Rubio: The Legend (Ben Blue)

by Lou Bradshaw

  With that the dejected young men wiped the grease from their hands on their arms and hair. They were no longer on a short adventure. They were on a long and dangerous journey.

  They didn’t know how bad off they were. The Kiowa and Comanche like the Apache and the Diné were all of the same language, and had migrated from the far north. The Kiowa and Comanche had closer ties to the Apache than to the Diné, but we were both very distant relatives. The Comanche seemed to have a better acceptance of strangers than the Kiowa, but both were as warlike as the Apache. Scar Face should not expect a warm welcome from either.

  I didn’t want to listen to those two young braves talk about things that young men speak of. I didn’t want any feelings about their fate. Even though, I would probably be responsible for their fate. If they stood with Scar Face, they would be my enemy. I didn’t want any reason not to thrust the lance or loose the arrow.

  When the sun showed his face over the eastern hills, I was already well beyond the travelers and waiting on a high ridge to watch them pass by. I was scouting a place to make my first move. It was still too soon. Keeping to the high country, I could follow their every twist and turn.

  To go northeast, they would have to cross mountain in the land the Spanish called New Mexico. The Diné simply called it, “the land”, there was nothing new about it. It had been here since time began. They would also cross the great river that runs through it from the mountain in the north to the Spanish desert in the south. I am told that the river turns southeast and empties into a great lake that has no end.

  When the trail takes them into the mountains, I will start my plan. Until then, I will stay ahead of them and bide my time. Sometimes I would wait until they had watered at a spring or water hole before I let my pony use it. They were moving at such a slow easy pace, it was easy to get ahead of them using the high ground. I feared leaving tracks that would let them know they were not alone.

  ~~~~~ 0 ~~~~~

  After many days travel, I saw the mountains far ahead. At first it looked as if it were clouds forming on the horizon, dark and hazy. But another of day of travel told me for certain, that they were mountains.

  I was ready to begin the final leg of my journey.

  Chapter 18

  On the third day, after first seeing the mountains, I could see them separate and become two distinct mountain ranges. One was to the north and one was to the south, with a wide rugged plain between them. The Chiricahua were in the mountains to the south, but the Kiowa and the Comanche were far to the north and east. I took to the northern range. I felt there would be a better chance of finding water along the northern range. It was greener and would likely have more snow to melt.

  I rode ahead to get a look at the mountains and the plain to get a feel for what I would be dealing with. Riding far onto the plain for a day, I found it to be not a plain at all but a broken land. It was cut with ancient river beds and washouts from when the mountains were new. It was suitable for my plan.

  On the return trip, I took to the high ground. There was plenty of cover with cedar and pine. Few trails existed, so I had to create my own, and some were not easy, and some were enough to make the hair on the back of the neck stand up. I only went back for half a day and waited.

  When the light had almost gone, I saw their fires down on the lower ground and a long way back. They were staying close to the north side of the plain just as I thought they would. I would let them pass and start working on their defenses….and their nerves.

  ~~~~~ 0 ~~~~~

  The sun was still high above when the travelers passed below me the following day. They were drifting along, showing no spirit from either man or beast. They had been traveling for over a moon with no trouble. They had become complacent and even a little arrogant. Now they must pay for their neglect.

  Long before the sun had dropped behind the mountains to the west, I had started down the shoulder of the mountains. I was out on the plain before the shadows grew long and well before they had started a cook fire. Hugging the base of the mountain I had just descended, I followed at a distance.

  The brush grew heavy among the rocks and boulders leading up the slope, my pony had no liking for it. I supposed he liked the snakes that rattled and fat tailed poisonous lizard that lived there even less. I couldn’t blame him for that.

  Suddenly, the brush came alive with rustling and out came a young javolina, a small wild pig that had been showing up on our land. The Spanish had pigs also, but their pigs were much much larger.

  The javolina ran right under my pony’s feet, nearly causing him to start bucking, but he kept his head and gave me a chance to put an arrow into the fleeing pig. I had eaten Javolina once or twice and remembered it as being tasty meat. The Apache did not eat pig.

  The pig gave me an idea, so I dressed and skinned it and hung it behind my saddle blanket. I intended being as annoying and disrespectful as I possibly could.

  Darkness came, and carrying the javolina carcass, I moved close to the Mescalero camp. I concealed myself in the ample brush and boulders that surrounded the camp. As they had in the past, they ate and then drifted off to their beds… at least the leaders did. Guards were set out and they moved into the darkness.

  This time the guards were not the same young men as before. These two were careless and casual about their duties. I waited in the rocks close to the fire until one left his rounds and came to the comfort of the light.

  His first move was to hold out his hands toward the warmth. It was late spring and the nights here could be cool. Holding one’s hands to the fire is one of the most natural moves a human can make.

  Crouching just out of the circle of light, I watched for a short time thinking it was a pity that this young man had not been more disciplined in his training. He stood there looking into the flames and feeling their warmth, and for a brief piece of time he was happy. I rose to my full height. He must have sensed the movement because he could not have seen anything after staring into the fire for so long.

