him peyote, and that he drank himself to death. You heard Dr. Leonard upstairs say it could happen."
"Could happen."
Murphy looked frustrated. His hand brushed the table on which the autopsied body of Bill Adams lay, and he pulled his hand away. "Did happen. You were here, you heard the doctor, you saw him sign the death certificate. Leonard knows his stuff, he's seen this happen a few times before, to Papagos."
"And Tahini?"
"Tahini was murdered. But like I said, it's none of our business. Even if Bill Adams murdered him, which I don't think happened."
"Someone murdered him, Marshal, and logic tells me that someone murdered Bill Adams, too."
Murphy said nothing for a moment, then said, "I'll do all I can from my end, Mr. Mullin. If you agree to my ground rules. I want you to let me know what you're up to. I'm going to give you a letter of introduction in case you need it. It'll legitimize you, especially with some of the white people around here. I don't want you to go out to the Papagos reservation alone. There's a man here I trust, he'll go with you. And I want you to promise not to stir up a hornets' nest out there. I've got my hands full with the President coming. Find Adams's daughter if you want to. And . . ." Murphy paused.
"Yes, Marshal?" Thomas asked.
Murphy looked at the back wall. "If you find out Adams was murdered after all, let me handle it."
Thomas held out his hand, and Murphy took it.
"Done," Thomas said.
Chapter Ten
Â
The man Murphy had picked to go with them turned out to be a half-breed named Bartow. He was short, wiry, and unshaved; and besides his constant talking, and an annoying preference for beef jerky, which he gnawed on insistently, he seemed to have no bad habits. Whenever he smiled, which was often, he showed brown teeth, with a few obvious gaps.
"Never did know a full-breed with half a lick of sense," he said, spitting. They were already an hour out of Tucson, which receded into a pleasant bowl-like haze behind them. "You take your normal Tohono O'otam, he'll sit in the sun with his eyes closed all day, dreaming of nothing. His crops'll fail, the rain could come and beat down on his head, he'll just stay on sittin'. My mammy tol' me these people were fruity, and I believed my mammy. Even before they had likker, they were crazy people. Few times I saw my daddy that's what he was doin', sitting out there in the sun and rain."
Bartow smiled, put his jerky in his mouth and tore off a chew. "Yep"
"That'll be enough," Thomas said. "You think maybe you'd like to scout on ahead, find us a good place to camp tonight?"
"Hell, that place you to!' me about afore sounds good enough to me. `Circle of the Saguaro,' they call it here. Don't you like it no more?"
Thomas sighed. "How about going on past it, finding us another place? This way we can ride into the reservation tomorrow, early."
Bartow considered for a short moment. "Heck, if you want, chief. I could do that." He smiled again, tore off another bite of jerky.
With relief, Thomas said, "Please."
Bartow smiled, kicked his horse, and rode ahead.
"Whew!" Lincoln Reeves said, when the man was out of earshot. "I thought he'd never be quiet."
"He never would have. I knew a man like him at Fort Davis, before you were there. Bill Adams called him Gummy, since he was always moving his gums. From Louisiana, old slave family. I think his folks put him in the Army so they wouldn't have to listen to him anymore."
Lincoln grinned.
The older man turned to him. "So what are your thoughts about all this, Trooper?"
"Well," Reeves said, "I think the Papagos are in the middle of something bad, and those white folks back in Tucson either don't care or don't know how bad it can be."
Thomas nodded solemnly. "That's very good thinking. Have you imagined what it would be like if there was an Indian war out here now?"
"I don't want to, Lieutenant."
Thomas was about to scold the young man for calling him by his Army title, but decided he didn't
"Could happen."
Murphy looked frustrated. His hand brushed the table on which the autopsied body of Bill Adams lay, and he pulled his hand away. "Did happen. You were here, you heard the doctor, you saw him sign the death certificate. Leonard knows his stuff, he's seen this happen a few times before, to Papagos."
"And Tahini?"
"Tahini was murdered. But like I said, it's none of our business. Even if Bill Adams murdered him, which I don't think happened."
"Someone murdered him, Marshal, and logic tells me that someone murdered Bill Adams, too."
Murphy said nothing for a moment, then said, "I'll do all I can from my end, Mr. Mullin. If you agree to my ground rules. I want you to let me know what you're up to. I'm going to give you a letter of introduction in case you need it. It'll legitimize you, especially with some of the white people around here. I don't want you to go out to the Papagos reservation alone. There's a man here I trust, he'll go with you. And I want you to promise not to stir up a hornets' nest out there. I've got my hands full with the President coming. Find Adams's daughter if you want to. And . . ." Murphy paused.
"Yes, Marshal?" Thomas asked.
Murphy looked at the back wall. "If you find out Adams was murdered after all, let me handle it."
Thomas held out his hand, and Murphy took it.
"Done," Thomas said.
Chapter Ten
Â
The man Murphy had picked to go with them turned out to be a half-breed named Bartow. He was short, wiry, and unshaved; and besides his constant talking, and an annoying preference for beef jerky, which he gnawed on insistently, he seemed to have no bad habits. Whenever he smiled, which was often, he showed brown teeth, with a few obvious gaps.
"Never did know a full-breed with half a lick of sense," he said, spitting. They were already an hour out of Tucson, which receded into a pleasant bowl-like haze behind them. "You take your normal Tohono O'otam, he'll sit in the sun with his eyes closed all day, dreaming of nothing. His crops'll fail, the rain could come and beat down on his head, he'll just stay on sittin'. My mammy tol' me these people were fruity, and I believed my mammy. Even before they had likker, they were crazy people. Few times I saw my daddy that's what he was doin', sitting out there in the sun and rain."
Bartow smiled, put his jerky in his mouth and tore off a chew. "Yep"
"That'll be enough," Thomas said. "You think maybe you'd like to scout on ahead, find us a good place to camp tonight?"
"Hell, that place you to!' me about afore sounds good enough to me. `Circle of the Saguaro,' they call it here. Don't you like it no more?"
Thomas sighed. "How about going on past it, finding us another place? This way we can ride into the reservation tomorrow, early."
Bartow considered for a short moment. "Heck, if you want, chief. I could do that." He smiled again, tore off another bite of jerky.
With relief, Thomas said, "Please."
Bartow smiled, kicked his horse, and rode ahead.
"Whew!" Lincoln Reeves said, when the man was out of earshot. "I thought he'd never be quiet."
"He never would have. I knew a man like him at Fort Davis, before you were there. Bill Adams called him Gummy, since he was always moving his gums. From Louisiana, old slave family. I think his folks put him in the Army so they wouldn't have to listen to him anymore."
Lincoln grinned.
The older man turned to him. "So what are your thoughts about all this, Trooper?"
"Well," Reeves said, "I think the Papagos are in the middle of something bad, and those white folks back in Tucson either don't care or don't know how bad it can be."
Thomas nodded solemnly. "That's very good thinking. Have you imagined what it would be like if there was an Indian war out here now?"
"I don't want to, Lieutenant."
Thomas was about to scold the young man for calling him by his Army title, but decided he didn't
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