Leslie Silko - The Almanac of the Dead

“Well, look. The U.S. army had kept five thousand troops in southern Arizona and southern New Mexico in the 1880s and ’90s trying to catch him. They never did catch him. The only way they could do it was by tricking him. They sent word General Miles just wanted to talk to him. And General Crook had promised Geronimo the Apaches could go home to live in peace. But the territorial politicians and the Indian agents didn’t like Crook. General Crook was on his way out when he met with Geronimo. None of the promises were ever kept.”

Seese got up suddenly. “I don’t want to be anywhere near this place.” She drove slowly through the “historic district’s” old mansions.

“They made money off the Indian wars, did you know?”

Seese felt a sinking sensation in her chest. She shook her head. “I even went to college for a while and I don’t know the things you do.”

Sterling smiled modestly. “I only happened to learn it from this magazine article. There was money to be made by getting the government contracts to feed all those soldiers. Somebody had to sell them horses to ride.”

“Oh,” Seese said, “I get the picture.”

“I don’t know if this was ever proven, but there was something here called the Indian Ring,” Sterling continued. “Tucson merchants who did not want to see the Apache wars end. So they paid off a whiskey peddler. They sent the whiskey peddler to get Geronimo and his men drunk. The peddler showed Geronimo newspaper headlines from Washington, D.C., and warned Geronimo if he or his men ‘came in,’ they’d all be hanged. The newspaper headlines were quotes from U.S. congressmen who wanted Geronimo dead. The Indian Ring in Tucson kept the Apache wars going for years that way.”

“I like that!” Seese said fiercely. “I really like that! All these fancy houses, all these Tucson family fortunes made off war — the way all money is made!” Her sudden shift in mood made Sterling uneasy. Before he could reassure her that things had not ended as badly as they might have for Geronimo and his people, Seese said, “Now I know what you meant a little while ago. About judges and courts.” Sometimes her anger frightened her; it was leftover anger that surfaced while Sterling was talking about the Apaches. She had to get rid of the feeling that Monte had been lost because of anything she had done. The old Tucson mansions along Main Street were the best proof that murderers of innocent Apache women and children had prospered. In only one generation government embezzlers, bootleggers, pimps, and murderers had become Tucson’s “fine old families.”

They parked in an alley not far from Geronimo’s house and Dillinger’s stucco bungalow. Lecha had arranged everything. All Seese had to do was follow the instructions at the appointed time and place. At three o’clock exactly, the tall redwood gate swung open to the alley. Seese got out of the truck holding the purse close to her body.

After she stepped inside, the gate closed again without Sterling ever seeing anyone. Somehow her reaction to the mansions and rich people in Tucson had made Sterling feel uneasy. He had misjudged Tucson. He had never learned much about Barstow, but as far as he knew, Barstow had no mansions, old or new. Winslow certainly had no mansions. So this might be the first time Sterling had ever lived anywhere near a place founded mostly by criminals.

Sterling rolled up the window partway although it was very hot. He was glad that he had spent all those years keeping up with each issue of the Police Gazette and the True Detective. He seemed to recall there had been something about the Mafia in one of the more recent issues, something about the Mafia in the Southwest. Sterling was a little ashamed he had skipped over that article. But he had never found articles on the Mafia nearly as interesting as articles about Chicago trunk murders or the white-slave trade conducted in Wyoming boomtowns. Sterling was beginning to like the fact that the old ranch house was high in the foothills. He thought the fences and gates and even the guard dogs might be a wise precaution around people who had got rich off the suffering of Geronimo and his people.

BUSINESS WITH CALABAZAS

LECHA SPOKE FONDLY of the “old man,” and she had used sweet tones when she talked to him on the phone. Seese saw he wasn’t that old. He might not have been as old as Lecha. Lecha had gone out of her way to explain she and “the old viejo ” had never “been involved.” Lecha had acquired all the correct expressions for sex on the regional TV talk show circuit.

Seese had smiled and politely reminded Lecha that she of all people did not have to worry about those sorts of things. Instead of smiling back, Lecha had suddenly launched into a harangue about a dying woman. “A dying woman,” she lectured, “must above all put her reputation in order. Before all other business affairs, a woman’s reputation must come first!” Lecha saw Seese was frightened. She had not meant anything by it, so Lecha lowered her voice. “Poor thing! You have to hear all of this from me. But if you only knew all the lies that have been told against me!” Lecha had lowered her voice more. “Even in my own family.” Then she abruptly changed the subject to her “medicine.” Her last warning had been “old man” Calabazas liked to have compliments on his cactus and his burros.

Calabazas was not any taller than Seese. She knew she had Geronimo on the brain because the face Seese saw resembled Geronimo’s, although Seese realized Calabazas was a Mexican Indian, not an Apache. She felt as if Calabazas’s eyes had her pinned by the shoulders. She could not return his glance, so she looked around the yard.

The cactus garden was intricately planned. Smooth, light-orange rock bordered a vast collection of little pincushion cactus covered with purple-pink blossoms. Other cactus plants were bordered with small white stones. The largest and most formidable varieties of cactus had been planted next to the walls of the house. Snaky night-blooming cactus plants climbed around all the windows, and it occurred to Seese that Calabazas’s cactus also created an elaborate barricade around the house. He startled her when he said, “Yes, you would find it rough going.” Seese wanted to deny he had read her thoughts, but instead said how beautiful the garden was. He seemed not to hear her and disappeared through a door in an adobe wall. He left her standing there a long time. Seese could see the corrals and the burros shaded by big cottonwoods. John Dillinger might have done better if he had rented this place. It was too bad Sterling couldn’t see this. He could have gotten ideas for his landscaping around the ranch house. The old man returned with a small brown paper sack with the top twisted rather than folded shut. He handed it to her and opened the gate without saying anything. Just then a United Parcel delivery truck pulled up behind the pickup in the alley. Calabazas’s expression did not change, but Seese sensed he was uneasy. She knew Calabazas didn’t want her or Sterling to see what the parcel service truck had come to pick up. Seese started the pickup engine quickly, but then pretended to have trouble getting it into gear. As they drove down the alley, Seese watched in the side mirror; the deliveryman was loading boxes. Calabazas’s shipments. In the truck mirror, Seese saw Calabazas’s sharp eyes on hers. She figured she would hear about it from Lecha when she got home. “What was that, I wonder,” Sterling had said when they turned onto the freeway access road. He had the paper sack on his lap, holding it carefully so that the twist did not come undone and cause any suspicion of tampering. Sterling was learning quickly that Ferro and Paulie and the old boss woman watched closely for any signs of tampering. Sterling figured the old twin sister would do just the same.