Killer of Witches: The Life and Times of Yellow Boy Mescalero Apache

by W. Michael Farmer

  The next day we began the ride up canyons and ridges south into the Guadalupes and along their high ridges to the west. In some places, the trail was very steep, so steep the women and Klo-sen’s sons had to get off and lead the animals while the small children rode. I looked many times over my right shoulder on the narrow trails winding along the top of nearly vertical ridges and saw nothing but jagged cliffs and boulders far below in the basin between us and the next range of mountains.

  In the high country, the air was cool and junipers and piñons, tall, not like the twisted, stunted brush on the llano. In all my life, I had never seen so many kinds of plants or ridden or walked in the high places. The high places and long views far out over the mountains and llano sang their song to me. Those things I will never forget.

  We rode the high rims covered with tall grass and scattered junipers as they swung south toward the highest peak in the mountains. As we rode, the high peak stayed to the west of our trail. That day we covered many miles and saw no sign of Cha’s camp, only patches of snow to go with the cold, hard wind. The shadows grew long. Our trail carried us on the top of a mighty canyon twisting west far below. The canyon turned south and opened out on to the llano, stretching as far as I could see in the fading light. We were nearly all the way across the mountains, and still, no sign of Cha.

  Straining my eyes, I saw a trail in the shadows that seemed nothing more than a deer path down into a canyon falling off the ridge toward a darkening crack in the earth made by the canyon walls and late shadows. Looking up, I thought I saw men watching us from behind boulders and junipers on the canyon walls. I told my mother, but she only shook her head for me to be quiet.

  Caballo Negro stopped and stared down into the canyon, saying nothing. Sons-nah and Klo-sen did the same. We waited, and the horses watched, too, with their ears up. Soon, a man appeared on the little canyon trail, waved us toward him, and then disappeared. He disappeared so quickly and easily, I thought he must be a spirit man. My father led us down a steep winding trail. It grew steadily darker and harder to see, and then we came to a stretch that was so steep we had to get off the horses and lead them, but soon the trail flattened out, and we remounted. At the bottom of the ridge, there was a long flat place covered in long brown grama grass and scattered with tall junipers where a small stream flowed down one side. We smelled smoke and cooking meat and saw through the trees the flickering orange light from cooking fires.

  We rode on but soon stopped in the middle of many brush lodges surrounded by warriors, women, and children who said nothing, only stared, their faces masks of indifference. A man with a broad chest, big muscular arms, and a round, flat face with a slash mouth and narrow black eyes stepped before us.

  My father said, “Dánt’e (Greetings), Cha, brother of Santana, Roman, and Cadete. I am the warrior Caballo Negro.” He swung his arm toward Sons-nah and Klo-sen. “These warriors speak for themselves. We ask to join you. We’ve suffered many seasons at the hands of the Indah at the place on the river to the east and north called Bosque Redondo. All Mescaleros at the Bosque left there five suns ago. The Blue Coats do not follow. Cadete goes to Santana.

  “The Indah took all we owned, treated us like slaves, and said no more raids, even across the great river. Cadete said we should come to you because you’re good at raiding Indah and Nakaiyes along the great river and the wagon roads from the east. He said you wanted more warriors. We will never again be Indah slaves. We’ll stand, fight, and die, but always we will be men, not slaves. We will take what we need and help make Cha’s band become even more feared. Do you want us, or do we move on?”

  Cha’s eyes looked at all of us, even Gah and me, one by one, his face revealing nothing. At last, he said, “You speak well, Caballo Negro. The sun rides west and hides its face. Care for your ponies, and feed your children. Eat. Rest. We’ll talk later. Come to the fires. You’re our guests, you are Mescalero, and we welcome you.”

  Cha’s people were generous and offered us warm fires, hot food, places to sleep, and places to make our own fires and set up canvas-covered brush arbors or our ragged tipis in the days that followed. They listened, and they understood the stories of our hard lives at the hands of the Blue Coats. Cadete was right. Cha wanted the Bosque Redondo warriors who were ready to raid, fight, get their wealth back, and make the Indah suffer for the wrongs they had inflicted on the Mescaleros at Bosque Redondo. Cha welcomed our families and saw opportunities for more and bigger raids that he had seen only in his dreams.

