The Peacemaker (20 page)

The colonel's head jerked up, his mouth pulled and thinned into a tight, angry line. "You'd do well, Major, to remember that you're an officer in my command and as such you'll take orders from me, not the other way around!" His right hand tightly gripped the hilt of his saber.

"Captain Nolan," Jim called over his shoulder in a voice meant to get all the troopers' attention. Aubrey Nolan came forward and saluted. "At ease, Captain." Jim waived a return salute, "Would you take a moment to refresh the colonel's memory about the bargain we made that you witnessed?"

Aubrey Nolan eyed Jim narrowly, obviously not convinced that humiliating the colonel in front of his entire command was the wisest tact to take. Nevertheless, he complied, as Jim knew he would, practically reciting word for word the terms of the agreement, which did indeed give Jim complete authority. Jim found a perverse pleasure in seeing the vein in the colonel's forehead swell with indignation.

"That will do, Captain Nolan," the colonel said acidly. "Your memory for details is commendable."

"Thank you, sir." The captain executed a smart salute and did an about-face and walked away.

Jim resisted a smile. "On that note, sir, I would like to begin looking over the men and making my selections."

The colonel looked ruffled but maintained his uncompromising authority. "You have my permission to begin, Major."

To Sergeant Moseley, who stood only a few feet away, Jim said, "Call the troops to attention, Sergeant."

Moseley marched to the center of the parade ground. "Attention!"

Like puppets on a string, nearly a hundred troopers fell into formation, standing side by side around the perimeter of the parade ground. They butted their feet together, positioned their arms straight down and close to their sides, and focused unwavering attention on some theoretical object. Their uniforms were of standard-issue blue-black wool, with roll collar blouses, light blue trousers, and dark blue wool kepis for their heads. From Aubrey, Jim had learned that the colonel had flatly refused any individuality in dress, or, even when summer came upon them, to substitute the blue undress blouse for the lighter weight blue flannel shirt.

That would all change for the men he chose for training, Jim thought.

Jim began to walk in front of the men, glancing briefly at each face before going on to the next. Some he recognized as having seen from afar through his field glasses, others from that day Chie had attacked the ambulance, and still others from his visits to Bowie.

Captain Nolan joined him after Jim had made his first inspection. "So what do you think?" he asked in a low voice.

Jim nodded soberly. "I think I've got a lot of work to do," he confided.

"Then you'd better get started."

"I have," Jim said, challengingly. "The first man I'm going to choose is you. You've got all the qualifications that I'll be looking for in them." He slanted his head toward the men on the south side of the parade ground. Then in earnest added, "I want you with me on this, Aubrey. The men look up to you, respect you. It isn't going to be easy getting them to do the things I'm going to ask them to do. The Apaches didn't learn to become skilled warriors overnight; they were taught from childhood. We've only got a few weeks."

Aubrey's mouth tightened into a grimace. "Are you going to make me run around half-naked like you?"

"If necessary," Jim quipped. If he had thought for a moment Aubrey didn't want to be included, he wouldn't have asked him, but they had been friends too long, been through too much together, for him not to be sure of Aubrey's response.

Aubrey lifted his eyes and looked away. "What the hell! I'm with you, but only because I wouldn't want you to have all the fun!" he said, his index finger shooting out at Jim.

A smile appeared on Jim's lips but never actually reached his eyes. "I assume you've told the men all about me. I don't want my past rearing its ugly head and causing problems. They'll need to trust me, Aubrey. Their lives will depend on it."

"They know. I've told them everything. I don't think anyone here doesn't know what you were up against and why you chose to escape and desert. The only problem I foresee is a question of your relationship with the Apaches. I'd suggest you explain it to them as you did to me. They're not stupid, Jim. They'll understand. Many of them already do. Fact is, quite a few of them were instrumental in helping me formulate the plan that brought you here. I'll point them out to you as you make your selections. We have a lot of good, honest men here. Men who want to make Arizona a prosperous territory where people can start businesses and raise families. Most of them advocated the training. The ones that didn't— Well, you'll be able to pick them out," he said with confidence.

