Blood of the Devil

by W. Michael Farmer

  I clenched my teeth and sighted down the Henry ready to kill Soldado Fiero. There was no cause for that murder. Some White Mountain scouts ran up to him and asked, “Why did you kill that old woman? You shouldn’t have done that.” He stuck out his lower lip, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I came after Chiricahuas, and I’m going to kill them. Get back my stripes.”

  One of the sergeants yelled for the San Carlos scouts to go surround the horse herd and drive them toward the camp. Two Chiricahua men up in some boulders above the herd took a couple of shots at the scouts, but did no harm. They yelled, “All right. You do us this way now. We’ll do you the same way another time.”

  Tzoe led his scouts up the trail to take a mule corral, but we found no mules. John Rope found another child there, not long off the cradleboard, hiding behind a pine tree where her mother had left her. That made two children he had caught for the day. He gave her to a scout who laughed and gave her to Nasta (He Knows A Lot), who was riding a horse. He kept her in front of him and rode down the hill, singing the victory dance song from the old days, as though he had taken a big prize. All the other scouts laughed with him.

  Nantan Lupan told us to destroy everything in the camp we didn’t want. We took most of the meat and some of the mescal but destroyed many baskets full of big juniper berries the Chiricahua women had gathered for winter. After the fires began burning the food supplies, the smoke rising high for the escaped Chiricahuas to see, Nantan Lupan led us out of camp and up the trail some distance to a saddle between two mountains. The scouts, in a good mood, shot their rifles into the air to show it. We made camp on the far end of the saddle near a spring.

  John Rope had saved some of the meat drying in the camp and had wrapped it in a hide with some grease. He called to Mickey Free, Tzoe, the two children he had caught, and me to come eat some of the meat he was cooking.

  A scout had tried to buy the boy from John Rope because he thought the child belonged to the sister of his friend Naiche, youngest son of Cochise. John Rope had said no to him earlier in the day, but after we ate, the scout came to our fire and said, “My cousin, give me that boy like I asked. I want him. I’ll pay you good for him. Eighty dollars and a silver saddle, I’ll give you for him.”

  John Rope shook his head. “No, I won’t sell him. I won’t do the boy that way.”

  The scout made another offer, and then another. Still, John Rope said no. Then Mickey Free said, “Don’t ask for the boy like that. We are on the warpath now. We don’t know if the boy belongs to the daughter of your friend or not. Go away and leave John Rope alone.”

  The scout scowled, nodded, and went back to his fire.

  The boy, listening to all this, seemed to relax a little and said to John Rope, “What kind of people are you? Why do you all wear those red headbands?”

  John raised his chin a little and looked the boy in the eye. “Blue Coat scouts, we wear the red headbands so we don’t shoot those on our side. We come hard after your people.”

  The boy started to cry, but the girl just sat there quietly listening. I thought, She could be Kicking Wren in a few years, and I felt bad for the Chiricahuas.

  John Rope said, “If you try to run away, I’m going to shoot you, so you’d better stay with me.” I’m sure he was joking, but the children didn’t think so.

  I hid my grin behind my hand. He wore two bandoliers holding fifty cartridges each and had used only six all day, and he’d shot three of those cartridges celebrating after we took the camp.

  The girl’s eyes grew wide. “My friend, don’t shoot him.”

  John nodded. “I won’t as long as he does what I say. He might even live to return to San Carlos.”

  Later that evening, Nantan Lupan sent word to the fires we made that he wanted all the Chiricahuas to lie down together and sleep in the same place. I gave the girl and boy two of the blankets I kept so they would sleep warm. Scouts guarded them so they couldn’t slip away. A bright moon filled the night, and fifteen other scouts guarded positions around the camp to protect from any Chiricahua raids.

