20 Western Novels You Should Read

Chapter 3

It was Klo-sen, the Ned-ni. He came and stood before the

Be-don-ko-he warriors and looked into the face of Geronimo.

"I bring word from the white-eyed chiefs at San Carlos," he

said.

"What message do they send?" asked Geronimo.

"They wish Geronimo and the other chiefs to come to Fort Thomas

and hold a council with them," replied Klo-sen.

"Of what matters would they speak?" demanded the old war

chief.

"There are many things of which they wish to speak to the chiefs

of the Apaches," replied Klo-sen. "They have heard that we are

dissatisfied, and they have promised to listen to our troubles.

They say that they want to live in peace with us, and that if we

come, they will have a great feast for us, and that together we

shall plan how the white-eyes and the Shis-Inday may live together

like brothers."

Shoz-Dijiji grunted skeptically.

"They want to make reservation Indians of us forever," said a

warrior.

"Tell them we shall hold a council here and send word to them,"

said Geronimo.

"If you do not come," said Klo-sen, "neither will the Ned-

ni—this word De-klu-gie sends to Geronimo and the Be-don-

ko-he."

With the coming of the messenger the dance had stopped and the

warriors had gathered to listen to his words, forming naturally and

in accordance with their rank in a circle about a small fire, so

that they were all present when Geronimo suggested that they hold a

council to determine what action they should take; and as Chief of

the Be-don- ko-he he was the first to speak. "We, the Shis-Inday,

are vanishing from the earth," he said sadly, "yet I cannot think

we are useless, or Usen would not have created us. He created all

tribes of men, and certainly had a righteous purpose in creating

each.

"For each tribe of men Usen created He also made a home. In the

land created for any particular tribe He placed whatever would be

best for that particular tribe.

"When Usen created the Apaches, He also created their homes in

the mountains and the valleys of New Mexico, Arizona, Sonora, and

Chihuahua. He gave to them such grain, fruits, and game as they

needed to eat. To restore their health when disease attacked them,

He made many different herbs to grow. He taught them where to find

these herbs and how to prepare them for medicine. He gave them a

pleasant climate, and all they needed for clothing and shelter was

at hand.

"Usen created, also, the white-eyed men; and for them He created

a country where they could live; but they are not satisfied. They

want the country that Usen created for them and also the country

that He created for the Apaches. They wish to live in the way that

Usen intended that they should live, but they are not satisfied

that the Apaches should live as Usen wished them to. They want the

Apaches to live as the white-eyes live.

"The Apaches cannot live as the white-eyed men live. They would

not be happy. They would sicken and die. They must have freedom to

roam where they will in their own country; they must be able to

obtain the food to which they are accustomed; they must have

freedom to search for the herbs that will cure them of

sickness.

"These things they cannot do if they live upon the reservations

set aside by the white-eyed men for them. They cannot live their

own lives if their chiefs must take orders from an Indian Agent who

knows little about Indians and cares less.

"As I grow older my mind turns more to peace than to the war

trail. I do not wish to fight the pindah-lickoyee, but neither do I

wish to be told i by the pindah-lickoyee how and where I shall l

live in my own country." The old man paused and looked around the

circle of savage faces.

"I want peace. Perhaps there are wiser men sitting about this

council fire who can tell me how the Shis-Inday may have both peace

and freedom. Perhaps if we go to this council with the white-eyes

they may tell us how we may have peace with freedom.

"Geronimo would like to go; but always there is in his mind the

recollection of that day, long ago, when the chiefs of the

white-eyed soldiers invited the Be-don-ko-he to a council and a

feast at Apache Pass. Mangas Colorado was Chief then, and he went

with many of his warriors.

"Just before noon the soldiers invited the Be-don-ko-he into a

tent where, they were told, they would be given food to eat. When

they were all in the tent the soldiers attacked them. Mangas

Colorado and several other warriors, by cutting through the tent,

escaped; but most of them were killed or captured.

"I have spoken."

A warrior at Geronimo's right hand arose. "I, too, want peace,"

he said, "but I hear the spirit voices of Sanza, Kla-de-ta-he,

Ni-yo-ka-he, Gopi, and the other warriors who were killed that day

by the soldiers at Apache Pass. They tell me not to trust the

white-eyed men. The spirit of Kla- de-ta-he, my father, reminds me

that the white-eyed men are all liars and thieves. This they have

proved to us many times. They make treaties and break them; they

steal the beef and the other provisions that are intended for us.

That, all men know. I do not think that we should go to this

council. I have spoken."

Thus, one after the other, all who wished to speak spoke, some

for and some against attending the council; and when the final vote

was taken the majority had spoken against it.

