THE MASSACRE AT CHOKE CHERRY CANYON.--MIKE MALONEY GETS INTO A
MUSS.--RESCUE OF WHITE GIRLS.--MIKE GETS EVEN WITH THE APACHES.
The emigrants now begun to come along and we were kept busy night
and day looking after the small bands of Indians that were
continually making murderous forays in spite of all we could do to
prevent.
With only three hundred soldiers and twelve scouts, and a country
over one hundred miles in extent to guard, the service was
exacting, and our lot was not altogether a happy one.
One day in July, in company with George Jones and John Riley, I
started out in the direction of Black canyon to see if I could locate
any small band of Apaches that might be prowling around. We
traveled all day, and not seeing any Indians or sign of them,
concluded to return to camp and get some much needed rest, and did
so. It now seemed that there were no Apaches near us so I went to
Lieut. Jackson's tent to report to him, intending to then lie down
and rest for the day at least. He had just rolled out of bed, but
he looked worn and haggard as if he had had a bad night of it. He
asked me what news I had and I said good news, as we had seen no
Indians or any fresh sign, but that I was worn out, having been
almost constantly in the saddle for twenty-four hours. I asked him
if he had any news and he said he had, and bad news too. The
Indians had attacked a train in Choke Cherry canyon, burned all
the wagons, but how many persons they had murdered or how many had
escaped he could not tell me, as there were no scouts in camp at
the time.
He wished so know if I could spare some men to go and bury the
dead and locate the Indians. I replied that George Jones and John
Riley were there, but that like myself, they were very much
fatigued. He said he wanted them for another purpose. Then I
offered two men, good and fresh, Jim Davis and Mike Maloney. But I
had some uneasiness as to Mike. Not that there was any doubt about
his bravery but he was so utterly incautious. However, I decided
to go with them myself, as tired as I was. So as soon as I could
get a bite to eat and a fresh horse saddled, we were off and on
the way to Choke Cherry canyon.
Lieut. Jackson asked me when he could expect to hear from me. I
told him that if I succeeded in locating the Indians in a body I
would report to him at once, but if not he might not hear from me
until my return. So we shook hands and he retired to his tent.
I directed Mike to go straight to the canyon and to keep on the
east side until he came to the trail leading to Agua Caliente, and
then take that trail direct for Sand Point; and when near the
point to signal me by barking like a cayote, and that I would
answer him by gobbling like a turkey; that he must meet me at Sand
Point at three o'clock sharp, and if he was not there at that time
I would know that something was wrong. I also told him to be
careful and not run into an ambuscade, but above all not to be
taken prisoner. Then I asked him if he could bark like a cayote.
His answer was: "Sure, Captain, it's mesilf that can make a bloody
cayote ashamed of himself bairking, and I belave ye's is afraid
for me, but O'ill tell ye now there's no bloody Apache in all
Arizony that's goin' to take this Irishman prisoner. I'm sure they
don't want me schalp anyway, for me hair is too short."
I told Jim Davis to go to Wild Plum Ridge and then follow the
trail to Sand Point, for him to signal me the same manner as Mike
and I would answer him in the same manner.
Everything being understood between us we separated, each taking
his appointed route, and I striking direct for the late emigrant
camp. Before I got there, however, I ran onto the trail of
apparently three Indians and concluded to follow them up. I had
not gone a great distance away until I espied them in a little
ravine a short distance away and they were having a scalp dance. I
tied my horse secure from observation and then commenced to crawl
upon them. They were circling two scalps that they had hung upon
sticks stuck in the ground, every now and then drawing their bows
as if going to shoot at them. I crept along cautiously, expecting
that the Indians would be so absorbed in their scalp dance that I
would get in close pistol shot before they discovered me; but in
this I was mistaken, for when yet a long rifle shot away they
espied me, and the moment I saw I was discovered I opened fire
with both pistols, which caused them to flee in hot haste, leaving
the two scalps hanging on the sticks. I went up to where they were
and found that one scalp was that of a woman and the other that of
a man.
I was now certain that there had been some emigrants murdered, and
I soon made up my mind that about the first thing to do was to
locate the bodies and bury them; but on consulting my watch I saw
that I must hurry if I made Sand Point by three o'clock. Just as I
had turned and started back to my horse, who should come up but
Jim Davis. He had been trailing the Indians, which brought him
over in my direction, and when he heard the shots he had come with
all haste thinking that I was in trouble. We both turned and rode
on to Sand Point, arriving there about half past three, but no
Maloney was in sight, so after giving the signal agreed upon and
receiving no answer, we made up our minds that he was in trouble,
and we struck out to find his trail.
While we were on our way to hunt Maloney's trail Davis said:
"Captain, I believe those Indians had two prisoners with them, and
I think they are both women, judging from their tracks and other
indications; see here what I found while I was trailing them." And
he showed me two pieces of calico of different color. He thought
that they had been dropped by the prisoners in the hope that some
white person might find them and follow. He also said that there
were small twigs broken off along the trail, which would indicate
that they expected a search for them.
