The Last Raid

by Edd Voss

  Chapter 7

  Eyes Turn Red was beginning to feel his head hurting from the fire water; his mouth was dry as the dirt on the floor of the building he and Chato were hiding in. The sound of men and horses was muffled but the two men could tell that there were a lot of soldiers outside the shed. Chato could barely make out the face of his friend in the dim light filtering through the few gaps between the wall boards. One knothole had fallen out creating a means for them to see what was happening around the house and some of the water hole. Soldiers were leading their mounts up in orderly groups of two at a time. Each soldier would then move up to the spring and fill their water bags and canteens, after leading the horses away from the pool. As each group moved up to water their mounts Chato and Eyes Turn Red knew that they were in a lot of trouble. It was a large group of soldiers out there and the Apaches had left their rifles on their horses, all they had with them were knives and one pistol each. If only they had remembered to grab their rifles before drinking all that whiskey. At the thought of the fiery drink the thirst for more grew.

  Through the knothole they could see a big redheaded soldier with three stripes on his sleeve walking towards the shed. He was yelling to one of the other soldiers who ran out of their line of sight. As the big man reached the door of the shed he was out of sight to the men inside. His voice boomed out again but they didn’t understand what he was saying.

  “Come out with your hands empty and we won’t hurt you,” another voice yelled out in almost perfect Apache.

  “Why should we trust you, White Eyes?” Eyes Turn Red yelled back.

  “Because we have no reason to harm you,” the voice called back. “We will even give you firewater if you want it.”

  Chato shifted his weight from one foot to the other as his tongue flicked across his lips. His hunger for the burning liquor was building with each moment and he knew that it would help with the pounding in his head. Reaching out, he grabbed Eyes Turn Red’s arm in a vice like grip as he leaned close to whisper in his friend’s ear. “I need a drink,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and full of the need. Looking through the knot hole they could see the big man with the stripes on his sleeve standing where they could see him now, and holding a whiskey bottle in his hands, swinging it gently back and forth. Reaching out, he pushed the door open and held his hands in front of him as he walked slowly out of the shed. Chato could feel Eyes Turn Red following so close that their feet almost became entangled as they emerged into the blazing sun. Even though it was the heat of the day it was cooler than it had been inside the shed. They reached eagerly for the bottle but the man stepped back out of their reach and all of the other soldiers were pointing guns at them. They knew that they had made a big mistake.

  “Not so fast now, lads, there are some questions we need to ask you first,” O’Connell told them, still gently swinging the whiskey bottle to and fro. “Like where were you heading with those horses you stole from the settlement back there?”

  To betray the rest of the band was not something that they would do even for whiskey, so they just sat down on the ground crossed their arms and didn’t say a word even when soldiers came up and took their pistols from them. The sun would be down in a few hours and they knew that they could stand the heat better than the palefaces could. What they didn’t know was how long they could resist the temptation of the whiskey. The sight of the white devil with the bottle was hard to resist. He dangled it just out of their reach smiling as he swung it back and forth. Finally he turned and walked away.

  O’Connell watched them as they sat there in the blazing sun and smiled inwardly. He knew that they were as tough as they came, after all they were Apaches. Over the years he had seen a lot of fighting and dying both out here and back east during the war but never had he seen an entire culture built on toughness the way that the Apache way of life was. While he knew that their way was doomed in the long run, he had learned to respect them as a people and as an adversary. This was going to be a long day and night possibly. He walked over to where Lt. Sheridan was standing in the doorway of the house; the roof poles extended out far enough that boards had been across them to provide some shade along the front of the house.

  “How long do you think that they can hold out?” the younger man asked.

  “If it was just the heat and lack of water, I’d say that they would die first,” O'Connell said, “but the thirst for whiskey and the hangovers they already have are what I am counting on.”

  “So you think that they will break eventually?”

  “Only if we can get them wanting the whiskey enough. Anything physical and they would laugh in our faces right up to their deaths.”

  “If this is going to take a while we should let the mounts and men get some rest,” Sheridan said motioning to one of the privates. “Are they really that tough?”

  “Yes, Sir, I figure we will be here at least till morning,” O’Connell said grimly. “They pride themselves on their ability to withstand pain, when they take a captive it is normal for them to test the prisoner’s courage and how much pain they can take before they die. The longer they last the more the Apaches respect them.”

  “Good, then Private Ferguson, tell the men to unsaddle and get some rest. Tell Corporals Donaldson and Hughes to report to me on the double.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Ferguson said snapping a salute as he turned to follow his orders.

  Within minutes Donaldson and Hughes reported saluting smartly as they stopped in front of Sheridan and O’Connell. “Sir, Corporals Donaldson and Hughes reporting as ordered,” Donaldson said.

  “Corporal Donaldson, set the watch; I want a complete perimeter set up and the guards to be relieved every four hours till sundown then every two hours through the night.” Sheridan told the older of the two corporals. “Hughes, I want the horses picketed and fed, then tell the men to settle in for the night, all those not on watch should go ahead and fix their rations for the night.”

