LC 02 - Questionable Remains (20 page)

Roberto gazed around the village and realized that the women
were readying themselves and the children to leave. They were
placing dried food into leather bags, collecting the children who
usually were out running and playing at this time, giving them
things to carry.

The warriors would wait until the Spanish were settled in the
village, sitting and talking to the chiefs before they attacked. They
planned to kill the leader first, then the soldiers.

As much as Roberto wanted to kill Esteban, he could not allow
his fellow Spaniards to be massacred. And truthfully, he admitted
to himself, he did not want any more of the Indians he had lived
with and who took care of him to die. However good their plan was,
the superior weapons of the Spaniards would fell many of them. He
had to do something. If he escaped to find Pardo and his men, he
reasoned, Piaquay would come after him and probably kill him on
the spot. But Roberto had an idea. He rose from his place by the
council house and went in search of Cocunae, a young Indian trader who was from the same region as Roberto's adopted people.

He found Cocunae trading a sack filled with rose-colored chert
to a brave in return for a sack of freshwater pearls. Cocunae had
the chert spread on a piece of doe skin, showing the prospective
buyer the fine quality of his wares. Yes, Roberto smiled to himself,
Cocunae was the right choice. Traders were different from other
Indians. Roberto thought it was for the same reason that explorers
were different from others of his people. Traveling to exotic places,
seeing different customs, he reasoned, made traders and explorers
develop a different attitude about the world. It is often a larger
view, one more receptive to possibilities. Roberto was counting on
that being true with Cocunae. Because Cocunae was young and
because he was a trader, perhaps Roberto could talk him into helping. When the brave left, Roberto sat down in front of the young
trader. It would have been very bad manners to start the conversation before they got their clan alliances declared, so Roberto did
not begin with his business.

"Do you know the Tuco clan of the town of Chichwee?" he said.

The youth nodded. "But not for a long time. My father's father
is of that clan."

His father's father, thought Roberto. Cocunae is no relation
to the Tucos then, because they recognized relatives only
through their mother's side of the family. Too bad; if he were
a relative, that would have been easier. However, being a member
of the clan of his father's father was not without some bargaining
influence.

"Most were taken by the sickness," said Roberto. "Tuco is my
clan. My wife was a Daymah."

The young Indian nodded. "That is my people."

Roberto smiled. This was good. "I know how you can get a metal
ax from the Spanish," he said, knowing that a Spanish ax was a
valuable resource for the Indians. "Not only can you get a metal ax
from them, but you can also send them away from this place."

"How?" Cocunae asked.

"The chiefs are planning a surprise attack on the Spaniards
when they come to this village. You see the women and children
already leaving." Roberto gestured across the village. "If the war riors attack, Spaniards will kill many warriors with their metal
axes and swords and the metal-reeds-that-shoot-fire-from-longdistances. Then they will hunt down the women and children and
make them slaves. You, too. They will make you a slave, or kill
you. Their weapons are too strong, but the chiefs do not understand this. It is better that the Spanish go away and leave everyone in peace."

Cocunae listened patiently. The Indians were very patient people who both spoke at great length and listened well. If one was to
communicate with them, one must do the same. Cocunae had not
asked him what this had to do with him or how this knowledge
would get him an ax. He assumed that Roberto would get around
to it. He would only ask if Roberto failed to make it clear when he
finished. Roberto knew all of this, so he spoke clearly and laid out
all the nuances and alternatives of the situation.

"So," continued Roberto, "you must ask to talk to Captain
Pardo. Talk only to him. That is important. First, you must tell him
that you have information that you will sell for an ax. That is the
Spanish way and that is what he expects from someone who bargains with him. When he says yes, then you must tell him to avoid
this place so they won't be attacked. If Pardo should ask you if you
swear allegiance to the king and His Holiness, simply say yes. That
is part of the Spanish ceremony. Then he will give you the ax."

Roberto stopped speaking and waited for Cocunae to respond.
Roberto did not hurry him or ask if he understood or try to further
plead his case. He simply waited.

"I will go," Cocunae said finally. When these Indians made up
their minds, they were brief.

Esteban Calderon pondered his cousins' story and their carefully drawn map as he lay on his cot at Fort San Marco, waiting
for Pardo. He dug in his sack for the papers, carefully unrolled
them, and reread the story and reexamined the map. He put his
finger on the mark for Fort San Marco, where he was now, and
traced the route to the X. It was not that far. When he was strong,
he would take Diego and a couple of men and go to the cave. The Indians in this place were more friendly. He would be safe. Yes, he
thought. He would go home a rich man.

Fort San Marco was a twenty-meter by twenty-meter enclosure
made from tree trunks anchored into the ground. The Indians built
two houses inside the fort-one for the soldiers and one for the officers. The houses were also built with walls of upright tree trunks
woven with limbs and twigs and covered over with a thatch roof.

The Indians helping build the fort marveled to one another how
the Spanish couldn't seem to do anything for themselves. The
Indians had to build them houses and store up food for them. They
speculated on what housed the Spanish where they came from,
deciding they must have slaves who did everything for them. The
irony that this fort they were helping build was designed to keep
them and their kind under the control of the Spanish chief, whoever he was, was not lost on the Indians. What the Indians did not
understand was how the Spanish planned to hold possession of the
fort with only a few men after the main garrison left.

