SCOUTING IN MEXICO
About a month after our first brush with Apaches, during November,
1879, Chief Victorio quit the Mescalero Reservation and with a party of
one hundred and twenty-five warriors and a hundred women and children,
traveled south into Mexico on a raid. This old chief was probably the
best general ever produced by the Apache tribe. He was a far better
captain than old Geronimo ever was and capable of commanding a much
larger force of men. His second in command was Nana, also a very able
officer.
Victorio knew every foot of the country and just where to find wood,
water, grass and abundance of game, so he took his time and, coming
from New Mexico down into the state of Chihuahua, stopped first at
the Santa Maria. The country about this stream is very mountainous,
especially to the south, and here he could find refuge in case of an
attack from Mexican soldiers. Of this, however, there was not much
danger at that time, for the country was thinly settled, farming and
stock raising being confined to the neighborhood of the small towns.
Gradually Chief Victorio moved down into the Candelaria Mountains,
approaching them from the northwest. Here he could get fresh range for
his large band of horses and be near the settlement of San Jose, owned
by Don Mariano Samaniego. Here, also, he could watch the public road
between Chihuahua and El Paso del Norte, the present Juarez.
One of the saddest and most heart-rending tragedies resulted from this
move. Victorio was camped at the large tanks on the north side and
almost on top of the Candelaria Mountains, where he had fine range for
his stock and plenty of game and wood. From those almost inaccessible
peaks he could see for twenty or thirty miles in every direction and
watch every move of travelers or hostile forces. The old chief now sent
a small band of Indians, some six or seven in number, on a raid against
the little settlement of San Jose. Here the Indians stole a bunch of
Mexican ponies and hurried back to their camp on top of the Candelaria
Mountains. The citizens of San Jose discovered the loss of their
ponies, and on examining the trail, found there was only a small band
of Indians in the raiding party. A company of the principal Mexicans
of San Jose, under the command of Don Jose Rodriguez, and augmented by
volunteers from the little town of Carrajal, left to locate the Indians
and recover the stolen horses. The little band of fifteen brave men
went to the northern side of the mountains and struck the trail of
Victorio's band on an old beaten route used by the Indians, which
passed from the Santa Maria River to the Candelaria Mountains. This
road wound between two rocky peaks and then down the side of the hills
to the plain between them and the Candelaria, ending at last at the big
tank.
From his position on the tall peaks Victorio had seen the little body
of Mexicans long before they struck his trail and, knowing they would
never come upon the Candelaria after seeing the size of his trail,
sent forty or fifty of his warriors to form an ambuscade where the
trail crosses the crest between the two peaks. He must have been with
the braves himself, for the thing was skillfully planned and executed.
On the north side of the trail there were only a few boulders, but on
the south the hills were very broken, rising in rough tiers of stones.
The Apaches hid in these rocks and awaited their victims. On November
7, 1879, the Mexicans entered the narrow defile and as soon as they
were between the two parties of Indians concealed on each side of the
pass the Apaches on the north side of the trail fired a volley upon
them. The Mexicans thereupon made for the rocks on the south, as was
natural. As they sought refuge there the redskins in the cliffs above
the gallant little band opened fire on them. Caught in a real death
trap the entire punitive force was massacred. When I walked over the
ground some time afterward I saw where one Mexican had gotten into
a crevice from which he could shoot anyone coming at him from the
east or west. He was hidden also from the Indians in the cliffs above
him, but his legs were exposed to the warriors on the north side and
they had literally shot them off up to his knees. I also found seven
dead Mexicans in a small gulley, and on a little peak above them I
discovered the lair of one old Indian who had fired twenty-seven shots
at the tiny group until he had killed them all, for I found that number
of 45-70 cartridge shells in one pile. Practically all the horses
of the Mexicans were killed. Some of the animals had been tied to
Spanish dagger plants and when shot ran the length of their rope before
falling. Some of the bodies rolled down the deep canyon until they
reached the bottom of what we called the Canado del Muerte (Canyon of
Death), and the Indians removed none of the saddles or ropes from the
dead horses.
