The collective mood remained unsettled in Hope Wells following the final battle. Now the citizens were faced with the unhappy chore of checking out Arlo Wheatfall’s ranch. A half dozen volunteers with a farm wagon went out to the site expecting the worst.
And that’s what they got.
The smell of smoke was in the air as the crew approached the site, braced for what they would find. The first horrific sight was the bodies of three naked women laying where they had been clubbed to death after being ravished. The corpses were already shriveling in the dry air, but could be identified.
The townsmen dismounted and tenderly wrapped the women in blankets brought along for cadavers. Next they made a search of the smoldering buildings finding unrecognizable charred corpses. The flesh had melted off bones in some cases so that even the gender of the victims was unrecognizable. These were swathed in the remaining blankets to be taken to Dr. Harold Simpson’s undertaking parlor. There would be no embalming for those unfortunates. It was too late for that. The females would have their own coffins, while the unidentifiable burned dead would be interred in a mass grave.
Later that day the townspeople were relieved and joyful when their friends and kin from farms and ranches began showing up. The Apaches hadn’t gotten around to raiding them and they were unharmed. The country folks had hunkered down in their homes while the sound of shooting was could be heard in the distance. When it finally remained quiet for some twelve hours, they felt safe enough to venture into town. All were shocked by the news of what happened out at Arlo Wheatfall’s place.
Two of the farmers offered to cart the dead Guerras away. The plan was to take them far out into the Tierra Brava Desert and dump them into some distant ravine as coyote feed. A full dozen men happily volunteered to lend a hand.
A couple of days later a train from the Arizona and New Mexico Railroad stopped at the depot to find out why the telegraph service wasn’t in operation. Sheriff Dan Martin rode out to the station to inform them that their employee Zeke Mason had been killed by Indians and the telegraph mechanism wrecked. The railroad representative dropped off a temporary operator with a new instrument. Fortunately the wiring was undisturbed and usable.
With that done, Hawkins and O’Rourke were able to send messages to Fort Stryker with reports of the battles. Both transmissions included information on the crimes and jailing of Hezekiah Woodward and Arlo Horton. A short comment included a mention of the activities of the Christian Worship Church of Hope Wells in the situation. Fort Stryker replied with an order to arrest Farley Dempsey and Ed Turnbull as well. Hawkins and O’Rourke were further informed that a troop of cavalry was being dispatched to take over the Guerras Reservation. The captain and marshal were instructed not to go out to the agency until the troops arrived.
O’Rourke and Sheriff Martin wasted no time in going to the homes of Dempsey and Turnbull to arrest them. The reaction was the same at both domiciles. The arrestees loudly proclaimed their ignorance of Pastor Hezekiah’s plans while their wives wept at the sight of their husbands being cuffed and frog-marched down the street.
The only happy person in the whole affair was Marshal Dennis O’Rourke. He would earn four dollars as well as seventy-five cents a day for their meals while the prisoners were locked away in Sheriff Dan Martin’s jail.
The scout detachment established another bivouac near the livery stable and once more settled in. They were the champions of the hour as far as the townspeople were concerned. During their visits to the business area, the officers and scouts were given friendly greetings and expressions of sincere gratitude.
David Blum, the owner of the grocery store, gave bags of candy and baked goods to the men from the Indian Territory. The scouts, however, were unable to enjoy free drinks at the Dessert View Saloon like Hawkins and Ludlow. Federal law forbade the giving or selling of intoxicating liquor to Indians. Even ones who were heroes.
The detachment enjoyed the rest and treats while waiting for the cavalry troop from Fort Stryker. The only thing dampening their shared good mood were constant thoughts of their brother Running Cougar resting in his coffin at the undertaking parlor.
The cavalry troop from Fort Stryker rode into Hope Wells at the end of the week. The commander was an old friend of both Hawkins and O’Rourke as were several of the noncommissioned officers. Captain Ronald McGee had been a lieutenant during the Apache wars and had fought side-by-side with his old pals from start to finish of the conflict.
After a briefing given him by Hawkins with additional comments from Ludlow and O’Rourke, McGee decided it was time to make an official call on the Guerras Reservation. The Kiowa-Comanche Scout Detachment was to be included in the visit.
When the column of seventy-plus soldiers and scouts arrived at the reservation, the first thing they saw was the collapsed and burnt agency store. A charred corpse could be seen amid the blackened wreckage.
O’Rourke glumly remarked, “That’s John Larimer without a doubt. I hope he was already dead when that fire was set.”
Ludlow Dooley glancing around, sighted a group of Apaches walking toward them. “Sir,” he said to Hawkins. “People approaching.”
All eyes swung in the direction the lieutenant was pointing. They observed the medicine man Pasimo leading a group of women and children toward them. All were fearful and apprehensive. The fact that a group of soldiers had suddenly arrived on the reservation gave them ample evidence that their fighting men had suffered a catastrophic defeat. They also shared a melancholy realization that they would pay a terrible price for the disaster. It would be a dismal repeat of their past history.
Pasimo, carrying a bundle under his arm, came to a halt in front of Captains Hawkins and McGee. His voice, while strong, quivered. “I ask for mercy.”
“You’ll get none, godamn it!” Hawkins snapped. “I’m only sorry we can’t trade a death for a death and burn some of you alive” Then he glanced at the females. “And rape your women.”
“We be lied to,” Pasimo protested, still cradling the package. “A man who say he big medicine told us to have ghost dance. He lie to us. No ghost warriors come here.” He paused as he sat the bundle down, unrolling it. The severed head of the Prophet lay on it. Pasimo picked it up by the hair and held it high so the white soldiers could easily see the gruesome object. “Our womans did this to him.”
McGee snarled. “That doesn’t pardon you.”
“Are all our men dead?” Pasimo asked.
“Every single godamn one,” Hawkins replied.
Pasimo grimaced. “Where do they be?”
“They were taken into the desert where the coyotes will eat them,” O’Rourke snapped.
Pasimo was not surprised. “Guerras tribe now only womans and childs. And one old man. Me that old man.”
O’Rourke laughed. “You better watch out, Pasimo. It’s gonna be up to you to make more little Guerras until the boys grow up. D’you think you’re up to it?”
The white soldiers all laughed.
The old Apache ignored the derision and lowered his head, overwhelmed with grief and fear. The women began to weep, holding their children close to them.
“Listen, here, Pasimo,” Captain McGee said. “You are now under the authority of the United States Army. The Great White Father in Washington is angry with you, and you will be punished severely. A new agent will be appointed. In the meantime I will be here with my soldiers.”
Pasimo sadly nodded his understanding.
Hawkins looked over at Ludlow. “Well, Mr. Dooley, it looks like this mission is over. We weren’t able to get those damn horses back to their owners, but we did participate in defeating hostile Indians.”
Ludlow nodded. “I hope this is the last uprising, sir.” He gazed at the pitiful Apaches. “These people will never recover from this.”
“That’s the way it should be, Mr. Dooley,” Hawkins replied. “It’ll go down in history as a small incident.” He gestured to Sergeant Eagle Heart. “Form the detachment in a single column, Sergeant. We’ve got a train to catch.”