That same night Klo-sen left to carry the word back to the white

men and to De-klu-gie, chief of the Ned-ni, and also to De-klu-gie

an invitation to him and his people to join the Be-don-ko-he on a

hunting trip into Mexico.

"You know," said Geronimo to his warriors, "that this will mean

war! The white-eyed ones will not permit us to leave the

reservation and hunt in peace."

"It is more manly to die on the warpath than to be killed in

prison," replied Shoz-Dijiji.

Two days later the Ned-ni Apaches joined the Be-don-ko-he, and

that all felt that their contemplated move meant war was evidenced

by their hurried preparations for departure and for the war trail.

Disordered hair was shampooed with tallow and slicked down; war

bands were adjusted; smaller, lighter ear-rings replaced the heavy

pendants of peace times; necklaces were discarded down to a single

strand; many a bronze forefinger was stained with color as each

brave laid on the war paint in accordance with his individual

taste, ability, and imagination.

The squaws, with awl and deer sinew, sewed the final patches to

worn war moccasins, gathered together their few belongings,

prepared for the grueling marches, the days of hunger, of thirst,

of battle.

From many an eminence, eagle eyed, scouts watched the approaches

to the camp. In advance of these, other scouts ranged far in the

direction from which troops might be expected to advance. These

scouts knew the hour at which the Be-don-ko-hes and Ned-nis would

start their southward march toward Sonora; and, as the main body of

the Apaches broke camp and moved out along the selected route, the

scouts fell slowly back; but always they watched toward the north,

and the eyes of the marching tribes were turned often in the same

direction. So it was that, shortly after they had left camp, the

Indians saw little puffs of smoke arising in quick succession from

the summit of a mountain range far to the north. Those rapidly

multiplied and repeated puffs of smoke told them that a large, well

armed, enemy party was approaching; but it was still a long way

off, and Geronimo had little fear that it could overtake him. On

they moved, well armed, well mounted, secure in the belief that all

the white-eyed soldiers lay to the north of them. Shoz-Dijiji,

astride his pinto stallion, Nejeunee, rode in advance leading the

way toward Apache Pass. Suddenly from a hill top close to the pass

they were approaching a column of smoke rose into the air—it broke

into a puff—was followed by another and another in quick

succession. Another body of the enemy was approaching Apache Pass

from the opposite side! Shoz-Dijiji reined about and raced Nejeunee

back to Geronimo who, with the balance of the Apaches, had already

seen the smoke signal.

"Take ten warriors and ride through the pass," instructed

Geronimo. "If the pindah-lickoyee are too close to permit us to get

through send one back with the word, and we will turn south through

the mountains on this side of the pass. With the other warriors you

will hold them as long as you can—until dark if possible—and then

follow us. With stones we will tell you which way we have gone.

"If they are not already too close, advance until you find a

good place to hold them. That will give us time to get through the

pass and past them on the trail toward Sonora. Go!"

Shoz-Dijiji asked Gian-nah-tah and nine other braves if they

wished to accompany him; and turned and raced off toward Apache

Pass without waiting for a reply, for he knew that they would all

follow him. He had little fear of meeting the soldiers unexpectedly

in the pass, for he knew that the scout who had sent up the smoke

signal would never cease to watch the enemy and that he would fall

back before them, keeping always between the soldiers and the

Apaches.

Shoz-Dijiji and his ten reached the far end of the pass. There

were no soldiers in sight yet; but a half mile to the west they saw

their scout signalling them to hasten forward, and when they

reached him he took Shoz-Dijiji to the hill top and pointed toward

the south.

Half a mile away Shoz-Dijiji saw three troopers in dusty blue

riding slowly in the direction of the pass. They were the point.

Behind them, but hidden by an intervening hill, was the main body,

its position well marked by the dust cloud hovering above it. That

the soldiers had seen the smoke signal was apparent by the extreme

caution with which the point advanced. Now a small advance party

came into view with flankers well out, but Shoz-Dijiji did not wait

to see more—the warriors of the pindah-lickoyee were coming, and

they were prepared. The young War Chief of the Be-don-ko-he had

fought against the soldiers of the white- eyed men before and he

knew what they would do when attacked. He thought that he could

hold them long enough for the main body of the Apaches to get

through the pass and so he sent one messenger racing back to urge

Geronimo to hasten; he sent a warrior to the hilltop to fire upon

the point, and he sent two warriors with all the ponies upon the

new trail toward the south that the tribes would now have to

follow. Thus he burned his bridges behind him, but he was confident

of the result of his plan. Counting himself, there were now nine

warriors opposing the enemy; and Shoz-Dijiji lost no time in

disposing his little force to carry out the strategy of his defense

of Apache Pass. The point, having uncovered the enemy, did what

Shoz-Dijiji had known that it would do—turned and raced back toward

the advance party, which now deployed. The main body halted and was

dismounted to fight on foot, the terrain not justifying mounted

action.