"Let's hope so," Jim said dryly as he strode toward the center of the parade ground. It had been a long time since he'd had his own command—since the war. His last order was the one that had ended him up in jail, accused of killing four Yankee soldiers. Only they weren't Yanks. They were Johnny Rebs, disguised in Yankee blues.

Hands on hips, legs spread slightly apart, he stood alone before them. If he was in their boots, he too would be wondering what kind of man would call the Apaches his friends, then teach their sworn enemies to fight them. He could see that a question of loyalty would arise. It had risen within himself and he had struggled with it.

Thanks to Toriano, he had overcome his misgivings about leaving behind his Apache friends and training the troopers. For all that he and Toriano were nearly the same age, there was in Toriano an age old wisdom that allowed him to see things differently than most men. He never said if a thing was good or bad, or tried to persuade Jim to think as he thought, only to help him to look at a thing from all sides so that he could make his own judgment and decision.

Toriano had long known that the day was coming when the Apaches would no longer be free to go where they wanted to go or do what they wanted to do. He told Jim he saw the size of his world grow smaller with each new white man who came into the territory and claimed a piece of the land for his own. Apaches didn't understand why the white man needed to own land, why he couldn't just live on it and make use of it, but because they had this need, they would take and take until there was nothing left.

Jim had discussed the peace plans of the white eyes' new
nantan
in Washington and the concepts of the reservation system with Toriano, and both had agreed that it was inevitable that the Apaches would have to come to a decision, surrender or face extinction.

First things first, Jim told himself, getting his thoughts together. The men needed to know exactly where he stood and why. He couldn't expect them to trust him if they thought him a Judas.

As he opened his mouth to speak, he realized he was being watched from afar. He stole a glance at the austere line of adobe buildings that were Officers' Row. He knew it was Indy even before he saw her sitting in front of her parlor window. He had sensed her, felt her. It was curious how he had known. Quickly averting his gaze, he tried to think what he had been about to say before she distracted him.

"The Apaches have a saying," he began, somewhat uncertainly. "It's better to be dead than be tamed." He paused to add emphasis to his words, then went on to explain what his position had been with the Apaches and what it was now. He told them that he felt that the use of trained scouts would ultimately end the Apache wars and save lives. He made a complete circle as he spoke, studying their reactions. Everything from respect to contempt was reflected on their faces.

That out of the way, he said, "As many of you already know, last night, while you were busy enjoying yourselves, dancing and drinking, Chie and three of his braves paid Bowie a visit. They shouldn't have gotten anywhere near camp without somebody sounding an alarm. The fact that nobody did is called negligence." He pivoted and his gaze rested briefly on Colonel Taylor. "I will not tolerate carelessness, idleness, or cowardice." Among the men there were many long, sad faces. "Sergeant Moseley," Jim said brusquely. "Order the men to parade slowly in front of those corpses. I want them to see that Apaches are flesh and blood like everyone else, and that they can be killed—like everybody else." As soon as he had spoken, he walked to the flagpole and casually leaned against it.

Sergeant Moseley gave the order and the men tramped slowly through the mud, splashing the men in front of them and the men behind them. Jim watched each man's face as he looked down at the bodies. Any man who flinched, he ordered out of line. From a total of ninety-eight troopers, he eliminated twelve and returned them to their normal morning duties.

After the men had resumed their positions, Jim again stood before them and told them what he would expect from them mentally and physically. He spoke of the rigors of the training he planned, of the hardships and adverse conditions they would undoubtedly suffer, the dangers they would face, and when he had finished, he clasped his hands behind his back and cut a glance to Aubrey who was staring at him like he didn't know him.

From the west side of the parade ground, a freckle-faced infantry soldier stepped forward. Jim looked at his young face and imagined it facedown in the sand. "Do you have something you want to say, Private?"

