“How are we goin’ to pull this off?” Oliver asked.
“Don’t be worryin’ none about that,” Willis replied. “I’ve got it all figured out.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Delshay, I know the impulse will be very strong for you to get revenge,” Baker said after the funerals of those killed in Delshay’s and Chandeisi’s families. “But don’t. Leave it up to the law.”
“White man’s law?”
“The law is the law,” Baker said. “Just because it was Indians they killed, it doesn’t make them any less guilty of murder. The law will find them and the law will punish them.”
“How will the law find them?” Delshay asked. “Nobody knows who did it.”
“Just leave it in the hands of the law,” Baker repeated. “That is all I am asking of you.”
Delshay nodded, but said nothing else. Then, at midnight on that very night, in the flickering light of a held torch, he spoke to the nine men he had managed to recruit. One of the recruits was Chandeisi; the others were young men, without families,who would be coming along for the excitement and adventure.
“If you are brave of heart, and can leave home without so much as saying good-bye to your mother and father, then you have the fighting spirit that you will need in the days to come,” Delshay said as he looked into the fire-lit faces of the young men who were eager to become warriors.
“Come, we will strike fear into the heart of every white man and all will hear the name Apache and cower.”
“All will hear the name Delshay and cower!” Chandeisi shouted.
“Delshay!” the others shouted.
There was some stirring from those who were still sleeping in their hogans, and Delshay held up his hand to call for quiet.
“Go to your horses,” he said. “We ride.”
San Carlos was made up of several small encampments that were scattered about the reservation. The wickiups were of traditional construction, animal skins, bark, woven grass, and mud. But at the center of the reservation, where the headquarters was established, stood the Indian agent’s house. The equal to any fine home in any city, the agent’s residence was a large, two-story house with white-painted leaded windows, dormers, clapboard sides, and a green shake roof. There was a swing on the deep, front porch where Baker and his family often sat in the evenings, enjoying the cooling breeze.
The sun had not yet risen when Sentorio rode up to the front of the house, dismounted, and hurried up the brick walk.
“Agent Baker!” he called. He banged loudly on the door. “Agent Baker!” He banged on the door again.
A moment later, Baker, carrying a candle and still in his nightshirt, opened the door.
“What is it, Sentorio?” he asked irritably. “What do you mean by banging on my door at this time of morning?”
“It’s Delshay, Agent Baker. Delshay, Chandeisi, and eight others.”
“Delshay, Chandeisi and eight others? What about them, Sentorio? Make sense for God’s sake.”
“They are gone, Agent Baker,” Sentorio said. “All of them.”
“Gone? By gone, do you mean they have left the reservation?”
“Yes, Delshay and Chandeisi gathered several warriors to follow them and they left the reservation.”
“Damn,” Baker said, shaking his head in anger. “It wasn’t Chandeisi. He didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“You are wrong, Agent Baker. Chandeisi is with Delshay,” Sentorio said.
“Oh, Chandeisi might be with him, all right,” Baker said. “But you can bet your bottom dollar that Delshay is in charge. Chandeisi is but a puppy that will go along with anything Delshay says. How long have they been gone?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I did not see them leave,” Sentorio said.
“Never mind. Round up the rest of the Indian police and see if you can find them.”
“If they are off the reservation, we will have no authority over them,” Sentorio said.
“I know that. That means you had better catch them before they get off reservation property.”
“I think it may be too late for that,” Sentorio said.
“Yeah, well, whether it is too late or not, you are going after them,” Baker said. “And when you find them, bring them back bound and gagged. I want the others to see their—hero—humiliated.” He set the word “hero” apart from the rest of the sentence, twisting his mouth around the word.
“I will do so,” Sentorio promised.
