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“That’s her name,” Angsman told him, then spoke to the girl again in Spanish.

She replied with a few Spanish phrases, but most of her words were in a dialect of the Apache tongue. She was having trouble combining the two languages so that the white men could understand her. Her face would frown and she would wipe her hands nervously over the hips of her greasy deerskin dress as she groped for the right words. She was plump and her hair and dress had long gone unwashed, but her face was softly attractive, contrasting oddly with her primitive dress and speech. Her features might have belonged to a white woman—the coloring, too, for that matter—but the greased hair and smoke smell that clung to her were decidedly Apache.

When she finished speaking, Angsman looked back at Hyde. “She’s a Warm Springs Apache. A Mimbreño,” he said. “She says they’re on their way home.”

Hyde said, “Ask her if she knows about any gold hereabouts.”

Angsman looked at him and his eyes opened a little wider. “Maybe you didn’t hear, Ed. I said she’s a Mimbre. She’s going home from a hunting trip led by her father. And her father’s Delgadito,” he added.

“Hell, the ’Paches are at peace, ain’t they?” Hyde asked indifferently. “What you worried about?”

“Cochise made peace,” Angsman answered. “These are Mimbres, not Chiricahuas, and their chief is Victorio. He’s never never made peace. I don’t want to scare you, Ed,” he said looking back to the girl, “but his war lieutenant’s Delgadito.”

Billy Guay was standing in front of the girl, his thumbs in his gun belts, looking at her closely. “I know how to stop a war,” he said, smiling.

“Who’s talkin’ about war?” Hyde asked. “We’re not startin’ anything.”

“You don’t have to stop it, Ed,” Angsman said. “You think about finishing it. And you think about your life.”

“Don’t worry about me thinkin’ about my life. I think about it bein’ almost gone and not worth a Dixie single. Hell, yes, we’re takin’ a chance!” Hyde argued. “If gold was easy to come by, it wouldn’t be worth nothin’.”

“I still know how to stop a war,” Billy Guay said idly.

Hyde looked at him impatiently. “What’s that talk supposed to mean?” Then he saw how Billy Guay was looking at the girl, and the frown eased off the grizzled face as it dawned on him what Billy Guay was thinking about, and he rubbed his beard. “You see what I mean, Ed,” Billy Guay said, smiling. “We take Miss Indin along and ain’t no Delgadito or even U.S. Grant goin’ to stop us.” He looked up at the old woman on the pony. “Though I don’t see any reason for carryin’ excess baggage.”

Angsman caught him by both arms and spun him around. “You guncrazy kid, you out of your mind? You don’t wave threats at Apaches!” He pushed the boy away roughly. “Just stop a minute, Ed. You got better sense than what this boy’s proposing.”

“It’s worth a chance, Angsman. Any chance. We’re not stoppin’ after comin’ this far on account of some Indin or his little girl,” Hyde said. “I’d say Billy’s got the right idea. I told you he had nerve. Let him use a little of it.”

Billy Guay looked toward Angsman’s mount and saw his handgun in a saddle holster, then both pistols came out and he pointed them at the scout.

“Don’t talk again, Angsman, ’cause if I hear any more abuse I’ll shoot you as quick as this.” He raised a pistol and swung it to the side as if without aiming and pulled the trigger. The old Indian woman dropped from the pony without a cry.

There was silence. Hyde looked at him, stunned. “God, Billy! You didn’t have to do that!”

Billy Guay laughed, but the laugh trailed off too quickly, as if he just then realized what he had done. He forced the laugh now, and said, “Hell, Ed. She was only an Indin. What you fussin’ about?”

Hyde said, “Well, it’s done now and can’t be undone.” But he looked about nervously as if expecting a simple solution to be standing near at hand. A solution or some kind of justification. He saw the mining equipment packed on one of the mules and the look of distress left his eyes. “Let’s quit talkin’ about it,” he said. “We got things to do.”

Billy Guay