Despite their bound hands and cramped positions, Van and Rosa slept. When they awoke, it was to the sound of voices and the arrival of many horses. Even in the gloom of the tepee, they could tell it was still daylight, though they had no idea how late in the day it might be.
“They’ve brought in some of our horses,” said Van.
Rosa lid nothing. Once the entire band was together, she suspected they’d begin devising plans for their captives. They didn’t have long to wait. The tepee flap was drawn back and one of the men entered. Rosa had seen the face of only the one who had abducted her, and even now she wasn’t sure this was the same man. Not that it mattered. He dragged her roughly to her feet.
“Esposa,” he said. “Esposa.”
Rosa ground her teeth in despair. Didn’t an Indian ever look at a woman with anything else on his mind? He shoved her ahead of him, out of the tepee.
“Van,” she shouted, “if there is a chance to escape, go!”
Van swallowed hard. He had an idea what was about to happen to Rosa, and fought his bonds. The girl had sand, and deserved better than this. But he was bound tight and could only sit there and listen in dread.
“Esposa,” said the Apache, shoving Rosa into another tepee. This one, she suspected, was his own. Many other Indians waited in anticipation, as though aware of what Rosa’s captor had in mind. At least, Rosa thought, for what it was worth, he wasn’t going to ravish her in view of the entire village.
“Desnudo,” said the Indian once he had closed the tepee flap. “Esposa.”
“I am not your wife,” shouted Rosa in angry Spanish, “and I do not wish to be naked!”
The Indian laughed. He caught the waistband of her trousers, popped off the buttons, and she stood naked from the waist down. Next came her shirt, but he had to free her bound hands to get her arms out of the sleeves. Rosa’s hands and arms were numb, but her feet and legs worked. She drove her right knee into his crotch, and he doubled up with a grunt. Since he was blocking the tepee entrance, Rosa threw herself against the side of the thing. A pole snapped, and she flung herself against the other side. By now her furious captor had recovered and was trying mightily to get his hands on her. But Rosa had become a kicking, screeching, clawing demon. Again she threw herself into the side of the tepee, and a second pole gave way. She dropped to the ground as the burly Indian came after her, and he charged into the wall of the tepee before he could stop himself. Sturdy as the tepee was, it had been weakened, and it began to collapse. The wooden pegs securing the bottom edges to the ground gave way, and Rosa rolled out. For a blessed moment she thought her captor was trapped in the collapsed tepee, but he had managed to grab one of her ankles, and was escaping as she had.
The spectacle had excited the rest of the Indians, and they seemed to have all gathered around in a circle, laughing and shouting. Once the two of them were in the open, Rosa used her free foot and kicked her tormentor in the face. That loosed his grip for a second, and she broke free, only to have him catch her again. She clawed his face, yanked out a handful of his shoulder-length hair, and bit him. When he smashed a huge fist beneath her left ear, everything went black before her eyes. When she again came to her senses, she was facedown. The big Indian sat astraddle her, binding her hands behind her back. Finished, he got up, took her by the ankles and slung her over his shoulder. His comrades were whooping, and she could only conclude that he had been disgraced. She had no idea where she was being taken or what her fate would be. Finally, he leaned forward and she literally fell from his shoulder. She came down flat on her back on the hard ground, and found herself before the tepee from which she had been taken. Her captor, vicious now, drew the flap aside and literally flung her inside.
“Loco gato montés,” snarled the Indian as he drew the flap closed.
Despite her ordeal and her many hurts, Rosa laughed. Van, aware that the girl was stark naked, averted his eyes. There was a long, painful silence. Irritated, Rosa was the first to speak.
“Why will you not look at me? I know you have seen at least one naked woman in your life.”
Embarrassed, Van was thankful for the poor light in the tepee. Finally he found his voice.
“What did he . . . do to you?”
“Broke some of my bones, I think. He wanted me for a wife, but I believe I changed his mind. What will they do with me now?”
“You’ll get a dose of whatever they have planned for me,” said Van. “Do you know what time of day it is?”
“Near sundown,” she said. “Why?”
“Once they’ve had supper, they’ll let us entertain them, I reckon. You might want to reconsider that big war whoop’s proposal and become a wife.”
