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

by W. Michael Farmer

On the other hand, I was fascinated by the sawmill and went often to watch slabs and planks being cut from logs in the pile near the rails for the pesh wagon. One day, just before the snows came, I watched the great knife with many teeth take a plank from a log. A tall, white-haired man with a black beard approached me, stuck out his hand, and said, “I’m Joseph Blazer. Glad to know ya.”

  Rufus Pike had taught me that the Indah shook hands for introductions to show they were friendly, so I gave Blazer’s hand two solid pumps and replied, “I’m Yellow Boy. Máquina yours? I like to watch it.”

  Blazer nodded and smiled. “Yes, it’s my sawmill. I like to watch it, too. From where does your name come?”

  “My rifle shoots where I point it. My rifle and me, we’re one.”

  “Ah, I see you have a Henry rifle with one of those shiny brass receivers. I’ve heard Comanches call them Yellow Boys, and I think Santana even called his a Yellow Boy. When you tire of watching La Máquina, come to the store there.” He pointed toward a small building next to the mill house where we stood and said, “We can sit by the fire, drink coffee, and speak together.”

  Throughout the winter, I had several long conversations with Joseph Blazer. When not sitting by the fire, I learned the dangerous art of snow-trapping elk from the old hunter Kah Tensakes (Crooked Arrow), who showed me and the other young men how to herd the animals onto ice-crusted snow just strong enough to support a man but too weak to support a thousand-pound elk. It was dangerous business to hunt this way, for if the hunter misjudged the strength of the ice, he might fall through into deep snow, or a charging elk in the same fix might trample him.

  I also joined hunts for the whitetail deer that followed the elk, whose passage cleared snow, so it was easy for them to find places to graze. The whitetails are more timid than blacktail deer, and the sight or scent of a hunter sends them running over distances impossible to follow. They tended to return to the mountains with signs of warming weather and often got caught in storms in the higher elevations. Then, they took shelter from howling blizzard winds under the drooping branches of snow-laden pine trees where circular drifts built by snow sliding off the branches sometimes reached the height of the branches dumping the snow. Finding such a tree, it was not unusual to find whole herds crowded together under the branches and hunters made short work of them. I used my bow to save bullets, but I rarely returned without an elk or a deer and gave the meat and some of the hides to those living in the camp.

  My mother, Sons-ee-ah-ray, was an expert in tanning hides and used the tough, water-repellant leather of old bull elks to make soles for fine, long-lasting moccasins. One night as the warm winds from the west melted the deep snows in the valleys and brought the Season of Little Eagles, she worked by the fire, while my brother slept and I stared at the twists and turns of the dancing flames.

  “What does my son see in the fire?”

  I looked at her and shrugged. “I wonder about Cha and the men with him. They ought to have found us by now. I burn for the blood of those who slaughtered our People. Cha knows how to find these enemies. I know how to kill them. Cha needs to come before the season of Little Eagles, so we can catch and kill the Witch who nearly wiped us out.”

  Sons-ee-ah-ray said, “Cha may never come here. When his brother, the one who was chief here, lived, only two years ago, he warned him never to come here or blood would be spilled between them. Wherever Cha goes, trouble always brings Blue Coats or Indah ready to kill us. Your father knew this, but still he raided and went on revenge wars with him. You will find the witches with or without the help of Cha. This I know.” She smiled, the wrinkles of hard life and age crinkling around her eyes. “What I do not know is when you will tie your pony in front of Maria’s tipi and leave mine.”

  I frowned and continued to stare at the fire. “What makes you think I want to take a wife? What makes you think I will tie my pony at Maria’s tipi or that Juanita will take it to water? I have not spoken to her since we came to the reservation. I will not leave you without meat and shelter.”

  She shook her head. “Your brother and I will be taken care of. Of this you must not worry.”

  “Has someone already spoken with you?”

  “Ogo (He Fell In) lost his wives to the pox last winter. He works for your friend Blazer at the sawmill. He wants to come to my tipi. I told him I would think on it. But I will not accept him. He likes to gamble too much. We might wind up poorer than we are now. Others want me and have spoken to He Watches, but have not yet spoken to me.

