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Only a month earlier, although raids continued unabated, Cochise had sent a peace messenger, perhaps his wife, to a new military post to the north, where the White Mountain Apaches lived. He himself followed on August 30 and told the officer in charge that he wanted peace. But, uncomfortable among the alien tribe of White Mountains, he returned to his own country. His Chokonen followers refused to go there ostensibly for the same reason. More likely, they had heard of the promising talks between the Chihenne chiefs and government agents at Cañada Alamosa.10

  On October 20, 1870, at Cañada Alamosa, a government emissary from Santa Fe parleyed with Warm Springs chiefs Victorio and Loco. The next day, as Loco had predicted, Cochise rode in with thirty-four men, including captains and headmen with their families, ninety-six in all. On October 22, he conferred for several hours with the official and explained that since 1860 he had been at war and had lost many men. Now he had more women and children than he could care for and still fight. He wanted peace so that he would not have to hide his women and children and could travel the roads in safety. The official said the Great Father wanted peace, too, and would provide rations. Cochise promised to try to bring his people to Cañada Alamosa and keep them quiet. He returned with some in December, but learning now that the government intended to move them all to the Mescalero Reservation near Fort Stanton, east of the Rio Grande, he led his people back home. Cochise had made clear that he wanted peace, and he intended, if the government called off the plan to move to Mescalero, to take his people back to Cañada Alamosa. But the war continued, as the troops chased him all over his homeland, allowing him “no rest, no peace.”11

  In fact, the government had not established a reservation for the Chihennes but argued over several proposals. Loco and his fellow chiefs made it clear that they wanted a reservation only in the Ojo Caliente country and would accept no other.

  On June 16, 1871, on a spur of the Dragoon Mountains, Cochise received an emissary from Cañada Alamosa, one Cochise had met there the previous October. Cochise liked him and named him “Stagalito,” Red Beard—a fitting sobriquet for the big man with red hair and beard. (Thomas J. Jeffords, a trader; earlier he had scouted for General Carleton and briefly operated a mail and stage line between Santa Fe and Tucson.) Now Stagalito told Cochise that the highest government official in New Mexico asked him to bring his people and settle near Cañada Alamosa, where he would receive rations and protection and an invitation to visit Washington. Cochise replied that he would like to settle there, but he could not expose his people to the soldiers swarming in the country. If they were withdrawn, he would come.12

  Finally, in September 1871, Cochise summoned the resolve to gather some of his people and move to Cañada Alamosa. They arrived on September 28—thirty men and about two hundred others. Still another big chief hastened down from Santa Fe and joined with the new agent to meet with Cochise. Meantime, more people arrived, bringing the number of his followers close to 250. In the council with the white officials early in October, Cochise promised to remain at peace and send runners to bring in other Chokonens. He thought that most of the groups still out would come, but not all. He could not be held responsible for them. Specifically, the Nednhis under Juh and Geronimo would fight to the last.13

  Thus Cochise himself confirmed the activities and attitude of Geronimo. Teamed with Juh and the Nednhis since 1865, he remained wedded to continuing raid and war against both Americans and Mexicans. Even though Cochise wanted peace, Geronimo remained in good health and determined to take life and property as long as he pleased. Peace formed no part of his thinking. With Juh, he ranged between Mexico and Arizona, murdering and depredating at will.

  Having finally settled Cochise at Cañada Alamosa, the government again blundered. No reservation existed here, and another touring special agent judged it unsuited for a reservation. He decreed that all the Chihennes be moved to a high, cold, sterile, and unhealthy mountain location seventy miles to the northwest in the Tularosa Valley, a tributary of the San Francisco River. This enraged them. They looked on the Alamosa Valley and the Ojo Caliente at its head as their sacred homeland. All resisted such a move, and as the controversy played out Cochise gathered his people and, at the end of March 1872, returned to their Arizona homeland. For the government and Cochise, peace remained as elusive as ever.14

  Rejecting Tularosa and giving up on Cañada Alamosa, Cochise turned to Janos in hopes of a treaty and rations from the Mexicans. Also in the vicinity were Juh and Geronimo with the Nednhis, who had been hounded out of Sonora by aggressive Mexican offensives and also sought succor at Janos. Cochise remained near Janos until late July 1872, when he concluded that the Mexicans would not respond. He therefore returned to his favored stronghold in Arizona’s Dragoon Mountains.15

