The flag with thirteen red stripes on a white field and thirty-seven stars on a blue field flapped in the hot morning breeze atop the mast at Fort Whipple.
Ike Silver hitched his horse to a post on the parade ground and entered the wood and adobe building with the sign:
HEADQUARTERS
COLONEL GEORGE CROOK
COMMANDING OFFICER
In the reception room he stopped at a desk that fronted another room and spoke to the sergeant, who looked more like a butcher than a receptionist.
“Morning, Sergeant. Ike Silver to see Colonel Crook.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“I think so.”
“We’ll see if he thinks so. He’s not alone, but I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Thanks.”
“Ike Silver, that it?”
The sergeant rose, went to the door, knocked, waited for a response, heard “come,” opened the door, went inside, closed the door. In less than thirty seconds the door opened.
“Colonel Crook says to come right in, Mister Silver. ”
Ike nodded and went in as the sergeant shut the door to the reception room behind him. He was—and wasn’t—surprised to see Rupert Lessur in the office with Crook and Captain Bourke.
“Morning,” Crook said. “I think you know my aide, Captain Bourke, and I know you know Mister Lessur.”
“I do.”
“I was just telling Colonel Crook and the captain that I’ll have a wagonload of supplies from La Paz in a few days—and I thought you’d be interested too, Mister Silver, since we’re both in the freighting business . . . aren’t we?” Lessur smiled.
“We are.” Ike nodded. “Colonel, you were right about my running into a certain party.” He touched the eagle claw at his throat. “I’ve got a message, if you care to hear it.”
“I certainly do.”
“So do I,” Lessur said. “Do you object, Colonel, if I stay and listen?”
“Yes, I do. This is army business.”
“But it might concern—”
“Whatever it concerns, you’ll find out soon enough . . . if there’s a need for you to know. That’ll be all, Mister Lessur.”
“Very well. Good day.”
After the door closed behind Rupert Lessur, Crook looked from Bourke to Ike.
“Well, Ike? How did it go?”
“You said you wanted to make a beginning. I think he does too.”
“Good.”
“He’ll meet you day after tomorrow, with two men, no weapons. High noon at a place called Spanish Flats. You know it?”
“I know it, all right. Did you tell him I’ll try to get him a pardon?”
“I told him you’d do more than try.”
“I will, if he keeps his word. . . .”
Captain Bourke cleared his throat.
“What is it, Captain? You have something to say?”
Bourke hesitated for a moment. “Permission to speak freely, Colonel?”
“Go ahead.”
“Well, sir, I don’t think you can counsel with a murderer or rely on his word. I don’t think the solution is conciliation.”
“What’s your solution, Captain?” Crook asked.
“Not just mine. Many other officers who’ve been here on the frontier agree . . .”
“To what? Extermination?”
“That’s one solution . . . another is subjugation. Complete. Unconditional. You can’t compromise with savages, I learned that. So did my brother. The hard way.”
“Your brother?”
“Yes, Colonel. Did you ever hear of Major Addison Bourke?”
“I don’t remember. . . .”
“I do. One of the best soldiers the army ever had. A hero at Gettysburg and Yellow Tavern. He was mother and father to me. . . . but to the Indians he was something else . . . something to be butchered, mangled and mutilated.”
“Not by Colorados,” Ike said.
“No. But they’re all the same breed.”
“No, they’re not.” Ike shook his head. “Not any more than white men are.”
“Captain,” Crook said, “I’m sorry for your brother, and I’m in no way excusing what happened, but none of that started until they were driven nearly crazy by being lied to and cheated. ’Til their women were beaten, sold as slaves and diseased—”
“Is that any reason—”
“No! But I’m here to see that none of that ever happens again . . . on either side. And I’m going to start at Spanish Flats, and so are you, Captain. You’re dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Bourke saluted and left.
“Well, Mister Silver . . .”
“Well, Colonel, there seems to be a divergence of opinion within the ranks of the United States Army regarding the Indian situation, especially among the officers.”
“Mister Silver, you were a soldier in the United States Army and there’s one thing you know—an officer always obeys orders. And I give the orders.”
“Yes, sir.” Ike smiled. “By the way, you know that the Apaches call you Gray Wolf?”
Crook nodded. “I’ve been called worse.”
Outside, Lessur had been waiting.
“Captain.”
“What is it, Mister Lessur?”
“Without violating any rules, can you tell me anything?”
“Yes, I can tell you something.”
“Please do.”
“There isn’t going to be any war.”
“Hell, no. Thanks to Ike Silver, Colonel Crook and Colorados are just going to talk themselves to death.”
Captain Bourke made a sharp turn and walked across the parade grounds.
Rupert Lessur lit his cigar and smiled.