoon. No one has seen him.”

“Damn.”

Alisha looked up at Mitch. “Could he have found out?”

Mitch shrugged. “I don’t know how.”

White Robe glanced over her shoulder. “He listens at the
door sometimes. I think he might have heard us talking.”

Elk Chaser spoke up. “I told White Robe she must tell him
the truth, that it was a secret she could not keep forever.”

“So he knows he’s my son,” Mitch said. He glanced at Alisha.
“Our son?”

A murmur ran through the crowd as one of the warriors
translated what was being said.

White Robe nodded. “Perhaps.”

A short pithy curse escaped Mitch’s lips. “I’m going after
him.”

“I, too, will go,” Elk Chaser said.

“Count me in,” Clements said.

“I’ll take all the help I can get,” Mitch said.

“Let us go.”

Mitch nodded. “I’ll find him, ‘Lisha,” he promised, and
giving her a quick kiss, he left the lodge.

“Wait, I’m going with you.”

“Stay here and look after my mother.”

His horse was tethered outside. Taking up the reins, he
began to cut back and forth, searching the ground for sign. It was nearly
impossible to pick out one set of prints, but he saw a small set of moccasin
prints near the door, followed them as they turned and ran from the lodge.

All too soon, the prints of Rides the Buffalo were lost
among dozens of others. But it was a start. The boy was running southwest.

Leading his horse, Mitch followed the tracks until they
disappeared. The ground beyond the village was too hard to hold a print.

Mitch glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll ride ahead,” he told
Elk Chaser and Clements. “You two spread out and see what you can find.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Swinging aboard his mount, he
put the horse into an easy lope, hollering Rides the Buffalo’s name as he went.

There was no sign that the boy had passed this way, nothing
but broken ground littered with rocks and brambles and an occasional
cottonwood. It was a rough, inhospitable land, avoided by the Apache. Many of
their ancestors had been buried here in times past. The Apache believed the
spirits of the dead haunted the place. Rides the Buffalo must have been in dire
distress to come this way.

Mitch drew his horse to a halt. Had he heard a cry, or had
it been the wind?

And then he heard it again, a faint call for help.

He urged the bay toward the sound. “I’m coming,” he
hollered.

Moments later, he was peering into the depths of a narrow
chasm.

“Rides the Buffalo! Are you down there?”

“Yes.”

Mitch swore under his breath. “Are you hurt?”

“My arm. I think it is broken.”

“Damn. Anything else?”

“I can’t move. My leg is stuck in a hole.” There was a
pause, and Mitch heard the boy sob loudly. The sound echoed off the sides of
the chasm. “There is a body down here.”

Damn, Mitch thought. Had the boy fallen into a grave? “Stay
calm, son. The dead can’t hurt you. Does the opening get wider at the bottom?”

“No.”

Mitch quickly surveyed as much of the chasm as he could see.
It was about four feet across. He leaned over the edge as far as he dared. “Can
you see me from where you are?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Don’t move. I’m coming down.” He turned at the
sound of hoofbeats and saw Elk Chaser and Red Clements riding toward him. “I
found him,” he called.

Elk Chaser and Clements dismounted. Elk Chaser glanced
around, obviously uneasy at being in this place of the dead.

“He’s down here,” Mitch said.

Elk Chaser and Clements walked to the edge of the chasm and
peered down into the crevasse.

“I’m going down after him,” Mitch said.

“How’n hell you gonna do that?” Clements asked. “We ain’t
got no rope.”

“I’ll need you to go back to camp and get one,” Mitch said.
“In the meantime, I’m gonna climb down there. He says he’s got a broken arm,
and that his leg is stuck in a hole.”

Red Clements listened carefully, nodding all the while. “All
righty,” he said, “I’ll be back fore ya know I’m gone.”

“Red, give me your neckerchief and your belt, will ya?”

Clements untied his kerchief and removed his belt and handed
them to Mitch with a grin. “Anything else ya need?”

“No. Thanks.”

“All righty then, I’ll be goin’.”

“Be sure to let his mother know we have found him,” Elk
Chaser said. He paused, then added, “Both of them.”

“Will do.” Clements climbed into the saddle and headed back
to the village at a gallop.

Mitch tied the kerchief around his own neck, fastened the
belt around his waist, then rubbed his hands together. “I’m goin’ down. See if
you can put a travois together.”

“It will be ready when you return,” Elk Chaser replied.

With a nod, Mitch sat down on the edge of the chasm, then
turned and with his back braced on one wall and his feet against the other, he
began to work his way down. The rough surface quickly shredded his shirt, but
he gave no heed to the damage being done to his clothing, or his back. His only
thought was for the boy trapped at the bottom of the chasm. Rides the Buffalo.
His son.

It seemed to take hours for him to reach the bottom.

Rides the Buffalo was hunched against a bunch of rocks. His
face was pale. There was dried blood on one cheek, his shirt and clout were
torn, there were long scrapes on his arms and legs. He held his right arm close
to his chest.

His right leg was angled to one side, his foot jammed
beneath a large rock and the side of the crevasse.

“Hey,” Mitch said. “How you doin’?”

“I am doing all right,” Rides the Buffalo said bravely.

“Sure you are. I’m gonna get your out of here just as soon
as I can.”

Rides the Buffalo nodded.

“I’m gonna try to lift that boulder off your foot,” Mitch
said. “When I do, I need you to pull your leg out as quick as you can, all
right?”

Rides the Buffalo nodded.

“All right, here we go,” Mitch said. It was a large rock. He
put his hands under a crack beneath the rock, bent his legs to get some
leverage, took a deep breath, and lifted. “Now!”

