“Hello, Scotty.”
“Well . . . hello, Miss Millay. Ain’t seen you in here in a long time.”
“Haven’t been in here in a long time.”
“That’s what I meant. What can I do you for?”
“I, uh . . . need some . . . yellow ribbon. You carry any yellow ribbon?”
“Sure do. How much you want?”
“Oh . . . couple of yards’ll do.”
“I’ll fetch it.”
“Good . . . I didn’t see Mister Silver come back into town yet.”
“No, none of us have.”
“Shouldn’t he be back by now?”
“Seems like. Most any time now . . . but here’s the other Mister Silver.”
Jake had just come down the stairs.
“Good afternoon, Miss Millay, I heard you ask about Ike. Can I do anything for you?”
“Why, no. I needed some ribbon. . . .”
“I’m sure we got all you need.”
“Yes, Scotty’s getting it . . . and I did want to give something to Ike. Do you mind if I give it to you and you can tell him it’s from me . . . when he gets back?”
“Sure. That’ll be fine. What is it?”
She reached into her purse, then handed him a coin. “Just a silver dollar. It’s customary for luck when somebody goes into business. Will you tell him it’s from me . . . for luck?”
Jake nodded and took the silver coin.
“I’ll be glad to. Silver for Silver. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it and so do I . . . all of us do.”
“And I’d like to talk to the nun if she’s around?”
“Sister Bonney? Right through that door. She’s fixing things up for the school.”
“Thank you. I’ll be right back.”
Sister Bonney and Melena were hanging up a curtain as Belinda walked into the storeroom.
“Oh, excuse me, ladies. May I come in for just a minute?”
“Of course. I’m Sister Bonney, and this is Mrs. Melena Brown.”
“Pleased to meet you both. I’m Belinda Millay. I own one of the saloons down the street.”
Sister Bonney smiled. “Yes, Belinda’s Emporium. We’ve heard all about it.”
“I guess everybody has by now. I just came over to buy some ribbon. Mrs. Brown, I understand your husband went with Big Ike to the mine.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Are you going to be staying here in Prescott?”
“I . . . don’t know.”
“I hope so. Sister, there was something else. I understand you’re starting a school.”
“Yes. Do you have children?”
“Me? Oh, no. But I know you’ve been to different places around town for—”
“For whatever help I could get. Yes, that’s right, Miss Millay. Desks, chairs . . .”
“Money?”
“That always comes in handy.”
“Well, I didn’t expect you to come and see me, so I thought I’d come by and see you . . . with some money.”
Belinda took a roll of currency out of her purse.
“Would a hundred dollars help?”
“A hundred dollars!” Sister Bonney glanced at Melena.
“I hope you’ll accept it even if you consider it tainted. . . .”
“Miss Millay, I consider it a most generous gift from a most generous lady, and I accept it with deepest gratitude and so will all the children. You’ll be in all our prayers, especially mine.”
Belinda handed Sister Bonney the money. “Well, here then.” She paused for a moment. “You know, it’s funny. The three of us.”
“I don’t understand,” Sister Bonney said.
“Well, Missus Brown, she’s taken a vow to one man. And you, Sister, you’ve taken a different kind of vow, while I . . . as far as men are concerned . . .”
“Miss Millay, in the eyes of our Lord, the three of us are sisters.”
Belinda Millay turned and walked through the door, back into the store toward the front door.
“Miss Millay.” Jake pointed at the counter. “You forgot your yellow ribbon.”
“Colorados. You give a token of friendship, then send this thief to steal our wagon and horses.”
Ike pointed to Quemada standing near the wagon and horses, holding Ike’s rifle. And next to Quemada stood Secorro.
Colorados’s camp was isolated within a spectral sanctuary between the shoulders of the Bradshaw Mountains. A few wickiups and an assortment of Apaches; men, women and children.
“Quemada was not sent by me.”
“Well, who makes up the rules around here?”
“White men take from us,” Quemada said, “we take from them. Those are the rules.”
“I haven’t taken anything from anybody.” Ike nodded toward Ben Brown. “Neither has this man. I’m just a small businessman trying to stay in business.”
“They take our burial ground,”—Quemada looked directly at Ike—“and you bring them food and guns.”
“I haven’t brought anybody any guns. But Colorados, I bring you a message from Colonel Crook, who’s now in command of this territory. He wants to talk to you—if you’ll just listen—”
“My father talked and listened. . . .”
“I know all about that. But there’re new leaders now. Grant, Sheridan and Crook. They’re soldiers from the great war.”
“Now they will make war on Apaches.”
“No. They fought so everybody can live in peace. They’re sick of war. The whites are learning to live together and with their black brothers. It’s got to be so with the red and the white.”
“This is the land of the Hassayampa. Apache land.”
“That’s so, Colorados. For two hundred years. But Crook told me before that it was Pima land. The Apache were stronger and took it from the Pimas.”
Colorados nodded.
“Now the soldiers are stronger.”
“The fight is not always to win,” Quemada said. “It is to hurt back. To—”
“There’s land enough for both,” Ike interrupted. “Make a beginning, Colorados. So your people will survive. Crook’ll start by getting you a pardon.”
“Will you sell the bones of your fathers,” Quemada asked Colorados, “for a piece of paper?”
“Crook’s word is good. Colorados, meet him and make a beginning.”
“I will think on it.”
Ike reached into his pocket, pulled out a pouch, and handed it to Colorados.
“Tobacco. Colorados, you can smoke while you think. But don’t take too long.”
Ike, followed by Ben, walked toward the wagon. As they came close to Quemada and Secorro, Ike, in one swift motion, reached out and grabbed the rifle from Quemada.
“And I’ll take back my rifle.”
Quemada screamed something in Apache and took a step forward.
Ike’s left hand held the rifle, his right turned into a fist that first slammed into Quemada’s midsection, then whipped into his face, dropping him to the ground with blood leaking from his mouth.
“I’m getting a little tired of looking at your face, sonny,” Ike said, then turned to Brown. “Come on, Ben. We got what we came for.” He glanced back at Colorados. “Or at least some of it.”
Ike and Ben climbed onto the wagon.
Colorados took a step forward.
“Wait.”
“For what?”
“You came with a message from Crook.”
Ike looked down at Quemada, who wiped at the blood from his mouth.
“I already got his answer.”
“Now you will get mine.”
“Tell Gray Wolf that—”
“Who’s Gray Wolf?”
“Crook. You did not know that that is how he is known to the Indians? In our language, Nan-Tan-Lupan.”
“No, I didn’t. What’s the message?”
“Tell him Colorados will meet him when the sun is high in three days at a place the soldiers call Spanish Flats.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“I will bring only two with me, without weapons, if he will do the same.”
“He will . . . and Colorados, that is a good beginning.”