  EIGHT

  COCHISE: Peace at Last, 1872

  ALTHOUGH THE CHIRICAHUA MOUNTAINS remained the homeland of the Chokonens, Cochise passed much time in his two strongholds, east and west, in the Dragoon Mountains, a lesser range forty miles west of the Chiricahuas. The base of the mountains consisted of pile on pile of huge boulders, and the strongholds could be reached only by intricate pathways. The strongholds provided open spaces for councils, with wood and water surrounded by rock walls and accessible only to Apaches. Between the two mountain ranges lay the flat, grassy Sulphur Springs Valley. Anyone approaching the Dragoons from the east could not avoid being seen from the mountains.

  Late in September 1872 Cochise’s lookouts, posted on the summit of the Dragoons, spotted the approach across the Sulphur Springs Valley of a group of five men. The sentinels reported to Cochise and kept close watch. Early on the morning of September 30 the party entered a defile that accessed a path to Cochise’s West Stronghold. At the same time, signal smokes announced that the men came in peace. One of the five, who clearly knew the way in, went ahead to take word to Cochise. His name was Chie (ironically, the son of Coyuntera, Cochise’s brother hanged at Apache Pass by Lieutenant Bascom). Word reached Cochise that the party consisted of two other old friends, Ponce and Red Beard Jeffords, and two army officers, one a bearded general who had only one arm. They came, Cochise was told, to talk peace. Two boys went down to lead these men up the steep, winding trail across the Dragoon Mountains to Cochise’s West Stronghold.

  A group of Chiricahuas camped here, but not Cochise. He would come the next morning. Early on October 1 he appeared, preceded by his brother Juan and accompanied by his sister, his youngest wife, and his youngest son, a teenager named Naiche. Juan rushed to embrace Red Beard, as did Cochise when he dismounted. “This is the man,” Jeffords said to the older American officer. Cochise turned to shake his one hand, noting that the sleeve of his other arm, severed at the elbow, was tied to a button on the front of his shirt. “Buenos Días, Señor,” Cochise said. After warmly greeting Chie and the other Apache, Ponce, Cochise shook hands with the other officer. Jeffords named them as General Howard and Captain Sladen.1

  A blanket had been spread in the shade of a big oak. As a growing circle of women and children crowded toward the blanket, Cochise bid his guests to sit. Cochise, Ponce, and Jeffords all spoke rudimentary Spanish, and the conversation proceeded entirely in Spanish; but what Howard and Cochise expressed emerged clearly. After a long conversation in Apache with Chie and Ponce, Cochise turned to Howard and asked why he had come. Through Jeffords, Howard replied that he had come from Washington to meet Cochise and his people and make peace, that he would stay as long as necessary. Cochise responded that he too wanted peace, that he had done no harm since returning from Cañada Alamosa, that he was poor and could have relieved his distress by raiding traffic on the Tucson road but had not done it.2

  Howard then went directly to the point of his visit. He wanted Cochise and the Chokonens to move to Cañada Alamosa and live with the Chihennes. Although he had twice tried to settle there, Cochise now replied that he himself would go, but all his people would not follow. His band of Chokonen Chiricahuas would be broken. He had already said as much to whi
te officials, especially singling out the Nednhis of Juh and Geronimo. Neither they nor some of the Chokonen groups would give up their free life for a reservation.

  Abruptly, Cochise also went directly to the point: Why not give him Apache Pass? Give him that and he would protect all the roads. He would see that nobody’s property was taken by Indians.

  Howard answered by conceding that this might be possible but went on to extol the virtues of the Cañada Alamosa country.

  Without further argument, Cochise asked how long the general would stay. Would he wait for all the subchiefs to be summoned for a formal council? This would take ten days. Howard repeated that he would stay as long as necessary. At once Cochise dispatched runners on this mission.

