BESERK! Page 20

  It peeved him to think he was constantly being watched. He felt the need to go down to the reservation and have a talk with the old man. But he let it pass; grandfather had done it to protect him.

  Besides the Tarahumhara was one of the most trusted and loyal broncos. A few years ago, during a raid, Cole and Jubela had rescued him from a cruel death in the hands of Mexican bandidos. Then, Wari was a young man barely initiated into manhood. Since then he had stayed with the Apaches and not returned to his tribe in Mexico.

  It was unusual to see him away from the reservation. Captain Franklin kept a tight leash over his Indians. They were never permitted to get away from the reservation. But Wari was an exception, he was Tarahumhara not Apache. So Cole let him stay.

  x x x

  The news spread all over the territory. Jusaz received this news with glee. It had been days he and his bounty hunters had scoured the desert lands. Tortured and killed a number of Apaches, yet he had not met with success. Loco had disappeared or simply dropped out of sight. Or even worse the Mexican army might have killed him.

  He wasn’t sure if Loco was in Arizona or crossed into the Sierra Madre mountains of Mexico. And without such information it was difficult to hunt an Apache. If only he had a region to start!

  With every passing day he grew worried. What if his boss decides to recall the offer? After all he was being paid a very huge sum for the job. Even if he worked hard for the rest of his life he would not amass it. For the life of a bounty hunter was short.

  So when he heard that Cole was ready to ride out to hunt Loco he knew his job was done. After all Cole was a half-breed Indian and had all Apache knowledge. All he had to do was to follow Cole till he reached Loco and take over from there. This would be the easiest job ever. So he sent a scout ahead to watch over Cole. He and his band would follow.

  Even if Cole did not comply Jusaz had persuasive methods to do so. He called one of his Apache scout and devised a plan with him.

  x x x

  Hours after Cole herding his cattle over the horizon; Wari spied a group of riders. They emerged through the heat waves and rode towards the adobe. He recognized them instantly, Loco with his lobos—wolves!

  Dutifully, Wari took the fastest route up the canyon wall instead of down the desert floor, to do his job.

  x x x

  Isobella did not see the Apache band till they were on the adobe. She stood surrounded by this pack of ragged dark skinned men eyeing her wolfishly. She trembled in fear. To every Mexican, an Apache was the worst nightmare. Leading the pack was Loco. He grinned at her.

  As they drew nearer, they smelt like animals. The noxious blend of fear and smell caused her to sway. One thought ran through her as she dissolved into blackness, she would never live to see Cole again.

  x x x

  The sun had burnt everything to a crisp in the valley. But Cole had chosen a spot well for his cattle. There was enough grass for them. The place was watered by one of those hidden creeks between the towering slabs of sandstone. Ancient creeks that were known only to the Apache.

  He swam in the cool waters of the creek, as he watched his cattle graze. Another hour or so and he would herd his cattle back to his adobe. Absorbed in his thoughts he failed to notice a figure appear on the edge of a canyon wall.

  The shadow fell across his pool and he dived for his Winchester on the bank.

  A familiar voice stopped him. “Hola, Brother Cole!”

  Cole looked up to see Wari waving at him from the canyon top. Shielding his eyes against the sun he waved back the greeting.

  “Loco has arrived at your adobe, Brother Cole!” Wari informed.

  Cole waited for him to say something more but he remained silent. “Tell him I welcome him.” Cole answered.

  Even before he finished his answer Wari had disappeared from the edge of the canyon wall. Cole emerged out off the pool, curious. Why had Loco come to meet him? After such a long time? Surely it was not a cordial visit? Nor had he come with harm intent. Loco, he knew, strictly abided by the code of the Apache.

  He dressed up and herded his cattle, starting for the adobe.

  Chapter 6: Code Among The Apaches

  The moment his adobe came in sight, Cole knew something was wrong. Isobella was not at the doorway. Most unlike her, maybe she had not anticipated his early arrival, he reckoned.

  But when he reached closer with his herd and yet she did not show up he knew something was wrong. Then his doubts were confirmed. High in the sky he saw them, turkey buzzards, the harbingers of death—vultures. A few were beginning to circle above the adobe. Soon their numbers would increase.He drew his Winchester and rode through the cattle, ahead.

