“Both, maybe. Major Willoughby is temporary commander of the post, ma’am.”
“Until when?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“But you know he’s doing things he should not be doing.”
“Ma’am, I’m not privileged to read the major’s mind.”
“Is he doing anything about finding my brother, Lieutenant Ted O’Hara?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“Will you please call me Colleen and don’t be so stiff and formal with me, Francis.”
“Yes’m.”
“There you go,” she said. “Being polite and proper. And you, with so much wisdom, so much information inside you. Information I may need. As a friend.”
She was pressing Francis, she knew. Her face glowed in the wash of the afternoon sunlight, her cheeks painted in soft pastels with the complexion of peaches, her eyes narrowed to block the glare of the sun. Francis looked at her, his lips quivering as if he were boiling over to speak, to divulge what he knew, what he suspected.
“There’s only so much I can say, Colleen. Only so much I really know.”
“Anything might help,” she said. “In either category.”
“You mean you want me to speculate?”
“That would be a welcome change from the silence, Francis.”
“You push real hard, Colleen. I’ve seen mules less stubborn. Not to compare you to a mule, mind you…”
“Let’s not just chat with one another, Francis.”
“Well, um, they’s some soldiers what want the Apaches done in with. Rubbed out. Same as in town, over to Tucson. Your brother was sent out to locate hostiles, er, I mean, Apaches, and report back to Major Willoughby. I reckon I can speculate that the major might have a reason to do this.”
“Yes. I can follow you.”
“The major can’t do this right out in the open. We’re supposed to keep the peace, protect the citizenry of the territory, and help Mr. Jeffords bring Cochise and all the Chiricahuas to the peace table.”
“But Willoughby doesn’t want this to happen?” she said.
“I don’t rightly know.”
“Yes, you do. What about my brother? Why was he kidnapped and where was he taken?”
“I figure that faction in Tucson, them men, er, ah, those men, don’t want Cochise to get off scot-free. They want him and all the other Apaches made into good Apaches.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means dead, Colleen. A good Apache, they say, is a dead Apache.”
“And my brother? Was he taken away so that the people in Tucson could kill Cochise? Could murder Apaches?”
“Maybe.”
“And who was behind his kidnapping?”
“Same outfit that brung you—I mean brought you—here to Fort Bowie,” he said.
“Hiram Ferguson?”
“Yes’m. I reckon.”
“You know, you mean.”
“My best guess,” he said.
“I’m going there,” she said.
“Going where?”
“To Hiram Ferguson’s. I want to ask him what he did with Ted.”
“That could be dangerous, Miss Colleen. Ferguson is one of them drum beaters what wants to wipe out the whole Apache nation. He’s got him almost a regular army, I hear tell.”
“I’m not afraid of him.” But her dimples twittered silently like little bird mouths, quivering at the edge of her nervous, brave smile.
“You can’t do nothing, even if Ferguson is behind your brother’s kidnap. I mean he won’t tell you nothin’. And them layabouts he hires on would just as soon kill you as look at you.”
“Will you help me, Francis?”
“Help you? How?”
“I want a horse and a pistol and food to carry me to Tucson. I want to leave tonight. I can’t do it without your assistance.”
“Ma’am—I mean Colleen—you’re askin’ a lot. I could stand before a court-martial if I gave you an army horse,