This delay, which Shoz-Dijiji had counted on, was utilized by

him and six of his warriors in racing through the hills, just out

of sight of the enemy, toward a point where they could overlook the

main body. Two warriors he left upon the hilltop that commanded the

approach to the pass.

When the seven painted warriors reached their stations they were

spread along the low hills looking down upon the enemy and at

intervals of about fifty yards. Shoz-Dijiji was farthest from the

pass. It was his rifle that spoke first from above and behind the

troopers holding the horses of those who were now slowly advancing

in skirmish line on foot. A struck horse screamed and lunged,

breaking away from the trooper that held it. Along the line of

hills now the seven rifles were cracking rapidly down upon the

unprotected rear and flank of the enemy. Riderless horses, breaking

away from those who held them, ran, snorting, among the dismounted

troopers, adding to the confusion. The commanding officer,

steadying his men by word and example, ordered them to seek shelter

and lie down, forming them in a ragged line facing the hills.A

lieutenant directed the removal of the remaining horses to a place

of safety.

The Apaches did not fire again after the first few disconcerting

rounds. Shoz-Dijiji had no wish to precipitate a charge that might

reveal his weakness, his sole aim being to delay the advance of the

enemy toward the pass until Geronimo should have come through with

the two tribes.

The officer commanding the cavalry had no means of knowing that

he was not faced by the entire strength of the renegades; and in

the lull that followed the first attack he started withdrawing his

men to a safer position, and as this withdrawal took them away from

the pass Shoz-Dijiji made no effort to embarrass it but waited

until the troopers had found shelter. He watched them dig little

trenches for their bodies and pile rocks in front of their heads;

and when he was sure that they felt more secure, he passed the word

along his line to fire an occasional shot and that after each shot

the warrior should change his position before he fired again that

an impression might be given the enemy that it faced a long line of

warriors.

The soldiers had formed their line some hundred yards from where

their horses were hidden in a dry wash; and at every effort that

was made to cross this space and reach the horses the Apaches

concentrated their fire upon this zone, effectually discouraging

any considerable enthusiasm in the project, since as long as they

remained passive there were no casualties.

The commanding officer was mystified by the tactics of the

Apaches. He hoped they were preparing to charge, and in that hope

he hesitated to order his own men up the steep hillside in the face

of the fire of an unknown number of savages. Then, too, he could

afford to wait, as he was suffering no losses and was momentarily

expecting the arrival of the infantry that was following with the

baggage train.

And so the afternoon wore on. A messenger came to Shoz- Dijiji

with word that the two tribes had passed safely through the pass.

Shoz-Dijiji fired a shot at the line of dusty blue and sent two of

his warriors to join the main body of the Apaches. During the

following half hour each of the remaining braves fired once, and

then two more left to overtake the renegades. The next half hour

was a busy one for the three remaining warriors as each fired two

or three rounds, changing his position after each shot and thus

giving the impression of undiminished strength. Then two more

warriors retired.

Now only Shoz-Dijiji remained. In the north rose a great dust

cloud that drew constantly nearer. The infantry was coming.

Shoz-Dijiji fired and scuttled to a new position nearer Apache

Pass. The troopers peppered away at the spot from which the smoke

of his shot had arisen, as they had all the long hot afternoon.

Shoz-Dijiji fired again and moved on.

The infantry was met by a messenger from the cavalry. All

afternoon they had heard the firing and had hastened forward. Hot,

dusty, tired, they were in bad humor.

Spitting dust from swollen tongues, they cursed all Indians in

general and Apaches in particular as they deployed and started up

the hillside to flank the embattled reds. This time, by God, they

would get old Geronimo and all his dirty, sneaking Siwashes!

Simultaneously the dismounted troopers charged straight into the

face of the enemy. Fat chance the doughboys had of beating them to

it!

It was a race now to see which would reach the renegades

first—cavalry or infantry. The cavalry, having the advantage of

propinquity, arrived first, and they got something, too—when the

infantry arrived they got the laugh. There was not an Indian

insight!

From a hilltop a mile to the south of them a lone warrior

watched them, estimating the numbers of the infantry, the size of

the wagon train. Satisfied, he turned and trotted along the trail

made by his fellows as they moved southward.

Down into Sonora the long trail was leading, down to a camp in

the Sierra de Sahuaripa mountains.

Geronimo had gone out again!