Book: Vanished Arizona,

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Our things were unloaded and brought to this cabin. I missed the
barrel of china, and learned that it had been on the unfortunate
wagon which rolled down the mountain-side. I had not attained
that state of mind which came to me later in my army life. I
cared then a good deal about my belongings, and the annoyance
caused by the loss of our china was quite considerable. I knew
there was none to be obtained at Camp Apache, as most of the
merchandise came in by pack-train to that isolated place.

Mrs. Dodge, of the Twenty-third Infantry, who was about to leave
the post, heard of my predicament, and offered me some china
plates and cups, which she thought not worth the trouble of
packing (so she said), and I was glad to accept them, and thanked
her, almost with tears in my eyes.

Bowen nailed down our one carpet over the poor board floor
(after having first sprinkled down a thick layer of clean straw,
which he brought from the quartermaster stables). Two iron cots
from the hospital were brought over, and two bed-sacks filled
with fresh, sweet straw, were laid upon them; over these were
laid our mattresses. Woven-wire springs were then unheard of in
that country.

We untied our folding chairs, built a fire on the hearth,
captured an old broken-legged wash-stand and a round table from
somewhere, and that was our living-room. A pine table was found
for the small hall, which was to be our dinning-room, and some
chairs with raw-hide seats were brought from the barracks, some
shelves knocked up against one wall, to serve as sideboard. Now
for the kitchen!

A cooking-stove and various things were sent over from the Q. M.
store-house, and Bowen (the wonder of it!) drove in nails, and
hung up my Fort Russell tin-ware, and put up shelves and stood my
pans in rows, and polished the stove, and went out and stole a
table somewhere (Bowen was invaluable in that way), polished the
zinc under the stove, and lo! and behold, my army kitchen! Bowen
was indeed a treasure; he said he would like to cook for us, for
ten dollars a month. We readily accepted this offer. There were
no persons to be obtained, in these distant places, who could do
the cooking in the families of officers, so it was customary to
employ a soldier; and the soldier often displayed remarkable
ability in the way of cooking, in some cases, in fact, more than
in the way of soldiering. They liked the little addition to their
pay, if they were of frugal mind; they had also their own quiet
room to sleep in, and I often thought the family life, offering
as it did a contrast to the bareness and desolation of the noisy
barracks, appealed to the domestic instinct, so strong in some
men's natures. At all events, it was always easy in those days to
get a man from the company, and they sometimes remained for years
with an officer's family; in some cases attending drills and
roll-calls besides.

Now came the unpacking of the chests and trunks. In our one
diminutive room, and small hall, was no closet, there were no
hooks on the bare walls, no place to hang things or lay things,
and what to do I did not know. I was in despair; Jack came in, to
find me sitting on the edge of a chest, which was half unpacked,
the contents on the floor. I was very mournful, and he did not
see why.

"Oh! Jack! I've nowhere to put things!"

"What things?" said this impossible man.

"Why, all our things," said I, losing my temper; "can't you see
them?''

"Put them back in the chests,--and get them out as you need
them," said this son of Mars, and buckled on his sword. "Do the
best you can, Martha, I have to go to the barracks; be back again
soon." I looked around me, and tried to solve the problem. There
was no bureau, nothing; not a nook or corner where a thing might
be stowed. I gazed at the motley collection of bed-linen,
dust-pans, silver bottles, boot jacks, saddles, old uniforms,
full dress military hats, sword-belts, riding-boots, cut glass,
window-shades, lamps, work-baskets, and books, and I gave it up
in despair. You see, I was not an army girl, and I did not know
how to manage.

There was nothing to be done, however, but to follow Jack's
advice, so I threw the boots, saddles and equipments under the
bed, and laid the other things back in the chests, closed the
lids and went out to take a look at the post. Towards evening, a
soldier came for orders for beef, and I learned how to manage
that. I was told that we bought our meats direct from the
contractor; I had to state how much and what cuts I wished.
Another soldier came to bring us milk, and I asked Jack who was
the milkman, and he said, blessed if he knew; I learned,
afterwards, that the soldiers roped some of the wild Texas cows
that were kept in one of the Government corrals, and tied them
securely to keep them from kicking; then milked them, and the
milk was divided up among the officers' families, according to
rank. We received about a pint every night. I declared it was not
enough; but I soon discovered that however much education,
position and money might count in civil life, rank seemed to be
the one and only thing in the army, and Jack had not much of
that just then.