When the company of Mexicans did not return there was great sorrow
and alarm in the little town of Carrajal. As it was supposed that
only a small band of Apaches bent on horse stealing was in the
Candelarios, another small band of fourteen men volunteered to go
and see what had become of their friends and kindred. Don Jose Mario
Rodriguez was appointed commander, and the little party took the trail
of their comrades with sad forebodings. Old Victorio, from his watch
towers in the Candelarios, saw this rescue party and prepared for its
destruction. The signs indicated that the second party had walked into
the same death trap as the first, but the second band had scattered
more in fighting and a good many of the Mexicans were killed on the
southern slope of the hills. Two had attempted to escape on horseback
but were followed and killed. I found one of these unfortunates in
an open plain some six hundred yards from the hills. He had been
surrounded, and, seeing escape was impossible, had dismounted, tied his
horse to a Spanish dagger plant and put up a good fight. I found thirty
or forty cartridge shells near where he had fallen. His pony had been
killed and the dagger plant shot to pieces. The Apaches had cut off his
right hand and had carried away his gun, six-shooter, saddle and bridle.
When neither party returned then, indeed, was there sorrow in the
town of Carrajal, for twenty-nine of her principal citizens had left
never to return. Wives, mothers, and sweethearts mourned the loss
of their dear ones. A runner was sent to El Paso del Norte and the
citizens began to organize a punitive expedition at once, calling on
Saragosa, Tres Jacalas, Guadalupe, and San Ignacio for their quotas.
These towns responded quickly and soon a hundred Mexicans were ready
to take the field. A note was sent to Lieutenant Baylor at Ysleta
requesting the rangers to go with the command. Baylor readily agreed
to accompany the Mexicans, for he knew it was only a question of time
before old Victorio would again be murdering and robbing on our side
of the Rio Grande. A detachment of Company "C" had been in one Apache
fight in Mexico and the Mexicans had a very kindly feeling for us.
Lieutenant Baylor's detachment of ten rangers crossed the Rio Grande at
Saragosa, a little town opposite Ysleta, and joined the Mexicans under
Senor Ramos. We marched to the ranch of Don Ynocente Ochoa until the
volunteers from the other towns came to Samalaejuca Springs. When they
had done so the rangers moved down and our combined command amounted to
one hundred and ten men.
After organizing their force the Mexicans sent Senor Ramos to inform
Lieutenant Baylor that, on account of his experience as a soldier and
as a compliment to the rangers, they had selected him to command the
entire party. The lieutenant thanked the messenger, but declared, as
the campaign was on Mexican soil to rescue or bury Mexicans, it would
be more proper to appoint one of their own men commander, and that he
himself would cheerfully serve under any leader so chosen. Senor Ramos
returned shortly and notified Lieutenant Baylor that the Mexicans had
selected Don Francisco Escapeda of Guadalupe as commander-in-chief and
Lieutenant Baylor second in command.
This solution of the leadership problem pleased us, as there was an
element among the Mexican party that might have caused friction.
Old Chico Barelo, the pueblo cacique and principal commander of
the mob that had killed Judge Howard, Ellis, Adkinson, and McBride
at San Elizario, was with the expedition, and we had at our Ysleta
headquarters warrants for the arrest of himself and many others, so we
gave the old fellow to understand we were now fighting a common enemy
and should act in harmony together. We did this more willingly, because
we had learned that after killing Judge Howard and the others the mob
wanted to murder all the rangers barricaded in an old adobe house, but
had been dissuaded from this purpose by old Chico, who declared the
rangers could only be killed after he had first been slain.
Leaving one wagon at the Ochoa ranch and taking three days' rations
cooked and more in case of a siege, we went out in the night to avoid
Victorio's spies. Don Francisco Escapeda with Lieutenant Baylor were
at the head of the column. Sergeant James B. Gillett and eight rangers
followed in Indian file, each ranger with a Mexican by his side,
showing they looked on us as volunteers in the Mexican service. We rode
out along the hard sand road beyond Samalaejuca and sent spies ahead
to locate the Apaches if possible. Before we reached the Candelarios
we halted behind some mountains to await their report, but they could
learn nothing certain. It was a bitterly cold night and a few of us
made fires in the deep arroyos. We moved on toward the mountains north
of the Candelarios and reached them early next morning to find a large
fresh trail about two days old going in the direction of Lake Santa
Maria, but, for fear of some stratagem, we divided our men. One party
took the crest south of the trail where the massacre took place while
the other went to the right.