  His eyes scoured the adobe; the hunter’s instinct coming alive. The structure looked unmolested, yet something was amiss. It was too quiet for comfort.

  He slid off the back of his palomino and dropped to the ground. Carefully, he studied the place. The hot air and silence had settled around the adobe. Up in the sky the number of vultures had increased. They were beginning to hang lower. It worried him; he could not wait any longer.Quickly, he arose and bolted in.

  Inside the adobe everything looked normal. The pleasant coolness, the semi-gloom, the quietude…yet his warning senses were pounding.

  “Isobella?” He called and waited for an answer.

  “Isobella?” He called louder. “Are you there?” When he received no answer he rushed to the inner room.

  Lying on the bed was a figure covered in a bloodstained bedspread. It appeared to be a small sized corpse covered from head to foot... Isobella! Cole’s heart cried. But his face remained stony.

  Slowly but stiffly, Cole uncovered the figure. He almost recoiled in horror at the sight. Looking back at him was a grotesque thing.

  A disfigured ugly corpse lay on his bed. The face was a bloodied mess, slashed with multiple knife wounds. A slit ran all the way from ear to ear. The tip of the nose was cut. The left breast was cleanly sliced off. What abomination was this thing?

  It took him moments to realize…the grotesque thing was his beautiful Isobella!

  Cole turned away, his being crying out in grief. Every wound...every mutilation had a significance. Mutilated face and cut nose was a punishment for infidelity among the Apache women. A cut breast meant branding her a whore after death. And what was worst was that each of these mutilations was carried out while the victim was alive. But by looking at the Isobella’s neck wound, he could say that her mutilations were carried out after she was dead.

  He clutched her still warm body and wept. Who had killed his Isobella? Why had they killed her? She did not deserve such a terrible death! She was innocent as the trees and the birds. He held her and looked around the room at particularly nothing. Memories of tender moments spent together surged through his mind. The day he had brought her here…the first time they had made love…the time that she had told him she was pregnant…He gripped her body tighter and wept, he could not imagine life without her.

  Whoever had done this would pay with his life, he swore. Then he remembered Wari’s words. Loco has arrived at your adobe, Brother Cole! Had the malo—evil Loco killed his woman? But why? He had done no harm to Loco. But the manner of killing had Apache written all over it.

  His thoughts were disturbed by the raucous sounds of squabbling buzzards. It emerged from the backyard. Picking up his Winchester, he hurried out.

  The vultures had descended in his backyard in numbers, squabbling and biting each other. They were all flocking to something that looked like a human body, he hurried.

  On his approach the vultures scuttled away in haste. The figure was sprawled on the ground, in a prostrate manner. It appeared inert and familiar. Wari…! Cole realized with a jolt. He rushed forward and knelt beside Wari turning him over.

  The Tarahumhara looked at Cole with in a macabre stare. Wari’s eyes were unblinking and unseeing; two rivulets of bloody tears ran down his face. Both of Wari’s eyelids had been
sliced out. Sticky pools of blood had collected inside his eyes. His mouth too was filled with blood, it seemed like he had drowned in his own blood. But Cole knew better, Wari’s tongue too had been sliced and his throat slashed.

  Again these mutilations had significance; sliced eyelids meant punishment for seeing things that were not supposed to. A sliced tongue meant punishment for snitching. Wari had not been fortunate as Isobella, all his mutilations were carried out while he was alive. His body felt warm, it meant he had been killed not long back.

  Wari had been killed as punishment for informing Cole about something…What? Loco’s arrival at the adobe? Just then he sighted Wari’s hands, one fist was clenched. It was like the dead man was clutching something. Cole pried open the stiffening fingers and released the object. It felt familiar. He held it at eye level. It was a wooden trinket, an heirloom... An intricate wooden carving of an eagle with the trunk of a coyote! It was the symbol of the Eagle Clan to which he and Loco belonged.

  Only the duo was privileged to carry it as they were destined to become the next Chief of the Jicarilla Apache Eagle Clan.