  He also expressed apprehension that his captains would encounter patrols of soldiers while converging on his stronghold. Howard offered to send Captain Sladen to Fort Bowie with orders to initiate a cease-fire and to telegraph this message to all other forts. Cochise objected. Sladen was only a “teniente,” while Howard was a “Grande,” whom the soldiers were certain to obey. Howard agreed to accompany Sladen, but Cochise insisted that only Chie go with him; Sladen and Jeffords would remain in the Apache camp.3

  In Howard’s absence, some of Cochise’s men came in and reported slaying four soldiers a few days earlier. Certain that pursuing soldiers could not find his stronghold, he nonetheless abandoned it and led his people to a steep mountainside that could easily be defended. From here, the next morning, they spotted the approach of Howard’s party across the plain below. In a mountain pass, they welcomed the “Grande” back to the Dragoons. He had with him three white men, one of whom drove a spring wagon drawn by four mules and loaded with provisions. By early morning on October 4 all had returned to the original camp.

  One after another Chokonen captain brought his people to the stronghold. To Cochise’s disappointment, his eldest son, Taza, had not come; he was raiding deep in Sonora. During the wait, Howard and Cochise continued to argue over the solution—Cañada Alamosa or Cochise’s traditional homeland. One of the white men who had arrived with Howard was a Spanish interpreter; he spoke no Apache. So again the dialogue proceeded in Spanish.4

  By October 10 all had come who could be expected, ten, all men of influence. Cochise decided to proceed with a formal council, which he regarded as of great significance. He and his ten captains sat in the center of a shaded circle, with Howard, Jeffords, Sladen, and Howard’s Spanish interpreter. Cochise wanted his own Spanish interpreter, and he too seated himself next to the chief. Circle after circle of people—men, women, and children—crowded as close as possible to try to hear what transpired.

  The issue was the general’s proposition that all the Chiricahuas move to a reservation, yet to be selected, and be fed and cared for by the government. Actually, Howard had already given in. Even so, formal agreement had to be reached. Cochise spoke in Apache to his interpreter, who translated into Spanish for the general’s interpreter, who translated into English for him. The talks amounted to a formal ratification of what had already been decided. Instead of moving to Cañada Alamosa, as Howard had wanted, Cochise could have a reservation in his own homeland, with Red Beard Jeffords as agent. In return, his people would cease all raiding and warfare and keep the roads open and safe.

  Cochise wanted the officers at Fort Bowie to know what had been decided and asked the general to summon them to a council at Sulphur Springs the next day, October 12. Four officers appeared there after a nighttime ride, and again, for their benefit, the terms of the agreement were set forth—again, from Apache to Spanish to English.

  Geronimo claimed in his autobiography to have been at the Howard peace conference, and one of the officers at Sulphur Springs backed his claim.5

  Without much effort, Cochise had got his way from the American general, who did not argue very forcefully for his way or against Cochise’s way. Both Jeffords and Cochise were pleased with the outcome, although neither foresaw the immense trouble it would cause the Chiricahuas in only a few years.

  Unknown to Cochise—or Geronimo—General Howard’s mission was but part of a comprehensive government effort to concentrate all the Apaches of Arizona and New Mexico on reservations, either by diplomacy or by military force. For Howard, diplomacy had worked.

  In Washington, in March 1869, a new Great Father had taken office. He was Ulysses S. Grant, the Union Army’s most famous general in the Civil War. Under his auspices, a new policy toward the Indians had taken shape. Labeled Grant’s Peace Policy, it sought to approach the Indians by peaceful means, not military force: “conquest by kindness.” As part of the reform package, an act of Congress had authorized creation of a Board of Indian Commissioners, composed of eminent humanitarians, to advise the Interior Department on policy and ensure the proper expenditure of funds appropriated for the Indians. Under its oversight, moreover, Protestant religious bodies were to nominate agents to gather roaming Indians on reservations and see to their care and “civilization.”