When Maloney left us he made direct for Sand Point, but before he
reached there as he was riding along he discovered a small shoe
track, he dismounted and tried to follow it, but it seemed that
the tracks extended no farther. This confused him greatly, and he
said to himself: "Be the loife of me it was only just there that I
saw the thrack, and it's sure I am that she could not have flew
away. Oh! here it is again, and begorra I belave it's the thrack
of a white woman, for sure I am that no dhurty spalpeen of an
Injun could iver make such a dainty thrack as that. Sure and I'll
look in that bunch of brush, perhaps it's there she is, the poor
crayther."
He made his way up to the brush cautiously with a pistol in each
hand, and just as he peered in two Indians sprang upon him and
grabbed his arms, which caused his pistols both to be discharged
up in the air. They quickly bore poor Maloney to the ground and
soon had him bound hand and foot. They then drove a stake into the
ground and tied Mike to it, and began to gather brush for the
fire. This did not suit him a bit, but all he could do was to hurl
an avalanche of words at them, which, of course, they did not
understand and to which they paid no heed.
"Ah, ye dhurty divils," said Mike. "Ye's have took me pistols both
away from me. Ye's know I can't hurt ye's without me guns, so
what's the use in ye's tyin' me like a hog, ye dhurty blackguards.
Let me loose and Oi'll be afther lavin' ye's. Oi'll do it be the
boots that hung on Chatham's Hill. I do belave they are goin' to
burn me alive. O, ye bloody haythens; let me loose and Oi'll fight
the pair of ye's if ye's have got me pistols."
The Indians by this time had the fire started, but Mike still
retained his nerve, cussing the red fiends by all the powers in
the Irish vocabulary.
Davis and I were pushing on with all possible speed in the
direction of the place we expected to find Maloney's trail, when
we heard two pistol shots in quick succession further up the
canyon, so we put our horses down to their utmost in the direction
from whence the sound of the shots came.
After running about two miles we came in sight of a small fire a
short distance away that seemed to be but just kindled. We dashed
up at full speed and found Mike tied to a stake and two Apaches
piling brush on the fire. We fired at the Indians through the
gathering darkness, but only killed one, and the other one made
off about as fast as you ever saw an Indian go. Jim kicked the
fire away from Mike and cut his bonds before he was burned to
speak of. I asked him how he came to be taken prisoner by just two
Apaches, and his story ran like this:
"Oi'll tell ye, Captain, it was on that sage-brush hill there
while I was ridin' along I saw a thrack in the sand and sure I was
that it was not the thrack of an Injun for it was a dainty little
thing and the hollow of the foot didn't make a hole in the ground
like an Apache's and Apaches niver wear shoes, aither. Well, I got
off me horse and stharted to follow the thrack, and whin I got to
that bunch of brush the dhurty rid divils sprang out on me like a
pair of hounds, tied me hands and fate, and was tryin' to burn me
aloive whin ye's came up."
"Well, Mike," said I, holding up the scalp of the Indian we had
killed, "here is one Indian that will not bother you again, but be
more careful next time."
We were all of the opinion that there was a woman alone somewhere
in those hills that had escaped from the Indians when they burned
the emigrant train, and we decided to keep up the search until
morning; so we agreed on the following search: To separate about a
quarter of a mile apart, and to commence circling a large hill or
knob close by covered by a dense growth of sagebrush that in some
places was as high as a man's head when he was on a horse, and
every few rods to hallow, that in case she was secreted around
there in hearing of us she would answer, and in case any one found
her he was to fire two shots in quick succession, when the other
two would go to him immediately.
We made almost the entire circuit of the hill, hallowing every
little while, when I finally thought I heard a faint answer. I
called again and then listened intently, and I was sure I heard an
answer, after which I turned and rode in the direction from which
the answer came. After riding a few rods I called again, when I
heard the faint answer quite near, and I soon found a young girl
of about eighteen years. She was overjoyed at seeing me, but was
too weak to rise. I asked how she came there, and she said that
the train in which her family was traveling had been attacked by
the Indians. The people, or a part of them, had been murdered and
the wagons burned, she and her younger sister had been taken
prisoners, and when night came they were tied hand and foot and
staked to the ground, and all laid down for the night.
"After we thought that the Indians were all asleep," she said, "I
made a desperate effort and freed one of my hands, although it
cost me a great deal of pain. After I was free I soon released my
sister and we then ran for our lives. We had got but a short
distance when the Indians discovered our absence, and raising the
yell, started after us. My sister outran me and I soon hid in a
little thicket and they missed me, but I fear they have overtaken
her."
I asked her what her name was and she said it was Mary Gordon, and
her father's name was Henry Gordon. He was sheriff of their county
in Illinois for two years before starting west. I now fired the
two shots to call Jim and Mike, and they were not long in getting
there.
As soon as Mike came up he said: "Sure, Captain, and wasn't I
after tellin's ye's that it was no bloody spalpeen of an Apache's
thrack that I be follerin' lasht avenin'?"
Miss Gordon now seemed just to have realized that she was alone in
a wild country, for she wrung her hands and said: "Oh! what shall
I do in this desolate country without a relative or a friend; it
would have been better if I had been killed when my poor father
and mother were. O, kind sir, what will I do?" and she sobbed as
if her heart would break.
