Blood of the Devil

by W. Michael Farmer

  The women told us not to get up until sunrise so the Chiricahua men could see us. The women spent the night calling up to warriors they believed were on the mountains. They told them why Nantan Lupan and his scouts were there and that they didn’t want any fighting, but they wanted the Chiricahuas to be friends with them.

  After a while the women grew quiet. Except for the orange coals turning to gray ash in the fire pits, there was no light except from myriad stars, and the moon took its time to rise above the mountains. A wolf howled and his cousin answered. The scouts near my fire didn’t sleep, and I didn’t either. We lay there and waited. When early daylight came, the women began calling to their men and chiefs, Ka-ya-ten-nae, Geronimo, Chato, and Bonito, telling them they wanted them to be friends with Nantan Lupan. When it was good light and easy to see, we started our fires, went about our business, ate, and waited.

  CHAPTER 25

  GERONIMO

  They called to us from the top of the high ridge, their outlines dark, their voices rising in the sunlight. They reminded me of big buzzards in the top of trees waiting for a dying animal to move no more. We camped too far away to understand what they were saying, but most of the scouts, including me, thought they said bad things, and we said so.

  Nah-da-ste, sister of Geronimo, listening to them, heard us talking. She said, “They call for scouts to come talk.”

  Much Water made a face, “What do they want to talk about?”

  Nah-da-ste shook her head. “They not say. I find out.”

  She returned after the sun was halfway to shortest shadows. Her face made a frown, and, shaking her head, she said, “They say only they want scouts to come talk.”

  Many scouts saw her come back and didn’t want to go. They thought the returning warriors waited in ambush and wanted blood revenge for our attack.

  Tzoe said, “I believe they want to talk. They want a straight story from us about why we come here. I showed you the way. I won’t hide now that we’re here. What we do is right. I’ll go.”

  In the deathly stillness, no one moved. I stepped forward with my Yellow Boy rifle cradled in the crook of my arm. “I go with Tzoe.”

  Two other scouts stepped forward: Dastine (Crouched and Ready), a Cibecue Apache who had family related to Jelikine, who was Geronimo’s father-in-law; and Haskehagola (Angry, He Starts Fights), also a Cibecue and brother-in-law to Chato.

  Jelikine, a mighty warrior, stood no taller than an old-fashioned, single-shot rifle. When he spoke, the other Chiricahua chiefs listened to him. We learned after the warriors came in early that morning that he came down from the ridge and crawled in close to our camp. He knew from hearing the voices of the scouts and the way they said words which ones came from San Carlos or belonged to the Tontos or White Mountain Apaches.

  We loaded our rifles, put our bandoliers over our shoulders, buckled on our pistols, stuck our knives behind our belts, and tied white streamers on the ends of our rifles to show we didn’t want to fight. It was a steep climb, slipping and sliding, up the ridge through oaks and junipers and around a few shelves of boulders.

  When Tzoe, who led us, neared the top of the ridge, chiefs backed up by more than thirty warriors appeared out of the trees and approached us. I knew none of them, chiefs or warriors, and they didn’t know me. I studied their dark, angry faces and wondered why I had chosen to risk my life and the survival of my wife and child to return wild and free men to a place In-dah, who never knew them or how they lived, said they must stay.

  Chato, his eyes narrowed, came forward and motioned to Tzoe and Haskehagola, his brothers-in-law, to join him. “So, brothers,” Chato said, “your medicine takes you away from us and back to San Carlos. Now it brings you back with Blue Coats to our strongholds in the land of Nakai-yes. Your wives wailed in grief when you did not return with me. Now they howl in rage that you come back. Your medicine betrays us. Why have you done this?”

  Tzoe and Haskehagola didn’t flinch at Chato’s hard words. Tzoe said, “We come as friends and brothers, not to make war, but to bring you back to San Carlos. You gave your word to the Indah you would come and stay. Now you have run away because the agents cheat us of what the Indah promised. You raid Nakai-yes and Indah ranchos north of the border. Nantan Lupan returns and makes things right at the reservations. Better you return than see your lives and families destroyed. We come to help you. You’re our brothers. Take us to your fire that we can sit, smoke, and speak straight as brothers.”