  “Yes Sir,” both men answered, and then saluted before turning to their assigned duties.

  “So Sergeant, any ideas on how to get these two wanting the whiskey bad enough to tell us what we want?”

  “Actually Sir, I just might at that,” O’Connell said with a smile. “First we just let them get real thirsty, and of course we aggravate those hangovers a might.”

  Sheridan smiled as he watched the big man go into the house and come out with a steel triangle and a short steel rod. Holding it up by a piece of rope attached to the top O’Connell put the rod inside the triangle and hit the bottom side, then the right side, the left side and back to the bottom making a loud ringing sound like a bell. The sound was loud and clear and was meant to carry over long distances. Eyes Turn Red and Chato both cringed at the sound. Since he had plenty of experience with the after affects of too much liquor, the Sergeant knew exactly how much it would increase the pain of those headaches. He sat down on one of the chairs that Molly had brought out while he was talking to the captives and smiled inwardly remembering how a certain old First Sergeant had used this tactic on him when he had been a new recruit who had had too much fun in town. Watching the Indians seated in dust well away from any shade, he waited. When they began to get comfortable he would lift the triangle and begin to ring it loudly watching them react to the noise. After a few times he could see them brace themselves for the noise when they saw him raise it, so he did nothing except put the rod inside as if he was about to ring it then just smile at them and put it down without making a sound. It was a game that went on as the sun slowly moved closer to the west. Occasionally O’Connell would raise the whiskey bottle sitting on the ground next to him and pull the cork and just smelled the fumes with a look of sheer bliss on his face. Sheridan took the other chair and watched how O'Connell played the triangle tormenting the hung over warriors seated in the blazing sun.

  The sun was just fading behind the mountains when O’Connell realized that it would be morning before they got anywhere with these two and told the
guards to make sure that the captives were not allowed to fall asleep. He warned the men that the Apaches could sleep sitting up so to watch that the prisoners kept their eyes open all night long. He rolled out his bedroll and lay there staring at the stars and wondering where this chase would end. It wouldn’t be good, that he knew, Pablito wouldn’t give up easy. His mind turned to the woman in the house and he had to smile, he had known a few women in his time but this one seemed to be something more. With thoughts of her on his mind he drifted off to sleep. Little did he know that not ten miles west of him Pablito was also falling asleep.

  Chapter 8

  Pablito dreamed of flying, he was soaring like an eagle with his arms outspread like great feathered wings. Looking around he saw that he was not alone. Many of his warriors were soaring with him. It was glorious to feel the wind in his hair as he gained speed and to hear the war cry that he was screaming as he flew. His brothers were also screaming out their war cries as they flew towards some great victory. Looking down he could see his village spread out below him all the people looking up as he and the others flew through the air. What he couldn't understand was the looks of fear and horror on the faces of those on the ground. They should be looking at us with awe not fear, he thought to himself as the wind whistled by him. After all he was soaring like the eagle wasn't he? Looking down again he saw that the ground was getting closer and closer. He tried to rise higher by flapping his arms like wings but it didn't work. That was when he realized that he wasn't flying, he was falling. Now he knew why the people on the ground were looking up in horror, they knew he and his brothers were plummeting not to victory but to their deaths. Just before he hit the ground he could clearly make out the faces of his wife, son and daughter all frozen in masks of great sorrow. He sat up so fast that he startled the horse tied to his wrist. Never in his life had he known fear, but this dream bothered him.

  Looking over he could see his friend Coyote Dancer sleeping peacefully. Overhead the stars were shining in all the old familiar places, somewhere nearby he heard the flutter of a night bird's wings. The Great Spirit talked to men through dreams he knew but never had he had one of those dreams. Only the Singers or peyote eaters understood them. Since he was neither one, he lay back down and closed his eyes. Soon he was asleep again. The stench of whiskey filled his troubled sleep. The touch on his shoulder brought Pablito to full awareness instantly as he looked into the troubled eyes of his friend.

  Coyote Dancer didn't say anything but went on getting things ready to go; the sun was just rising above the eastern desert hills. In minutes they were mounted and riding slowly through the landscape keeping to the lowest and rockiest ground that they could find. Neither man spoke as they wound their way through the cacti and rocks; they had ridden many trails together and knew what the other would do in almost any situation. The sun was high overhead when they stopped at a seep where water gathered in a small stone depression. There was just enough for the men and the horses that they had with them. It would take hours for the seep to refill after they were finished drinking and filling the water skins. The horses had licked the bottom of the stone until there was nothing to tell that it had held water but a damp spot.

  Finding a place in the shade of a large rock outcropping they settled in to wait out the heat of the day. That was the problem with horses though Coyote Dancer, a brave could go on even in the heat of the day but a horse needed to cool off or it would drop dead from the heat. Leaning back against the rocks each man began eating some of the jerked meat they carried with them.

  “Do you ever have medicine dreams?” Pablito asked.

  “Not that I know of, unless dreams of hunting women count as medicine dreams,” Coyote Dancer grinned.