I told her not to grieve, that we would protect her and see that
she got safely to civilization, and that we would also try to find
her sister. I asked her if she was not very hungry and she said
she was, as she had eaten nothing for almost thirty-six hours. At
that Mike said: "Sure, Captain, it's meself that has a pairt of me
rations lift, and Oi'll go and get it for the poor crayther, and
Oi'll bring the horses at the same toime," and he started off
muttering to himself, "Ah, them Apaches, the dhirty divils; I'd
like to kill ivery wan o' thim."
He soon returned with the horses, and handing me his rations, he
said: "Sure, Captain, it's mesilf that thinks I'd better be afther
takin' a look around here-abouts, as thim durty haythens might be
afther playin' us the same game as they did me last evenin'." I
told him it was a good scheme, that we might go up to the top of
the hill and take a look as it was then most day, and if there
were any Indians around they would be astir and that he had better
let Jim Davis go with him, but he said no, for Jim to stay with me
and the young lady and see that no "bloody blackguard of an Apache
got her again," so I cautioned him to keep his ears and eyes open,
and he struck out.
When Mike had gone Miss Gordon turned to me and asked my name. I
told her my name was William F. Drannan, but I was better known on
the plains as the Boy Scout.
"Oh, kind sir," she said, "are you the Boy Scout? I have often
heard my father speak of you, and he said you were liable to put
in an appearance when one least expected it. I thought of you a
thousand times yesterday and to-night, but I had no idea that you
were in a thousand miles of here."
I told her that I was at present scouting for Gen. Crook, who was
at Fort Yuma, but that Lieut. Jackson, with three companies of
soldiers, was stationed but a few miles west of us.
We had been waiting for Mike Maloney's return about two hours and
were beginning to get uneasy about his delay and speculating as to
what caused his absence so long, when we heard two pistol shots.
This was always our signal to call a companion; so telling Jim to
look after the young lady, I swung myself into the saddle and was
off like the wind in the direction from whence the call, as I
supposed it to be, came. It was now getting daylight, and when I
got to the top of the hill I looked down to the south and I could
see a fire. I did not hesitate, but went down that slope through
the heavy sagebrush like smoke through the woods. As soon as I was
near enough to distinguish objects around the fire I saw Mike
bending over some object, and when I rode up to him, to my great
surprise and delight, I saw it was a young girl. Mike was beside
himself with excitement.
It appeared from his story that upon reaching the top of the hill
after he had left us he came in sight of the fire and concluded to
investigate; so riding down as near as he thought safe he tied his
horse and commenced crawling. He soon saw that there were but two
Indians and to his horror he saw that they had a white girl tied
to a stake and were preparing to burn her. He crept up to within
about twenty yards of them and fired, killing one of the Apaches,
and as the other one turned to see what was up he fired again,
killing the other one; then brandishing his pistol over his head
he dashed up to the fire, exclaiming: "O, ye murtherin bastes, I'm
avin wid ye's now; Oi'll learn ye's how to stake a poor divil down
to the ground and thin try to burn him." Then he went up to the
girl, cut her loose from the stake, and she raised up in a sitting
posture, "Would ye's moind lettin' me help ye to yer fate, Miss?"
said Mike. "O, I'm so tired and weak I can't stand," said the
girl. "They have almost killed me dragging me over the cactus."
Just as I came in sight Mike fired two shots as a signal for us to
come to him, but I was there almost before the echoes died away in
the mountains. When I rode up Mike was most beside himself with
glee; his tongue ran like a phonograph, and within five minutes he
had given me the history of the whole transaction and had invoked
a curse on the whole Apache tribe from all the saints in the
calendar.
I told Mike that we had best get the girl on one of our horses at
once and be off to where Jim and the other girl were, and from
there on to headquarters, for there was no telling how many more
of the red devils there might be lurking around. "Faith, Captain,
and it's right ye are this toime, too," said Mike, "and it's me
own horse she can ride, the poor damsel." So saying he led his
horse up and we assisted the young lady to mount.
As soon as we were fairly started I asked the girl her name and
she said it was Maggie Gordon. She also spoke of her sister having
been taken prisoner along with her, and when I told her that Mary
was safe, her joy knew no bounds. This news so revived her spirits
that she talked quite freely with us on the way over to where Jim
Davis and the other girl were. When we got to near where they were
Mary looked up and saw us and exclaimed, "Oh! there's Maggie!" and
when they met there was the most pathetic scene of greeting I ever
witnessed.
As soon as they had a good cry in each others arms we gave Maggie
something to eat, after which we put the girls, one on Jim Davis'
horse and one on mine, and headed for camp, arriving there in the
afternoon.
We did not go to the late emigrant camp, as we could do nothing
toward burying the dead, burdened as we were by the two young
women, so Lieut. Jackson sent a platoon of soldiers out to do that
last act of charity.
There were four families besides the Gordon family murdered, and
those two young ladies were the only ones that escaped, so far as
we knew. When the next emigrant train came along we sent the
Misses Gordon on to Fort Yuma, and from there they drifted on into
California, and I never heard of them again.