  “But you, you’ve avoided even looking at Juanita since you took the vaquero ponies. I see the look in your eyes when she’s near. I see hers when you pass by. You have ten ponies in this canyon now. You can afford her. Maria will accept four ponies and smile. This I know.”

  I stared in the fire and listened to her awl make little squeaks as she pushed holes in the tough elk hide. After a while I said, “In the Season of Many Leaves, when the plants with yellow flowers bloom, I will ask for her.”

  Sons-ee-ah-ray looked at me and smiled.

  CHAPTER 27

  THE WARRIORS RETURN

  * * *

  The Season of Little Eagles came, patches of snow remaining only in a few deep, shady spots in the valleys and on the high ridges of the great mountain, Sierra Blanca, and the creeks in runoff were still high but passable. He Watches and I sat near our tipis on a blanket watching the women work. I oiled and cleaned my rifle and was rubbing off the excess with a rag to put a golden sheen on the brass receiver. He Watches sharpened his skinning knife, slowly stroking its edge back and forth against a black volcanic stone the boy Ish-kay-neh had found and given him on the ride to the reservation. Enjoying the sun’s warmth after a long winter, we spoke of Agent Godfroy.

  He Watches frowned and shook his head. “Each time Socorro goes to the agency, Godfroy gives us less. The meat is gone after four days when it should last seven; the blankets and cloth they gave her last time were no good. I know Sons-ee-ah-ray and Maria and all the other women also complain that he withholds what’s due us. I think Godfroy steals the food out of our mouths. Many of the young men on the reservation want to go out on a raid in Mexico for supplies, but none of the old, skilled warriors will lead them. What do you say we ought to do, my son?”

  “True, Godfroy steals from us and gives us less. My friend Blazer says even the Indah know this and fear it will cause us to raid because of cold and hunger. Blazer says the Mescaleros must think clearly and be clever like Coyote. Soon another agent will come, and our part will get better. The Indah squatters want our land. If the young men go out, the Blue Coats will come and shoot the women, children, and old ones. The Indah will say to their great chief that he ought to take back the land they have returned to us. My friend Blazer says we must earn our own money, like the Indah, and trade it for things we need and not depend on the agency to give to us. Blazer says we should use the agency school so the children can learn Indah ways. This is not a bad thing, but the children must also learn the Shis-Indeh ways. They must know who they are. They must not become pets of the Indah and turn against their own people. They must learn how the true Indeh live also. This is all I have to say.”

  “Uhmmm. You and Blazer talk much. Blazer, a good friend, speaks true. We’ll see if he speaks true of Godfroy leaving and of sending our little ones to the school to learn Indah ways.”

  He Watches laid the knife down and pulled from his vest pocket a beaded leather pouch of tobacco and a piece of corn-husk for a cigarette. He rolled the tobacco, lighted it with a match, and offered smoke to the four directions. He handed it to me, and I also offered smoke to the four directions before handing the cigarette back to He Watches, who smoked the rest of it. We sat listening to the women chopping wood back in the pines or working with their stew pots and the sounds of children playing and imitating their elders.

  He Watches crushed the butt of the cigarette by the blanket and said, “The women say you’ll marry soon. How will you find this
Indah money Blazer says you need for your woman and sons?”

  “I’ve not yet decided. I must find a way to leave the reservation and return so I can kill the Witch who murdered our People. I—”

  I sensed them before I saw them ride out of the tree shadows, nothing on their saddles or their riders to jingle or make noise, the horses stepping quietly on the long pine needles and into a big pool of sunlight. Ten warriors had left the Guadalupes with Cha. Now five sat their horses, Cha not among them. Their horses thin, heads hanging, had been ridden hard for a long time. Two of the warriors, Kah and Ko-do, had wounds covered with poultices tied in place with bandanas. Delgadito had a long, ugly, red welt from a knife or saber slash across the top of his chest. Klo-sen and Beela-chezzi, two of the more experienced warriors who rode with Cha, I had known as warriors since Bosque Redondo times. Their faces thin and haggard, they showed no signs of wounds. The entire camp grew silent, all eyes questioning every detail about them.