  An older couple, He Watches and his wife, Socorro, sheltered and fed us as if we were invited guests until Sons-ee-ah-ray raised her tipi and fed her family with plants she found and meat from Caballo Negro’s hunting. Sons-ee-ah-ray’s mother and father and two younger brothers had died at Bosque Redondo. Socorro and He Watches had lost an unmarried daughter during the Blue Coat attack on the Shis-Indeh at Canyon del Perro; their three sons, taking women in the band of Espejo in the Davis Mountains south, had left to live with their wives, who, as was the custom, lived near their mothers. Cha’s people had given Socorro her name because she knew how to take corn and make the best tiswin, a weak beer, of anyone in the band.

  A few days after Sons-ee-ah-ray finished her tipi, the warriors from Bosque Redondo followed Cha on a raid along the big river a sun’s ride to the west. That day, I played with Gah.

  She said, “Let’s play family. I am Woman; you are Warrior, and this doll my father carved is our baby. With all this grass and brush, I can build a brush arbor, and we won’t have to pretend we have a tipi like we did at Bosque Redondo.”

  I thought it good fun to have a real brush arbor. I pretended to be a mighty warrior, crossed my arms, and spoke as I had seen Caballo Negro speak to my mother. “Woman, build a brush arbor, and keep our baby safe. I go to hunt and raid. I will bring meat and supplies.”

  Gah and her friends made little arbors out of bundles of long, yellow grama grass stalks. They built them under junipers within sight of their family fires. From the grass, they also made rough little baskets using weaving tricks their mothers had taught them. These they laid inside the small circles of rocks, which were supposed to be their family fires inside the brush arbors, and, like their mothers, they took care of their babies while they waited for their warriors to return from hunting or war.

  I joined the arrow shooting and stone slinging games played by the young boys in Cha’s camp. Two boys near my age from Cha’s camp were new friends. By the time they reached apprentice warrior age, one would be called Kah (Arrow) and the other, Ko-do (Firefly). Our place for playing raiding, ambush, and war was on the far end of the camp in a broad grassy meadow farther down the canyon where it was easy to hide from pursuers and ambush those who hunted us. I did well, although I lost an arrow. I ambushed three enemies without being hit during their surprise ambush when their slings filled the air with small stones from the little stream of water.

  While we waited to ambush our enemies, I found a gourd vine, brown and dried, the only gourds left, too small and bitter tasting for use by the village women, but just right for Gah’s shelter. I was careful when I pulled two little pear-shaped gourds off the vine and slid them to the bottom of my bow and arrow sack.

  I finally beat my last opponent, wounding him in an ambush, taking the rocks he called supplies. Then I ran through the junipers around the camp until I came to the little dwelling where Gah waited for me.

  “Woman, I return from war and bring us meat and supplies.”

  She picked up the lumpy bow and arrow sack I had tossed on the ground in front of her and, smiling with delight, pulled out the gourds. “My man brings us good meat. I will roast it on the fire.”

  I nodded and, saying nothing, sat down by the circle of rocks while my woman put the gourds in the fire circle and pretended to stir and add to the stew that cooked there. Soon she took a forked stick and lifted a gourd off the fire. Laying it on a thin flat rock, she passed it to me saying, “Careful, husband, it still holds heat.
”

  I pretended to chew on the gourd as if it were a piece of freshly roasted meat, smacking my lips and wiping my mouth with my hand. I rubbed my fingers, as if they were greasy from the meat, up and down my bare legs as I had seen Caballo Negro do after he ate from Sons-ee-ah-ray’s cook pot, and I said, “My woman cooks good. The meat is good. It makes me strong for more raids.”

  Night was coming fast, ending our day of play. Shadows from the high mountains were falling over the camp, and other children in their little wickiups under the juniper trees began leaving for real meals at their mother’s wickiups. Gah broke our pretend spell and said, “I will save this meat for tomorrow’s stew. Now it is time to go to our mothers’ fires.”

  I gave her my plate and gourd, and she put them away. She cradled our baby in her arms and nodded at me she was ready. Picking up my bow and arrow sack, I slid the bow in first, and then the arrows, careful not to break them. I hung the sack over my shoulder and, jerking my head toward the camp of our fathers, said, “Come.”

