With blazing hot days and bone chilling nights

 Page 4.

With blazing hot days and bone chilling nights the weather never seem to bother Bacho who built a shelter over a partially dug out section of the pueblo's south wall. On some moonlit nights the adobe walls glowed with hundreds of crawling scorpions searching for a meal of moths and crickets. Thousands of Mexicans bats swirls from their daytime roosts at sunset every evening gorging on the always present mosquitoes that plagued the outpost. Night or day no matter the season New Mexico was a mysterious place and she held her secrets close showing only those worthy to know. One morning while bringing water to our quarters I heard the tiny cry of what sounded like a young pup, so I quickly ran toward the cry to investigate. There standing on the trail just outside of the post was that mogul dog holding her pup by the nap of its neck. She dropped her pup on the dusty trail and started to wag her tail as the tiny golden pup huddled at her feet not making a sound.  Suddenly I wasn't alone as Bacho quietly stood next to me and watched in silence. “They are from the Gaage Tribe meaning Raven People”, he said, while I stood stunned hearing the old Apache speak for the first time in perfect English. “She followed me here with her pup”,continued the elder brave, “her name is “Sato” and she belongs to me”. 

Bacho lifted his arm above his head and instantly Sato grabbed her pup and disappeared into the desert like a ghost. “Your father does not welcome them here”, he said, “he is a man with a broken spirit with eye's that are blinded by hate and sorrow”. Bacho and I returned to the fort and just as quickly he rode off with several soldiers heading north only to disappear into a bottomless rocky canyon. I knew I couldn't say a word of what just happened to anyone especially my father but I thought about Sato and her pup fearing the worst for them. I went about my chores around the fort and heard my father's voice raise in anger coming from Captain Thompson's office. “My goods and missing” he yelled loud enough for anyone within miles to hear, “and your soldiers got something to do with it and maybe even that Indian”. Captain Thompson replied back in a more controlled tone, “If it's liquor that's missing that's doubtful knowing your behavior Mr. Taylor”, answered the Captain. A soldier grooming his horse nearby began to laugh as Mrs Thompson the captains wife stepped outside quickly taking my hand and whispered, “William, would you please escort me to the officers quarters, there's something I'd like your to read. As she whisked me away I could clearly hear my father bellow out, “I swear to God as my witness, I'll kill him or whoever done it”. 

I was old enough now to know what all this meant and with Mrs. Thompson still holding my hand I could not longer contain my emotions. I tried to pull away but Mrs. Thompson held tight and for the first time in my life I let someone see me cry. I missed my mother so dearly and her loss and memory at times consumed all my waking thoughts. I couldn't masked the pain with liquor like my father who grew so distant from me and now cared for nothing except the bottle. He shamed himself and the life of my mother and I felt guilt and embarrassment because I couldn't stop the hate I had for him that now grew stronger with each passing day. Mrs. Thompson and I sat together on a makeshift bench as I stopped my weeping and I sat silent staring into what seem like a broken violent world. “This is no place for you William”, she softly said, “I've heard this post will close down in perhaps two or possibility three years”. I knew she meant well but Mrs. Thompson wasn't making me feel much better but with my mind still reeling I wondered if the answer was to just run away.