Ford At Valverde

It was an odd thing to be bound to walls that had no ceiling. Much like an octopus in the summer that spreads his arms out on dry land, but there is no place that he can move. He feels the warmth of the sun on his limbs and the sky smiles upon him, but the warmth only smothers out the air that he needs to breathe, the oxygen in his skin that comes from the water that is still too far from reach. He counts them, all the ways, and the possibilities are there, but seemingly difficult. Still there is something to reason in all there is, that his ability lies within him, confined only to the shell of his thinking. For in his mind he is floating aimlessly out to sea, away from the heat that causes him to thirst for what he can no long have, far from the brutality of battle and the harshness of men's ways, and closer to the depths that carry him away from it all, where he can forget that he ever imagined.

  The seasons had changed so that the call of winter had kept him bound for another two years. It was the fall of 1864 and the terrain was still New Mexican soil as the garrison of soldiers approached Fort Sumter.

  The land, though barren for distances beyond his counting, had continued to roll like waves on the ocean and the shrubs were dots of sea foam. Daniel wanted to breathe in the ocean instead of the dry desert air, but freedom hadn’t lent him its cord yet, and his Federal uniform was stuck to him like the boots that had worn thin beneath his feet. He adjusted his hips in the saddle and arched his back so that his shoulders protruded proud enough as though to announce he was unconquerable. He knew there would be another contest of will and shrewdness of character at stake and he despised any thoughts of losing.

  The wooden gates opened as he strode alongside the other twenty some odd soldiers within the garrison. Inside the fort was a town’ship constructed of adobe walls that looked like houses of clay, worrisome in structure, separating the soldiers from the prisoners of war.

  Juan, still his surviving comrade through battles and skirmishes, looked over to him and spoke. “Mi casa es su casa, amigo,” he teased, which meant welcome home.

  “I’ve bedded down in worse,” replied Daniel.

  “Jus’ don’t letting the Captain hear it. Is not so bad. You got food and some festivities, a siesta every now and again. Then you get to kick your boots off and watch the chica’s.”

  Daniel appeared disinterested as he looked ahead. “I think I’ll just bide my time until this damn war is over,” he replied.

  “Amigo,” he replied, “you got to see for yourself. Been a coons age since you seen a pretty lady. I heard there is Chiricahua’s, Lipan’s and the Mescalero squaws. And oh yeah, some Espanol’ mama’s too. They to the wash. It beats the war any day. And you get a place to bunk each night.”

  Daniel still wasn’t convinced as he nodded to the Guardsmen who kept a watchful eye on them as they passed by. His hair was now bluntly cut below his ears and his beard had been trimmed so that it took the shape of his chin. His mustache was thick and flared upward on the tips, and his face and hands were a reddish tan from the sun and wind. Once inside, he lowered the bill of his hat and judged the stares with a piercing gate.

  Once they had dismounted their horses, some of the soldiers led them to a nearby corral. Then they were escorted to their living quarters and told that they would have to remain inside the fort until further instruction. The rooms were scarcely furnished with simple bunks and wooden crates that were used for tables. Some of the soldiers were playing cards in the quarter he was assigned to, and none of the five were ambiguous to his arrival. But within a few minutes of exchanging offhanded remarks, he was busy at his game.

  Later that evening, after dining on succotash and Johnny-cakes from sawbuck tables, some of the men were strumming instruments outside and sweeping winded lips across a harmonica. Several of the soldiers had taken to their bottles and danced about haplessly in the street. New Mexican women were busy standing over barrels of hot soapy water, scrubbing the men’s uniforms and hanging them out to dry. Those that were not busy performing tasks were enjoying the leisurely side of the fort. Daniel continued to walk about until he found the area that held the Indians, who more than out-numbered the rest as they tried to make the best of reservation life.

  Some of the women tended children, as others were still at work making utensils and woven basketry. Some of the tribesmen were gathered into groups according to their clan, and the changes in clothing and design made the distinguishing obvious. There was tension between tribes, but most tried to make due with what had been dealt them.

  Daniel leaned over the wooden fence that divided the reservation and lit up a cigar. Though there were people all about, he was clearly alone. Juan walked up and stood beside him with a fifth of whiskey. He took a swig and passed it over to Daniel.

  “See? I told you it was better,” he said.

  Daniel obliged with the bottle and drank it slowly, as though savoring the taste. Then there was the sound of a ruckus on the rise, accompanied with cheering, laughter, and the neighing of a horse. They went to join the others to see what it was about.

  In the midst of the Apache camp, surrounded by small make-shift rancherias, was an open arena where an Apache woman, slim with long black hair, raced around on horseback. Shifting her weight from side to side with each bend and stride of the horse, they moved as one, as she stooped down to quickly hit a leather ball with a stick. The ball hit an Apache warrior in the chest and bounced off. The crowd that was gathered around, both Indians and soldiers, were amused at the display.

  Daniel laughed as Juan nudged him, while the Apache warrior stepped forward in an attempt to restore his dignity. He ran and turned at every angle, slapping at the horse as he tried to pull the woman from it, but someone tossed the ball back into the ring and she swung again, hitting it and out-maneuvering the tribesman. The crowd cheered. Then the warrior moved in quickly, sweeping around with a roll to the ground as he grabbed her leg. She tumbled from the horse into the dirt, but jumped up and mounted it again. This time the ball was airborne as she swung, but missed.