  She led the way, and I followed, since the back of the line was always the most dangerous place on a march.

  CHAPTER 5

  THE WARRIOR’S JOURNEY BEGINS

  * * *

  Two years passed. Our family was changing, growing, and becoming a strong part of Cha’s band. At age seven, I looked ten. Caballo Negro still called me Ish-kay-neh (Boy), my true name not yet given by my father, as was the custom in his family. Caballo Negro took many horses and cattle during Cha’s raids, which made him admired throughout the camp and a respected voice in Cha’s councils. Sons-ee-ah-ray, her belly swollen to the size of a ripe melon, carried my brother, her second child.

  He Watches, admiring the strength and skill of Caballo Negro, and Socorro, wanting a daughter’s help and the support of a good son-in-law, asked Caballo Negro if they might adopt Sons-ee-ah-ray as their daughter and thereby attach his family to the lodge of Socorro and He Watches. Supporting the old couple was an extra burden for Caballo Negro, but he saw them adding stability to our family’s life by becoming my grandparents. Since Sons-ee-ah-ray was not their blood daughter, Caballo Negro wasn’t required to observe the custom of never seeing his mother-in-law, an imposition that would require unusual vigilance since their tipis would be moved side by side for the convenience of the women. Even better, Socorro, an even-tempered woman who helped Sons-ee-ah-ray make fine pots and baskets for trade with other women, was not likely to harass Caballo for too much support.

  My father knew my mother worked hard and needed help as we recovered from the short supplies and bad water we had endured at Bosque Redondo. He considered for many days taking a Nakai-yi or Indah woman as a slave to help her. But, slave women often took a lot of beating and time to train well, and they might have to be killed if they couldn’t adapt to Apache life. He decided it best to join with the old couple, but kept them waiting a moon for his answer, knowing the longer he waited the more anxious they would become to have us and the less likely he would ever need to tell He Watches that Socorro asked for too much. At last, he told He Watches he agreed to the adoption. Sons-ee-ah-ray moved her tipi next to Socorro’s and told me to call He Watches Grandfather.

  He Watches had once been a mighty warrior in the camp of Cha until a bullet shattered his right knee during a raid on an hacienda by the great river. The knee didn’t heal properly, and the joint stiffened and swelled with arthritis. Only the ball of his foot showed in the track of his right moccasin, and near that track was always the little round hole made by his staff as he hobbled about camp. He often rode a big, red mule, stolen in El Paso, up the steep path to the ridge top where he watched the wagon road for dust plumes in the far, bright distance telling of new supplies coming, ready for Cha’s warriors to take, or more Blue Coats coming for his warriors to kill for rifles and ammunition. He Watches always took one of the younger boys with him to watch the road. After he studied a dust plume, sometimes for hours, with a brass telescope he called Shináá Cho (Big Eye), he sent the boy running back to camp with word that supplies and booty were coming for the taking. Cha would return with a couple of his lieutenants, study the dust plume with He Watches, decide on what was probably coming, and discuss what to do about it. When Cha was gone from the camp, He Watches built small, nearly smothered fires and sent towering smoke plumes high into the air signaling Cha to come for wagons or Blue Coats on the road.

  I was still too young to guard the horses, but I often slipped off to watch them grazing in the mountains’ high pastures. I particularly liked the pintos and the way the brown, white, and black patches lay dappled like colored shadows on their hides in golden sunlight. I learned to climb on a gentle pinto mare by grabbing hold of her mane, putting my foot on the elbow of her leg, and swinging up on her back. It was exhilarating, like being on top of the world, to watch the other horses from her back. I was never mean to the mare, and, from those days spent on her back with the grazing herd, she taught me much about the ways of horses.

  One day, two suns after returning from a raid during which much booty was taken, Caballo Negro had a life changing talk with me. We had finished an evening meal sitting by the tipi fire. After rubbing the grease from his fingers onto his legs and high moccasins, he waited until I did the same, and then he reached behind himself and held up in the flickering orange firelight a buckskin quiver filled with real arrows and a sheathed, unstrung bow. The arrows were long, perfectly fletched with three feathers, and fixed with fire-hardened hardwood tips. I eyed the quiver with envy and wished I had it rather than my small toy one. At that time, I spent more time defending myself with a sling and small rocks in fighting games than shooting targets with those who had a real bow. When Caballo Negro handed me the quiver of arrows and sheathed bow, I was shocked and delighted.