Rides the Buffalo groaned as he jerked his foot from under
the rock.

With an oath, Mitch let the rock settle to the ground again.
“You all right?”

Rides the Buffalo nodded, and Mitch knew the boy was trying
not to cry.

Mitch turned his back to the boy while he examined his foot,
giving Rides the Buffalo as much privacy as he could. The boy’s ankle was badly
swollen, but Mitch didn’t think it was broken.

“All right,” Mitch said. “I’m gonna strap your arm close to
your chest to keep it immobile while we climb out of here.” He took a deep
breath. “I’m afraid it’s gonna hurt like hell.”

Rides the Buffalo swallowed hard, then nodded. He closed his
eyes, his jaw tightly clenched, as Mitch used Clements’ belt to strap Rides the
Buffalo’s arm to his chest.

He was just finishing up when Clements called his name.

“Yeah?” Mitch hollered back.

“Here comes the rope.”

Mitch stood against the side of the crevasse, shielding Rides
the Buffalo with his body, as the free end of the rope dropped over the side.
He gave the rope a sharp tug. “You sure you’ve got the other end tied off
good?”

“Yeah. Ready when you are.”

Mitch deftly tied the end around his chest, then turned to
the boy.

“You ready to get out of here?”

“Are you really my father?”

“Yes.”

“And the white woman is my mother?”

“Yes. We’ll talk about it later. Right now we need to get
you out of here.”

Rides the Buffalo nodded.

“Here we go. I’ll need you to hold onto me as tight as you
can with your left arm, all right? I know this is gonna hurt, but it’s the only
way out.”

Rides the Buffalo nodded, his dark eyes filled with trust as
Mitch bent down and lifted him into his arms.

“All right,” Mitch hollered. “We’re ready.”

It was a slow, torturous climb, holding the boy, trying to
keep them both from being scraped against the rocks as they were slowly pulled
up out of the crevasse. Once, the rope slipped and they fell several feet.
Mitch felt his heart leap into his throat at the thought of plummeting
earthward and landing on the rocks below, but then their descent stopped and
they were again being reeled up, like a fish on a line.

When they neared the top, Mitch saw that there were three
warriors on the rope. His mother and Alisha hovered nearby, flanked by dozens
of men, women, and children.

Spirit Walking came forward to lift Rides the Buffalo from
Mitch’s arms; a warrior unknown to Mitch came to help him up over the edge of
the crevasse.

White Robe ran forward, her face lined with concern as she
knelt beside the travois where Rides the Buffalo lay, his eyes closed, his face
pinched with pain.

They didn’t waste any time getting back to the camp. Mitch
carried Rides the Buffalo into White Robe’s lodge. His mother entered close behind
him.

Red Shield, the shaman, had been summoned and was already
there, waiting for them.

The inside of the lodge was redolent with the scent of sage
and sweet grass. Mitch placed Rides the Buffalo on a buffalo robe, then went to
stand near the door, out of the way. Alisha came in to stand beside him. Elk
Chaser stood on the other side of the doorway. Red Clements waited outside.

White Robe knelt beside Rides the Buffalo, brushing a lock
of hair from his brow, crooning softly as the shaman examined the boy’s wounds.
Rides the Buffalo cried out as the medicine man explored the break in his arm.

Red Shield sprinkled
hoddentin
into the fire, rubbed
some on Rides the Buffalo’s forehead, and then offered the boy piece of yarrow
root, which would numb the pain and make him drowsy.

Mitch put his arm around Alisha as the medicine man spread a
layer of moss over the break in the boy’s arm, then wrapped it in a piece of
wet hide. As it dried, the hide would harden, molding itself to the boy’s arm,
keeping it immobile. Red Shield treated the boy’s ankle in the same manner.

As the medicine man stood up, Mitch released a breath he
hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He didn’t think he’d ever experienced
anything more heart wrenching than seeing his son in pain and being unable to
help. His son. Damn, but that sounded good.

Red Shield was gathering his belongings when Alisha tapped
him on the shoulder. “Sir, would you please look at Mitch’s back?”

The old shaman grinned, amused at her use of the word “sir”.

“I’m fine,” Mitch said.

“No, you’re not,” Alisha insisted. “Sit down.”

White Robe stood up and walked behind Mitch, gasping when
she saw the abrasions on his back. In their concern for Rides the Buffalo, they
had forgotten that Mitch had also sustained some injuries.

“Look at his left hand, too, please,” Alisha said.

Mitch was muttering under his breath as he sat down. Alisha
removed what was left of his shirt, shook her head, and tossed it in the fire
pit.

Red Shield opened his packets of herbs and salves. After
washing away the blood, he applied a thin layer of bear grease over the cuts
and abrasions on Mitch’s back, then wrapped a length of soft cloth around
Mitch’s chest.

“My hand’s fine,” Mitch said as the shaman began to examine
it.

Red Shield grunted softly, and after washing away the blood,
he applied a coat of bear grease over Mitch’s palm and wrapped it in a strip of
cloth.

“Keep dry,” the shaman said in his reedy voice.

“Thank you,” Alisha said.

Red Shield nodded, then took his leave.

Tomorrow, Elk Chaser would leave one of his best horses and
a haunch of venison at the medicine man’s lodge in payment.

Later, when Rides the Buffalo was sleeping soundly, Alisha,
Mitch, his mother, and Elk Chaser sat beside the fire, a strained silence
between them.

Alisha slipped her hand into Mitch’s, needing his strength.