APACHE LAND CHIEF DIABLO part 13

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 fête. 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 loincloth, throwing their blankets about their shoulderswhen they had finished dancing. I noticed again Chief Diablo's great good l

looks.     is this man above diablo?

Conversation was carried on principally by signs and nods, and through the interpreter (a white man named Cooley). Besides, the officers had picked up many short phrases of the harsh and guttural Apache tongue.

Diablo was charmed with the young, handsome wife of one of the officers, and asked her husband how many ponies he would take for her, and Pedro asked Major Worth, if all those white squaws belonged to him.

The party passed off pleasantly enough, and was not especially subversive to discipline, although I believe it was not repeated.

Afterwards, long afterwards, when we were stationed at David's Island, New York Harbor, and Major Worth was no longer a bachelor, but a dignified married man and had gained his star in the Spanish War, we used to meet occasionally down by the barge office of taking a Fenster-promenade on Broadway, and we would always stand awhile and chat over the old days at Camp Apache in '74. 

Never mind how pressing our mutual engagements were, we could never forego the pleasure of talking over those wild days and contrasting them with our then present surroundings. ‘‘“Shall you ever forget my party?”’’ he said, the last time we met.

Diablo, a chief of the Cibecue Apache, wass killed during a battle with a competing band of Indians.

Known as Eskinlaw to his own people, Diablo was a prominent chief of the Cibecue Apache, who lived in the White Mountains of Arizona. Initially, Diablo had attempted to cooperate with the increasing number of whites who were encroaching on the Apache homeland. In July 1869, he traveled to Fort Defiance, the first American military post in Arizona, in hopes of establishing good relations. Three white men returned with Diablo and regular visits between the two groups began.below fort clark

Tensions, however, continued amongst the Apache themselves, many of whom were less welcoming to the Americans. In 1873, a warrior from a competing band of Apaches led by Eshkeldahsilah killed a white man working at the army's Fort Apache. Diablo tracked down the offending warrior and killed him, winning the Americans' praise but Eshkeldahsilah's increased enmity.

To avoid further violence, the commander of Fort Apache ordered all the surrounding tribes to move closer to the fort. This may have decreased the attacks on the Americans, but it increased the tensions between the Apache bands. The government further angered Diablo in July 1875, when it ordered that all of the Apaches in the region move to the San Carlos Reservation east of present-day Phoenix.below Seminole/Negro  Indian scouts

In apparent frustration at the imperious behavior of the Americans, Diablo finally turned against the whites. In January 1876, he attacked the camp near Fort Apache, and he killed at least one white civilian. He also began attacking a competing band of White Mountain Apache who continued to cooperate with the Americans. Eventually, the White Mountain Apache got their revenge on Diablo. On this day in 1880, the two bands of Apache fought a fierce battle near Fort Apache. By the time the American military arrived on the site, Diablo's opponents had killed him.

N JANUARY our little boy arrived, to share our fate and to gladden our hearts. As he was the first child born to an officer's family in Camp Apache, there was the greatest excitement. All the sheep-ranchers and cattlemen for miles around came into the post. The beneficent canteen, with its soldiers' and officers' club-rooms, did not exist then. So they all gathered at the sutler's store, to celebrate events with a round of drinks. They wanted to shake hands with and congratulate the new father, after their fashion, upon the advent of the blond-haired baby. Their great hearts went out to him, and they vied with each other in doing the handsome thing by him, in a manner according to their lights, and their ideas of wishing well to a man; a manner, sometimes, alas! disastrous in its results to the man! However, by this time, I was getting used to all sides of frontier life.

I had no time to be lonely now, for I had no nurse, and the only person who was able to render me service was a laundress of the cavalry, who came for about two hours each day, until I was able to be up and take care of the child myself. Mounted men scoured the country around, to find me a nurse, but there was not a woman of girl to be heard of. Finally, thesutler sent word that a girl had been found in a Mexican wood-chopper's camp near by. She was sent up. I borrowed a Spanish dictionary from the sutler, and tried to teach the girl to be of some use to me, but she was very stupid, and I was glad when her wood-chopper husband came to fetch her home to his camp.

But to go back a little. The seventh day after the birth of the baby, a delegation of several squaws, wives of chiefs, came to pay me a formal visit. They brought me some finely woven baskets, and a beautiful pappoose-basket or cradle, such as they carry their own babies in. This was made of the lightest wood, and covered with the finest skin of fawn, tanned with birch bark by their own hands, and embroidered in blue beads; it was their best work. I admired it, and tried to express to them my thanks. These squaws took my baby (he was lying beside me on the bed), then, cooing and chuckling, they looked about the room, until they found a small pillow, which they laid into the basket-cradle, then put my baby in, drew the flaps together, and laced him into it; then stood it up, and laid it down, and laughed again in their gentle manner, and finally soothed him to sleep. I was quite touched by the friendliness of it all. They laid the cradle on the table and departed. Jack went out to bring Major Worth in, to see the pretty sight, and as the two entered the room, Jack pointed to the pappoose-basket.

Major Worth tip-toed forward, and gazed into the cradle; he did not speak for some time; then, in his inimitable way, and hall under his breath, he said, slowly, ‘‘“Well, I'll be d—d!”’’ This was all, but when he turned towards the bedside, and came and shook my hand, his eyes shone with a gentle and tender look.

