Experience at El Valle--We Travel Through a Dangerous Indian
Country--Soldiers on the Move--Visit from an "Old Timer."
After leaving Namaquipe the the next place of importance is El Valle.
We arrived about noon and halted on the public square. We saw a large
crowd collected at a corner store. I took a tin can and told the
brethren that if we could not get the privilege of preaching here I
would get some lard and we would move on. The crowd was watching us;
as I approached them I could see that something special was up. I went
into the store and inquired where I could find the Alcalde. A man asked:
"What do you want with him?"
"I want to get permission to preach here."
"I can answer that you cannot; we have all the religion we want. We
have held a mass meeting, and the citizens of this place have appointed
me to meet you on your arrival and notify you that you can go on. We
know who you are and want nothing to do with you."
I made no reply; but turned to the merchant and asked him if he had any
lard. At this many of the crowd commenced to laugh and make pleasant
remarks, saying that the stranger took it very coolly. The merchant
said he was out of lard and did not know of anyone who had any but Don
Pedro who had been talking to me. I asked him if he would sell me some.
"Yes, sir, but it is quite a distance from here to my house; if you
wish to go so far with me I will let you have what you want."
"All right, I will go with you."
When we started most of the crowd followed. Don Pedro commenced talking
in a very earnest manner, telling me that they had just received a
letter from the Pope warning all Catholics against false prophets,
etc., and that they were all fully prepared beforehand to reject our
heresies. He kept up his talk until we arrived at his house.
He now got a pamphlet and commenced reading. This was the printed
circular of the Pope. I listened patiently until my opponent finished.
The house, a large one, was crowded, nearly a hundred persons present.
I now asked permission to answer the Pope's letter and explain our side.
Don Pedro objected. My reply settled him. I told him I had been much in
Mexico and mixed among the people a great deal and I had always found
them mannerly and polite, especially to strangers and in their own
house. That I was now under his roof and protection--a stranger--and
appealed to him as a true Mexican gentleman to hear me. At this many of
the crowd said, "Let the stranger speak."
Don Pedro now consented, but soon interrupted me. I reminded him that
I had listened to him in perfect silence, and unless he did the same I
should claim to be more of a gentleman than he was. This made quite a
laugh, and the voice was for me to have the floor uninterruptedly.
In brief I will say that I fully satisfied myself; spoke with perfect
freedom and handled the priests and Pope without gloves. When I got
through Don Pedro said his whole opinion was now changed, asked for a
book, saying he would read and study it whether the priests liked it or
not. When we left all was friendly.
The district of country we had been passing through appeared to be the
most desirable for colonizing. We made diligent enquiries about lands,
titles, conflicting water interests and making notes, all of which were
reported to Prest. Young on our arrival home.
As we neared the frontier settlements there was great excitement as
the Apaches were out on the war path and had killed some men near Fort
Bowie. They had had a fight with the soldiers and whipped them, and
were now raiding the country in every direction.
Some of the officials at Galiana talked of stopping us from going any
further. But we were very anxious to continue on so we told them we
would be careful and not run into danger.
After leaving Casas Grandes our road was really lonesome and dangerous.
It was some three days' travel to Cow Springs before we would see a
ranch. However, we made the trip without accident, traveling the most
dangerous parts in the night time.
One night we had our nerves sorely tried. My intention was, if we ever
met the Apaches, to approach them alone, believing I could make peace
with them the same as I had done before with other Indians.
While traveling along one night. Brother Ivins and my son riding ahead
of the wagon, our little watch dog that had been of great service to us
many times, gave notice that someone was approaching in the road.
I called to the boys to stop. I went and got on my son's horse, telling
him to go back to the team. Brother Ivins and I rode on a short
distance. The night was rather dark, but soon we saw a lot of what
appeared to be savage-looking Indians coming. They were on foot and
armed. They halted on seeing us.
I told Brother Ivins to go back to the wagon and I would go and meet
them, and if they shot me, he and the others must jump into the brush
and try and save their lives as best they could.