  The next morning, Nantan Lupan had the prisoners brought to his tent. He asked the oldest girl which horse we had taken was the best. She pointed out a big gray one. A scout had taken it. Nantan Lupan sent for the horse, but the scout wouldn’t give it up. Nantan Lupan growled to the scout chief to bring the horse right then. He brought it quickly, and the scout who had taken it stood near to watch what would happen next. Another scout saddled the horse for the two oldest girls. Nantan Lupan gave them food and tobaho for Chihuahua. He said, “Go. Find Chihuahua. Tell him we only come to take his people back to San Carlos, not to make war on them. The raid on his camp yesterday was an accident. It did not mean war. Tell him where this camp is and that I want the Chiricahuas to come in for a talk.”

  As the girls mounted, Much Water, holding the horse, said to the oldest girl, “Tell my brother and sister that I say to them, come to the camp quick. Don’t wait around and make us come after you. It will be bad for you if we do.” Then he and twelve scouts led them back to their camp and let them leave to follow the Chiricahua tracks and find Chihuahua. Much Water and the scouts came back and said they saw signs some Chiricahuas had looked for things in the camp, but had gone back toward the top of the mountain across the southern side valley.

  CHAPTER 24

  WE BE FRIENDS

  It was quiet the night after the two girls left to find Chihuahua. None of the Chiricahuas we caught in their camp tried to escape, and none came to free those we held. Mists gathered in the canyons and rose above the saddle where we camped, blocking out the stars and screening the mountainsides from us in the early morning light, as the camp began stirring. The rising sun drove away the mists and bathed us in its gold light. We cooked more of the meat we took the day before and warmed pieces of mescal to feed our growling bellies.

  New guards watched the Chiricahuas, and while scouts, Chiricahuas, and Blue Coats ate, packers, who were up earlier than the rest, fed the stock. It was a peaceful camp, a calm before the storm we all expected. The girls who left to find Chihuahua had told Much Water that many of the camp’s warriors and their chiefs were off raiding the Nakai-yes. The oldest girl said they were due back in three or four days. She said she didn’t know what the warriors might do, but that she and the others were disheartened that the Blue Coats, led by her own people, came for them in their safe places in the Blue Mountains. She knew now that they were not safe anywhere.

  When Much Water told us this at John Rope’s fire, I remembered how I felt after my parents and I escaped Bosque Redondo. We went to live in Cha’s camp in the Guadalupe Mountains, a place the Blue Coats never found. It was a safe place for a long time, and then the witch came and wiped them out. The land there didn’t make me feel good anymore. I knew how the Chiricahuas must feel.

  Halfway to the time of shortest shadows, the camp suddenly grew quiet. Two women were coming to us through the trees down the mountainside next to our camp. The younger was dressed in her finest leather skirt and top with long fringe and many beads. She waved a white piece of cloth and covered her head. The guards let them come. Much Water recognized his sisters. He went to them and led them to our fire, but said nothing. A few scouts gathered around our fire and studied them awhile before going about their business. Much Water gave them slices of meat we had been roasting and some mescal he had saved. They were hungry and ate it fast, their black eyes flitting around our camp, taking in every detail. Al Sieber came and spoke off to the side with Much Water. Sieber motioned first to the women and then to the mountainside before he went to the tent where Nantan Lupan sat smoking his pipe and watching us.

  Their hunger gone, the women waved away offers of more meat and mescal. Much Water, his voice betraying no anger, said to his oldest sister, “We’ve been all over these mountains looking for you people, not to kill you, but to take you back to San Carlos to be friends. Tell this to Chihuahua.”

  She studied Much Water’s face, lo
oked around the camp once more, and nodded, saying something I didn’t hear, and then she left and disappeared into the trees up the mountainside. The time of shortest shadows passed, and another woman walked down a trail from the top of the mountains. John Rope and Tzoe studied her through their Blue Coat Shináá Cho. Tzoe immediately recognized her as Geronimo’s sister, Nah-da-ste.

  She looked neither left nor right, walking past the guards and up to Nantan Lupan’s tent. I was among the scouts who gathered around it. Mickey Free spoke to her, and then went into the tent to come back out quick with Nantan Lupan, who nodded to her and said, “You’re welcome in our camp. We come as friends to take you and your people back to San Carlos.”