The question of getting settled comfortably still worried me, and
after a day of two, I went over to see what Mrs. Bailey had done.
To my surprise, I found her out playing tennis, her little boy
asleep in the baby-carriage, which they had brought all the way
from San Francisco, near the court. I joined the group, and
afterwards asked her advice about the matter. She laughed kindly,
and said: "Oh! you'll get used to it, and things will settle
themselves. Of course it is troublesome, but you can have shelves
and such things--you'll soon learn," and still smiling, she gave
her ball a neat left-hander.

I concluded that my New England bringing up had been too serious,
and wondered if I had made a dreadful mistake in marrying into
the army, or at least in following my husband to Arizona. I
debated the question with myself from all sides, and decided then
and there that young army wives should stay at home with their
mothers and fathers, and not go into such wild and uncouth
places. I thought my decision irrevocable.

Before the two small deep windows in our room we hung some Turkey
red cotton, Jack built in his spare moments a couch for me, and
gradually our small quarters assumed an appearance of comfort. I
turned my attention a little to social matters. We dined at
Captain Montgomery's (the commanding officer's) house; his wife
was a famous Washington beauty. He had more rank, consequently
more rooms, than we had, and their quarters were very comfortable
and attractive.

There was much that was new and interesting at the post. The
Indians who lived on this reservation were the White Mountain
Apaches, a fierce and cruel tribe, whose depredations and
atrocities had been carried on for years, in and around, and,
indeed, far away from their mountain homes. But this tribe was
now under surveillance of the Government, and guarded by a strong
garrison of cavalry and infantry at Camp Apache. They were
divided into bands, under Chiefs Pedro, Diablo, Patone and
Cibiano; they came into the post twice a week to be counted, and
to receive their rations of beef, sugar, beans, and other
staples, which Uncle Sam's commissary officer issued to them.

In the absence of other amusement, the officers' wives walked
over to witness this rather solemn ceremony. At least, the
serious expression on the faces of the Indians, as they received
their rations, gave an air of solemnity to the proceeding.

Large stakes were driven into the ground; at each stake, sat or
stood the leader of a band; a sort of father to his people; then
the rest of them stretched out in several long lines, young bucks
and old ones, squaws and pappooses, the families together, about
seventeen hundred souls in all. I used to walk up and down
between the lines, with the other women, and the squaws looked at
our clothes and chuckled, and made some of their inarticulate
remarks to each other. The bucks looked admiringly at the white
women, especially at the cavalry beauty, Mrs. Montgomery,
although I thought that Chief Diablo cast a special eye at our
young Mrs. Bailey, of the infantry.

Diablo was a handsome fellow. I was especially impressed by his
extraordinary good looks.

This tribe was quiet at that time, only a few renegades escaping
into the hills on their wild adventures: but I never felt any
confidence in them and was, on the whole, rather afraid of them.
The squaws were shy, and seldom came near the officers'
quarters. Some of the younger girls were extremely pretty; they
had delicate hands, and small feet encased in well-shaped
moccasins. They wore short skirts made of stripped bark, which
hung gracefully about their bare knees and supple limbs, and
usually a sort of low-necked camisa, made neatly of coarse,
unbleached muslin, with a band around the neck and arms, and, in
cold weather a pretty blanket was wrapped around their shoulders
and fastened at the breast in front. In summer the blanket was
replaced by a square of bright calico. Their coarse, black hair
hung in long braids in front over each shoulder, and nearly all
of them wore an even bang or fringe over the forehead. Of course
hats were unheard of. The Apaches, both men and women, had not
then departed from the customs of their ancestors, and still
retained the extraordinary beauty and picturesqueness of their
aboriginal dress. They wore sometimes a fine buckskin upper
garment, and if of high standing in the tribe, necklaces of elks
teeth.

The young lieutenants sometimes tried to make up to the
prettiest ones, and offered them trinkets, pretty boxes of soap,
beads, and small mirrors (so dear to the heart of the Indian
girl), but the young maids were coy enough; it seemed to me they
cared more for men of their own race.

Once or twice, I saw older squaws with horribly disfigured faces.
I supposed it was the result of some ravaging disease, but I
learned that it was the custom of this tribe, to cut off the
noses of those women who were unfaithful to their lords. Poor
creatures, they had my pity, for they were only children of
Nature, after all, living close to the earth, close to the pulse
of their mother. But this sort of punishment seemed to be the
expression of the cruel and revengeful nature of the Apache.