  When a child tossed it back into the ring, she swung low and the stick hit the warrior in the thigh. In his humiliation, he rushed towards the horse, but she met his challenge as she turned to race towards him. Ambling backwards, he fell into a four-foot deep pit that was covered over with sticks. The crowd went crazy with laugher and cheering. She bounced down from the horse and still trying to catch her breath, looked around at her audience with a confident smile. Some of the children tossed green leaves around her, and when she turned towards the group of soldiers, her eyes met Daniel’s. For a moment he thought she looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure. Then she headed towards her people instead, where a toddler ran up to her, and an older woman stepped out from the structure, holding a pail of water with thick wrists and a broad face that churned an expression when she saw him. She splashed some of the water onto her daughter and nodded her approval, then she turned back towards the doorway that concealed her from his glare.

  “She is pretty, no?” questioned Juan with the nudge of his elbow, and then glanced around to see who else was there.

  “A ruffian girl, is all. I just want to have a word with her, then she’s all yours,” he replied as he walked over to the fence where she was combing out her horses mane.

  She ignored him as she continued to comb with more vigor.

  “Do you speak English?” he asked.

  She didn’t look up, but replied in a manner of distaste, “They teach us to live in a white man’s jail.”

  “Maybe it won’t be for too much longer, but I’m glad you talk so well, because I just wanted to ask you something,” he said as he glanced around to see if there was any unwanted attention headed his way. Then he asked her about Annabelle and Emmett, describing their likeness and asking if she had seen or heard of them.

  She shook her head no, and with little concern as she placed the pail of water beneath the spotted horses mouth.

  “Sure about that?” he asked
again. “Beyond here the land spreads far.”

  “I know,” she spat the words at him. “You took it from us!”

  At that, the toddler boy ran into the rancheria and the older woman came out, raising her voice in Apache as she ordered her daughter to speak.

  “She said to tell you that she already tried to do away with you once. She said next time she will succeed,” she mouthed the words with some hard satisfaction.

  “Why did she do that?” he asked. “Ask the old woman why she wants to kill me?”

  “Because they take Apaches, and we take back!” she looked him stern in the eyes and he finally understood.

  “You mean the white woman and boy? Did they kill Apaches?” he insisted with some eagerness to his voice.

  The old woman walked over to the fence and began to slap at Daniel, as one would a gnat. “Ske-da-dale!”

  Then the warrior was headed in his direction, ready to take on the intrusion if necessary when some of the soldiers began to yell for Daniel to mind his own business. So he turned and walked back to the opposite end of the dirt lane, and joined the group of soldiers who were playing cards around a campfire. An older man, with red locks in his beard and a creased forehead made some wise-cracks.

  “You could squeeze milk from a cactus with a lot less hurt.., and it’d taste a whole lot sweeter. I could’ve told you that!” He laughed, and the other men joined in.

  Daniel ignored them all, pushed his way past some fiddlers and returned to the retirement of his quarters, content with the knowledge that they could still be out there, having survived as well.

  Within a few days he had learned about a plan of escape that some of the Indians were devising, with the help of two of the guardsmen. It was supposed to be underwraps, as some of the soldiers were planning to take advantage of the predicament and plot their own reprieve. Daniel had thought long and hard about it, as he considered the cost and weighed his options. Juan had been against it altogether, but wasn’t about to let on to those in authority. After all, he was enjoying camp life and saw it as an opportunity to climb up in rank, once he had captured the traitors of course.

  The half-moon was bright on that evening and the stars were scattered above the compound where all was still and quiet. Only those on duty stood guard at the gates, as the soldiers slept within the comfort of their confines, when the disruptive blast of a bugle was sounded. At once, there was havoc as men jumped up from their rest, grabbed their guns and prepared for whatever caused the alarm. As Daniel pulled on his frock coat and headed out the door, he ran towards the stable, along with the other soldiers that mounted horses.

  A voice sounded out among them. “Apaches have escaped! Bring back the women and children! Engage at will! Apaches have abandoned fort!”

  Some of them held out lanterns that lit up the path where the shadows loomed behind them. It was hard to see anything at all as they raced across the rough terrain. Horses stumbled into holes and over large rocks, but the mass of men pressed on towards the hillside with arrogance leading the way. However, most of the Apaches had already disappeared into the mountains with an occasional shot being fired with a rider having gone down.

  Daniel ribbed the horse with a firm kick as he headed into an area behind a steep slope of rock. One of the Apache women was lagging behind as she tried to make it to the top, but kept slipping back. Daniel jumped down and grabbed her by the leg, as he pulled her down to the ground and turned her towards him. It was another old woman who shrieked out of fear for what he might do to her. He shined the light of the lantern in her face and could see the terror in her eyes. He could hear the screams behind him and the gunshots being fired as others tried to outrun the horses.

  “Shhh!” he pressed his hand against her mouth. “Get on out of here and be quiet about it!” he said as he shoved her towards the slope. She looked back hesitantly and worked at making it up the slope. A few heads appeared over the top of the mountain and he turned and rode away, yelling as he went.

  “It’s a lost cause this way! Nothing but tumble weeds and dirt!”

  A couple of riders turned in another direction and pursued every movement that beat against the sand. Daniel returned to the fort, as he watched the soldiers struggle with the captured women and children that were forced onto horseback.

  Then he laid in his bunk and thought about the night before the Apaches had taken Annabelle and Emmett from him. If he could but touch the silkiness of her hair as her head was pressed against his chest. He remembered how she had felt so safe in his arms, safe enough to go to sleep. The words haunted him so that there was no rest. He thought about the ones that had disappeared into the darkness, with their secrets perhaps, and yet a sword waiting on the other side.

  He would bide his time instead. The war was bound to be over soon and then he could face the light of day with the freedom to roam.., and maybe then know peace.

  when carolers call