Camels and Cigar Store Indians

Previously:

The Traveler has bought some land, built a house, and taken a mail-order bride.

Chapter 21

In Texas, I saw the strangest animal God ever created. It looked like something Congress would put together. The army sent for seventy-five camels. They figured that Texas was enough like the Arabian desert that the beasts would be useful. The problem was the animals spit, regurgitated, bit, kicked, and resisted training. They were a lot harder to ride than a horse. They were like being on the worst stagecoach made. And they looked silly.

The army gave up on the experiment and sold the animals to the circus. Some escaped and bred and multiplied. The Indians would have nothing to do with them. They called them crazy buffalo and thought they were demon possessed. They wouldn't kill them because The Great Spirit punished anyone who harmed a demon.

Wild camels never gained a foothold in America. As they had done to the buffalo, white men slaughtered them for sport until they were all gone.

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Occasionally, we would get a stray Indian visitor, mostly Arapaho. I liked the Arapaho. They were always fair in their dealings and could be trusted, not like the Apache.

The Arapaho had a funny way of fighting. They would race up to you, jump off their horse, run up and tap you with their hand. Then, they would get back on the horse and ride away. This was the Arapaho's idea of battle. They called it counting coup. They figured it was braver to touch an enemy than to kill him. Anyone can stand back and shoot an arrow. Only a brave man will run up to his enemy, empty-handed, stand face to face with him, and touch the man.

I liked doing battle with the Arapaho. I came to believe that this was the way all wars should be fought. It didn't make sense to me to kill each other over a piece of land when there was more than enough to go around. I had often traveled for weeks without seeing another living soul. If I had seen someone, knowing human nature, we would have squabbled over who was crowding who. The Arapaho knew something we didn't.

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One morning, I stepped outside and saw six Apaches. They were sitting on their horses, painted for war. Even the horses were painted. They sat there and gave me threatening looks. I gave them threatening looks back. It was probably a good thing that I hadn't worn a gun for several years.

They didn't speak. They just sat there, watching me go about my business. Indians have a way of shutting down. They didn't even move, as much as I could tell. They just watched. They reminded me of the wooden Indians I had seen standing in front of tobacco stores. I always suspected that some of those carved Indians were real. We just thought they were made of wood because they didn't move.

They were sentinels, watching white men come and go. Getting familiar with our strange ways, and plotting against us. These Apache were no different. Occasionally, they would move their heads to see what I was doing. Other than that, they may as well have been standing in front of a tobacco shop. I decided to put them to the test. I grabbed Josie by his rope halter and led him toward the Indians. When I got to them, I made like they were in my path and told them to move aside. The Indians separated like the Red Sea and let me through. As soon as I passed, they closed ranks and went back to watching. They would move, but only when it was necessary.

They stayed most of the day, then they turned their horses and rode away. I never saw them again, and that was fine with me. Most Indians I got along with, but I didn't like Apaches.

To be continued . . .