  She said, “You took white horse with Nakai-yi saddle with black saddlebags and silver bit and bridle. If you want Chihuahua for friend, give back to me.”

  Nantan Lupan looked at Al Sieber, who jerked his head toward a couple of scouts to follow him to the horses and mules grazing on the eastern slope of the saddle. Nantan Lupan said, “If we have this animal and the things it carried, we’ll give them all to you to return. Will your people return with us, or will they fight?”

  She looked at the ground and shook her head. “Not know. Scouts come, make us sick in hearts. Tzoe, once with us, now shows you our paths across the Blue Mountains. His wives wail.

  “Many warriors raid Nakai-yes now. Return in four, maybe five, days. Warriors’ anger make them want to fight, but you have great advantage. You hold their food for Ghost Face. You hold their wives and children and old ones.

  “If Indah on reservation treat Chihuahua and Loco right, they go back to San Carlos. They not want to leave anyway. Lying Indah stealing from us make them do it. I not know what Geronimo and Chato do. They stay angry at Nakai-yes and In-dah. Juh join them, but most his warriors already gone to Happy Land.”

  Nantan Lupan’s eyes never left her. He stroked the fur growing on his face. It spread out on his chest like a big bush. He thought for a time and then nodded. “I believe you. We also look for a captive. A raid near the village of Lordsburg a few moons ago took a young Indah boy. He has maybe six harvests. Have you seen such a child?”

  Now her eyes never left Nantan Lupan’s. “Yes, I know child. Chato and Bonito take him in raid. Call him Charlie. He run away with old women who raise him for Chato when scouts first attack us. Charlie comes when old women return.”

  Al Sieber returned leading the white horse with Spanish saddle, black saddlebags, and silver bit she described. He gave her the reins and nodded toward Nantan Lupan who said, “Here’s the pony and other things Chihuahua said we must give you to be friends. Dried meat and hard bread lie in the saddlebags. Take it and go. Tell Chihuahua that Nantan Lupan waits here for him to come visit me as a friend.”

  She swung up on the saddle and, before disappearing on the trail back up the mountain, said, “I give Chihuahua the words you speak.”

  When the shadows grew long and the sun was not far from the western mountaintops, we first heard and then saw six women coming down the mountainside waving white flags and yelling, “No shoot! No Shoot!” They stopped and hid in the brush still calling for us not to shoot. Mickey Free stood near the guards and yelled, “Come! We be friends!”

  First one, then another and another, came out of the brush, slowly and carefully, one step at a time, ready to run like deer sensing danger. The guards waved them on until all six were in camp and eating by a fire. Mickey Free spoke with them, but they had nothing new to add to what we already knew.

  Another quiet night passed. We expected to fight the Chiricahua warriors returning from their raids and talked much around our fires about how they would attack and how we should wipe them out. Al Sieber sent scouts back along every trail Tzoe knew the Chiricahua might use returning to their camps. He hoped to find the warriors before they found us. I knew that after learning Tzoe had led us here, the Chiricahuas would want to come after him. The only questions were when and how they tried, and if my shooting skills were good enough to keep him alive.

  When shadows were shortest, we saw the white horse we had sent with Nah-da-ste the day before galloping up the south canyon toward us. It disappeared into the trees up the mountainside nearest the camp, but soon reappeared on the trail, running straight and hard for our camp. The Shináá Cho showed a warrior rode the horse. The horse had red cloth tied to its tail and bridle and the warrior had a red band around his head. Two pistols were stuck in his belt and a red streamer flew on a long spear he carried. He rode his pony right up to the fire of some scouts nearest the trail and skidded to stop. They hopped backwards like crows avoiding a rattlesnake, rifles ready, not knowing what to expect. Tzoe, who followed the rider all the way into camp with his Blue Coat be’idest’íné, said, “Chihuahua.”

  Chihuahua said in a loud voice, “Show me your chief!” A scout pointed toward Nantan Lupan’s tent with scouts around it, and the warrior charged through them. They had to jump like the others to get out of the way. Chihuahua rode the white horse hard right up to the tent. Mickey Free ran to the tent and was standing there when Nantan Lupan came out scowling, his shirt off and suspenders hanging off the top of his pants.