CHAPTER XII

LIFE AMONGST THE APACHES

Bowen proved to be a fairly good cook, and I ventured to ask
people to dinner in our little hall dining-room, a veritable box
of a place. One day, feeling particularly ambitious to have my
dinner a success, I made a bold attempt at oyster patties. With
the confidence of youth and inexperience, I made the pastry, and
it was a success; I took a can of Baltimore oysters, and did
them up in a fashion that astonished myself, and when, after the
soup, each guest was served with a hot oyster patty, one of the
cavalry officers fairly gasped. "Oyster patty, if I'm alive!
Where on earth--Bless my stars! And this at Camp Apache!"

"And by Holy Jerusalem! they are good, too," claimed Captain
Reilly, and turning to Bowen, he said: "Bowen, did you make
these?"

Bowen straightened himself up to his six foot two, clapped his
heels together, and came to "attention," looked straight to the
front, and replied: "Yes, sir."

I thought I heard Captain Reilly say in an undertone to his
neighbor, "The hell he did," but I was not sure.

At that season, we got excellent wild turkeys there, and good
Southdown mutton, and one could not complain of such living.

But I could never get accustomed to the wretched small space of
one room and a hall; for the kitchen, being detached, could
scarcely be counted in. I had been born and brought up in a
spacious house, with plenty of bedrooms, closets, and an immense
old-time garret. The forlorn makeshifts for closets, and the
absence of all conveniences, annoyed me and added much to the
difficulties of my situation. Added to this, I soon discovered
that my husband had a penchant for buying and collecting things
which seemed utterly worthless to me, and only added to the
number of articles to be handled and packed away. I begged him to
refrain, and to remember that he was married, and that we had not
the money to spend in such ways. He really did try to improve,
and denied himself the taking of many an alluring share in
raffles for old saddles, pistols, guns, and cow-boy's stuff,
which were always being held at the cutler's store.

But an auction of condemned hospital stores was too much for him,
and he came in triumphantly one day, bringing a box of
antiquated dentist's instruments in his hand.

"Good gracious!" I cried, "what can you ever do with those
forceps?"

"Oh! they are splendid," he said, "and they will come in mighty
handy some time."

I saw that he loved tools and instruments, and I reflected, why
not? There are lots of things I have a passion for, and love,
just as he loves those things and I shall never say any more
about it. "Only," I added, aloud, "do not expect me to pack up
such trash when we come to move; you will have to look out for it
yourself."

So with that spiteful remark from me, the episode of the forceps
was ended, for the time at least.

As the winter came on, the isolation of the place had a rather
depressing effect upon us all. The officers were engaged in their
various duties: drill, courts-martial, instruction, and other
military occupations. They found some diversion at "the store,"
where the ranchmen assembled and told frontier stories and played
exciting games of poker. Jack's duties as commissary officer kept
him much away from me, and I was very lonely.

The mail was brought in twice a week by a soldier on horseback.
When he failed to come in at the usual time, much anxiety was
manifested, and I learned that only a short time before, one of
the mail-carriers had been killed by Indians and the mail
destroyed. I did not wonder that on mail-day everybody came out
in front of the quarters and asked: "Is the mail-carrier in?" And
nothing much was done or thought of on that day, until we saw him
come jogging in, the mail-bag tied behind his saddle. Our letters
were from two to three weeks old. The eastern mail came via Santa
Fe to the terminus of the railroad, and then by stage; for in
1874, the railroads did not extend very far into the Southwest.
At a certain point on the old New Mexico road, our man met the
San Carlos carrier, and received the mail for Apache.

"I do not understand," I said, "how any soldier can be found to
take such a dangerous detail."

"Why so?" said Jack. "They like it."

"I should think that when they got into those canons and narrow
defiles, they would think of the horrible fate of their
predecessor," said I.

"Perhaps they do," he answered; "but a soldier is always glad to
get a detail that gives him a change from the routine of post
life."

