“Yes. He said he thought you would make a fine commandant, and I agree with him. Falcon, I’m appealing, not to your vanity, but to your honor and sense of duty. It is only until the first of August. On that date, Colorado will be admitted to the union as the thirty-eighth state. Then, if you wish, you can resign. I cannot force you to serve as commandant of the Colorado Home Guard, I can only ask, but that I do, with all sincerity.”
Falcon was silent for a moment; then he smiled. “John, has anyone ever suggested that you should be in politics? You can be quite persuasive.”
The governor laughed out loud. “You think so? Hmm, maybe I should try it.” The governor got serious. “Is that a yes, Falcon?”
Falcon nodded. “It is a yes.”
“I thank you, Colonel,” the governor said. “In fact, all of Colorado thanks you.”
Clete Harris and Jim Garon waited alongside the river. Their horses and five pack mules were tied to low limbs from a cottonwood tree.
Harris was chewing on the end of a twig, and Garon was tossing rocks into the water.
“How long we goin’ to wait?” Garon asked.
“As long as it takes,” Harris answered.
“Yeah, well, I don’t particular want to be out here after it gets dark.”
Harris chuckled. “Scared, are you?”
“I ain’t scared now—but would be, if we was still out here after dark. And you would be, too, if you had any sense.”
“Injuns don’t attack at night. Ain’t you ever heard that?”
“I’ve heard it,” Garon replied. “I don’t know as I’m willin’ to put that much faith in it. Especially if it’s my hide.”
“Yeah, well, don’t worry. I don’t reckon we’re goin’ to have to wait much longer.”
“How do you know?”
Harris pointed. “They’s some dust comin’ up out there, and I figure that, more’n likely, it’s Cut Nose and his boys, comin’ to trade.”
At that moment one of the pack mules pulled away from its ground hobble and moved down to the edge of the water.
“Keep an eye on that mule,” Harris ordered. “Don’t let him go wandering off. He’s carryin’ twenty rifles, and at twenty dollars apiece, that’s four hundred dollars I don’t intend to lose.”
“That mule ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Garon replied. “He’s just thirsty, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well, go get him and bring him back,” Harris said.
Garon walked down to the edge of the river and stood there for a moment until the mule had drunk its fill. Then he led the animal back up to the others, tying him off just as several Indians rode up.
“Well, Cut Nose, you made it, I see,” Harris said.
“You have guns?”
Harris chuckled. “You ain’t much for the small talk, are you? Yeah, I have guns.”
“Let me see guns.”
Harris walked over to the pack mule, opened the canvas pouch, pulled out one of the lever-action rifles, and handed it to Cut Nose.
Cut Nose jacked the lever down and back up, then lifted the rifle to his shoulder. He sighted down the barrel and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell on an empty chamber.
“Does gun work?” he asked.
“Hell, yes, it works. Why would you ask that?”
“Some white men have sold guns which do not work. They take out—” He put his finger down in the chamber to show what he meant.
“Don’t worry, the firing pins are still there,” Harris said. He handed Cut Nose a single bullet, and the Indian put it in the chamber. Once again, he cocked the rifle, aimed, and pulled the trigger. This time he was rewarded with a loud bang as the weapon fired.
“Hoolah!” he shouted, thrusting the rifle high over head.
“You like?” Harris asked.
“I buy. I buy all you have.” He pointed toward the pack mules.
“I have one hundred rifles,” Harris said. “At twenty dollars a rifle, that’s two thousand dollars. Just like we said.”
“I have white man’s gold,” Cut Nose said. He nodded to one of the other Indians, who handed a cloth bag to Harris. Looking inside, Harris saw several gold double-eagle twenty-dollar pieces. Quickly, he counted one hundred of them.
“All right, Cut Nose, the rifles are yours,” Harris said.