I got off from my horse and walked up to the Indians, who stood in
a group, filling the road. As I approached alone they did not seem
to make any move whatever. I spoke, saluting them in Spanish. They
answered all right. I offered them my hand and they all shook hands
with me. I asked them where they were going. They said down to their
homes and asked where I was going.
I told them I was going to my home a long way off in the northern
country. Thus we kept asking and answering questions till one asked why
we were traveling by night. I told them that my companions were afraid
of them, but that I was not for I was a friend to the Indians and did
not believe they would ever kill me.
They began to laugh and asked me who I thought they were.
I asked, "Are you not Apaches?"
"No, senor, we are not Apaches," they answered, "but like you we are
traveling in the night because we are afraid of them."
I now called to my companions who had been waiting in suspense. All my
bravery and fortitude were wasted, further than to prove to myself that
I was willing to stand the test.
We had a good long talk with these Indians who were of the Opitas,
a people similar to the Pimas, and who live in the foothills of the
Sierra Madre in Sonora.
As we neared the frontier ranches on the American side we found
that the Apache war was a reality. We camped at Cow Springs. Much
apprehension was felt at Burro Sienega. Here we met Mr. Connor whom we
had met on the trip down. His father and brother were killed shortly
after at this ranch.
We heard that soldiers were concentrating at Bowie with orders to
capture and take all the Apaches to the San Carlos reservation. Apache
signal fires could be seen in the mountains south of Bowie. Our route
now led through the most perilous part of the country; hundreds of
people having been killed along this road in past years, our feelings
were to put our trust in God and go on. We arrived at San Simon where
a lot of "hard cases" were camped. It was a question whether we were
safer with them than alone; but they were afraid and felt better while
we were with them. Next day was the "teller." If we could make Bowie
all right, our chances would be better from there on as troops were en
route to that post from Camps Verde, McDowell and Apache. Our day's
travel from San Simon to Bowie was one of anxiety, but we made it in
safety.
We decided to take a different route on our return from the one
traveled going down. So, on leaving Bowie, instead of taking the main
road back to Tucson, we decided to go by the way of Fort Grant, Camp
Thomas, Camp Apache and on to the upper Little Colorado. The road from
Camp Thomas to Camp Apache was reported to us as almost impassable
for wagons, none having attempted the trip for some three years past.
The troops moved across the mountains with pack animals. However, we
concluded to try it.
From Bowie to Camp Grant there was a drive of nearly seventy-five miles
without water. We made the most of the distance in the afternoon and
night.
On turning out our teams just before day, they were too thirsty to
eat the grass, it being somewhat dry. We only had about two gallons
of water, which we had kept for drinking and cooking. On seeing the
condition of our poor animals we took most of the water and wet up some
bran we happened to have, giving a little to each animal. They ate it
with a relish, then started for the grass, eating heartily for some
time, when we hitched up and made the rest of the distance in good time.
Since this experience, when traveling through desert country I have
made it a rule to carry a sack of bran. When water becomes scarce wet a
feed of bran with one half gallon of water and it will do as much good
on the last end of a hard drive as three times the water without bran.
Troops were being massed at Camp Grant. The orders were for all the
Apaches to move to San Carlos, the greater portion being willing to do
so. The Chiricahuis had not yet decided to come in. There were a number
of scouts camped here. We laid over for a few days as we had a desire
to learn something about these Indians and the condition of affairs
before going on.
We managed to get acquainted with some of the leaders. They came to our
camp and talked most of one night.
As I intend to devote a whole chapter to Apache history, I will then
relate our conversation with these Indians, which was very interesting
to all of us.
From Camp Grant to Camp Thomas we passed numbers of Indian camps. They
would try to look savagely at us, but I could always get a friendly
look before quitting them.
We had heard much about the Upper Gila Valley, the country settled now
mostly by our people. Before arriving at the river crossing we fell in
company with an intelligent Mexican who lived in Pueblo Viejo. He gave
us such full and satisfactory information about the country that we
concluded to make our report from it and not spend any time exploring.
While in camp on the Gila river, on our return home, we met an
old-timer, who related to us some of his personal history. I was so
much interested in the story that I have concluded to give it to the
readers of this book.