I was getting to learn about the indomitable pluck of our
soldiers. They did not seem to be afraid of anything. At Camp
Apache my opinion of the American soldier was formed, and it has
never changed. In the long march across the Territory, they had
cared for my wants and performed uncomplainingly for me services
usually rendered by women. Those were before the days of lineal
promotion. Officers remained with their regiments for many years.
A feeling of regimental prestige held officers and men together.
I began to share that feeling. I knew the names of the men in the
company, and not one but was ready to do a service for the
"Lieutenant's wife." "K" had long been a bachelor company; and
now a young woman had joined it. I was a person to be pampered
and cared for, and they knew besides that I was not long in the
army.

During that winter I received many a wild turkey and other nice
things for the table, from the men of the company. I learned to
know and to thoroughly respect the enlisted man of the American
army.

And now into the varied kaleidoscope of my army life stepped the
Indian Agent. And of all unkempt, unshorn, disagreeable-looking
personages who had ever stepped foot into our quarters, this was
the worst.

"Heaven save us from a Government which appoints such men as that
to watch over and deal with Indians," cried I, as he left the
house. "Is it possible that his position here demands social
recognition?" I added.

"Hush!" said the second lieutenant of K company. "It's the
Interior Department that appoints the Indian Agents, and
besides," he added, "it's not good taste on your part, Martha, to
abuse the Government which gives us our bread and butter."

"Well, you can say what you like, and preach policy all you wish,
no Government on earth can compel me to associate with such men
as those!" With that assertion, I left the room, to prevent
farther argument.

And I will here add that in my experience on the frontier, which
extended over a long period, it was never my good fortune to meet
with an Indian Agent who impressed me as being the right sort of
a man to deal with those children of nature, for Indians are like
children, and their intuitions are keen. They know and appreciate
honesty and fair dealing, and they know a gentleman when they
meet one.

The winter came on apace, but the weather was mild and pleasant.
One day some officers came in and said we must go over to the
"Ravine" that evening, where the Indians were going to have a
rare sort of a dance.

There was no one to say to me: "Do not go," and, as we welcomed
any little excitement which would relieve the monotony of our
lives, we cast aside all doubts of the advisability of my going.
So, after dinner, we joined the others, and sallied forth into
the darkness of an Arizona night. We crossed the large
parade-ground, and picked our way over a rough and pathless
country, lighted only by the stars above.

Arriving at the edge of the ravine, what a scene was before us!
We looked down into a natural amphitheatre, in which blazed great
fires; hordes of wild Apaches darted about, while others sat on
logs beating their tomtoms.

I was afraid, and held back, but the rest of the party descended
into the ravine, and, leaning on a good strong arm, I followed.
We all sat down on the great trunk of a fallen tree, and soon the
dancers came into the arena.

They were entirely naked, except for the loin-cloth; their bodies
were painted, and from their elbows and knees stood out bunches
of feathers, giving them the appearance of huge flying creatures;
jingling things were attached to their necks and arms. Upon their
heads were large frames, made to resemble the branching horns of
an elk, and as they danced, and bowed their heads, the horns lent
them the appearance of some unknown animal, and added greatly to
their height. Their feathers waved, their jingles shook, and
their painted bodies twisted and turned in the light of the great
fire, which roared and leaped on high. At one moment they were
birds, at another animals, at the next they were demons.

The noise of the tomtoms and the harsh shouts of the Indians grew
wilder and wilder. It was weird and terrifying. Then came a
pause; the arena was cleared, and with much solemnity two
wicked-looking creatures came out and performed a sort of shadow
dance, brandishing knives as they glided through the intricate
figures.

It was a fascinating but unearthly scene, and the setting
completed the illusion. Fright deprived me of the power of
thought, but in a sort of subconscious way I felt that Orpheus
must have witnessed just such mad revels when he went down into
Pluto's regions. Suddenly the shouts became war whoops, the demons
brandished their knives madly, and nodded their branching horns;
the tomtoms were beaten with a dreadful din, and terror seized my
heart. What if they be treacherous, and had lured our small party
down into this ravine for an ambush! The thing could well be, I
thought. I saw uneasiness in the faces of the other women, and by
mutual consent we got up and slowly took our departure. I barely
had strength to climb up the steep side of the hollow. I was
thankful to escape from its horrors.

Scarce three months after that some of the same band of Indians
fired into the garrison and fled to the mountains. I remarked to
Jack, that I thought we were very imprudent to go to see that
dance, and he said he supposed we were. But I had never regarded
life in such a light way as he seemed to.

Women usually like to talk over their trials and their wonderful
adventures, and that is why I am writing this, I suppose. Men
simply will not talk about such things.

