“Let’s just say I want to go visit a sick friend.”
Chapter 31
This had been one of the longest days of Matt Bodine’s life.
He knew it had been hard on Elizabeth, too, but at least she had been in the shade part of the time. He had been baking in the blistering sun all day, tied to a stake. Standing there like that for hours had caused the wounds in his side to ache like a bad tooth.
But he could tell the bullet holes weren’t bleeding again, just hurting, and that was something to be thankful for, anyway.
They hadn’t really hurt Elizabeth, either, just forced her to sit beside Juan Pablo’s hogan and watch Matt’s torment. That was the only other good thing about this ordeal.
He looked over at her now and saw how her face was pale and drawn with the strain. He tried to summon up a smile to let her know that everything was all right, but he couldn’t quite manage it.
Things weren’t all right, though, and they both knew it. Juan Pablo and his followers intended to kill both of them. It was just a matter of time.
Juan Pablo had at least a dozen men backing his play. Matt didn’t know if Caballo Rojo was one of them, or if the clan headman was just staying out of this for the time being because he didn’t want Juan Pablo challenging him for leadership of everyone who lived in the canyon.
But the Navajo had been drifting in from their homes along the creek all day, gathering here to look at the captive white man, and some of them seemed very happy about it. The men had taken turns standing guard over Matt, although with his hands tied behind his back and his torso lashed to the stake, he wasn’t about to go anywhere.
He supposed it made them feel like they were accomplishing something to stand there clutching their old rifles and glaring at him.
Matt didn’t look directly at them. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of letting them see what bad shape he was really in. The sun had baked his brain until his vision was fuzzy, his thoughts were clouded, and despair gripped his heart. He felt like the heat had leached every bit of moisture out of his body. His tongue was swollen and his mouth as dry as cotton.
His head drooped forward, but he wouldn’t allow himself to pass out. Even though he was helpless, he wanted to know what was going on around him.
Because of that, he saw movement as someone approached him late that afternoon. The sun had started its slide toward the western horizon, which gave him a certain amount of blessed relief although the canyon still felt like an oven.
Through slitted eyes, Matt watched as Juan Pablo walked up to him, as haughty, cruel, and arrogant as if he were old Manuelito come back to life.
“Bodine,” Juan Pablo said. “This day has taught you that the Navajo are still a proud people.”
“I never ... doubted that.” Matt had to force the words out through his parched throat and mouth and past blistered lips. “But there is no pride ... in cruelty. You have ... nothing to be proud of ... Juan Pablo.”
The man’s face darkened in anger. He stepped closer and backhanded Matt viciously across the face.
The blow brought a cry of alarm and outrage from Elizabeth. She started to get to her feet, but Juan Pablo’s wife, who stood near her, clamped a hand on her shoulder and forced her back down on the ground.
“For too many years, my people have done what the white man told them to do,” Juan Pablo said. “They have treated us like animals! They have told themselves they are being generous to us by allowing us to live on our own land, while at the same time they try to take more and more of that land away from the Dine. But soon they will all be gone. We will drive them out.”
“A couple dozen of you?” Matt asked. “How are you going to do that? You won’t stand a chance.”
“More men will come, from all over this land you white men call the Four Corners.” Juan Pablo sneered. “As if your states truly mean anything. They are false boundaries.” He swept an arm around him. “Everything, as far as a man can ride on a good pony, belongs to the Dine. And when the other clans hear that we are driving the whites from our midst, they will come to help us. The uprising will spread and soon will be complete. Then all those who are not Dine will either leave ... or die.”
There was a slim chance Juan Pablo was right, at least partially, Matt thought. He had studied enough history to know that most revolutions started small. The ones that succeeded grew until they reached the point where they couldn’t be stopped.
But that wouldn’t happen here. It couldn’t. There weren’t enough Navajo to stand up to the army. Even if Juan Pablo was able to get all the clans to rise in rebellion, the cavalry would come in and crush them. Many of the men would be slaughtered, and the rest would be rounded up and probably forced back to Bosque Redondo with their families.
It would be a tragedy all the way around.
Juan Pablo was too worked up to see that. His eyes glowed with the fervent belief of a would-be messiah. He saw himself as the one who would lead his people to well-deserved glory.
Instead, he would just lead them to death, Matt knew.
It wouldn’t do any good to say that. Juan Pablo was long past the point where he could hear it.
Still, Matt had to try. He said, “If you let us go, Miss Fleming and I will try to help your people. We’ll tell everyone that the Navajo land should be left to the Navajo.”
Juan Pablo shook his head.
“You think those who have built the town of Flat Rock will abandon it? You think the white ranchers who have driven their cattle onto our land will take them away?”
He was right about that, Matt thought bleakly. Once settlers had moved into an area, they hardly ever gave it up. The government would have to force them to do so, and Matt didn’t figure there was much sentiment in Washington for something like that.