“I’d sooner be dead,” Rosa snapped.
“That’s a damn good possibility,” said Van. “Pray for a miracle.”
“Gil and the rest of the outfit will do something to help us.”
“I don’t know what they can do,” said Van, “until dark. That’ll be too late for us.”
A shallow arroyo on the west side of the Indian camp ran within a hundred yards of the nearest tepees. There were places where the arroyo was barely deep enough to hide a man on his hands and knees, and it was from here that Mariposa, Estanzio, and Gil observed activities in the Apache camp. While they were aware of the commotion that had resulted from Rosa’s resistance, they couldn’t see from their position, and were unaware of her fight. However, they could see the evening meal being prepared, and from the positions some of the Apaches were taking, Gil thought he knew what they had in mind for Van and Rosa.
“Let’s go,” he said. “We have to get back to the rest of our outfit. I think I know what they aim to do, and we’ll only get one chance to help Van and Rosa.”
They crept away on hands and knees until sagebrush and greasewood grew high enough along the arroyo to conceal them on their feet. Reaching the other riders, Gil tried to tell them what he felt was about to happen.
“I believe they’re going to force Van and Rosa to run the gauntlet. Some of you may not be familiar with it, and here’s how it’s done. The Apaches line up in two rows, facing one another. The captives, stripped naked, are forced to run between these two rows of Indians. The Indians are armed with knives, lances, and clubs.”
“We purely can’t let it happen,” said Long John. “Our folks won’t never git t’ the end o’ that gauntlet alive.”
“That’s how I see it,” said Gil, “and there’s damn little we can do to help them. We just counted twenty-one tepees, and that’s all we could see from our position, but there’s more. I’d say there’s at least sixty fighting men in this bunch, maybe more. That means we’re outnumbered at least five to one. While that’s a hell of a risk, it’s the only edge we have. There are so many of them, they’ll be overconfident and won’t be expecting us to try anything in daylight. I can think of only one way Van and Rosa might be saved. This arroyo is shallow, especially where it’s closest to the Apache camp. We had to take to hands and knees to avoid being seen. A man hidden in that arroyo with a rifle could likely pick off an Indian once they’ve gathered for the gauntlet run.”
“We draws the coyotes away from Van an’ Rosa, an’ brings ’em down on us,” said Long John.
“I’m afraid that’s what it amounts to,” said Gil. “We kill enough of them, and we become more important than Van and Rosa. Now here’s the problem, pards. Once we’ve emptied our rifles, we don’t dare try to reload and stand our ground. They’ll overrun us by force of numbers. So that means we grab our hats and run for the horses. Retreat. Because this arroyo is so shallow, we’ll be forced to go afoot. Once our damage has been done, we’ll be more than half a mile from our horses. Now this bunch of Apaches will not only know our position, they’ll have horses, and they’ll outnumber us. Van is my brother, and Rosa . . . well, I can’t risk the lives of all of you when those I’m hopin’ to save may die anyway. Now, I aim to be in that ditch with my rifle, to do whatever I can, but I won’t fault a
ny man who chooses not to take the risk.”
“By God,” said Long John, “them’s our people. I’ll be alongside ye.”
“And I,” said Bo.
The rest of them stood fast in their loyalty, backing him to a man. For a moment Gil couldn’t speak; he couldn’t get the words around the big lump in his throat. When he did speak, he offered no thanks, for they would have been insulted if he had.
“One shot for each of us,” he said. “Be sure your Colts and your extra cylinder are fully loaded. If they crowd us too close, before we’re able to reach the horses, we’ll use our Colts. But don’t stop to fight. Shoot on the run. Our only chance is to reach our horses and outride the bastards.”
“When they take us from here,” said Rosa, “we must escape.”
“They’ll be lookin’ for that,” said Van. “One wrong move, and they’ll run you through with a lance or knife. They’ll not let down their guard until we’re spread-eagled stark naked and staked down.”
“Is that the only . . . Is there nothing else . . . they might do with us?”
“Nothin’ you’ll like any better,” said Van. “We might run the gauntlet.”
“The gauntlet?”