  With Arizona and New Mexico swept by Apache depredations, no part of the West demanded quicker action. The outraged governor of New Mexico, William A. Pile, had journeyed to the southwestern counties of the territory and compiled a list of depredations between November 25, 1869, and May 21, 1871. For each of the fifty-four entries, he specified the loss in cows, horses, mules, burros, sheep, and other stock, together with the dollar value of each. He named ten men killed and two wounded. Governor Anson Safford of Arizona also complained of depredations in a letter published in the San Francisco Alta California. Between September 15 and October 24, 1871, he listed and described ten. Both governors and settlers ensured that Washington knew of their distress.6

  The grievances of the citizens had to be addressed. The secretary of the Board of Indian Commissioners, a man of colossal ego named Vincent Colyer, received instructions directly from the president to travel to New Mexico and Arizona and collect all roaming Apaches on a reservation to be set aside at Cañada Alamosa. En route, Colyer succeeded in getting his powers enlarged to place the Indians not just at Cañada Alamosa but at any reservations he might designate. The army received orders to aid Colyer in any way he asked. He arrived in New Mexico in August 1871.7

  To collect even all the Chihenne Chiricahuas at Cañada Alamosa, much less all the Apache tribes, dramatizes how ignorant of Apaches and their country the Washington policy-makers were. When Colyer got to Cañada Alamosa, he found only a few Indians; most had left because of a rumored impending attack by miners. Worse yet, he judged it unsuitable for a reservation. The Mexican improvements in their village would have to be purchased; why incur that expense when so much unoccupied land lay nearby? Also, he believed that Cañada Alamosa afforded insufficient land once Cochise and his people settled there. So, aided by the superintendent of Indian affairs and the local agent, he chose another reservation. It lay in the Tularosa Valley about seventy miles to the northwest. Colyer pronounced it remote from whites and surrounded by mountains and arable land, with plenty of wood, water, and grass. When they returned to Cañada Alamosa, the Chihennes did not want to go to Tularosa: it was too high, too cold, and swampy, and it lacked good farming grounds; above all, they loved their sacred homeland. Not until April 1872 did the movement begin, and then only 350 people could be found. Already, all Apaches not at Tularosa or still at Cañada Alamosa had been declared hostile and subject to military action.8

  Understanding that Cochise would settle his people at Cañada Alamosa (that is, now Tularosa), Colyer proceeded to Arizona to deal with the other Apache tribes. Here he entered another military jurisdiction. In 1870 the military District of Arizona had been elevated to the Department of Arizona, a part of the Division of the Pacific. Colonel George Stoneman had been named commander. Ensconced in comfortable headquarters in distant Los Angeles, he designated certain forts as “feeding stations,” where Indians could be safe and receive rations. He proved unable, however, to quell the bloody depredations sweeping the territor
y, including many by Cochise’s men. The governor and territorial press demanded aggressive military action instead of “feeding stations.”

  On June 4, 1871, a new commander relieved Stoneman. Lieutenant Colonel George Crook had achieved outstanding success against the tribes of the Pacific Northwest. Ignoring both Secretary of War William W. Belknap and General-in-Chief William T. Sherman and the claims of many officers of superior rank, President Grant assigned Crook to command the Department of Arizona in his brevet grade of major general. A taciturn, aggressive field commander, the militarily unorthodox Crook set forth at once to learn how to deal with and fight Apaches. With five troops of cavalry, he made a grand sweep of eastern Arizona, by way of Forts Bowie, McDowell, Apache, and Verde. Finding no Apaches to fight, he turned to establish headquarters at Whipple Barracks in Prescott.9

  En route, while contemplating the organization of a multipronged offensive against all the warring Apaches, Crook learned from a newspaper of Vincent Colyer’s mission. Although his own chain of command had not withdrawn authorization to round up the Apaches by force, he had little choice but to suspend operations. He believed “Vincent the Good” a tool of the “Indian Ring” and abject failure the certain result of his efforts. As he had in New Mexico, however, Colyer sketched out a complex of reservations for all but the Chiricahuas and left the army’s post commanders in charge until the Indian Bureau could take responsibility. Reports from post commanders declared that as soon as Colyer had left each group, the Apaches had resumed their marauding ways.10

  On February 7, 1872, Crook issued orders that after February 16 any Indians not within the boundaries of the reservations defined by Colyer would be regarded as hostile and subject to military action. He immediately began preparing his long-deferred offensive against all such roamers, including those of Cochise. This set off alarm bells in Washington, which desperately wanted to preserve the peace thought to have been concluded by Vincent Colyer. To head off an Apache war, another peace commissioner vested with the full powers Colyer had enjoyed set forth early in March 1872.