  Chato’s eyes glittered like shiny, black flint. He studied their faces, and then the anger in his face turned to sadness. He nodded and led them to a little fire under tall pine trees near the middle of the ridge where they were alone. Jelikine motioned Dastine to his fire where they also spoke alone.

  An older warrior, his mouth nothing more than a slash, narrowed eyes missing nothing, walked up to me. I thought he was likely a chief because the others stepped out of his way and he wore a war hat covered with turkey feathers surrounding two eagle feathers in the middle on top.

  The warrior stared at me long enough that I considered him rude and wondered if he wanted to fight. He finally said, “I’ve never seen you. You’re Mescalero. Why do you, whose people have no belly to fight the Indah and Blue Coats, come to our strongholds with these dogs and an old worn out rifle? Do you want an early start to the Happy Land?”

  I returned his rude look, looking him straight in the eyes, and said, “I’m Yellow Boy. The Blue Coat chief of scouts asked me to come because I hit where I shoot.”

  A crooked smile filled his lips. “I hit where I shoot, too, Mescalero. Perhaps the Blue Coat chief of scouts will pay me to chase myself in the Blue Mountains.” The warriors standing behind him grinned. “Come to my fire, and we’ll talk. You came because we asked Nah-da-ste to send us scouts. We want to learn why you come to attack us when we’ve done nothing to you.” He turned toward the fire. I didn’t move.

  “I’ll come to your fire when I know who speaks and shows no respect to a stranger.”

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. “The Nakaiyes call me Geronimo. I’m a di-yen of the Bedonkohe Nednhi Apaches.”

  Geronimo sat by his fire with me and rolled tobaho in an oak leaf. We smoked to the four directions and drank piñon nut coffee made for us by a woman from Chihuahua’s camp the warriors had found hiding in the brush. Three Nakai-yi women and a baby huddled together on the back edge of the camp away from the warriors. They looked falling-down weary and dirty. Their clothes were nearly torn to pieces from running through brush for the past three days, and they didn’t look like they had eaten much in that time.

  Geronimo saw me looking at them and smiled. “You want those Nakai-yi women? We had planned to take and trade them in Janos for our women the Nakai-yi Garcia took from us at the Corralitos fight. Maybe we will yet trade them for something worthwhile. Wait and see.” He paused and frowned. “Now tell me why you come here. What does Nantan Lupan want from the Bedonkohe Nednhi?”

  “This is my first ride with Nantan Lupan and his scouts. I came because Al Sieber saw me shoot and said he wanted me for a scout. When Al Sieber began planning this trip, he sent for me and said they might need someone who can shoot to help bring the Chiricahuas back to the reservations. He knew Geronimo would not want to leave the Blue Mountains, but he knew you would do the right thing for the Bedonkohe Nednhi. Nantan Lupan told Chihuahua the Blue Coats come as friends to take you back. He doesn’t want war. Come down to his camp and talk. Hear his words yourself.”

  He shook his head. “I left the warpath against the Indah because my warriors had grown weary. They did not want to fight anymore. I went to San Carlos and worked in the fields as I promised. The Indah agents had only to keep their word and give my women their promised rations. They did not. They didn’t do as Nantan Lupan or Clum, the agent who took me in chains to San Carlos, said they would. Carr led his Blue Coats to Nocadelklinny’s camp on Cibecue Creek and murdered him. Nocadelklinny did nothing to them. He j
ust danced and prayed for dead chiefs and warriors to come back. Carr must have believed he had the power to bring them back. Maybe that’s why he killed him. I knew it was time to leave the reservation, and we did. We had to take the warpath again.”

  Geronimo picked up a twig and drew symbols I didn’t understand in dust by the fire.

  “I grew good melons and made canals from the river at San Carlos to carry water to them and make them good. Now it is all gone because Indah lie. They don’t keep their word. We left San Carlos to be free of bad agents and a bad place to live. What’s wrong with freedom? Why do you chase us for the Blue Coats? Without you, they would never find us.”

  I had thought about this since Al Sieber saw me shoot and wanted me for the scouts. “I didn’t take Al Sieber’s offer for a long time. My little band went back to the reservation in the Season of Little Eagles after the Nakai-yes wiped out Victorio. A new agent, Tata Crooked Nose, had come. He treats us good. Branigan leads the tribal police to keep peace. He asked me to join them. I did this. I don’t want Mescaleros killing each other or Indah killing them. One day a Blue Coat sergeant came and spoke to Branigan who let him speak with me. The Blue Coat said Al Sieber asked him to find me and that I go with him to the Indah village called Willcox to see Sieber.

