Read Online Apache Moon by Len Levinson - Free Book Online Page B

church on Sunday, gets down on his knees, and prays for beautiful things. Then the rest of the week he cheats, steals, and makes trouble.”
    â€œDidn't Apache renegades kill those women today?”
    Delgado glanced away angrily, and Phyllis decided to let the matter drop. Meanwhile, Duane took another swallow of tizwin and was starting to feel floaty. The huts looked like immense beetles in the light of the moon as stars blazed across the sky. It reminded him of his cowboy job, when they'd sit around a campfire every night, pass the bottle, and talk about horses, war, and the gals they left behind. But the Apaches lived in the open year-round, traveling with the seasons, and the White Eyes threatened their lifeway. These people aren't giving up without a fight, he realized. There'll be blood all over this desert before they're subdued.
    The warriors muttered among themselves, and occasionally a woman would add a comment. Several heated remarks were made, and an argument broke out on the far side of the fire. Duane looked at Phyllis daintily placing a piece of horse meat into her mouth. He realized that the tizwin was altering his perceptions, because she looked like the cowgirl madonna, with a golden halo behind her head.

    The tizwin produced a different effect from the rotgut whiskey that he'd been drinking since leaving the monastery in the clouds. Lights flashed inside his eyeballs, and Phyllis's body melted into a conglomeration of geometrical shapes. I've drunk too much of this stuff, he realized. I'm really getting plowed under. He felt the need to move his legs, for they were turning into the trunks of trees. “Anybody mind if I take a walk?”
    â€œDo not wander too far away, White Eyes,” Delgado cautioned. “Bears, mountain cats, and rattlesnakes live here, too.”
    Duane's feet barely touched the ground as he staggered from the fire. His head felt as though it were disintegrating, and his hands were globules of jelly. I guess you're not supposed to drink tizwin like water, he said to himself. He made his way beyond the perimeter of wickiups and examined the ground for snakes, scorpions, and lizards. Then he sat cross-legged and gazed at jagged outlines of mountain ranges in the distance. The Apaches were on a collision course with civilization and their lifeway would be eradicated soon. Regardless of how hard they fought, there wasn't enough of them to stop America.
    Duane couldn't help admiring the indomitable spirit of the Apaches, and if they committed atrocities, so did the White Eyes. Duane had read the story of the famous massacre at the Santa Rita Mine, where white men invited the Apaches to a banquet, and while the Indians were dining, the civilized gentlemen openedfire with cannon at close range, killing men, women, and babies. Bloodshed had increased on both sides ever since. If I were an Apache, Duane thought, I'd fight back, too. At the monastery, he'd spent his life analyzing God's creation from every conceivable view. There were worlds beyond worlds, and then came the Apaches, the most ferocious Indians in North America according to the soldiers who fought them. Duane became aware of a presence behind him and saw the old man with the half-closed eye standing behind him. Duane rose, reaching for his empty holster, alarmed by the sudden appearance.
    â€œSit,” the old man said.
    Duane did as he was told, and the old man dropped opposite him, gazing into his eyes. Two rays of light penetrated Duane's mind, making him dizzy. He waited for the old man to speak.
    â€œYou have a warrior's heart,” the Apache said in a deep voice. “But you are dumb. I am a di-yin, and my name is Cucharo. Was your grandfather Apache?”
    Duane was taken aback by the question. “I was an orphan, and I don't know anything about my grandparents. What's a di-yin? ”
    â€œA medicine man.”
    The old man's belly was flat as a young warrior's, his limbs were sinewy, and