Michael McGarrity - Tularosa

"Right now? How about a trail ride? Are you up for it?" Dale rolled his tongue over his teeth.

"Anyplace particular in mind?"

Kerney tilted his chin toward the mountains on the missile range.

"You're kidding."

"Why not?" Dale put both arms on the top railing of the corral and studied the two horses. After a long pause he swung around, leaned against the corral, and grinned at Kerney.

"The bay could stand to shed a few pounds."

Using an old horse trail. Dale and Kerney reached the 7-Bar-K in short order, even with Dale's frequent stops to reminisce. Kerney had to break him away from the sight of the space harbor and the test facilities dotting the basin; Dale was shaking his head in incredulity as he remounted.

"Looks smaller than I remember," Dale said, as his eyes moved over the ranch house. He looked at the alkali flats to the north.

"Hard country," he commented. He glanced at Big Mesa. "And to think your folks had a fortune hidden up there, just waiting to be found."

"Luck of the Irish," Kerney said.

"Why did you want to come back?"

"I forgot something." He left Dale holding the reins to the horses and went inside. When he came out he was holding the horseshoe from his first pony that he had nailed over his bedroom door when he was eight years old. *** "How are you feeling. Sergeant?" Sara Brannon asked. She was in Eddie Tapia's new quarters on the base. His promotion, along with some string-pulling on Sara's part, qualified the Tapia family for a single-family dwelling. The house, a typical military box arrangement, had been transformed by Eddie's wife, Isabel, into a warm, comfortable home. Handmade curtains covered the windows and house plants filled the living room with splashes of color.

"I don't know how to thank you for all this," Eddie replied with a grin.

"The plants are lovely," Sara commented. "It looks very nice."

"Isabel keeps bringing stuff home from the nursery. She wants me to dig flower beds for her in the backyard as soon as I can use my hands again." Sara nodded. The fingers on Eddie's hands were braced with splints, held in place by rubber bands attached to metal braces around his wrists. Pins were inserted in each broken knuckle to immobilize the joints. The appliances looked like weird pincers.

"Don't rush it," Sara cautioned. Eddie grimaced.

"I don't have any choice."

"Isabel tells me you're getting cranky." Eddie nodded.

"Yeah, I guess I am. Sitting around the house is getting old. I asked for a desk job-anything-but the doctor won't even talk to me about light duty."

"I've got a detail for you. We've been ordered to appear before the commanding general at fourteen hundred hours, in uniform." Eddie immediately became worried.

"What's up, Captain?" Sara shrugged.

"I haven't the faintest idea." Eddie looked chagrined.

"I can't dress myself, ma'am, and Isabel went to town with the baby. She won't be back in time to help me."

"I have an MP standing by to assist you," Sara said, looking at her wristwatch.

"Ma'am?" Eddie ventured.

"What is it. Sergeant?"

"Have you heard from Lieutenant Kerney?"

"No, I haven't," Sara said flatly.

"Let's get you ready to see the general. We don't have much time." Sara left Eddie with the MP and drove to the headquarters building. Tom Curry was waiting with Isabel and the baby. Both mother and child were dressed in new outfits. Excitement danced in Isabel's eyes. The general's aide, the public information officer, and the post photographer were assembled in the reception room.

A few minutes before fourteen hundred hours. Major General William Cunningham Tyson entered the room, greeted his guests, and looked at the two presentation cases arranged precisely in the center of a long conference table. At exactly two o'clock. Sergeant Eduardo Jesus Tapia was ushered into the room, escorted by a spit-and polish military policeman. The distress on his face vanished when he saw Isabel standing, with tear filled eyes and a proud smile, next to the commanding general.

"Sergeant Tapia," General Tyson said, "on behalf of the Secretary of the Army, it gives me great pleasure to award you the following decorations for exceptional service and meritorious achievement." The aide read each citation, and Tyson pinned the medals on Eddie's chest. Eddie stood rigidly at attention, in a state of total disbelief. Captain Brannon smiled. Major Curry smiled. The general smiled. Isabel dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and smiled.

"Thank you, sir," Eddie said huskily, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'd shake your hand. Sergeant," Tyson replied, "but I don't think that's a good idea. If I had my way, you'd be wearing a Purple Heart along with those decorations."

"I didn't expect this, sir," Eddie replied.

"There's more, son," Tyson said.

"If you can stand it, the provost marshal has arranged a small party for you tonight. Several dozen of your closest friends will be at the NCO club."

Tyson motioned to the photographer.

"Let's get a few more pictures over here, Specialist. And make sure you give prints to Mrs. Tapia." The day after Eddie Tapia's party, Sara met for a briefing with a bird colonel from West Point, a military historian who had been sent to research the Big Mesa treasure. A portly, energetic man in his early fifties, the colonel had commandeered a warehouse inside a secure compound and was working out of a small office in the building. Military police were on twenty-four-hour guard duty to protect the treasure that was being sorted, catalogued, and examined by the colonel's team. Colonel Alverson sorted through some notes at his desk.

"It's really an accumulation of three distinct Apache raids. The documents and the coins, as you know, are from the 0.0. Howard expedition to treat with Cochise in the Dragoon Mountains of Arizona in 1872. It was Howard's greatest achievement. He was so eager to return east and publish his story, he left for Washington with a small party, leaving the main detachment to follow. A band of Apaches camped at Canada Alamosa, led by a warrior named Loco, skirmished with the detachment near Orogrande and ran off wagons carrying mail, Howard's war chest, and his personal papers." The colonel set the note aside.

"The Apache had no interest in the white man's money or his writings, and were probably after horses and weapons."

"Then why was everything saved?" Sara asked.

"No reason other than expediency, I would imagine. Apache warriors traveled light and fast. They would raid and store caches of what they didn't need or couldn't carry for future use."

"What about the weapons?" Sara inquired. "Surely they would arm themselves immediately."

"Good point," the colonel replied, picking up another note.

"I'll get to that shortly. All the uniforms, saddles, and equipment in the cave were part of a resupply shipment to the forts south of Santa Fe. It left Fort Marcy and traveled down the Camino Real to Fort McRae, where one contingent went south and another went east, heading for Fort Stanton. The convoy heading to Fort Stanton was ambushed by an Apache leader named Victorio in a pitched battle that lasted all day. Victorio mauled the troopers badly and escaped with six wagons. The lading records show that one wagon carried weapons. Victorio obviously put the guns to use-none of the makes or models from that shipment match the weapons found in the cave.

"Now, as for the weapons that were in the cave," Alverson continued! "in the 1870s, the Army convened a board of officers to study and make recommendations for new armaments to replace the Civil War weapons still in use in the field. Like any good bureacrats, the board tried to save money by having manufacturers modify existing weapons. They ordered changes in the caliber, rifling, hammer design, cartridge specifications, and the like.