Comanche Gold by Richard Dawes Page B

from the cooking fire in the middle. Once Tucson's eyes
adjusted to the gloom, he saw an ancient Comanche sitting on a pile
of old buffalo skins on the opposite side of the lodge.
    Soaring Eagle's face was a mass of wrinkles,
and his mouth was a horizontal gash. Despite the heat, he was
wrapped in a colorful blanket. His grey hair was parted in the
middle and braided. The braids hung down along each shoulder, and
were encased in tubes of rabbit fur. A choker of human teeth
encircled his grizzled neck, and Tucson guessed the teeth had
belonged to Pawnees—a hereditary enemy of the Comanche.
    Soaring Eagle and Tucson studied each other
in silence for a long time. Despite the Comanche chief’s great age,
Tucson couldn't remember when he had seen another man who radiated
such awesome power. Two Bears and Cuchillo stood on each side of
the entrance, watching quietly.
    Finally, Soaring Eagle nodded and pointed to
a spot next to him, then said something in Shoshone dialect.
    Slowly and carefully, as if he were
performing a ritual, Tucson bent and untied the leather thong that
kept his holster strapped to his leg then unbuckled his gun-belt.
Looking around, he saw a wooden peg hanging off one of the
cedar-wood support poles. Stepping to it, he hung the gun up then
went and sat down in the spot indicated by Soaring Eagle.
    Two Bears sat on the other side of the old
chief while Cuchillo squatted beside the entrance.
    Two Bears looked across at Tucson. “Soaring
Eagle refuses to learn English or Spanish. He wants me to interpret
for him.”
    Tucson nodded.
    “Soaring Eagle say he recognizes you as Storm
Rider, the great warrior he see in Spirit Vision,” Two Bears said,
after the old chief had spoken. “He thanks you for coming so
soon.”
    “What's the problem?” Tucson asked.
    Two Bears listened closely as the old chief
spoke for several minutes. His voice was thin with age, but it
throbbed with unmistakable power.
    Finally, Two Bears turned back to Tucson.
“Three moons ago, The People found gold on the reservation.” He
paused as Tucson's head jerked up with interest, then went on. “At
first we were happy. Gold is only thing white man respect. We think
gold buy things Nermernuh need to survive. But then we think if
white man know there gold here, we be moved again, maybe somewhere
even worse, and white man steal our gold. Soaring Eagle understand
we need white man to act for us. He send brave with gold nugget at
night to house of big banker in Howling Wolf: Charles Durant.”
    Two Bears had trouble making his tongue
pronounce the banker’s name.
    “I've heard of him,” Tucson commented. “What
happened?”
    Two Bears shrugged. “We never see brave
again.” He listened to Soaring Eagle as the old chief spoke, then
added, “Since brave disappear, white men seen on reservation and
three braves killed.”
    “Is that why you and your band stopped me
today?” Tucson asked. “You were guarding against any white men
coming onto your land?”
    Two Bears nodded his massive head. “Nermernuh
no stand by while white man kill our people.” Soaring Eagle
interrupted again, and Two Bears stopped to listen. “Soaring Eagle
say he think white man want Nermernuh to go on warpath. That give
soldiers excuse to come kill us. Then they would be free to take
our gold.”
    Tucson stared at the fire as he thought it
over. “So you think Charles Durant took the gold you sent him,
killed the brave so no one would know he had seen him, and is now
sending his agents onto the reservation to discover the source,” he
said. “Maybe the braves that were killed saw them looking, and were
disposed of to keep them from talking. And Soaring Eagle thinks the
killings could incite your people to rebel. That would give Durant
an excuse to call in the Army, and have all of you either
exterminated or moved. Then,” he concluded, “He’d be free to come
onto this land and find the gold. Is that it?”
    Two Bears nodded.
    “Well,” Tucson asked