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I had left Ada in the stable since I figured on going back to the hotel that night. The Jimson place was about two hours out of town, so the sun was well up by the time we got there. The place looked about like you would expect after an unsuccessful Indian attack. There were soot marks on the adobe walls of the house where torches had been thrown against it, and the haystack was nothing but a pile of ashes. The barn was also adobe, so it was no more damaged than the house. Somehow, the defenders had managed to protect their stock, so they had come out better than one would expect.
A teenaged boy, about 15, was working at the woodpile chopping the logs into usable pieces. I rode up within speaking distance as he watched me approach. I spoke first, "Howdy, Mister, I heard that you folks had a little fun with Apaches a couple of days ago."
"Howdy to you, too, Mister. Yeah, we had a visit from some Chiricahuas, but I do not think that I would describe it as fun. They made a little mess and we shot a couple or three, but I doubt that we settled anything.
"Step down, and come in for a cup of coffee. Ma always keeps some hot, and you are welcome to a cup. By the way, I am Josh Jimson."
I dismounted and told the dogs to "stay." "Thank you for the offer, Mr. Jimson, but I do not want to be any trouble. I am called John Wilson. Just call me John."
"You ain't no trouble, John. You can call me Josh. Come on in and meet the folks."
Josh led me into the house—it was much too large to be called a cabin. I found out why when I met the family. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Jimson, there were 11 children, ranging in age from Josh, 15, down to Emily, who was still a nursing infant. They had enough people to fight off a good size Indian attack.
I sat down and drank a cup of pretty good coffee while discussing this and that. Eventually, I got the details of the attack by 23 Chiricahua Apaches. The Jimsons had three Henry rifles and 28 muskets. The older people shot while the younger ones reloaded. The Indians just could not break through that much gunfire, and they lost three warriors during the fight.
The basic problem was that the Indians were still a capable fighting force, and they were now dishonored by losing a battle to the measly Whites. Undoubtedly, they were now going to look for a softer target so that they could regain their honor. That was what I hoped that my dogs and I could prevent.
During the conversation, Josh said, "Pa, you should see them dogs what John has with him. When you first look at them, you think that no dog could be that big, and they got teeth that a longhorn would envy for his horns! What is the story with them dogs, John."
I laughed a little at the longhorn reference and said, "Those three are war dogs. They are trained to kill Indians, and they are real good at it. The Navajos think that they are demons and run as soon as they see them. The Apaches do not run from them, but they usually wish that they had. I make it my job to hunt down hostiles and eliminate them; the dogs are the main reason why I am successful, though I do have plenty of guns.
"In fact, that is why I am here. I heard about the attack on y'all and how y'all fought them off. I figured that the Apaches were not going to give up so easily, so I am out looking for them. I hope my dogs and I can stop them before they do too much damage or kill somebody. I am here to try to pick up their trail."
"John, if Pa will let me, I would like to go with you. I am a good tracker and a good shot with a rifle or a pistol. Them Apaches are likely to come back here since we got so many women-folk."
"I would be glad to have you, Josh, if your Pa is agreeable. I have a spare Henry, so you would not have to take one from your family. Do you have your own pistol?"
"Yes, I do. Pa, please let me go with John. One man against 20 Apaches is kind of chancy, even with his dogs. Two men could make a big difference."
Mr. Jimson thought about it for a couple of minutes and then nodded. "Okay, Josh, you can go with John. But you got to remember that he is the experienced Indian hunter and fighter. Take his orders and do not go off on your own. You can go if you agree to that."
"Thank you, Pa! I will do like you say. When do you want to leave, John?"
"I would like to leave right after we eat. Mrs. Jimson, can I impose on you to feed a wandering soul?" She laughed and stood up. She had finished nursing Emily, so she put the little girl in her cradle and started right in to fixing dinner for us. Agnes, the oldest daughter started gathering up provisions for us to take on our hunt. I wished now that I had brought Ada along. Depending on which way the trail led, we might loop by Las Cruces and pick her up.
After a large meal, we packed up and left. There were now five of us, the three dogs, Josh, and me. We picked up the trail right away. Twenty men, even on foot, leave quite a distinct trail. We even saw signs of some blood drops, so we knew we were headed in the right direction. The dogs spotted the blood first, and that told them what we were hunting. They set a brisk pace that Josh and I followed. At that rate, if the wounded men stayed with the rest, we should have no problem in catching up to them, even when they reached their horses.
We were out of sight of the Jimson's house when we came to where the Indians had left their horses. It appeared that there was some spirited debate before they mounted and left. Twenty horses left together and three turned away; probably, these were men too badly wounded to contribute to the war party. We did not bother with these three. If they were that badly wounded, they were going to die, simply because the Apaches did not have the medicine to prevent gangrene or blood poisoning, either one of which would prove fatal.
We made it clear to the dogs that we wanted to follow the main party, and they led us on what was for them, I am sure, a merry chase. I kept having to call them back because I did not want to unduly tire our horses. The dogs were having fun, and the horses seemed to be caught up in the excitement, so it was hard for us humans to maintain the proper pace.
We got close to Las Cruces, so I sent Josh to pick up Ada. I would have gone, but I was afraid that the dogs would not obey him when he ordered them to slow down. I told him how to find her and the pack; he promised to catch up to us as soon as possible.
The dogs and I came upon a tragic situation about half an hour after Josh had left to pick up Ada. We found a wagon which had been drawn by a mule; this wagon had been attacked by the Apaches. Apparently, there had been only one man in the wagon, and he had shot himself in the head before he could be captured; he was a smart man! I knew about the mule because the Indians had stopped for a feast of mule meat. That orgy must have slowed them down enough that they were only a short distance ahead.
I did not want to stumble across the Indians before Josh returned, so I took the time to bury the man and take his few valuables. Josh showed up not long after the man was buried. He had no identification with him, so I gave the little bit of money I found and the pistol to Josh. After giving Josh's horse and Ada a few minutes to rest, we resumed our chase after the Apaches.
It was not quite dark when we spotted the Indians in the distance. We had to assume that they saw us at the same time. Four of their men turned to ride toward us while the rest continued on their way. I have no idea how these four were chosen for the honor of attacking us—maybe the Indians drew straws. Anyway, I decided to showoff a little with my Sharps.
There was a rise to our left, so we headed there. I was looking for a suitable firing position, and it did not take long to find one. I took my Sharps to the chosen site and assumed the prone firing position. I spread a cloth upon the ground and laid out six cartridges so that they would be easy to get to. I figured that any Indians that got close after I fired my six bullets would be well within range of Josh's Henry.
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