The cavalry beauty seemed to look at this frontier life
philosophically--what she really thought about it, I never knew.
Mrs. Bailey was so much occupied by the care of her young child
and various out-door amusements, that she did not, apparently,
think much about things that happened around us. At all events,
she never seemed inclined to talk about them. There was no one
else to talk to; the soil was strange, and the atmosphere a
foreign one to me; life did not seem to be taken seriously out
there, as it was back in New England, where they always loved to
sit down and talk things over. I was downright lonesome for my
mother and sisters.

I could not go out very much at that time, so I occupied myself a
good deal with needle-work.

One evening we heard firing across the canon. Jack caught up his
sword, buckling on his belt as he went out. "Injuns fighting on
the other side of the river," some soldier reported. Finding that
it did not concern us, Jack said, "Come out into the back yard,
Martha, and look over the stockade, and I think you can see
across the river." So I hurried out to the stockade, but Jack,
seeing that I was not tall enough, picked up an empty box that
stood under the window of the room belonging to the Doctor, when,
thud! fell something out onto the ground, and rolled away. I
started involuntarily. It was dark in the yard. I stood stock
still. "What was that?" I whispered.

"Nothing but an old Edam cheese," said this true-hearted soldier
of mine. I knew it was not a cheese, but said no more. I stood up
on the box, watched the firing like a man, and went quietly back
into the quarters. After retiring, I said, "You might just a
swell tell me now, you will have to sooner or later, what was in
the box--it had a dreadful sound, as it rolled away on the
ground."

"Well," said he, "if you must know, it was an Injun's head that
the Doctor had saved, to take to Washington with him. It had a
sort of a malformed skull or jaw-bone or something. But he left
it behind--I guess it got a leetle to old for him to carry," he
laughed. "Somebody told me there was a head in the yard, but I
forgot all about it. Lucky thing you didn't see it, wasn't it? I
suppose you'd been scared--well, I must tell the fatigue party
to-morrow to take it away. Now don't let me forget it," and this
soldier of many battles fell into the peaceful slumber which
comes to those who know not fear.

The next day I overheard him telling Major Worth what had
happened, and adding that he would roast that Doctor if he ever
came back. I was seeing the rugged side of life, indeed, and
getting accustomed to shocks.

Now the cavalry beauty gave a dinner. It was lovely; but in the
midst of it, we perceived a sort of confusion of moccasined
footsteps outside the dining-room. My nerves were, by this time,
always on the alert. I glanced through the large door opening out
into the hall, and saw a group of Indian scouts; they laid a
coffee-sack down by the corner fire-place, near the front door.
The commanding officer left the table hastily; the portiere was
drawn.

I had heard tales of atrocious cruelties committed by a band of
Indians who had escaped from the reservation and were ravaging
the country around. I had heard how they maimed poor sheep and
cut off the legs of cattle at the first joint, leaving them to
die; how they tortured women, and burned their husbands and
children before their eyes; I had heard also that the Indian
scouts were out after them, with orders to bring them in, dead or
alive.

The next day I learned that the ringleader's head was in the bag
that I had seen, and that the others had surrendered and
returned. The scouts were Apaches in the pay of the Government,
and I always heard that, as long as they were serving as scouts,
they showed themselves loyal and would hunt down their nearest
relative.

Major Worth got tired of the monotony of a bachelor's life at
Camp Apache and decided to give a dance in his quarters, and
invite the chiefs. I think the other officers did not wholly
approve of it, although they felt friendly enough towards them,
as long as they were not causing disturbances. But to meet the
savage Apache on a basis of social equality, in an officer's
quarters, and to dance in a quadrille with him! Well, the limit
of all things had been reached!

However, Major Worth, who was actually suffering from the ennui
of frontier life in winter, and in time of peace, determined to
carry out his project, so he had his quarters, which were quite
spacious, cleared and decorated with evergreen boughs. From his
company, he secured some men who could play the banjo and guitar,
and all the officers and their wives, and the chiefs with their
harems, came to this novel fete. A quadrille was formed, in which
the chiefs danced opposite the officers. The squaws sat around,
as they were too shy to dance. These chiefs were painted, and
wore only their necklaces and the customary loin-cloth, throwing
their blankets about their shoulders when they had finished
dancing. I noticed again Chief Diablo's great good looks.

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