El Paso Way by Steven Law Page B

have stopped a dust storm. What Enrique noticed most, however, was how this man on the bald-face horse kept staring at Pang. Then he looked back and forth between both Enrique and Pang and spoke in his known Spanish dialect. “Who are you people?”
    Once Enrique began to speak, all eyes looked at him. “I am Enrique Osorio. I am born of this land and am a friend to the Apache. This man who rides with me is no threat to you.”
    The leader studied Pang again. “I have seen his kind before, many moons ago when the white man built the trails of the iron horse. But they did not wear a white man’s clothes.”
    Enrique thought about how strange the derby and serape must look on the Chinaman. “He only wears the clothes to protect himself from desert travel.”
    â€œI am Geronimo, chief of the
Nnee
, and of the land of my people. Why do you tread on our land?”
    Enrique had heard of Geronimo, and how he had fled the reservation and made war with the army. He had rarely heard, however, Apache refer to themselves as
Nnee
, which meant “the People” in their own native language. Apache was a name given to them by the Spanish, and
Nnee
was typically only used during conversations with their own people. Enrique understood this because the Spanish called his own Tohono O’odham people
Papago
, which was a name that his fellow tribesmen rejected. This meant that the Apache were fed up with the centuries of lies offered them by the Spanish, the Mexicans, and now the Americans.
    â€œWe are on the trail of Antonio Valdar. We do not pose any threat to the
Nnee
. We just want to pass through and make it to El Paso before Valdar does.”
    â€œWhat is this business you have with the Demon Warrior?”
    Enrique was not surprised that the Apache had knowledge of Valdar, and was no more surprised at the name he had been given. “Justice, Chief. Pang and I want his blood.”
    There was silence for a moment, then Geronimo nodded at the men behind the
Criollo
and they held up their rifles. They came forward, and the ones on the hillside came down closer, and one of them cut loose the pack burro and pulled the braying animal away.
    Enrique looked to Geronimo for an answer.
    â€œThe Demon Warrior is a friend to my people. You say you are a friend to the Apache, but we do not know you. We will take you back to our camp and hold a trial. That will decide your fate.”
    Pang looked around nervously as the Apache men drew closer to them. “What do we do?”
    â€œWe go with them,” Enrique said.
    â€œMaybe we should fight them.”
    Enrique looked at Pang with disgust. “You try anything and you’ll get us both killed. There is no bow and arrow or kung fu that will outfight these men. We stand a much better chance back at their camp.”
    Before Enrique could say another word, he and Pang were in the clutches of the men, who tied their arms tight against their torso with leather. Pang tried to fight, but Enrique’s voice calmed him to an easy surrender. “Don’t fight it! It will only make things worse!”
    Pang was breathing heavily, but it was not an exercise. He called out in his own Chinese tongue, in words that Enrique didn’t understand, but his tone was very clear. The Chinaman was showing his anger and his fear.
    * * *
    Jackson and a man named Farrell had tracked Valdar through the Pedregosa and thought he’d probably crossed the border into the New Mexico Territory, but the trail came to a dead end. The two men studied a camp but saw no trail out.
    â€œWhere do you think they went?” Farrell said.
    â€œI can’t figure,” Jackson said. “Either they turned back, or they are right on top of us.”
    Farrell looked around him nervously. “So what do we do now?”
    â€œWe better head back and tell the sheriff.”
    The two men started back, and as they passed through a steep cut in the