  Standing straight, I drew back my bow string and let my arrow fly. It was a good Diné arrow, and it flew true. It must have pierced his heart because he sank to his knees, and for the blink of an eye, he stared at the feathered shaft sticking out of his chest. Then he simply fell over on his left side.

  I was hoping that the commotion hadn’t drawn any attention because I wasn’t finished. Slipping out of the jumble of rocks, I hurried to the young man’s body and pulled it back against a boulder. Then I quickly took his scalp, which left only one more task.

  They had a sturdy frame over the fire for roasting meat. I pulled the cross piece away and removed the venison that was on it. I then replaced the meat with the remains of the javolina. I had left its distinctive head attached so there would be no doubt what it was. I walked away chewing deer meat, which could have used salt, but it would do.

  I hadn’t even reached my pony when I heard the shout from the camp. They had found the body. I didn’t fear that they would come after me. Only a fool would go out into the night after someone who could stroll into a well lit camp, kill an armed man, steal meat and disappear into the darkness.

  Reaching my pony, I mounted and we worked our way up the shoulder of the mountain. When I had reached a position high above their camp, I serenaded them with my best wolf call yet. I could see movement in the camp far below. Scar Face and Coyote knew they were dealing with a mortal, but the others… the younger men would still be filled with tales of heroes, devils and spirits.

  I found a place to camp, and I was even so bold as to build a fire knowing it could be seen from below. It didn’t mean anything because I went even higher up and made a cold camp.

  When morning came I finished the deer meat for breakfast, and then I went about creating a surprise for my friends below. I was about the length of two tall pines above the site of my fake camp of the night before. Between where I was and where I’d built my false fire was a steep slope of loose dirt and small boulders. It coul
d easily be climbed by a man on foot, but it would take a better horse than I’d ever had to carry a man up there.

  I had seen them leave camp as soon as the sun was showing his face. Four men were coming for me. I hadn’t bothered much with trying to hide my tracks up until that point. But beyond the campsite, I was very careful to leave only a little. It would have been impossible to not leave signs in the darkness.

  From where I sat, I couldn’t recognize the men coming after me, but I guessed it would consist of three young ones and either Scar Face or Coyote as their leader. As they approached the campsite, I saw that it was indeed Coyote and three young braves. I was relieved. I would gladly kill Coyote here, but I wanted Scar Face to see it coming and be aware of what was happening and why. If anyone died here today, it would be quick and violent. Scar Face would not die quick if I could help it.

  I watched as they came up the mountain. They were having no trouble following my trail; even the youngest and least experienced of the young braves could have led them. Within a short time, they were cautiously approaching the campsite, and when they reached it they dismounted. Coyote had them stay back as he looked it over well.

  He was going through the ashes to see how long ago it had been cold, when I sprung my surprise on them. I had loosened a boulder nearly the size of a buffalo chest and hump. With the help of a broken tree limb, I wedged it out of the dirt and smaller rocks. It teetered for a second, and then started to lean forward.

  Coyote stood looking around for tracks as the young men moved forward to the cold fire. He moved beyond the camp fire to where he thought the trail should be, just as the bolder rolled free. It hit the first time and sent a cloud of dust, dirt, and smaller rocks into the air. But the second time it hit it seemed to take half the mountain with it. I couldn’t see what was happening for the dirt and dust, but I heard a man scream and then a horse screamed.

  The cloud of dust hung in the air for a long time, and I was without any knowledge of what had happened below. The rocks and debris, which included many smaller boulders and a few clumps of brush, had passed on over the campsite and gone down below. I could hear men moaning and ponies going insane. I did not like to hurt the animals, but they were all part of it.

  When the dust had cleared enough to see the results of my surprise, I counted heads. One man was partially covered with dirt and rock, with a melon sized rock on his chest… he did not move. One man was holding his useless right arm, which looked to be broken. Three of the ponies were missing, one I could see well down the slope… it was not moving. One I saw running back down the trail, and one was lying in the dirt and rocks, kicking madly… It could not get up…. It would never get up.

  Coyote’s party was left with only one horse, for he had been able to keep his from running off. There were only two able bodied men to follow the trail. The young brave, to his credit quickly cut the throat of the thrashing animal and put it out of its pain. They would have to go back down the mountain on foot leading the one pony that would carry the dead man across its back. Three men and a horse went down the mountain.

  I mounted up and moved higher and farther to the east.

  Chapter 19

  Coming to an opening in the trees, I was able to look down and back toward the Apache camp. I didn’t want to get too far ahead for fear they would decide to turn south and find a Chiricahua village. I didn’t think Scar Face’s pride would let him run for safety to a place where he was known and would be chided for allowing one man to change the course of such a strong party.

  I was too far away to see any individuals, but I could see that they were still there. They would need to take care of their dead and set the broken arm of the injured man. It would not be a comfortable camp. There would be much arguing and much berating for Coyote who had led his party into a deadly trap.

  Moon Woman would surely want to go to the Chiricahuas, for the safety of her child and herself. But I doubted that she would have enough influence over her husband to get past his pride… most squaws did not. My Soft Breeze would have had that much influence… but she was no longer mine. She belonged to the underworld as did our children.