  I stared at the warriors for a moment and then stood and waved them forward, saying, “Dánt’e, brothers! We have watched for your return for many moons. Come, let the women bring you something to eat while we share news and speak of your return to us.”

  Klo-sen grinned as he slid from his pony. “Dánt’e, Nah-kah-yen. We have ridden far to find you on the reservation where the great chief Santana warned his brother Cha and his people never to enter. Now, they both walk in the land of the grandfathers, and you live here safe and in peace. Maybe peace for us here, too?”

  “Yes, our place of refuge, our land as long as we stay. Come. The women will bring blankets and a cooking pot, and the boys will take care of your horses.”

  Socorro brought her bubbling pot of stew meat and sat it on a circle of rocks so it wouldn’t cool too quickly, and blankets appeared as if by magic for us to sit on. When the men were seated about the pot, the women and children sat down behind and around them. Klo-sen and Beela-chezzi looked at the faces of the women and frowned. I saw Delgadito look at Deer Woman, who was smiling, and make the faintest of nods. Kah and Ko-do were interested only in the cooking pot. The warriors ate like starving dogs, the gravy from the stew pot running down their chins and onto their ragged shirts as they speared chunks of beef with their knives and filled their cheeks with meat and fry bread.

  When they finished, I pulled a cigar from my vest pocket, lighted it, smoked a puff to each of the four directions, and passed it to Klo-sen sitting on my right, who smoked a puff to the four directions and passed it on. When the cigar returned to me, I put it out and waited for Klo-sen, as the eldest, to speak first.

  “When we left on our raid, ten warriors rode out of the mountains of our People. Five warriors returned, and our leader walked in the Happy Land. The raid started good and ended bad. We rode south past the mountains the Indah call Davis before we turned west and crossed the great river just below two small villages across the great river from each other, each village not too large for us to raid. Many fine horses stirred in the east village corral. We rode into the country of the Nakai-yes west of the great river to raid villages there before we returned to take the two on the river. The Nakai-yi villages we raided had nothing of value; most were abandoned. We rode many miles west and north and south and found little to take except a few cattle and horses from well-guarded ranchos. We saw Nakai-yi soldiers raising dust in the distance, but they never came in our direction; always they went west and north. We lost no warriors in our empty raids.

  “We rode back to the two villages on each side of the great river. There were still many good ponies in the corrals on the east side of the great river and few in the corrals on the west side. We decided to take those on the east side. We were fools. The good ponies on the east side belonged to Tejanos with many big guns. I think they waited for us to come. Many bullets filled the air the night we tried to take the horses. The Tejanos know how to shoot good, and they have big knives. Ask Delgadito. We fought them a long time. Two of us died early trying to get the ponies out of the corral. When our bullets were few, Cha told us to ride away, saying we can always come back. He rode hard toward the rising sun. We rode not far behind him when he fell from his pony, and then we heard powerful thunder from a Tejano rifle. I have never seen such a long shot. It began yesterday and hit today. Our rifles cannot reach that far. There were other shots and two more fell when we stopped to pick him up. The Tejanos followed us, but we lost them in the Davis Mountains.

  “We waited five suns in the Davis Mountains for the Tejanos to go away. We did not want to return to our camp without our chief and with nothing from our raid, but we had been gone a long time. When we rode up the canyon creek, we found nothing but the burned places where wickiups and tipis had been and graves in the talus by the canyon wall. Even the place of He Watches on the high ridge was empty. With the Ghost Face Season coming and all the food supplies contaminated by Ghost Sickness from the graves nearby, we went back to the Davis Mountains and stayed with the band of Nicholas. As you see, three of us had wounds, and they cared for us. Nicholas heard that a group of Indeh from the Guadalupes went to the Mescalero Reservation in the Season When the Earth is Dark Reddish Brown. He said only two warriors were with a few women and children. We waited to ride until the Season of Little Eagles to come look for you. The first camp we found on the reservation told us where you camped. Here we are. This is all I have to say.”

  I looked at He Watches, who nodded for me to speak.