“They line up in two rows, facing,” said Van, “every Indian armed with a knife or club. We will be made to run between the rows, and they’ll beat and cut us as we go. When we’re beaten to the ground, if we’re still alive, we’ll be staked out for other torture. I don’t know how they feel about women, but they especially enjoy building a fire in a man’s crotch.”
“Madre de Dios!” cried Rosa. “How can men be so heartless and cruel?”
“I reckon the Spanish made a bad impression on them,” said Van, “and this is their idea of revenge.”
There was the tantalizing smell of roasting meat, but no food was brought to the captives, nor were they given water. They waited. Suddenly the tepee flap was drawn aside and two Indians entered. Van and Rosa could see the sun was down. Supper was done, and it was time. One of the Apaches got Van to his feet, loosed his belt, and ripped his trousers open. His shirt got similar treatment, and when the Indian yanked down his drawers, he stood there naked as Rosa. Van’s bound hands were freed, so the shirt could be ripped off. Van fell when the Indian tried to force him through the tepee’s open flap. The trousers and drawers wouldn’t come off over his boots, so the Apache ripped off the boots and flung away the ruined trousers. Van was again forced to his feet, while the second Indian dragged Rosa to a standing position.
Van was taken out first, and then Rosa. When her bound hands were freed, there was blessed relief for her aching arms and shoulders. Once the captives were marched out beyond where the cook fire had been, they could see what awaited them. There were twenty or more Apaches in each line, some with knives, some with lances, and some with clubs. Some of the women were pointing to the naked Van, and while he didn’t know the language, he could understand their laughter. At the very head of one of the lines that was the gauntlet was an Apache who had a wolfish grin on his ugly face, and Rosa thought he was the one she had humiliated. He looked ready, willing, and eager to extract his revenge.
“Silencioso!” bawled an Apache who had the look of a chief. The chatter of the women, the shouting of the braves, and the barking of the dogs ceased.
Van and Rosa were shoved into position, but the distant bark of a rifle broke the silence. The chief—if that’s who he was—had a look of surprise on his face, and a hole in his chest that spurted blood. He stumbled backward, and before he hit the ground, Van was running. But not between the rows of armed men. Rosa was right behind him, and not a knife, lance, or club touched either of them. Other shots had followed the first, and there was total chaos. Men shouted, women cried, dogs barked and howled, while more men fell victims of the unseen riflemen. Van ran toward the nearest cover, a line of sage and greasewood to the southwest. Before he knew it, he had fallen headlong into a shallow arroyo, and Rosa was right on top of him.
“Damn,” Van grunted. He shoved Rosa’s foot out of his face and spat out a mouthful of dirt.
“Por Dios,” Rosa panted, “never have I run naked through the woods and briars before.”
“Neither have I,” Van said, “and given a choice, I won’t do it again.”
Rosa laughed. For a while they didn’t move, listening. While the dogs were still barking, they heard nothing else.
“We’ll stay with this arroyo,” said Van, “and we’d best keep to the south. Gil and the boys gave us a chance, but now they’ve got the whole damn bunch on their trail. My God, there must be sixty or seventy Apaches in this band.”
By the time the arroyo played out, it was dark enough for Van and Rosa to feel safe. Their bodies a mass of cuts and bruises, they stumbled on. While they were weak with hunger, their real need was water.
“For so large a camp,” Van panted, “there has to be water. Unless it’s just a spring with limited runoff. We must have water.”
When the last rifle was fired, Gil and his riders hunched as low as they could and ran for their lives. Pursuit was swift. Almost within seconds, they could hear the pound of horses’ hooves. One quick look confirmed Gil’s fears. While the Apaches knew from whence had come the lead, they also knew Gil and his riders were afoot. While some of the Indians charged the arroyo, others angled off, getting ahead of the Texans. They were going for the horses, and if they reached them first, Gil and his men were done. Already Indians raced their horses along the arroyo, seeking a break in sagebrush and greasewood. Arrows whipped through the brush, thunking into the dirt walls of the arroyo. Gil drew his Colt, shot an Apache off his horse, and it seemed two more took his place. Ahead of Gil, Long John stumbled and went down, an arrow through his thigh. Gil helped the fallen Cajun to his feet, while Bo covered them, his Colt roaring. Suddenly, in the very teeth of the attack, Mariposa and Estanzio were on the lip of the arroyo, and Gil thought he knew what they had in mind. It was a bold move, and it was also crazy and impossible. But it was their only hope of coming out of this alive. But for a miracle, the end was only seconds away . . .