It was soon evident that the entire Apache band had left and that
nothing remained for us but the sad duty of collecting the bodies of
the dead Mexicans for burial. The second, or rescue party, had found
the bodies of their kinsmen killed in the first ambuscade and had
collected them and put them in a big crevice in the rocks. When they
began to cover the corpses with loose stones the Indians, who had been
watching them all the while just as a cat plays with a mouse before
killing it, opened fire on the burial party and killed the last one
of the unfortunate men. The saddest scene I ever witnessed was that
presented as we gathered the bodies of the murdered men. At each fresh
discovery of a loved friend, brother or father and the last hope fled
that any had escaped, a wail of sorrow went up, and I doubt if there
was a dry eye either of Mexican or Texan in the whole command.
While the immediate relatives were hunting for those who had
scattered in trying to escape, we moved south to the main tank in the
Candelarios. The ascent was up a winding path on the steep mountainside
to the bench where the tank, one of the largest in the west, was
situated. The water coming down from a height, and big boulders falling
into the tank, had cut a deep hole in the solid rock in which the water
was retained. Although Victorio's band of three hundred animals and two
hundred or more Indians and our command had been using the water it
could scarcely be missed.
We sent scouts to the left and right to make sure no game was being
put upon us, for the cunning old chief, after sending his women and
children off, could have hidden his warriors in the rough cliff that
towered high above and commanded the tank of water and slaughtered all
those below. We remained all day and night at this place. It was the
most picturesque spot I had ever seen. We rangers rambled all over this
Indian camp and found many of the Mexican saddles hidden in the cliffs
and several hats, each with bullet holes in it. We also discovered
two Winchester rifles that had been hit in the fight and abandoned as
useless. I saw a hundred or more old rawhide shoes that had been used
to cover the ponies' feet and dozens of worn-out moccasins. This party
of Apaches had killed and eaten more than seventy-five head of horses
and mules in this camp.
I followed a plain, well-beaten foot path to the topmost peak of
the Candelario or candle mountain, so called from the candle-like
projection of rocks that shot skyward from its top. The Candelario is
in an open plain fifty miles south of El Paso, Texas, and from its top
affords one of the grandest views in northern Mexico. To the south
one could see San Jose and Carrajal, to the north the mountains at El
Paso del Norte, to the west the mountains near Santa Maria River and
Lake Guzman were in plain view, while to the east the Sierra Bentanos
loomed up, apparently only a few miles away. On this peak old Victorio
kept spies constantly on the lookout, and it would have been impossible
for a party of men to have approached without having been seen by these
keen-eyed watchers.
All the bodies having been recovered they were buried in a crevice of
the mountain where they had been killed. All were in good preservation
owing to the pure cold air of the mountains. It is a strange fact, but
one beyond question, that no wild animal or bird of prey will touch
the body of a Mexican. These corpses had lain on the ground nearly
two weeks and were untouched. If they had been the bodies of Indians,
negroes or Americans the coyotes, buzzards and crows would have
attacked them the first day and night.
Nothing of interest occurred on our return trip. The rangers, as
usual, always ate up their three days' rations the first camp they
made and got out of bread, but our Mexican allies divided with us. Don
Ynocente Ochoa's major-domo or ranch boss gave us all the fresh beef
we could eat and a supply of carne seco (dried beef) to take with us
on campaign. Quite a company had come out to see us from Carrizal and
we returned sadly to the widows of the brave men who fell in this,
probably the most wholesale slaughter ever made by Victorio's band.
The citizens of Galena were nearly as unfortunate, but it was old Hu
and Geronimo who massacred them. All the Saragosa men made for their
church to offer up thanks for a safe return. Men, women and children
uttered their "Gracias, senors," as the Texas Rangers rode through
their town. We arrived safely in our adobe quarters at Ysleta and
appreciated them after sleeping out of doors.
Though Victorio had escaped us on this scout, and though he was to
murder and pillage for a time, yet his days were numbered. Our company
of rangers were again to cross into Mexico in pursuit of him, but,
though, one year later, he and eighty-nine of his braves were killed
by the Mexicans under Colonel Joaquin Terrazas, the rangers were not
to take part in defeating him. However, our rangers were destined to
annihilate a small band that escaped deserved destruction at that time
when it resumed its depredations in Texas.