With some delay in getting
started and in somewhat of a demoralized condition we mounted and
rode home.
Soon after the accident I had a chill which was followed by a
fever and there was much pain and swelling in the knee that was
hit. A ranch house, if it happens to be a "stag camp" as ours
was, is a cheerless place in which to be sick, but everything
considered, I was fortunate in that it was not worse. By the
liberal use of hot water and such other simples as the place
afforded I was soon better; but not until after several months'
treatment at home did the injured knee fully recover its normal
condition.
The excitement of running cattle or hunting game on the open
range in those days was mild in comparison to the panicky feeling
which prevailed during every Indian outbreak. The experience of
many years had taught the people of Arizona what to expect at
such a time and the utter diabolical wickedness of the Apaches
when out on the warpath. During the early eighties many such
raids occurred which were accompanied by all the usual horrors of
brutality and outrage of which the Apaches are capable.
When it became known in the fall of 1885 that Geronimo was again
off the reservation and out on another one of his bloody raids
the people became panic-stricken. Some left the Territory until
such time when the Indian question would be settled and the
Government could guarantee freedom from Indian depredations.
Those who remained either fled to some near town or fort for
protection, or prepared to defend themselves in their own homes
as best they could.
What else could the settlers in a new country do? They had
everything invested in either mines or cattle and could not
afford to leave their property without making some effort to save
it even if it had to be done at the risk of their own lives.
They had no means of knowing when or where the stealthy Apaches
would strike and could only wait for the time in uncertainty and
suspense. Many who were in this uncomfortable predicament
managed to escape any harm, but others fell victims to savage
hatred whose death knell was sounded in the crack of the deadly
rifle.
Some personal experiences may help to illustrate this feeling of
panic, as I happened to be at the ranch during the time and know
how it was myself.
One day in the month of October, 1885, while Geronimo was making
his raid through southern Arizona, my brother and I rode through
Railroad Pass from Pinaleno ranch to the Lorentz Place, a
distance of fifteen miles. It was about four o'clock in the
afternoon that we ascended to the top of a hill to take
observations and see if anything was happening out of the
ordinary. We saw nothing unusual until we were about to leave
when we noticed somewhat of a commotion on the old Willcox and
Bowie wagon road which parallels the Southern Pacific track. The
distance was too great to see distinctly with the naked eye, but
looking through our field glasses, which we always carried when
out riding, we could plainly see three loaded wagons standing in
the road. The drivers had evidently unhitched their teams and,
mounted upon the horses' backs, were riding furiously in a cloud
of dust down the road towards Bowie.
I asked the judge, who was a resident and supposed to be familiar
with the customs of the country while I was only a tenderfoot,
what their actions meant. He admitted that he did not understand
their conduct unless it was that they had concluded that they
could not make Willcox on that day and were returning to some
favorable camp ground which they had passed on their way up, to
spend the night; but the manner of their going was certainly
peculiar. After watching them disappear down the road we rode on
and reached our destination in safety.
The incident was forgotten until a few days later when we were in
Willcox a friend inquired what had become of the Indians which
had lately been seen on our range. We replied that we had not
seen any Indians nor known of any that had been there. He then
related to us how only a few days before three freighters had
seen two Indians ride upon a hill and halt. The sight of Indians
was enough and their only care after that was to get away from
them. They quickly unhitched their horses from the wagons and
rode ten miles to Bowie where they gave the alarm and spent the
night. The next morning, having heard nothing more from the
Indians during the night, they took fresh courage and ventured to
return to their wagons, which they found as they had left them
unmolested, when they continued their journey.
When the freighters were asked why they did not stand off the
Indians they said that they only had one gun and not knowing how
many more redskins there might be decided that to retreat was the
better part of valor. It was my brother and I whom they had seen
and mistaken for Indians.
A few days after this event I had a similar scare of my own and
after it was over I could sympathize with the poor, frightened
freighters. I was alone at the ranch house packing up and
preparing to leave for home. While thus occupied I chanced to go
to the open door and looking out, to my dismay, I saw Indians.
"My heart jumped into my mouth" and for a moment I felt that my
time had surely come. Two men were seen riding horseback over
the foot hills followed by a pack animal.