"Yes, sir." His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Clearly, he was nervous and scared. "You can label me a coward if you want, but I ain't riskin' my neck for no lousy thirteen dollars a month." He slapped his hat against his thigh and half ran, half walked away from the assembly.

"That goes for me too," said a veteran corporal. "I'm too damn old to go traipsing all over this godforsaken territory after them red devils. I've already killed my quota and I figure to take it real easy like till my enlistment is up."

As the corporal started to leave the parade ground, Colonel Taylor stepped forward and ordered him back.

"Let him go," Jim said, countering the colonel's order. "He's right. He is too old for this kind of duty. He couldn't stand up to it." Jim's hard-eyed gaze challenged the colonel to refute his authority. Wisely, he said nothing at all, but Jim knew his type well enough to know that someday, somehow, he would get even. Colonel Charles Taylor was a vindictive man.

In all, eighteen men abandoned the parade ground, which left sixty-eight, and of those Jim knew another twenty would be found unsuitable for one reason or another after closer inspection.

Impressive was the word that came to Indy's mind as she observed the way Major Garrity handled not only her father but the entire garrison. Throughout her life she had met dozens of Army officers and had come to realize that they were not all made of the same stuff and too many of them ended up martinets like her father.

Major Jim Garrity, though obviously a leader, who would demand obedience and punish disobedience, would never be more concerned with the methods of soldiering than with the soldiers themselves.

It had startled her when he suddenly glanced her way. His gaze, though brief, was profound. She had been staring at him, remembering how he tried to convince her that she wasn't responsible for her mother's and brother's deaths. His words had given her succor, and his arms had provided comfort.

He had
felt
her gaze upon him, she realized, the wonder of it making her breathless. She knew it as surely as she knew she had fallen hopelessly in love with him.

She got up immediately after he turned back to his men, defending her actions by telling herself that she needed to get dressed, fix herself something to eat, and then see if she couldn't find someone who could tell her when the next eastbound stage would be departing.

A short while later she stepped outside and adroitly avoided a pothole that had become a small pond. The sky loomed dark and forbidding and looked to open up and release its reservoir of water at any moment. It was odd, but instead of trying to identify the new smells brought on by the rain, all she could think about was that for the first time since she had come to Bowie she didn't smell dust.

She had gone but a few feet from her door when Prudence called her name. "May I speak with you a moment?" she asked.

There was a look of sadness in Prudence's china-blue eyes that made Indy curious as to what was on her mind. Maybe she was going to apologize for last night's bold behavior. "Yes, of course, but could you do it as we walk? I need to make inquiries about when the next stage leaves for the East."

"You're leaving? But I thought—" She made a small sound of distress that alerted Indy.

"You thought what?" Indy asked, frowning.

Prudence turned her back on the parade ground and partially covered her mouth with her hand. "I thought you and the major—" she said in a half whisper.

Another half-said sentence! It was annoying. "Me and the major what?" Indy probed, determined to find out what she was inferring. It started to drizzle. Reluctantly Indy suggested they go inside before they got wet. "Now then, you were going to explain?"

Prudence's hands could not seem to keep still. "It's just that I assumed you and Major Garrity had become . . . more than just acquaintances."

Indy felt her cheeks grow hot. Obviously Prudence had observed her after she had left the reception and Jim had stopped her. At least she hoped it was then and not later when things had become a bit more intimate.

"You mean because of last night when Jim kissed me outside the mess?" she asked, trying to confirm her suspicions.

Prudence pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. Indy did the same and then waited.

Gazing out the window at the parade ground, Prudence said, "Well, you have to admit, it would indicate that you were more than just friends."

"I can see where you might think that, but it isn't so. I was overwrought about what my father had said, which I'm sure you must have overheard, as did everyone else. I went outside and was going to run as far and as fast as I could, but the major stopped me, realized how upset I was, and refused to let me go. Next thing I knew he was kissing me."