On The Border

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty One

     Several days later, Hunter returned to Imala's home in the mountains. He came back with some supplies from town and a freshly killed deer. One thing you had to give the whites credit for- after they killed off all the wolves and bears, the deer got a lot easier to hunt. There were too many of them now, actually. So taking the occasional deer pretty much without going out of his way while coming back home was a great deal easier than it likely would have been for his people some hundred, hundred fifty years ago. Of course, it was a lot harder to raid Anglos and Mexicans now, as a proper Apache was supposed to do, but Hunter felt that his time in the Army, his work with the Shadow Wolves, and whatever you'd call what he and Reid were doing pretty much covered his warrior obligations. Such were the kind of thoughts he had, spending hours alone either on foot, horseback, or driving. He hung the deer on a rack they had long ago made for the purpose, and called out in his native tongue "Grandmother, I have come home."

     A few minutes later she came out of her small cabin and made a beeline for the grocery sacks, searching with somewhat increasing franticness as time passed. She finally turned and looked at him and said simply "Coffee."

     "Oh, I meant to say, they were out. They said some big convention thing came in and bought them out, but they should have more next week," Hunter added a few more details, trying to keep the smile from his face.

     When she pulled the knife from her belt with cold, flinty eyes, he relented out of self preservation. "In the saddlebags," holding up one hand in mock terror.

     She grunted something, and then switched from Apache to Spanish, shaking her knife at him, "Ay, Tonto, una dia, te mato."

     "Hey, I'm not 'Stupid,'" he protested. "You used to have a sense of humor."

     "Not about coffee." She took her prized bag and retreated to her cookfire.

     "My apologies, Grandmother. Where's Reid? I asked around some more about that money shipment we heard about."

     She shrugged. "Working in the garden."

     "You put him to work in the garden?" he asked, somewhat disbelieving.

     "He offered. He is a good guest, and likes to help a poor old woman instead of wandering around the countryside playing cops and robbers."

     He knew she was proud of his work, and waved off the snub. "Ok, I need to go talk to him. Think you'll have any coffee left by the time we get back?"

     As he was walking away, he heard her mutter "For him," and he shook his head. The feisty old woman would likely outlive he and Reid both just on pure cussedness. Hunter walked down the trail from the buildings to the garden. While growing things in the mountains sounded a bit odd to most, there were occasionally small valleys or even just large dips in the ground where soil built up somehow or other. Such sheltered spots, almost like oases in a desert of rock instead of sand, made Imala's family's land valuable, as mountain areas went. This one was further blessed with a small seep of water, making it even better for planting. Hunter approached with his customary silence, more out of long habit than trying to sneak up on Reid.

     He shook his head in surprise, watching Reid for a few moments. The tall man was working between two rows of corn, apparently having gone through the squash and beans already, hoeing weeds with a steady rhythm and a surprisingly content expression. Hunter noticed that even among this scene of honest work and peace, Reid had a gun belted on his waist, and nodded in approval.

     "Grandmother put you to work, huh?" Hunter called out. He was slightly surprised that Reid didn't react with some kind of startled movement, but went right on working.