22 Walking Into Terror Suddenly he tripped over a dead horse and plunged into a small clearing. In an instant, he was surrounded by some 30 Apache. Two warriors took charge of Jimmie and shoved him through the brush and undergrowth to the prospector’s camp where Baxter had stood guard while Jimmie and Poland fished. Baxter’s body lay by the campfire, mutilated and slashed by the knives of warriors. There was no sign of Poland. Once the shock of seeing his friend’s mutilated body left him Jimmie came out of his daze and began to size up his own situation. He had been shoved over against a tree. The Apache band had their women with them. The women gathered firewood while the men sacked the McKenzie cabin and what was left of the prospector’s camp. The women continued to gather wood and brush and put it near the large pine tree where Jimmie was tied. He knew he was to be burned alive. A couple of warriors took the bands stock up the creek to pasture. Grizzly Rescue They no more had returned when the stock came running back and past the camp at a dead heat. The entire camp went after the horses…everybody ran downriver. Jimmie was left alone…loosely tied to the pine. He saw a huge Silvertip Grizzly loping down the river toward the Indian horses and the Apaches trying to catch up with them. Freeing himself, Jimmie ran as hard as he could upriver in the direction the spooked stock and bear had come from. He knew the Apache horses would not go back in that direction so long as they scented that grizzly loping after them. McKenna kept to the brush along the river, moving through it without a sound. Finally, he made it to the falls above the pool where he had been fishing. He worked his way to a ledge behind the falls, totally hidden from view. There he stayed until about midnight. Certain the Apaches had completed their ghastly mission, gathered their stock and left the little valley, Jimmie worked his way silently back to the McKenzie cabin to see if he could salvage any of his gear. Ghostly Scene The Apaches had gone. The campfire ashes were cold. Baxter’s pale and mutilated body glistened eerie pale white in the bright moonlight. Jimmie got a wagon sheet and covered his friend, then tried to find something useful left in the sacked cabin and camp. Finding a few raw potatoes, he ate them. Everything else in camp had been destroyed, as had the contents of the McKenzie cabin. McKenna went back to the river and worked along the willow thicket near the bank, moving silently and slowly, looking for signs of Poland. As he moved through the box canyon he saw Poland’s tracks. Jimmie made his way out of the canyon and up on a mesa covered with thick pine growth. As he did, the air suddenly became filled with coyote barks and owl hoots. The Apaches were still around, apparently trying to round up their spooked horses. Finding the trail that led to Gila Hot Springs, McKenna took it, moving slowly and in the shadows as much as possible. The moon was near full, making the night almost as bright as day. He heard someone move and jumped behind a large pine. A bullet whistled by. Then he saw the man he had heard, running off to his left. A band of Apache were chasing him and shooting wildly. Jimmie darted back into the bush and moved through it silently, abandoning the moonlit trail. He knew he was surrounded by certain death if the Apache heard him make a sound moving through the bush. Finally, he made it to a ranch owned by a man named Holmes. Holmes had left a week earlier for a trip to Boston and the Apache’s found the ranch house empty. They had looted it completely, trashing everything. There was no food to be found. McKenna then headed for the next ranch down the trail, the Rogers place. He found the calves all penned in their corral, bawling hysterically for milk. The cows were all gathered outside the corral, unable to get to their calves. McKenna fed the calves, and then went to the ranch house. The stove was still warm. He found a pan of milk and some bread and had a small feast. He had left the door open and a big black dog the Rogers family kept came in, delighted to see Jimmie. He found some meat scraps and bones for the dog, but the milk and bread were all he could eat, his throat swollen and burning. The Apache had skipped the Rogers’ place. It was obvious the Rogers family had fled their home in a hurry when they detected Apache’s in the area. Apache Camps Everywhere Looking down the valley from Roger’s place McKenna could see the campfires of small bands of the raiding Apaches scattered here and there on the valley floor. Someone had come to the cabin after the family had fled. Nothing was touched but the mattresses. They were slit open, where someone was looking for money. Most likely this was done by an Apache who had lived nearby or attended the Carlisle Indian School, McKenna thought. There was a grim note on the cabin wall that read: “McKenna and Baxter killed at McKenzie cabin. Beware Apaches. For safety, come to the Wood Place on East Ford of the Gila.” Jimmie set out for the next ranch down the trail, the Lester place. There he could see his own cabin clearly and Apaches camped next to it. He wondered about his pigs, his potato patch, his two pet bear cubs, his pet skunk and all the comforts he had managed to acquire for his cabin. Going down there now would be suicide and he knew he had to head for the Wood place. The Roger’s black dog had followed him when he left the abandoned ranch. The dog was a good companion. Jimmie was exhausted but he had to make it to the Gila, swim it, then cross the divide between the middle fork and east fork of the river, a distance of almost two miles, before he could reach the Wood place. He made it to the river and swam across, the dog right behind him. Apache Terror continued from page 20 Dog Saved Him As he headed up the canyon towards the divide, the dog’s hair bristled and he dashed up ahead. He soon came rushing back, whimpering and whining. Jimmie and the dog headed into the brush and hid. Jimmie thought the dog might have scented more Apaches. After hearing nothing and seeing nothing on the trail, Jimmie set out again. The dog and Jimmie walked over a slight hump in the trail. Suddenly a huge Silvertip Grizzly stood up and growled. Jimmie and the dog set out in a dead heat to get away. Jimmie and the dog became separated as Jimmie headed up on the mountain hoping for a safer trail to the east fork and the Wood ranch. The dog was never seen again. McKenna was just plain exhausted when he just about reached the divide and sat down to rest. Without knowing it he fell into a deep sleep. Rain splashing on his face awoke him. He looked up and it was almost daybreak. He also saw the red glow of a cigarette in the mouth of an Apache sitting some 100 yards off. He could smell the smoke as the breeze carried it his way. McKenna figured the Apache had been posted as a lookout on the divide. Jimmie did not move. Apparently, the Apache did not notice the sleeping man. Soon he wrapped his blanket around him and started down the hill, passing the prone and motionless Jimmie only 150 ft. away. McKenna did not move. He soon dropped off to sleep again. Stress, Exhaustion Take Toll When he awoke hours later he had lost his senses. He got up and ran wildly downhill, swinging his arms and swearing loudly. He did not go to Tom Wood’s place but instead headed for his own cabin. He screamed at a small band of Apache who were drying the beef of a steer they had killed at their camp next to his cabin. The Apache looked at the screaming, flailing, near nude white man across the river and made signs to themselves that he was out of his mind. Apache avoid men they perceive as lunatics. They gathered up their meat and left. The half-naked wild man that they had spotted on the other side of the river waited until they had passed from sight, and then rushed across the stream and up to the camp where they had slaughtered the steer. He grabbed a big chunk of meat they had cut off and with blood still dripping from it, began to tear it into small pieces like a wolf and devour it. After the cold swim and food, McKenna regained his senses. The Mogollon Rim was the land of the Apaches and Mescaleros, the land of the great war chief Victorio, a wilderness where sudden death at the hands of Indian bands was a constant companion of the prospectors and miners who were brave enough to enter it. Alan Levine