They sat in silence for a while. The fire crackled. The desert night grew cold. Finally, Nala spoke again. Jesse Walker, you should know something.
My father told me about you every year on the anniversary of saving you, May 3rd. He would sit by the fire and tell us about the white boy who could have chosen hate, but chose gratitude instead. He said you were proof that some bridges can be built between our peoples. Jesse felt his throat tighten. Your father was a better man than me.
Perhaps, but you are the man who came today. That is what matters, suh. Red Mesa Trading Post squatted in the desert like a collection of broken teeth. 12 buildings, all wood, all weathered gray by sun and wind. Population, maybe 80 souls.
Most of them white ranchers, a handful of Mexican laborers, a few Apache servants who kept their eyes down and their mouths shut. Jesse and Nala rode in at dawn. She wore his spare shirt over her buckskin dress, but her features were unmistakably Apache. People stared. Jesse ignored them.
They stopped at the saloon, the Dusty Rose. Jesse tied Smoke to the hitching post and told Nala to wait. "Why do I wait? " she asked, voice a sharp. "Because white men in that saloon won't talk if a Apache is present. You know this. " She did know it, but that didn't mean she liked it.
Jesse pushed through the batwing doors. The saloon smelled of whiskey and sweat and tobacco smoke. 15 men drinking at 10:00 in the morning. Jesse walked to the bar. The bartender was old, maybe 60, with three fingers missing from his left hand.
An accident with farm equipment years ago from the look of it. He studied Jesse with the careful neutrality of a man who'd learned to read strangers fast. "What can I get you? " Jesse laid a $5 silver piece on the bar, more than the price of any drink. "Information about Apache girls sold recently. " The bartender's eyes flicked to the silver then back to Jesse's face. "That's dangerous talk, friend.
I pay for dangerous information. " The bartender swept the coin into his palm with practiced speed. His voice dropped low. "Crane took six Black Feather sisters three months back. Two he's holding at Devil's Rim. Two got sold to Mexican slavers, headed down Sonora way.
One he's keeping in Tucson for some kind of auction. The sixth one, I heard she escaped. Bounty hunters have been looking for her ever since. " Jesse's jaw tightened. The escaped one was Nala, which meant five were still captive, scattered across hundreds of miles. "Where's Devil's Rim? " "40 miles northeast, canyon country.
Crane's got a fortified ranch up there. Maybe 15 guns. You ride in there, you don't ride out. " "I need exact directions. " The bartender pulled a napkin and a stub of pencil from under the bar, drew a rough map. "Follow this trail past Red Rock Mesa. Look for the canyon with three fingers pointing south.
That's Devil's Rim. But I'm telling you plain, mister, Crane ain't someone to mess with. He's killed a dozen men last year, legal and otherwise. Got connections with the territorial sheriff. " Jesse left two more dollars on the bar's tip. "Appreciate the honesty. " He was almost to the door when a voice called out behind him.
"Wait. " Jesse turned. A young man, early 20s, stood in the alley doorway. Brown hair, scared eyes, thin frame. He held a pistol but didn't point it. "You're asking about Crane's captives," the young man said.
"Um" His voice shook slightly. "You're planning something stupid. " Jesse's hand moved to his Colt. "Who are you? " "Marcus Hayes. I work for Crane. Quit two weeks ago after he killed my brother for asking too many questions. " Marcus's voice cracked.
"Don't go to Devil's Rim. It's a trap. " Nala appeared from the shadows behind Marcus. She moved silently as smoke, a knife in her hand pressed to Marcus's back. "Explain," she said, voice flat, "or die. " Marcus went very still. "I'm trying to help.
Crane isn't just stealing land, he's building an army. Apache children kidnapped young, raised to be loyal only to him. He plans to use them to attack other tribes, make it look like tribal warfare. Then the cavalry comes in, clears everyone out, and Crane gets the land legally declared abandoned. " "How many children? " Nala's knife pressed harder. "15, ages 8 to 23.
Three of them are Chiricahua, your people. " Marcus swallowed hard. "My brother found out. He was going to report it to the territorial marshal. Crane shot him in the back and made it look like an Apache raid. " Jesse studied the young man's face. Fear, yes, but also guilt and shame and desperate need for redemption.
He'd seen that look before in young soldiers who'd done terrible things and wanted a chance to balance the scales. "You have names? " Jesse asked. "The Chiricahua children? " "Two names I know for sure. One is called Swift Bird now, but his real name is Daniel White Hawk. He's 18.
Crane took him when he was eight years old and renamed him. His mother, Diving Hawk, she's still alive. Been searching for her son for 10 years. The other one is a girl named Pale Moon, maybe 15 now. Don't know her birth name. " Nala lowered the knife.
"Diving Hawk is my aunt. We thought Daniel died as a child. He didn't die. Crane took him, broke him, rebuilt him into something else. " Marcus turned to face them both. "I want to help.
I owe my brother that much. Let me show you how to get into Devil's Rim without being seen. " Jesse and Nala exchanged a look. Finally, Jesse nodded. "You try to betray us, you die fast, understand? " "I understand. " They met in an abandoned mining shack two miles outside town. Marcus spread a blanket on the floor and used a stick to draw in the dust.