  “I had not seen that country in a long time. Much of that road and Willcox I had never seen. I went to see Al Sieber. He asked me to go to the Blue Mountains with Nantan Lupan to find the Chiricahuas and bring them back to San Carlos. The Blue Coats and Indah are too many and too strong. We must learn to be friends with them, or the Shis-Indeh will disappear and be no more. It’s a hard thing to do. I decided to help Al Sieber and learn what I could from the Blue Coats. As a scout, I can use the Power Ussen gave me to help the Shis-Indeh learn Indah ways and grow strong again. I won’t let my family and my little band be wiped out by the Blue Coats or witches.”

  Geronimo stared at the fire a long time. At last he said, “The Chiricahua prosper here in the Blue Mountains where we thought the Blue Coats and their scouts can’t come. Now you bring them here. My Power showed me this three days ago while we ate our evening meal. We had taken many horses and cattle. It felt like a rock had hit my head after my Power showed me Blue Coats had come and taken our camp. I told the warriors what I saw. I don’t think they all believed me until we came back and found you here. But I knew I saw the truth. I’ve thought since that day about what we should do.” He paused, stared at the fire, and scratched in the dust. High above, an eagle circled on the wind and called to us.

  “You are called Yellow Boy? Juh told me of a Mescalero with a little band who had escaped the reservation and camped with him in his stronghold. This Mescalero had great Power from Ussen for using a rifle. Juh said he hunted a Nakai-yi–Comanche mongrel witch who had wiped out most of his father’s band. You are this Yellow Boy?”

  I nodded. “I came close to killing the witch. My brothers and I killed many of his Comanches and Nakai-yi pistoleros, and I wounded the witch, Sangre del Diablo, but he got away across the great river. Now, like Coyote, I watch and wait for him to return. My Power tells me he will come, and I will kill him. Perhaps he lives even now in the Blue Mountains. One day I’ll send him blind to the land of the grandfathers. Can your Power see him here in the Blue Mountains?”

  He shook his head and said, “He hasn’t attacked us. I don’t see him in the Blue Mountains. My Power says soon he comes. Be ready. Now listen to me. You’re young and strong. Make many children with your wives. Don’t scout for Al Sieber against the Shis-Indeh. There are enough fools to do this already. Leave the Chiricahuas alone, and you’ll live a long time. Use the Power Ussen gave you. A time comes you’ll need it to help an Indah boy who will bring good medicine to help our people. That is all I have to say.”

  I didn’t understand what he meant about an Indah boy who would help our people, but before I could ask him, he looked over my shoulder at the other fires behind us and said, “The other scouts leave. Go with them.”

  I turned to see Tzoe, Dastine, and Haskehagola leaving the fires of Chato and Jelikine. I nodded to Geronimo and followed them. We slid down the trail we had come up, saying nothing among ourselves of what had passed between the warriors and us on the ridge. It was a time for thinking and a time for praying to Ussen.

  CHAPTER 26

  THE WARNING

  Tzoe, Dastine, Haskehagola, and I returned to our fires, but said little to answer the questioning stares from the other scouts. We were glad we didn’t have to shoot our way out of the Chiricahua camp and had come back alive and unharmed.

  We had just finished a cup of coffee when we heard a yell in the shadows of the tall pine trees where the path up the ridge began. A Chiricahua warrior ran toward us, brandishing his rifle, pumping it toward the sun, and giving a loud, lusty chant of salute. Every scout who saw him cocked his rifle, ready to shoot if he tried to shoot first. He ran straight for Much Water’s fire. Much Water walked out to meet him, a frown of uncertainty painting his face. Nearing Much Water, the warrior laid down his rifle and unbuckled his bandolier of cartridges to toss them on the ground beside his rifle.

  He ran up to Much Water and said, “My brother, you’ve been looking for me. Now I’m with you again as if I belong to you.”

  A happy grin painted Much Water’s face, and they embraced. They walked back to Much Water’s fire and, sitting down, made a cigarette, smoked to the four directions, and began to talk. It felt as if a blinding fog had lifted from the camp and the sun had sent columns of light streaming to us.