  “My son has passed through seven years,” he said. “You have the size and strength of one who has passed through ten. This night I give you a man’s bow. He Watches made the arrows. He will teach you how to make more. You have learned much from your child’s bow. Now learn from a man’s bow. To become a good warrior, you must first learn to hunt. I have watched you shoot at birds and squirrels, but you kill nothing. You shoot good, but you do not know how to hunt.

  “Remember, even the smallest animals are not tame. They see you as soon as you come. You must see them first before they run away. You do not run up to birds, squirrels, or rabbits and shoot them. In hunting, you must go very carefully and make no noise with your feet against stones or grass. If you have to crawl to them, if you have to hide and wait a long time to kill them with your bow, then do it. It is the same with deer and antelope. Like the cougar, you must move slyly, carefully, and with much patience. Deer can see you before you see them, can smell you before you smell them, can hear you before you hear them. You must be very cautious.”

  My father stopped speaking, and I thought he had said all he wanted to say, but just as I started to get up, he said, “Now that you have a man’s bow, I’ll start training you. In a few years, you’ll be as good as any man. Your mind will think good and think fast, and your legs will be strong, so nobody will outrun you. You will be admired for your skill, strength, and courage. You will bring food to the women, and you will not go hungry.

  “Rise before tomorrow’s sun comes. Run. Do this every day. Begin by running to the bottom of the canyon trail before you return. This running will be hard at first because you still have the legs of a child, still think like a child, and still control yourself like a child. When you’re a man, you will run as a man, think as a man, and control yourself as a man. It’s best you learn in your own way, but if you don’t learn, I’ll make you.”

  I nodded to show I understood, and said, “I will learn to run and think and control myself as a man.”

  Caballo Negro gave me a sad smile and said, “My son, no one helps you when you are a man. You must be strong. Rise early. Run hard. Make yourself strong. No one is your friend, not even the daughter of Sons-nah who still play
s with you, not your mother, your father, or even Grandfather He Watches or Grandmother Socorro are your friends. Your legs are your friends. Your mind is your friend; your eyes are your friends; your hair is your friend; your hands are your friends. Use your friends well. Do something with them. When you are a man, you live with these things, and you think about them.

  “Someday you will be in need, or you will be with people who have need. You’ll have to get them something. When enemies attack you, disappear. Before they attack you, get them and bring them back dead. When your enemies are great, you be greater, and you kill them. You make our people, the Shis-Indeh, proud. Be a man of Power. Then all people will speak your name with respect and honor. Your stories will be told around the fire. This is the reason I speak to you this way: if you stay with the Shis-Indeh, they will all be for you, brothers, sisters, uncles. All in Mescalero camps will talk about you. If people speak my name, I want them to say my son is a fine man and does good work. I want all to find pride in you. If you are lazy, the Shis-Indeh will despise you. Do you understand, Ish-kay-neh? I speak these things from my heart.”

  I slowly nodded, feeling like I had just taken all the water from a big jar in one swallow. “Yes, Father, I understand. There is much to learn. I will begin making my body strong tomorrow. I’ll run the trail to the lower canyon that leads to the llano and back. I will learn hunting and take many animals for mother’s cook pot.”

  Caballo Negro grunted, “Enjuh. You’ll make many mistakes. Learn from them. You’ll make me proud when you learn and grow. He Watches also has something to give you.”

  He Watches had been drinking his cup of coffee across the fire from us. He lit a cigarette, its tobacco rolled in a corn shuck, Mexican style, and he blew the smoke in the four directions, and then gave it to Caballo Negro, who also smoked to the four directions and gave it back, and then he gave it to me to do the same. It was the first time I had smoked, and even though it burned my throat, I was very proud that these men believed I was ready to begin the work of learning to be a man, not just any man, but one the Shis-Indeh one day would be proud to call their own.