  Chihuahua stabbed his spear into the ground beside his pony, dismounted, and walked over to Nantan Lupan. They looked each other over and then shook hands. It was hard to hear what they said. I moved a little closer and made out most of it.

  I heard Chihuahua say, “If you want me for a friend, why did you kill that old woman, my aunt? If I tried to make friends with someone, I wouldn’t raid their camp and shoot their relatives. It sounds to me like you’re lying when you speak about being friends.”

  Nantan Lupan shook his head. “The attack was a mistake.” I thought, Nantan Lupan bends the truth like a bow. He wants the Chiricahuas to understand what’s coming if they don’t return to San Carlos. I heard Nantan Lupan say, “I want no war. Take this sack of food and this tobacco with you. Go. Bring in your people. We’ll protect them and bring you safely back to San Carlos where you’ll be safe. I speak true.”

  Chihuahua, saying nothing, stared at Nantan Lupan. Al Sieber, who knew Chihuahua, handed him a sack of food and gave him some cigarros. He took the sack and cigarros, swung up on the white horse, and rode him fast and hard out of the camp.

  When the sun was halfway from the shortest shadows to the western mountaintops, Much Water’s sisters came back. The older one told us that Chihuahua had returned and said, “It’s no good with all these scouts and Blue Coats here. We have to move far away and hide from them.”

  His women didn’t want to go away. They hid all right, but from him. Chihuahua still moved the camp a little distance so it was harder to find. As the shadows grew long, Chiricahua women began coming into our camp, including the ones we sent out earlier to find Chihuahua.

  As the night came, a young Chiricahua woman came in crying. She saw the little girl John Rope had taken at the empty mule corral sitting by our fire with us. She ran up and took the girl in her arms, hugging her and saying bad things about the White Mountain scouts who had attacked the camp.

  Mickey Free stood up, crossed his arms, and glared at her with his good eye. He said through clenched teeth, “You’re no good! You ran off and left your baby in this wild place to men attacking your camp. You deserve to have your guts eaten out by a coyote. This man takes good care of your baby, and you say bad things about him, about all of us. We ought to kick you out of here and keep that baby.”

  She buried her face in the child’s hair and cried some more, saying, “No, no, I was a fool. Fear took hold of me then. My mind did not know what to do. Now, I no leave without her.”

  Mickey Free looked over at John Rope, who nodded and said, “Go on and take her. Go sit with the other Chiricahua women. They have good rations now. Leave us to eat in peace.”

  She took the child and went to the other women, but the next night, when John Rope started his fire to cook, the young woman sent the child back over to eat
with us, saying, “Go. That man will feed you. He’s your friend.”

  The next day Nantan Lupan moved our camp to a little open grassy place closer to the foot of the mountain from where we camped on the saddle. A good spring and enough room for the Chiricahuas coming in to make a shelter and have plenty of water made it an easier place to camp, but it was harder to defend because a steep ridge ran on the east side of the camp and made it easier for us to be attacked than in the saddle where we had just camped.

  Chiricahua women continued to come down from the mountains and out of the brush during that day and the following one. Mickey Free said Chihuahua had told Nantan Lupan to give him a few days while he went out and rounded up his people and told them to come in and surrender. Chihuahua had not come back. We figured he had decided to wait and ride with the returning warriors when they attacked us, but it didn’t matter. We were ready for them.

  The day before the warriors returned, the Chiricahua women cut up flour sacks and hung long white streamers on poles around the camp. They said it showed the warriors we didn’t want to fight. We made our own defenses better and more dependable than the white cloth. We made rock piles and stacked pine logs to get behind when the shooting started.

  The night came, cold and clear. We cooked and ate our fill. Who knew? Maybe we wouldn’t eat again for a long time. We cleaned and loaded our rifles and pistols and put on both our cartridge belts before wrapping in our blankets to try sleeping.