Chapter 3

Alex found ATLAS just as he left it, and decided to find a more permanent spot to set up camp. He knew of several places in the area that would be ideal provided the terrain had not changed too drastically in the last 145 years. He unpacked the mules and stowed everything, including the saddle and pack frame on ATLAS; then unpacked ICARUS to aid in navigation and scouting. After launching, they all set out. With Alex riding ATLAS, Balios and Xandros on a lead and Philandros snuggled in his seat. Throughout the day, Alex surveyed several sites looking for the perfect camp. He wanted seclusion but not isolation, access to water, access to game, reasonable proximity to the stagecoach route, and to town.

After several days of searching, Alex found a box canyon with a small artesian spring feeding a pond and creek. The creek emptied into the Verde River not too far from the stagecoach route. It was about fifteen miles northwest of Fort Verde (near present day Cottonwood). Alex marked off an area to be a corral for the mules and any captured animals. He then began to erect his tent and put up camouflage netting for shade and concealment. Alex kept returning to the entrance to the canyon to check his concealment. He also walked around the rim of the canyon to see how it looked from above. He made several bunkers out of rocks and sandbags that he could defend his canyon if needs be.

The next day, after a well-deserved rest, he traveled south and found the ranch where Nikodemos Theron called home. As he rode up, Alex observed a very prosperous ranch with cattle, sheep, goats, chickens and pigs. He also saw a small vineyard and several olive trees. The ranch house was huge, easily housing twenty people or more. Alex noted several painted horses milling about as he hitched his mules.

"Hello, the house!" He called out.

A young squaw came out onto the large porch and eyed him curiously.

"Good day, does Nikodemos Theron live here?"

"He does indeed," came a voice from behind him, "how can I help you?"

Alex turned to see a compact man with typical Greek features walk from behind an olive tree, an 1873 Winchester over his shoulder.

"My name is Alexandros Theron," Alex began, "I was just trying to see if we were related. It is always good to have family close by. I see you are on friendly terms with the Dil-ze'e. I am glad they're here. I wanted to talk to them. I am working with the Wells Fargo stage providing security in the area."

The man eyed Alexander critically. "If you know them as the Dil-ze'e, you know that they are not responsible for a lot of what the settlers and miners say."

"I do. I want to work with them and stop the whites from stealing and destroying the land. At the very least, I want them to receive proper compensation for what we take." Alex responded honestly.

He turned back to the house to find a few braves and a medicine man had gathered on the porch, watching this exchange.

Alex announced in Apache, "I am known by The People as Windrider. I come from far away, and bring warnings of hard times ahead. The People must talk to the settlers and learn to grow peace, or The People will be scattered and lost forever."

The medicine man nodded and came down the steps, "Come. Walk with me, Windrider. I too have seen the clouds gathering on the horizon. I am known as White Raven."

White Raven and Alex walked off a short ways into the desert to talk, leaving the others behind. A single brave stuck unobtrusively close to them, warily watching this strange new white man. Alex assumed he was a guard or attendant for the holy man.

Alex felt that he could not lie to White Raven and told him his story. The medicine man smiled when he was through and told Alex, "Welcome to our time, Windrider. You are not the first traveler I have met. I believe the gods of The People are gathering champions. The last one I met was a half-blood spirit from the lands of the Choctaw and Houma. He is a great warrior and leader of men, just as I feel you to be. He has much sadness in his heart. In his time, the world is broken and destroyed. Even as he tried to rebuild it, evil men would tear down what he worked so hard to repair. He knows the hardship of The People, and respects our ways. The Swamp Fox has the way of the warrior, and the slyness of the Coyote, but the words do not sing in his heart. Perhaps one day with your help, Windrider, he and his people will sing again."