  I pictured the face of Moon Woman. She was not a beautiful squaw. She lacked the grace of movement that Soft Breeze had possessed. Soft Breeze could set my soul on fire simply by standing over the fire and stirring the cook pot. She truly was a Soft Breeze.

  As I sat there looking down at the rugged low land, I let my mind wonder back to when I was a happy and contented hunter and herder providing meat, skins, and wool for my family. I thought of my life at that time as perfect… and then it was all taken away. For nearly a full cycle of moons, I had been a man without a family or a tribe. I had only one goal in my mind, and I was close to reaching that goal.

  Scar Face and his smaller party stayed where they were for two more nights before they moved. When they did move, they were going north and east. They were still looking for the Kiowa or Comanche people, but now there were only four able bodied men, a woman, and a child.

  Pride had won out, and Scar Face had set himself at odds with the others in the party. That could come back to haunt him as they got farther east. I doubted that he even took notice of the wishes of the others. Their needs and desires must have fallen on deaf ears… if they even had the nerve to express them. Perhaps Moon Woman would have pleaded with him, but the others would be too concerned with how they would look in his eyes.

  As they passed below where I sat, I could see that they were a poorer looking party, not only by their numbers but the way they sat their ponies. Their bodies slumped markedly from when they left the Mescalero village. The only one who rode with pride and arrogance was Scar Face. He deserved to die, not only for the pain he had caused me and my family, but for the pain his arrogance had caused so many others. I had heard a Spanish holy man say that pride was a sin, but I never understood what he meant until then.

  They rode on past me, and I went down the slope to a lower level to follow. I would not visit their camp this night. They would be waiting and expecting me. A few more days would not hurt.

  ~~~~~ 0 ~~~~~

  The days drifted by without incident, but I knew they were on full alert and watching for me. I would pay them a visit anyway. They would never become as relaxed as they had been before, so I would just have to be more skillful than they were. Scouting the camp they had made I saw that even the injured man was armed with knife, war club, and lance. Although, he carried the lance in his wrong hand, I approved of him doing his part. His eyes still worked and his ears still worked, he could be quite valuable.

  From my camp above and behind them, I slept through the late afternoon and evening. When I awoke, I chewed some jerked deer meat… there would be no fire this night. I doubted if they could have seen it from where they huddled, but a little bit of light and heat were not worth the cost of being found.

  Leaving my pony, I took only my bow and quiver and my hatchet. I would go to their camp and show them that I could come and go with ease.

  Their camp was backed up against a bluff which reflected the fire light. I’m sure their thinking was to keep me away with the increased light. It was a good plan, and I approved the thinking, but it wouldn’t work. They had set two fires out in the open, with only the bluff as a boundary. That meant, I could get at them from three directions. My goal this night was not to kill another or take another scalp instead; I wanted to let them know that there was no safe place while I was near.

  There was no moon, but I could do what I needed to do by starlight. When the night was half over, I approached the camp. I sat and watched for a long time making sure how many guards there were and where they were. Their ponies were kept within the center of the light, and one guard was paying most of his attention to them. The other guard was Coyote, and he was staying near the main fire looking into the darkness.

  Staying well outside the circle of light, I walked in a half circle around the camp and back leaving definite tracks. Th
en I retraced the circle, and crept in a low crouch to two of the blankets. I didn’t get close enough to touch them because they were within the circle of light. As I backed away, I drug my hatchet through the sandy soil, leaving a line from the other tracks to the blankets.

  One line led to the sleeping Scar Face. The other led to an empty blanket, which I hoped belonged to Coyote, but it could have belonged to the pony guard. I didn’t wish to unduly alarm the pony guard, but a good scare might send him running for a Chiricahua village. I doubted that would happen. But it might.

  As I was getting ready to leave, I strung my bow and sent an arrow into the circle of light, hoping to hit Coyote. But the distance was great, and the arrow came up short. The aim was true, but the power of the captured Apache bow was lacking. The arrow went into the ground at Coyote’s feet. He jumped and dove for cover. I gave them a wolf call and strode off laughing…. They would have no more rest this night.

  From high on the bluff above their camp, I watched them as the sun came up. They were nervous and milling around, with Scar Face pacing back and forth. He was not afraid, that much I knew… he was angry down to his soul. That was a good thing…. Anger breeds mistakes. Scar Face was a powerful warrior, and mistakes would be needed for me to succeed.

  When the sun was still behind the mountains, it was light enough to see the half circle I had made and the lines drawn to the Scar Face and the pony guard’s blanket. The camp became unnerved. It was chaos for a short time with men running from one place to another. Moon Woman rushed to her sleeping daughter, scooped her up, and held her tight.

  The outraged Scar Face bellowed at Coyote waving his arms and gesturing in all directions, and then he beat the pony guard with the shaft of the man’s own lance. The group was soon packed and ready to move. I stood atop the bluff and called down to them. The sun was partially behind me, so they would have no good target for their arrows.