“Indians!” he shouted as he hurried inside and pushed the big gates shut behind him. “Apache! To arms! To arms!”
Jason was running the second he heard the alarm sounded, and quickly gained the top of the stockade wall to the south. There were Indians, all right, but they weren’t stripped and greased for battle. At least, not that he could tell in the moonlight. He heard a rifle cock to his left, and shouted, “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” loudly enough that the whole town, silent and holding its breath, could hear him.
He watched as the Apache drew closer, then halted and spread out in a long line that went from the creek on the west and out into the darkness in the east. Jason rubbed at the gooseflesh covering his arms.
He couldn’t figure out why they were there! They weren’t attacking, that was for certain. But what other reason would they have for riding all this way? And why the hell were they spread out like that?
One brave, the war chief it looked like, rode out from the line a few feet and stopped his pony. “Todd!” he cried, and it took Jason a second to realize that the savage was saying Abe Todd’s name, not speaking Apache gibberish.
Beside him, Abe was just gaining the top of the wall.
Jason said, “They’re askin’ for you,” as Abe peered over.
“I hope to kiss a pig, they are,” he said, then raised his voice, shouting,
In fact, the exchange turned into quite a conversation. Every once in a while, Abe would stop and translate part of it for Jason, which put his mind at ease and stopped his quaking in his boots, but Abe was just a little too chummy with the redskins for his taste.
After about ten minutes of this, they must have said good-bye, because the brave backed his horse into the line before they all regrouped, then turned and cantered off to the south again.
After they were gone from sight, Jason turned toward Abe. “Friends?” he asked, one brow arched.
“Reckon. ’Bout as close as you can get with an Apache without dyin’ for him. Or marryin’ his daughter.” Abe cracked a smile. “Why? You plan on tryin’ to cozy up?”
Jason started backing down the ladder. “Hell, no! How’d you get to be so friendly with ’em, anyway?”
“Well, about five years back I was down the Colorado—marshal business—when I sorta got tangled up with ’em,” Abe said as he followed Jason down the ladder and joined him on the ground. “I ended up being took prisoner along with the man I was with. I was haulin’ him up north for trial. Anyhow, the Apache killed him, but for some reason, not me. Never did understand the why of it, and I was too grateful to ask. Never thought I’d be good at it, but I picked up their tongue right off.” Abe shook his head and chuckled. “Dangedest thing! Just come natural to me, I guess. Anyhow, they ended up lettin’ me go, once they’d had some fun with me.”
“I’m assuming this is the short version?” Jason said as they started down the street. It seemed the whole town was coming out to join them.
“Yup,” replied Abe, and he remained silent until Salmon Kendall came running up to them.
“What happened? What did they say? Are they going to attack?” he asked all in a rush. Jason finally had to take him by the shoulders and give him a little shake to calm him down long enough so that he could listen.
“Tell him, Abe,” he said. “Salmon’s our newspaperman, so don’t spare the details.”
Abe obliged. “You’re safe, there, Salmon. Everybody’s safe. They just rode up from their camp to thank us, that’s all.”
Salmon’s head tipped to the side. “Thank us for what?”
Abe turned to Jason. “You didn’t tell nobody?”
Jason shrugged.
Abe shook his head and began from the beginning, telling Salmon that they had taken a ride down to Matt MacDonald’s place the day before, and backtracked the creek. “MacDonald had built himself up a dam down south of his place. We figured as much, since the stream clear up here in town was sluggish and near topping its banks. So anyhow, we busted it down, us and six or seven of MacDonald’s men. There was Indians watchin’, but they didn’t show any signs of tryin’ to stop us or nothin’. Guess one of ’em recognized me, ’cause that was practically the whole dang tribe, coming to thank us for the water. See, MacDonald had cut off their water supply, which was why—”
“Cut off their water supply!” Salmon chirped, happily making notes. “Oh, this is grand, just grand!”
“You write down that this doesn’t make us ‘blood brothers’ with the Apache,” Jason piped up. “Just means there’s a temporary truce, that’s all.”
“For which we’re grateful,” added Abe.
Jason nodded. Solomon Cohen was at his side, patiently waiting to talk to him, so he said, “Abe, why don’t you take Salmon down to the saloon and fill him in? I’m gonna go on home.”
“Right,” said Abe. “See you tomorrow.” He led an attentive Salmon on down the street.
Jason turned toward Solomon, saying, “Yes?”
Solomon said, “I was listening while Marshal Todd talked. I believe I have most of it, thank you. And I mean, thank you for everything!”
Curious, Jason cocked his head. “Huh?”
“For everything,” Solomon repeated. “For breaking down the dam and getting rid of those Apache with no one getting hurt, for giving us the use of the jail tonight, for everything.”
Jason’s brain had to throw on the hand brake before he figured out the jailhouse business. He smiled. “No problem. To any of it.” He wasn’t lying. It could have been much, much worse. “It’s Abe Todd we ought to be grateful to, for speaking such good Apache.”
