[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.“Good evening,” he added.Madelaine knew better than to let her surprise show.She smiled and offered him a slight curtsy.“Good evening.”“Mangas Coloradas sent me,” he went on, his English stilted but far from inexpert.He regarded Madelaine with stoic calm.“I am here to talk with you on his behalf.”“So I hoped,” Madelaine responded.“I am very pleased that he was willing to do this, and that you would undertake his commission.”The Apache paused and looked directly at Padre Lopez.“Must you remain here?”“Ah.” The priest looked from his new guest to Madelaine then back again.“It is not suitable to.to.”“I will not kidnap the woman,” said the Apache in Spanish.“I am here to answer her questions so long as it is proper for me to do it.” He glanced at Madelaine, and added in English.“Unless you need the priest here? You are not afraid of Indian demons, are you?”“I may need his help in translation,” said Madelaine, having decided to leave her knowledge of Spanish a secret.“I want to be as accurate in my understanding as is possible.”The Indian shrugged.“If that is necessary.”“Only when I cannot understand you,” she said, “otherwise I am content to speak with you in private.”“Then let us talk alone,” said the Apache.Padre Lopez bowed his head.“I will go to my study; it is the next room, and if you need my help, you can summon me easily.” He gave Madelaine an uncertain stare.“Are you sure you would prefer this?”“Yes, I think I would,” said Madelaine.“But I thank you for your concern, Padre.” What could she tell him that would not increase his trepidation? It would be folly to demonstrate her uncanny strength or her ability to resist all but the most destructive hurt.So she contented herself by adding, “I think we can trust to the honor of Mangas Coloradas, and his lieutenant.”“His son-in-law,” the man corrected, and noticed that Padre Lopez started in recognition.“All the more reason,” said Madelaine, who decided she would persuade the priest to tell her the Apache’s name if he would not volunteer it himself.“Come,” she went on to the Indian.“There are chairs by the hearth.They aren’t very comfortable, but they are tolerable.” She held out her hand to the visitor as she gave Padre Lopez a covert signal to depart.“I am Madelaine de Montalia.From France.”“France,” the Indian said, shaking her hand once as if operating a pump handle.“I have heard of it.That is over the water, isn’t it?”“Yes,” said Madelaine as she drew him with her toward the chairs, her manner a nice blend of the formal and the attentive.“Far to the east.”Padre Lopez’s house, 8 September, 1856We talked for the last time tonight, Mangas Coloradas’ son-in-law and I.He still refuses to tell me his name, for fear of giving me power over him, though he says when he becomes chief he will have to let the world know it.I find I like him, in spite of his forbidding nature and his abiding suspicions.He told me he learned English while working for a group of lumbermen to the east of here.It was useful to know what the white men said among themselves as well as what they said to the Indians.He has told me a fair amount about his people and why they keep so much to themselves, and I am willing to respect it.Before the first storms begin, we will travel; I would like to reach Indian Territory before winter comes, for I am told it is often harsh and bitter on the plains, which does not please me.Mister Hagen has decided to marry Mineata, and will go on to St.Louis after guiding me to the Cherokee and Choctaw.He believes he can hire out as a guide west now that Kansas is being opened to settlers.Some will want to go further, into the mountains and perhaps all the way to the Pacific on the Oregon or California Trails.Mineata will travel with him, and that satisfies them both profoundly, it appears.At the suggestion of Mister Hagen, we will travel the new route sometimes called the Cimarron Crossing, for it permits us to avoid going through Raton Pass on the Santa Fe Trail, which, I am told, can be dangerous once the rains begin.After what I have seen in crossing to the west, I am willing to believe this.It would not be pleasant to be stranded in these mountains through the winter because a road has washed away.Many of the trees were spangled with leaves bright as gold coins that glinted whenever the wind touched them, as Dutch Hagen led the way on the narrow track along the steep slope of the mountain [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]