And so was the new recruit introduced to the Captain of Company K.

And now there must be a bath-tub for the baby. The sutler rummaged his entire place, to find something that might do. At last, he sent me a freshly scoured tub, that looked as if it might, at no very remote date, have contained salt mackerel marked “A One.” So then, every morning at nine o'clock, our little half-window was black with the heads of the curious squaws and bucks, trying to get a glimpse of the fair baby's bath. A wonderful performance, it appeared to them.

Once a week this room, which was now a nursery combined with bedroom and living-room, was overhauled by the stalwart Bowen. The baby was put to sleep and laced securely into the pappoose-basket. He was then carried into the kitchen, laid on the dresser, and I sat by with a book or needle-work watching him, until Bowen had finished the room. On one of these occasions, I noticed a ledger lying upon one of the shelves. I looked into it, and imagine my astonishment, when I read: “Aunt Hepsey's. Below painting by Dale Gallon

Muffins,” “Sarah's Indian Pudding,” and on another page, “Hatty's Lemon Tarts,” “Aunt Susan's Method of Cooking a Leg of Mutton,” and “Josie Wells' Pressed Calf Liver.” Here were my own, my very own family recipes, copied into Bowen's ledger, in large illiterate characters; and on the fly-leaf, “Charles Bowen's Receipt Book.” I burst into a good hearty laugh, almost the first one I had enjoyed since I arrived at Camp Apache.

APACHE LAND PART 12 ISOLATION

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 FÉ 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 cañons and narrow defiles, they would think of the horrible late 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.below an indian agent

‘‘“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.above apache chief

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-clothq 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 warwhoops, 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.(brackdetville fort building)

One evening we heard firing across the cañon. 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 as well tell me now, you will have to sooner of 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 of jaw-bone, of something. But he left it behind —I guess it got a leetle too 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. below Fort Infirmary

—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 portière 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 of alive.

The next day I learned that the ringleader's head was in the bag that I had seen, and that the others. The Plsains indians below by TSDSD could easily be modified

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.

APACHE LAND PART 11 NEW ENGLAND DREAMING

I concluded that my New England bringing up had been too serious, and I 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 women 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(above), 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 enceased in well-shaped moccasins. 

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 the 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.

OWEN 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,”’’ exclaimed Captain Reilly, and turning to Bowen, he said: ‘‘“Bowen, did you make these?”’’(oyster Patty)

Bowen straightened himself up to his six foot two, clapped his heels together, 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 sutler'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.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.

apache land part 9. ghosts in the mountains

 The mountains were included in the short-livedDragoon National Forest, which was established in 1907 and combined into Coronado National Forest in 1908, in the Douglas Ranger District. now called Cochise Stronghold. Only his people and Tom Jeffords knew the exact location of his resting place, and they took the secret to their graves.below paragon from waterlooFollowing various skirmishes, Cochise and his men were gradually driven into the Dragoon Mountains but were nevertheless able to use the mountains for cover and as a base from which to continue attacks against the white settlements. Cochise managed to evade capture and 

continued his raids against white settlements and travelers until 1872. A treaty was finally negotiated by General Oliver O. Howard, with the help of Tom Jeffords who was Cochise's only white friend. A 1950 movie, Broken Arrow, gives a fictionalized account of the latter part of this struggle, and the friendship between Jeffords (James Stewart) and Cochise (Jeff Chandler). This was one of the first Hollywood movies to give a sympathetic picture of Native Americans in conflict with European Americans encroaching upon Indian land, and helped change the popular image of Native American people from negative to positive. The tall, handsome, deeply tanned Chandler, a Jewish actor born in Brooklyn, N.Y., portrayed Cochise as a noble, nearly tragic character forced to fight against the treacherous U.S. Army officers who led incursions into Apache territory. Jerome Arizona.Still a town but slowly becoming a Ghost Town.

Cochise's descendants are said to currently reside at the Mescalero Apache Reservation, near Ruidoso, New Mexico.I like the history of the Douglas/Agua Prieta area, specifically the stories about the Apache Indians who raided around the area until 1935 or so. Supposedly the Apaches had a stronghold in the Jaguar mountains about 60 miles south of Douglas/Agua Prieta and would raid north when they need supplies etc.

According to the book "They never Surrendered" - "Bronco Apaches of the Sierra Madre" By Douglas V. Meed the was an insident with Apaches east of Douglas Arizona in 1929; this story can supposedly be found in the 1929 Douglas Dispatch news paper. I cannot say for sure because I never researched it. But if D.V.Meed said it is so, I believe him.The vaquero pulled his tired saddle mule to a halt at the hitching rail, He cupped his hands around the hand rolled cigarette he was lighting, then inhaled deeply.jerome

It had been a long ride and an even longer fight Against the Apache, He and his men had slain 5 Broncho Apache in the sierra Madre Mountains near nacori Chico, Mexico. The Ranchers and Vaqueros of the surrounding area joined punitive action in retaliation to the raiding the Broncos had been doing in the area for more than 40 years.

Sitting in front of him on the saddle was a small girl no more than 2 years old, She was the sole survivor of their attack on the Apache Raiders. The Vaquero had named the child “Buho” (Owl in English) due to her large frightened eyes.The year was 1935