Cynthia shook her head. “No, there is but one path. Our Father in Heaven will not welcome you into His Kingdom if you do not come to Him through the Son of God.”
“You call Him our Father? Does that not mean we are all children of the Great Spirit?” Chandeisi asked. “Are you not His daughter? Is Delshay not His son? Are earth, wind, fire, and water not His creations?”
Cynthia thought hard, trying to remember all of her Sunday School lessons, but no matter how hard she tried, no easy answer came to her.
“I cannot answer all of your questions. I can only tell you how things are,” she finally said, hoping that Chandeisi would accept her explanation and press the issue no further.
Chapter Twenty-five
Although there was a central area to the San Carlos reservation where Indian Agent Baker lived and where the commissary, hospital, and school were built, not all the Apache lived there. In explaining it once, Baker had said that the reservation was like an Indian state and in the state were several small villages scattered about. At the extreme northwest part of the reservation was the most remote of all the villages. Here lived Alope, the daughter of Nopoloto. Nopoloto was the nephew of Cochise and had fought with Cochise until the great chief made peace with the U.S. Army.
The sun had not yet risen, but Alope knew that it was nearly dawn, because she had heard the morning birds begin their singing. Now, as she lay on blankets in her father’s wickiup, she contemplated the events that were to happen today.
For a long time, Alope had been in love with a young man from one of the other villages. Because Cochinay, whose name meant Yellow Thunder, was from another village, he had to have authorization from the council for the privilege of going to Nopoloto to ask his permission to marry Alope. After some consideration and exploration of Cochinay’s family, the council of elders gave their consent and Cochinay went to Alope’s father to make his petition.
Nopoloto agreed to give his daughter to the young man, on condition that Cochinay give him many ponies. When Nopoloto told Cochinay how many ponies he wanted for his daughter, Cochinay said nothing; he simply rode out of the village.
Hearing how many ponies her father asked for, and seeing Cochinay ride away without so much as a word, Alope feared that there would be no marriage. She wondered why her father had been so demanding. Perhaps love meant nothing to her father. Perhaps Nopoloto wanted to keep Alope with him, for she was a dutiful daughter.
“Do not question me, daughter,” Nopoloto said. “I set a very high price to test Cochinay’s love for you. If he returns with the ponies, it will prove that his love for you is deep, and it will satisfy a father that his daughter will be well taken care of, and that there will be grandchildren to bless me in my old age.”
To Alope’s joy, Cochinay returned the very next day and appeared before Nopoloto’s wickiup with even more ponies than Nopoloto had asked for.
That was one week ago. In the week since permission had been granted, Cochinay had come to the village to make a home for them. He constructed a wickiup of buffalo hides, putting in it many bear robes, lion hides, and other trophies of the hunt, as well as his spears, bows, and arrows.
Alope had made many little decorations of beads on buckskin, which she placed in the wickiup. She also drew many pictures on the walls of what today would be her new home.
But that would not be until after the council declared them married, so for now, Alope lay on the blankets in her parents’ wickiup, waiting for the sun to rise and the marriage to be ratified. Finally, a sliver of sunlight slipped in through the opening of the wickiup, and Alope, anxious to begin the day, got up, picked up a bucket, and started toward the nearby stream to get water.
In the dawn’s early light, just outside the little village where Alope lay waiting for the day to begin, Pogue Willis looked around at the men who formed his posse.
“This don’t look like no warrior camp. I think this is just a village,” one of the men said. “Do you really think the Bixby woman is here?” one of the men asked.
“I don’t know if she is or not, but she could be,” Willis said. “The way I look at it, there’s only one way to find out, and that’s to go in and have a look.”
“But what if she ain’t here?”
“What if she ain’t? If you think about it, Lathum, it don’t make any difference whether she’s here or not. I mean, look at it this way. Every Indian we kill will just be payin’ them back for them killing those six miners and Mr. Malcolm,” one of the others said.
“But we don’t know that these here Injuns is the one that done the killin’,” Lathum said.
“It don’t matter whether these are the ones or not,” Meechum said. “The ones that done the killin’ were Apache, weren’t they? These here Injuns is Apache. If we kill a bunch of Apaches ever’ time they kill some of us, they will pretty soon get the word that the only way they can keep from gettin’ killed themselves is to stop their own from killin’ us.”
“I tell you true, gents, Meechum is makin’ sense to me,” one of the others said.
“Yeah, I guess if you put it that way,” Lathum said. He nodded. “All right, if we are goin’ to do this, let’s get it done.”
There were fourteen armed men in the posse and they lined up abreast. Just before they started, however, a young woman came from one of the wickiups, carrying a water pail. She started toward the stream. Then, seeing a long line of armed white men sitting on their horses just outside the village, she dropped the pail.
“Cochinay!” she screamed at the top of her voice.
“Shoot that bitch!” Willis shouted, and instantly several gunshots rang out. The young woman fell back, the top of her dress red with blood from the many bullet wounds.