Esteban lay in a small open front cell of a room inside the structure that was to house the officers. He was reasonably comfortable.
His mouth was healed to a point that it was not quite so painful.
He lay, making plans, thinking what reason he could give Pardo
for another foray out into the wilderness. A mine, he thought. A
mine for the Crown. He would tell Pardo he had heard a story
that was sufficiently credible that he felt compelled to check it out.
Yes, that would work. He would tell him that his cousins had
heard of this mine also when they had traveled with de Soto.

Diamonds aere much better, he thought. Much better. Gold
is heavy. He would have had a very difficult time taking gold
home without anyone knowing. But diamonds, there are many
ways to hide diamonds.

"Diego tells me the Indians were very hostile," Juan Pardo said
to Calderon. He sat down on the end of the cot to talk to Calderon.

"As you can see, he speaks true," said Calderon, as clearly as
his damaged mouth and tongue would allow.

Pardo shook his head. "De Soto reported they were barbaric. I
have found them more cooperative, but . . . " He gestured, leaving the thought unspoken, but hinting that perhaps he, more than
either de Soto or Calderon, was suited to the task of dealing with
the Indians.

"I fear I have not your skill," said Calderon, willing to put
Pardo in a good mood if it helped his cause.

"Sometimes skill is lost on heathens," said Pardo magnanimously. He stroked his beard. "I am glad to have you back,
Esteban, but I am disturbed by the desertion of so many good
Spanish soldiers. I can't fathom why they would leave in the
night-and with a horse. I have visions of an army riding aimlessly through these dark forests. What could they be thinking?"

"1 don't know, my captain. I only know that many disappeared,
deserted from camp during the night. We searched for Indians,
thinking they were following us, picking us off one at a time, but
we saw no evidence. No. I fear many of my men went mad."

"Curious," replied Pardo.

"It is my belief they will show up at Santa Elena with excuses
or entreaties for forgiveness."

"I hope you are right."

"My captain," began Calderon. "I heard a story from a young
Indian. It is one I have heard before from my cousins, Sancho and
Ruiz, who traveled with de Soto." Calderon related the story he
concocted, adding evidence of his invention as he went along. At
the end, he made his request. "I will need only a few men. My old
friend, Diego, and a couple of others. We will travel avoiding the
towns. I believe I can find this mine for His Holiness and His
Majesty."

"How far from here do you think it is?"

"A day and a half," answered Calderon.

"Do you think you are sufficiently recovered for such an undertaking?"

"I am recovered enough. I can finish healing at Santa Elena
when our task out here is done."

Pardo consented. "Find this mine and catch up with us.
Tomorrow we are traveling to a town called Chilhaxul. It is large,
and they have an abundance of food, I'm told. Meet us there."

Lindsay put the safety lock on her door and opened it to the
width of the bar. "I'm surprised to see you here," she said to
Craig Gillett.

"Can I come in? I'd like to talk with you," he said, curling
his fingers around the door.

"I'll meet you in the coffee shop downstairs," Lindsay
told him.

"What I have to say is private," he said.

"Then choose one of the tables in the rear. I'll be down in
ten minutes."

"Look, Dr. Chamberlain, I haven't come here to hurt
you."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'll meet you in the coffee shop in ten
minutes."

He removed his hand and stepped back. "Very well. I'll
see you down there."

Lindsay closed the door, put on her shoes, and ran a
comb through her hair, wondering what he wanted and
what it was about him that put her off.

He was waiting in the coffee shop in a rear corner booth.
Lindsay sat down opposite him. A steaming cup of coffee
already sat in front of her.

"I took the liberty of ordering you a cup of coffee," he
said.

"I'm sorry, I've had my limit of caffeine today. But thanks
for the thought."

"Aren't we just a little paranoid today?" he said.

"Mr. Gillett, I think you're taking things a little too personally. When I travel, I have certain rules I always follow.
One is never letting men I don't know into my room. And I
always restrict my coffee drinking. It is you who being a little paranoid." She pushed the coffee away from her.

He smiled tightly. "Perhaps you're right."

"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked.

"Jennifer has been through a lot. She hasn't been able to
get much peace from everything that has been going on in
her life."

"And?"

"And I want you to stop this stupid investigation."

"There would seem to be little left to investigate. And as
for Mrs. Darnell, I only spoke with her briefly over dinner,
so she hasn't had to deal with me very much."

"Now that's naive. She has to worry about what you are
trying to do."

"I'm simply trying to find the truth. That should be a
comfort, not a worry," said Lindsay.

The waitress came to take their orders. "Just coffee," said
Gillett in a clipped tone that made the waitress take her
leave. "The Lamberts and you seem to think Jennifer has not
been touched by all these accusations. The authorities have
asked her the same questions, had the same suspicions. She
is not an insensitive woman. It has been very trying for her.
It has to end sometime."

"Are you Jennifer's financial adviser?" asked Lindsay.

"What?" He seemed puzzled by the change of subject.

"She said she had a professional advising her about
things like insurance. Is that you?" Lindsay asked again.
Lindsay, looking into the face of this man with his charming
white-toothed smile, thought that he would also have a
motive to get rid of Ken Darnell, and he would be more
capable of the task than Jennifer. They could be in it together, or she could be completely ignorant of his involvement.
If there was an "it" to have been involved in. So far, she hadn't found any evidence that what happened to Ken was
anything other than an accident.

"I have advised her on occasion," he said carefully.

"What is your business, exactly?" asked Lindsay.

"I buy sporting goods for teams."

"Teams?"

"I didn't come to be interrogated," he said, eyes narrowing.

"No. You came to interrogate me. However, since Jennifer
was so cooperative, I thought perhaps you would be also."