  Rage hit him like an electric shock, as the truth dawned. His innards trembled. Loco would die for it, he swore. “Loco” hissed Cole, raising the heirloom high up in the sky. “Loco will die by my hands…I swear by Ussen…” The look in Cole’s eyes was like smoldering coals. “Loco will not live long…”

  Cole lifted up Wari’s corpse and walked to the adobe. The brown feathery birds stayed their glassy stare on him over their cruel hooked beaks as he walked past them.

  x x x

  It was dusk when Cole finished digging the two graves. Wari’s grave he dug facing the east, according to apache custom. He gave it a silent burial.

  Isobella never believed in Ussen, she believed in the Man On the Cross. He dug her grave beside the pumpkin patch; it was her favorite spot. She was mostly found near the patch tending the pumpkins. She had told him it always reminded her of her childhood days in Mexico.

  He lifted the corpse and knelt, unwilling to put it in. He rested his head against her corpse and wept silently, rocking gently. He did not know how long he did so but when he realized, false dawn was creeping in the dark skies.

  “It is time for you to sleep, Isobella,” he spoke to her softly, “care for our child. I have a long way to go, wait for me with the Man On the Cross. I will soon come to meet you...”

  He slowly placed her in the grave and tumbled soil into it. Hurriedly, he erected a cross over the hump of soil. He entered the adobe and gathered up a few things. Picking up the kerosene lamp he emptied its contents on the bed and struck a match to it. Without another glance behind, he left the adobe. He walked to the corral, saddled his palomino and set the cattle free.

  By sunrise the adobe was a flaming inferno. Its heat was scorching the already wilted vegetable garden to the sun baked ground. Nothing moved in the sprawling desert for miles and miles.

  Chapter 7: Code Among The Apaches

  It is said that a man becomes careless on two occasions; on being overjoyed or in grief. And of course on being excessively drunk. So it was plain ill-luck that Cole rode without caution. All he wanted was Loco’s blood on his knife and hands. Revenge for raping, killing and dishonoring his wife.

  And so Jusaz and his band could pick up Cole’s trail. The trail took them across the border into the Sierra Madre Mountains of Mexico. This was truly Apache heartland. The Mexican half-breed and his band grew cautious.

  x x x

  Loco knew Cole was coming for him. Also knew why. He was in council with his broncos. “Cole, my brother is coming for me. Loco shall not hide... Loco shall face him as I have no fear of Cole. Those who wish to leave may go. We are fighters of our freedom not outlaws as the palefaces call us.”

  He turned to his scanty band of men. None had moved.

  “I am going to invite Cole to my jacal. Not let Cole track Loco like a rabbit. We will meet him in an open place…not in a wolf’s den.”

  They nodded their heads in agreement as if this was the most natural thing to do. Though they knew Cole would shoot Loco at sight. No word would escape Loco’s lips. Such was the code of the Apaches.

  Before sunrise one of the broncos would convey Loco’s invitation to Cole. The messenger would be a young bronco yet to attain manhood. At least, Cole would not kill him on sight.

  x x x

  It was late in the morning when the young bronco found Cole. He recognized him by his palomino. Cole was sleeping in the shade of a rock, a hat over his face.

  “Hola brother Cole,” the young bronco greeted him. “Loco awaits Cole on the northern side of Chug-de-Slona-Old Centipede hills.

  x x x

  At that very moment Cole stood viewing the valley from behind a clump of yucca and prickly pear. He had been watching an Apache camp for nearly an hour. Ascertaining if it belonged to Loco. Early at sunrise he had started on foot to avoid detection. Also, horseback travel here was impossible. This bunch seemed an innocent lot but he stayed and waited and watched.

  x x x

  The young bronco stood silently. Cole had not moved. He dared not to repeat and awaken him. Slowly the resting man stirred, pushing the hat from his face, he smiled.

  The bronco gasped. A bearded face appeared. No Apache ever kept facial hair.

  Jusaz grinned showing brown stained teeth. Around him the bronco saw figures appear....Mexicans bandidos—bandits, he turned around and ran. A dagger caught him near his spine. And he sprawled face down to the ground.

  Jusaz walked to the bronco placed his foot on the body and pulled out the dagger. He turned and looked around.“Put him to the hermigo—ants.” He pointed to an anthill some distance away.