  “I’ll tell you my story. Those who sit behind you have theirs and will speak when they’re asked and ready. My father and grandfather wanted me to learn to shoot good. My father gave me this Yellow Boy rifle and took me to his Indah amigo, Rufus Pike. He lives in a box canyon in the mountains the Indah call Organ. He has a ranch there with good water, and he taught me much about the rifle. He has a rifle that shoots far like the one the Tejanos used to kill Cha. After two moons, I had a dream. It said I must go to the tallest peak next to the canyon of Rufus Pike and wait for my Power. This I did. The Thunder People and Wind came, bringing me a vision and lightning arrows. I heard a voice say my name is Yellow Boy and that the rifle given me by my father and I are one. The voice said I must kill Witches who do evil to the People by shooting out their eyes and that ghosts have no power over me. Witches I shoot will be blind in the land of the grandfathers.

  “After I returned from my vision to Rufus Pike, I never missed with my rifle. Any target he challenged me with, I did not miss. Soon another dream told me to return to the Guadalupes pronto. This I did and found our camp burned and still smoking and bodies everywhere, all scalped, and He Watches and some of the women and children gone. I hoped they lived. I buried those killed, including my father and other warriors and ate from the food stores we had in the caves nearby—”

  Klo-sen frowning, held up his hand, palm out. “You did not get the Ghost Sickness when you did this?”

  “I did not.”

  Klo-sen slowly shook his head. “You have great gifts from Ussen. The ghosts do not bother you, and you can blind witches, sending them to the land of the grandfathers. Tell us the rest of your story.”

  I told the warriors of finding He Watches and the women and children, of my raid with Juanita to get horses, and how we came to the reservation, made our camp, and lived through the Ghost Face Season. When I spoke of Juanita, I saw the eyes of Delgadito and Kah and Ko-do turn to her and then to Maria. Lastly, I told them life on the reservation was hard, about how the Indah stole our horses in Nogal Canyon, and about how the weak agent cheated us of our due, though the Blue Coats still protected us and the agent gave us a little food and let us hunt. Then I said, “Blazer, the Indah who owns the store and sawmill, is our friend and helps us all he can.” I looked down for a moment and finished with, “I’m not a chief. Wise He Watches leads us. You’re welcome here. Choose to stay, for there are widows who need men to support them. Show yourselves to the agent for food and blankets. Come and join us. That is all I have to say.”

>   Klo-sen and Beela-chezzi and the others nodded. Klo-sen replied, “We hear you, Yellow Boy. We will think on what you have told us and camp here if He Watches permits it.”

  He Watches nodded. “Camp with us. Do what you think you must.”

  The returning warriors stayed with our camp three days and then rode to the agency. When they came back, they said they had spoken with Chief San Juan of the Mescaleros and Agent Godfroy and had decided to stay on the reservation.

  CHAPTER 28

  COURTSHIP

  * * *

  The Season of Little Eagles warmed to the Season of Many Leaves. The camp women made the returning warriors wickiup shelters, and the warriors gave them most of their allotment supplies for the opportunity to have meals at their cooking pots. Klo-sen went more often to the fire of Sons-ee-ah-ray than to that of the other women. I noticed that her meals had greater variety and more spice when Klo-sen came, and she seemed glad to see him at her fire. He often sat and smoked with He Watches and me after a meal. One evening as we sat and talked of the old days, Klo-sen asked me if Sons-ee-ah-ray might consider another husband and if so, did I object? I smiled and said, “Her choice, not mine.”

  During the Season of Many Leaves, I often sat back in the dark shadows of the tall pine trees, smoked, and watched the moon rise over the mountains as the tipi fires burned low and the camp grew still, the rustle in the brush from the passage of small animals, and an occasional bird call the only sounds. Three times that season, late in the evening, I saw the flap on the tipi of Son-nah’s widow open slowly and carefully like it was about to float away. Then Deer Woman would step out, pause to look for prying eyes, and, when satisfied none watched her, move quietly toward the line of trees above the camp where a tall, slender figure pulled her into the shadows. I shook my head and thought about the proclivities of Delgadito and what lay in store for foolish Deer Woman.