none. They want horses,' he added, 'and they know how to handle them. If you stay here you will be killed.'
He sipped his coffee, his eyes straying again and again to the hills. 'They were not many, but their attack was sudden, without warning. They came upon us at break of day. Only a few of us were armed and ready. An arrow killed our sentry and then they charged upon us.
'I had my sword, and when I had once fired my pistol, it was only the sword. Then they were gone, as swiftly as they had come.
'They attacked us again while we marched, and then again. After that we waited until night and moved away into the mountains. I hope we do not bring them upon you.'
'There will be tracks,' I reminded.
'We tried to leave none,' Diego said, 'but with so many men and the horses ...' he shrugged.
For a long time we were silent. Itchakomi moved away from the fire. We were making ready to go south to the place we had chosen.
She looked at me. 'What we do?'
'Go back where we planned to build,' I said. 'It is a good place.'
'You fear these Komantsi?'
'There are always enemies. These may be no worse than others.' I paused and then said, 'Komi, I do not wish to take you into the wilderness until we are married.'
'We are not?'
'By your standards, yes. By mine, yes. But I wish a marriage that will be accepted by other Christians. My heart knows who is my wife, but other white people will not recognize our wedding. I wish it to be official, so no one will say you are just an Indian girl who shares my lodge.'
'Very well. We stay. We build lodge.'
Diego had fallen asleep by the fire. His men were lying about, also resting. 'Sleep,' I said to Keokotah. 'I will watch.'
There was no movement in our camp. All rested or were busy in one position. The horses had been taken into the willows near the stream where they were well hidden. I found a small knoll where I could move about among trees and rocks and yet remain unseen, and I moved rarely, only to look about, studying the hills for enemies.
It was a time for thinking. To proceed south to Santa Fe for a proper marriage would put me into the hands of those who considered themselves my enemies. I would be imprisoned and probably sent in chains to Mexico for trial. What would happen to Itchakomi one could only guess, for despite the regulations laid down by the Spanish king forbidding enslavement of the Indians, it was done.
The Spanish would not accept my venture into their territory as being anything but a spying mission. Nor would they permit the establishment of a trading post by anyone not of their own. Diego was a practical soldier, but only a soldier and with no authority except over his own command. Diego was practical enough to realize that a post where they might obtain food or other supplies was much to be desired. There was always a difference of viewpoint between the soldier in the field and the man behind the desk.
So, from the Spanish I could expect nothing but trouble, and I would certainly hear again from Gomez.
The Komantsi were another risk. It was possible I might win them over, at least to tolerating my presence.
We would build a fort, but we would arrange an escape route, scouted and planned. We would have to secure trade goods, and we could trap for fur. At first it would be very difficult. Very difficult, indeed!
When I went back into camp Diego was up and seated by the fire. I filled a cup with coffee and sat across the fire from him.
'You know the land to the west?'
He shook his head. 'We do not. Some patrols have gone there, and some have gone north, much farther than this, but we know little of the country.'
'The wild game?'
He shrugged. 'What you know. Buffalo, elk, deer, antelope, bear--'
'Nothing larger?'
'Than a buffalo? What could be? We have seen them that weigh three thousand pounds, big bulls, very tough, very strong.'
'Bears?'
'Ah! There you have it. There are silver bears, very large. We have seen them. Black bears, also, but smaller. The silver bears--ah, they are huge! Very fierce!'
We talked long, and I thought him a friendly and a lonely man, pleased to be speaking with someone on a friendly basis.
'Coronado,' he said, 'went far out upon the plains. He looked for golden cities. I think there are no golden cities. I think from far off someone sees the cities of mud, what is called adobe, and in the setting sun they look like gold. I think that is all.'
'There is no gold in the mountains?'
He shrugged. 'Of course, but the mining is hard and the Indies do not like it. They die ... too many die! I feel sad, but who am I? I am a soldier, who does what he is told.'
At dawn we arose and walked the few miles back to where we planned to build. There we said good-bye and he thanked us again for feeding his soldiers and treating their wounds. We shook hands, and to Itchakomi he bowed low.
At the last, he turned and said, 'Be careful! That Gomez ... he is a man of no morals. He wishes only for himself. He has no feelings. Yet he is a good fighter, better than me, and I fear he will have made it hard for me when I return. But do you beware. He will return. He will believe you have found gold, and only three things he wants, gold, power, and women.'
He walked off down the valley after his men. Each man who had a horse led it. There would be need for their strength and speed later.
The place we finally settled upon was between two canyons that led off to the north northeast. They would lead, I thought, to the place where the big canyon opened and the river flowed down into the plains.
How fared our friends, the Natchee? If they had survived the river and the Indians at the canyon's mouth they would be well down the river by now.
For four days we worked, rolling rocks into place and settling them into the earth for a foundation, building a quick wall of defense so we might have time to build better, and further back.
Keokotah--like any other Indian--was unaccustomed to hard manual labor. Always he had been a hunter and a warrior, so I left the hunting and the scouting to him. He was willing to help, but he lacked the skills and the slights necessary. There was little in the life of an Indian that demanded labor of the kind needed. Some Indians built stockades, but these were the work of many people working together. The lodges of the Kickapoo were, I understood, though I had not seen one, domed affairs made of bark laid over a framework.
Building was not new to me. At Shooting Creek we had built largely and well, with the aid of men who knew much of such things, of notching logs and fitting them, of working with axe, saw, and adz.
Now I had planning to do as well as building, and several times I sat late by the fire drawing a rough plan on a piece of aspen bark.
The low hill where we intended to build was the source of a spring whose water trickled down to a small stream that flowed northeastward into a canyon. The top of the hill was mostly open, but I rolled the few scattered boulders to the outer edge of the hill to form part of a wall. There were trees growing and I trimmed their lower branches, constructing my house to use the trees as posts for added strength. Having no axe--only the hatchet I carried as a tomahawk--I had to choose from among the many downed trees the ones most solid and seasoned.
The top of the knoll made for good drainage, and again I used the device of cutting notches into the living trees to support my roof poles.
By nightfall I had the frame of the roof in place for a house of several rooms and considerable space. Around the perimeter of the hill I had rolled rocks to fill natural gaps in the rocks that rimmed the hill. It was a good defensive position with a view to all approaches.
During the days that followed I worked unceasingly, from dawn until dark and often long after dark, sitting by