The closest thing Van and Rosa found to water was damp sand, probably the tag end of the runoff from a spring near the Indian village. Van began to dig with his hands, and when he had dug almost a foot, water began to seep into the hole. The water was muddy, but it was cold and wet. Again and again they drank. With a sudden rustling of leaves, Van and Rosa froze. Two malevolent eyes looked at them out of the gloom, and a dog growled.
“Get away from us, you bastard!” Van hissed. “Scat!”
But the dog began barking, and within seconds every other dog within hearing had joined the clamor.
13
Bowie in his hand, Estanzio leaped on a galloping horse behind its Apache rider. His left arm around the man’s throat, Estanzio drove the big Bowie into the Apache’s belly. The horse didn’t even break stride as its new rider flung the dying Apache to the ground. Right on the heels of Estanzio’s move, Mariposa had performed a similar feat. Mounted, Colts in their hands, the two now galloped toward the thicket where their outfit’s horses were waiting. This brazen move by Mariposa and Estanzio had so angered the Apaches, they seemed to forget the besieged Texans in the arroyo. Gil had the wounded Long John on his feet, and with Bo covering from behind, they went on toward the horses. The rest of the riders had continued their mad run down the arroyo, and with the diversion created by Mariposa and Estanzio, the Apaches found that taking the Texans’ picketed horses was no longer a sure thing. In the best Indian fashion, Mariposa and Estanzio clung with one leg to the backs of the Indian ponies and fired their Colts under the necks of the galloping horses. A dozen Indian ponies raced away riderless. It was now almost dark, and except for Gil, Long John, and Bo, the outfit had reached the upper end of the arroyo, near where their horses were tied. Their fire, added to that of the hard-riding Mariposa and Estanzio, was deadly. With half their attacking force dead or wounded, the Apaches retreated. A day that had
held so much promise for them had gone sour, and there had been much bad medicine.
“By God,” said Long John, through gritted teeth, “she was some fight. I wouldn’t of missed it fer nothin’. Did Van an’ Rosa git loose?”
“They lit out for the brush,” said Gil, “and I don’t think they were pursued. The way we cut them down, they wanted us bad, so they dropped everything else and came after us. Now we have to get away from here, remove that arrow from your leg, and then stampede every horse in this Apache camp.”
“The arrer jus’ tore the meat,” said Long John. “It ain’t hit the bone.”
“No, but there’ll be infection,” said Gil, “if we don’t attend to it.”
Without further difficulty they reached their horses, where the other riders waited. Mariposa and Estanzio still had the captured Indian ponies.
“Bring them along,” said Gil. “It’ll be two less for them to use. When we come for our horses they took, we’ll stampede the rest of theirs.”
They rode out, bound for the spring where they’d camped the night before. For the night, at least, Van and Rosa were on their own, and Long John’s wound needed attention.
“Don’t move,” Van whispered, his hand on Rosa’s arm. “Don’t breathe.”
They had backed away from the muddy water Van had brought to the surface, and one of the dogs from the Indian camp had roused all the others. Worse, he had attracted the attention of some of the Apaches. Van and Rosa could hear their voices as they came to investigate. But Van still had hope. There was a faint but distinct odor of skunk, for the animal had gone to the water they had left. Van wasn’t sure if the curious dog had first discovered them or the skunk, but that no longer mattered. The skunk, if it tarried a little longer, could save their lives. As the Apache voices came closer, the dog’s barking grew more frenzied. The foolish dog waited until its human companions were near, and then, encouraged, it went after the skunk. Even from where Van and Rosa hid, the stink was all but unbearable. But the unfortunate dog and the pair of Apaches seemed to have gotten full benefit of the skunk’s temper. The dog whimpered and cried, and the Apaches coughed and wheezed. There was a final shriek from the offending dog, as one of the Apaches silenced him forever. Van and Rosa waited until the skunk-smitten Apaches had departed and until the camp dogs were quiet.
The California Trail Page 17