  The half-dead bronco was placed on one of the mounds. Jusaz watched as the tiny fire ants began to swarm on the struggling Indian.

  He then turned to his band and yelled. “You heard the place....you know it…but remember I want Loco alive…anyone who kills the pig, will be fed to the ants. Now let’s go...!”

  The band rode out into the desert. Even as the blood red fire ants continued to swarm, sting and devour the hapless young Indian.

  x x x

  Cole continued his search. It seemed the God of the Sierra Madre was helping Loco. But today whatever God came to protect Loco, it did not matter; he would find that lagarto—lizard.

  Then he met an Apache family. They gave him food and drink...

  x x x

  Jusaz and his band dismounted some distance from Chug-de-slona—Old Centipede hills. He sent a scout forward to study the layout.

  Sometime later the scout returned. Loco and his band were camping in a spot on an elevation. One side was flanked by broken hills, the other side by a wooded area.

  The Mexican bounty hunter split his band in two groups. He sent the smaller group up the hills, behind the Apaches. The larger group was to attack from the woods.

  The Apaches were caught unawares and that surprised Jusaz.Apaches were a cautious lot. They never camped so carelessly in the open. They were masters of camouflage.

  On the attack by the larger group the Apaches scattered. Within a short time the Apaches were overpowered. As they were no match against the Mexicans rifles and pistols. Their weapons were mainly ambush and stealth.

  Jusaz strode into the Apache camp grinning. At least a dozen Apaches lay wounded or dead. The bounty hunter too had lost some men. His men began the gruesome task of killing and scalping the dead Apaches.

  Loco looked at him with unspeakable hatred.

  “Do you know who brought me here?” Jusaz teased. “Your brother Cole!”

  Loco looked at the bounty hunter and spat on the ground.

  Jusaz simply laughed in answer; he had walked into a gold mine. “Bind him…let’s leave.” He ordered his band.

  The man binding Loco was the first to fall. An arrow protruding from his chest.

  Then the second fell. Another shaft of arr
ow sticking from his neck.

  Jusaz was quick to react. He leapt behind Loco pulling out a pistol.

  Then the third, fourth and the fifth men dropped down in the same manner.

  Jusaz now stood alone but had cleverly used Loco to shield himself. He scanned the wooded area before him for the unseen killer. Beads of sweat appeared on his face.

  The killer was invisible but Jusaz had a good idea of who it was.

  “Cole!” he called. “I... know... it is... you.” His voice wavered. All he saw was the silent woods looking back at him.

  Again he tried, “Cole..! I know how much.... you need this man....alive...he has killed your whore...”

  Again silence mocked him.

  “Quit joking! You son of a bitch!” He tried again. “You may shoot me but I am sure to pull the trigger and blast this pig’s head like a pumpkin.” His eyes darted around as he spoke. Slowly he thumbed back the pistol’s hammer.

  An arrow whished through the air and pierced Loco’s belly. The Apache outlaw crumpled to the ground. Jusaz’s eyes grew round like marbles. He crossed himself and yelled, “You Bastard.....you son of a bitch...” Then began firing, panning the pistol all around him.

  It went empty and he flung it at the trees.“You son of a bitch...! Why don’t you come out and fight like a man...? Has sleeping with your whore made you soft...?” He looked around nervously.

  Right before him Cole emerged. His face wooden. His bow empty.

  Chapter 8: Code Among The Apaches

  Jusaz saw him, saw his empty bow. With a furious roar he rushed brandishing his sabre. For a big man he moved fast. He leapt at Cole, swinging the sabre.

  Cole tried to ward it off with his bow but the slender piece of wood was of no match against the sabre. It sliced through it easily. Again the sabre cut savagely. He ducked underneath it.

  Compared to Cole, Jusaz was tall and a well built man and he used all his strength behind the sabre, swinging and cutting at the little man.

  This dangerous dance continued till the keen edge of the metallic sabre caught the trunk of a tree. With another fierce roar Jusaz freed the blade from the bark only to scream in pain. The bounty hunter looked down in horror to find metal tearing through his body.