  “I think I had at least one last night, maybe two,” Pablito said between bites. “I dreamed that we were all flying over our camp, it was wonderful, but then I saw that we were falling, not flying and all of our families were watching as we fell to our deaths.”

  “You dreamed that we all died?”

  “Well I didn't actually see us die; I woke up just before I hit the ground.”

  “Then we have nothing to worry about since you lived long enough to wake up,” Coyote Dancer told him with a laugh.

  “Only you could come up with an interpretation like that,” Pablito grinned. “When I went back to sleep all I could smell was the firewater of the White Eyes. It worries me after what happened with Eyes Turn Red.”

  “He will learn to live without it in time my friend.” That part of the story did bother Coyote Dancer but he kept it to himself. He had seen the lust in the young man’s eyes at the smell of the liquor, and the hatred in them when the whiskey had been burned.

  “Something tells me that he will be the downfall of this band if we are not careful, he will eventually lead the Whites to where we are hiding I am sure of it.” Pablito continued to eat thinking about what he had dreamed and what he had just said.

  The two men dozed against the rock wall as the sun moved farther west and the heat intensified. It would be a few hours before it began to cool again. In the heat only the buzzing of the desert insects could be heard. The bottom of the stone seep got wetter as the time passed and the horses stood patiently in the shade by the men who had tied the reins around their wrists. Nothing on the desert moved unless it had to. Late in the afternoon the desert came back to life as a rabbit began to forage. Overhead a hawk drifted silently through the air watching the rabbit. Pablito and Coyote Dancer also began to move as they prepared to continue their journey. In two days they would be at the rendezvous site, where some of the others should be waiting. All of the groups should be there by the time the sun went down that night, then they would spend that night on the top of the mesa that overlooked there camp below. The trail was too treacherous to attempt in the dark with horses not accustomed it. Pablito considered throwing all caution to the wind and taking the shortest route to their home, but he was too disciplined a warrior to do that, yet something in the back of his mind kept nagging at him to hurry home.

  Mounting up they headed out, staying to the rocky surfaces to hide their tracks. As the sun dropped below the horizon and darkness began to set in, the men dismounted and led the horses. These were not Indian horses used to walking in the desert at night so the men walked along leading them through the rough ground. As the night cooled they moved from the rocky surfaces to the soft sandy areas. The sand would not hold a recognizable track and as the night got cooler the rattlesnakes would look for the rocks that were still warm from the heat of the day. Just as the moon was rising one of the horses Coyote Dancer was leading reared up and tried to escape. The distinctive sound of a rattlesnake told the men what was scaring the horse. Pablito grabbed a stick and chased the snake away while Coyote Dancer got the horse under control. Once the horse was calmed down they moved on through the night by the light of the desert moon. It was near midnight when they stopped and again lay down to sleep.

  While Pablito slept without dreams Coyote Dancer dreamed of flying or was it falling? He didn’t know for sure but he did smell the distinct odor of whiskey as his body moved through the air, and he heard the anguished voice of Eyes Turn Red singing a song of sorrow about the death of brave warriors. He woke the next morning concerned by his own medicine dream. He knew in his heart that what ever was going to happen, it would be because of Eyes Turn Red and the white man’s whiskey. Pablito woke soon after, while it was still dark just before the sun made its morning appearance. Off to the west, clouds were gathering and they were tall with blackened bellies that meant there would be a lot of water in a short time.

  Without worrying about leaving a trail, the two rode on into the morning with spirits higher than they had been for a long time. Soon they would be back in their wickiups with their wives and children hidden deep in the mountains far from the ways of the white men. Even the concern that had bothered Coyote Dancer when he woke was soon a thing of the past. Things were going the way that they wanted no
w. A storm would hide all of the trails that the others had left, making it impossible for the Pony Soldiers to ever find their new home. Water would be less of a worry now also since the stone depressions and tanks would be filled by the storm. Most of the arroyos would be raging full of water from flash floods for the next few days creating even more problems for the whites to deal with in their pursuit.

  They rode on at a faster clip than they had planned but they knew that there were a couple of bad arroyos they needed to get across before the storm hit. Just as they climbed out of the last one they heard the water coming. Moving back away from the edge they watched as a wall of water came rushing down between the narrow walls of sand and clay. Cactus, tree limbs and other things were bobbing in the water as it rushed past them. The dry sandy wash that they had just climbed out of was now a raging torrent of water. Neither man thought much of it since this to them was just the way of the desert. Turning away they rode on taking their time now that the water was between them and any pursuers. If the Pony Soldiers were following them it would take them a long time to get across that water.

  Chapter 9

  Sheridan woke to see the sun was already well above the horizon. He wondered why he had been allowed to sleep so long. Molly Sullivan came out of the house with a cup and a pot of coffee. O'Connell was already sitting in a chair near the door of the cabin. The two captives were seated in the dirt exactly where they had been the night before. Looking at their eyes he could see that they had been kept awake all night long. He accepted the coffee Molly offered him and took the chair next to O'Connell.