  Soon Chiricahua warriors from the top of the ridge were drifting into camp and sitting down at the fires of their women and children. By half the sun’s ride between the time of shortest shadows and dark, all the Chiricahua on the ridge, except the chiefs, had come in.

  Nantan Lupan left our camp and went alone to hunt birds in tall grass on a slope nearby. When I said that Chiricahua who still hid might try to attack him, Sieber told us Nantan Lupan did this to show the Chiricahua he had no fear and that he was not getting ready to fight them. He had shot several birds when the chiefs rose up in the grass near him. One grabbed his shotgun, another, his sack of birds, and there he stood surrounded by the best fighting men the Apaches had.

  Chato snarled, “You shoot toward us. You want war.”

  Nantan Lupan looked them in the eye and shook his head. “I hunt only birds for my supper.” He smiled and said, “I couldn’t be shooting at you. Who can see an Apache who hides?”

  Mickey Free saw the chiefs surround Nantan Lupan and snatch away his gun and birds. He ran down the slope and through their circle to the side of Nantan Lupan calling, “No shoot! No shoot,” waving his hands palms out to show he was also unarmed.

  The chiefs relaxed a little, and Nantan Lupan said, “Mickey Free speaks true when he tells me your words and you mine. Let’s go down to the shade by the running water and speak together as friends.”

  Chato looked at Geronimo, who gazed off down the valley and said nothing. He looked at the others, and they all gave little nods. Chato said to Mickey Free as he stared at Nantan Lupan and pointed to a tree line on a little stream burbling below them, “We talk. Shade good there.”

  They talked together until the shadows grew long, and then with Nantan Lupan, the chiefs came back to the camp and went to the fires of their People. The scouts and Chiricahuas mixed as friends, and there was peace in the camp.

  As the darkness came, the sounds of the camp sounded different from Blue Coats, scouts, and packers on the march, ready for war. Now children laughed and played, babies cried, axes thumped against trees to make firewood, horses neighed and mules brayed, women chattered back and forth, cattle bellowed, and bells on pack mules rang as they were brought in for grooming after a day’s grazing.

  In the dim light of the long shadows, the three Nakai-yi women and nursing baby I saw on the ridge top came stumbling out of the tree line. Blue Coats and scouts ran to help and comfort them. One who spoke
good Nakai-yi told them they were free and welcome in Nantan Lupan’s camp and that they would be cared for and returned to their people. Their eyes grew wide and little streams of water flowed down their cheeks. They could not believe that they had been miraculously freed from a life as Apache slaves dragged from camp to camp until the Nakai-yes traded captive Apaches for them. They raised their arms and shouted thanks to the God hung on a cross of the brown robes.

  A Blue Coat chief wrote down the names of the Nakai-yi women and baby in a book. He showed them a private place to wash and a fire they could share with food to eat. The Blue Coat chiefs gave them clothes and pairs of high-top boots to wear. They pulled off their sandals, which were torn to pieces after running for days in the mountains, threw them in the fire, and thanked again the God of the brown robes for being freed from the Chiricahua.

  All the next day Chiricahuas came in, some from Chihuahua’s camp, some from Loco’s camp, and others from the camps of the chiefs who had spent the afternoon with Nantan Lupan. Al Sieber told the scouts and Chiricahua men that with all the Chiricahua in the camp, the supplies the pack trains had brought would run out before we returned to San Carlos. He said the Chiricahuas needed to round up and slaughter as many of their cattle as they could, dry and jerk the meat, and cook and save all the mescal and other supplies they could find for the return trip.

  The next day, we moved the camp half a day across the mountains to the headwaters of the Río Bavispe. The water at the new camp was in a few deep pools, clear and cold, with a thin stream between them. The women washed the little children and babies near the camp. We all washed and swam, the women and girls in a private place downstream a little way; Blue Coats, scouts, and Chiricahua warriors farther upstream around a bend in the stream. It was good to feel the water take away dirt and sweat I had worn for a long time.

  That night the scouts danced in many of the old social dances with the Chiricahua. We made drums from cook pots partly filled with water and covered with soaked pieces of cloth stretched tight and tied off with wet rawhide. Willow sticks with a loop tied on one end kept the beat on our make-do drumheads, making good sound for the dances. We danced nearly every night on the way back and had good times.