The Apache Kid
Written by Harry L. Payne, Safford, Arizona
From 1875 to 1886 there was almost constant warfare between the people of Arizona and the Government troops on one side, and the Apaches on the other. During this period Al Sieber was chief of scouts for the government. This man Sieber had adopted an Apache boy, a son of chief Toga-de-chuz, whom he called the “Kid”. The boy was sent to school where he acquired some education, and, when old enough, was enlisted as a scout, and later was promoted and made First Sergeant of Agency Scouts.
In a drunken brawl, at an Indian dance, at San Carlos, Graham County, Arizona, the Kid’s father, Toga-de-chuz, was killed, it was said by an Indian called Old Rip. According to the Apache code of honor, it became the duty of the Kid, who was the oldest son of Toga-de-chuz, to avenge his Father’s death. Sieber warned the Kid not to harm Rip, but the boy answered never a word. Shortly after the killing, Sieber and Captain Pierce, the agent at the San Carlos reservation, went to Fort Apache, leaving the Kid in charge of the scouts to maintain order at the agency, while they were away. No sooner were they gone than the boy took five of his men, went to the camp of Rip, and shot him, and then went to the part of the country where his tribe was located, instead of returning to the agency.
When Sieber returned to the agency, he ordered the Kid to come to the agency, which he did, accompanied by eleven warriors. Sieber had them drawn up in line before his tent, and then told the Kid to take the guns and cartridge belts from the five who had government rifles. This he did. He then told the Kid to take his own belt and lay it on the ground with his rifle. The young man complied. Sieber then told him to take the five men and go to the guard house. At this, some of the Indians showed resistance, and Sieber, seizing his rifle shot and killed one of them.
In the fight that followed, Sieber was wounded and the Indians escaped. They went on the war-path, and committed several murders before they were finally run down by the troops. The Kid was tried for desertion. The trial took place in Globe Arizona, in 1889, at the fall term of the U.S. District Court. He was sentenced to a long term in prison, but after being confined for a short time, was pardoned by President Cleveland. After being released from the prison, he was arrested by the civil authorities of Gila County, charged with murder committed while he was on the warpath. In July 1888, the Kid with five of his companions was tried and sentenced to life imprisonment at Yuma, for the crime of murder. These five Indians and one Mexican prisoner, were started by special stage over the Pinal mountains on their way to the penitentiary at Yuma, to which they had been committed for life. The posse, which proved too small indeed, comprised Sheriff Glenn Reynolds and special deputy, William H. Holmes. The driver was Eugene Middleton, proprietor of the stage line and a member of a Tonto Basin family that had had serious trouble with Apaches.
The second day of the journey, on the Gila river, near the little town of Kelvia, or Ray Junction, in Pinal County, the sheriff took six of the shackled prisoners from the stage at the bottom of a steep sand wash. As the little party trudged up the hill, two of the Indians suddenly grasped the sheriff, who was in front, while two others wheeled upon Holmes. The latter, who, though brave, was subject to heart trouble, fell backwards as his pistol was wrenched from him by the Indian Pash-lau-te, who first attended to the sheriff. Reynolds struggling desperately, was shot in the base of the neck, and then the Indian turned and shot Holmes through the heart. Middleton, who told this story, as one of the party, stopped the stage, and, pistol in hand, was guarding the two prisoners, who had been left with him. One of these was the “Kid” who, in good English, shouted, “I will sit down, don’t shoot.” The scene of the tragedy was not visible from the stage and the pistol shots were supposed by Middleton, to have been fired by the Sheriff. A moment later he was better informed, for the Mexican prisoner ran up, seeking his own safety, just as the unseen Pash-lau-te, from behind the coach, fired at the driver with the Sheriff’s rifle. The four horses bolted, and Middleton fell to the sand with a bullet through the cheek, neck and left side of the body. The Indians rolled him over, searching for valuables and cartridges, and, fully conscious he felt the muzzle of a rifle against his temple. Then, as Pash-lau-te, was about to make sure of his job, the “kid” saved his life by observing, “Save the cartridges; he is dead anyhow.” The Mexican prisoner escaped from the Indians and made his way to Florence, where later he received a pardon from the Governor.
Leaving Middleton still “playing possum”, the Indians unshackled themselves, took their commitment papers from thee Sheriff’s pocket, tore them up, gave a whoop of joy and left the scene. When all was still, Middleton, horribly wounded as he was, staggered to his feet to seek help. He found that Holmes’ body had not been molested, but the Sheriff’s face had been terribly jabbed and cut by the muzzle of the gun, and the forehead had been smashed with [left blank]. It was not until the following morning that Middleton managed to drag himself back to Riverside station, about five miles distant. A posse from Globe started on the trail of the fugitives, but soon had to return on account of a snowstorm. The Indians had struck up the river to the mouth of the San Pedro near the site of the town of Hayden and thence on to San Carlos. It is told that the wife of a rancher named Cunningham, hearing of the escape of the Indians, died of fright. At San Carlos most of these outlaws were killed by Indian scouts. The head of Pash-lau-te, was cut off and carried to agency headquarters in order to give full assurance of his death. One of the Indians was badly wounded. He was captured at Florence and was tried and sentenced to life imprisonment at Yuma.
The “Kid” managed to make his escape, however, and for several years thereafter was a veritable nightmare in central and southeastern Arizona. He was heard from, all the way from Tonto Basin to the Sierra Madre mountains of Mexico. In all the district there were many murders charged to him. Possibly some of them were not his doing.
It is know that the “Kid” returned several times to the San Carlos reservation, where he stole several squaws and where he was so feared by the Indians that his visit was only known after he had gone. At different times he headed small bands of outlaw Apaches and made his excursions in force. On one of these trips, on Dec. 12, 1890, the Indians penned up three white men on a hillside twenty miles southeast of the San Bernardino ranch. One was Gus Mickey, who later became chairman of the board of Supervisors of Cochise County Arizona and a prosperous merchant in Bisbee. The other two were cowboys Jack Bridger and Bunk Robinson. Mickey had been called to the spot by a cowboy to see a steer that had been killed by the Indians. When the trio came to the dead animal, one of the cowboys swiftly raised a rifle and shot down an Indian, who, unconscious of their presence, was on his way for more beef. Then it was that the trio discovered that they had to settle with a band of not less than twelve Indians, led by the “Kid” himself. The white men were behind a clump of rocks in making a rather insecure sort of fortification. One of the attacking party was the notorious “Big Foot”, whose moccasin tracks, it was claimed, measured fourteen inches in length. The siege had continued several hours, and the party behind the rocks had begun to reel relative security, when a shot knocked a corncob pipe from Mickey’s mouth. Bridger, laughing at the occurrence, leaned forward, possibly exposing himself, and received a shot through the head. Only a few minutes later, Robinson fell back killed in the same manner. Then it was that Mickey established a marathon record and beat an Apache Indian at running. He struck the trail for camp, in the bottom of a sandy gorge in which some water was flowing. At the first bend, however, he sprang behind a boulder on the side of the canyon and struck away at a right angle, while the Indians kept running down the canyon thinking him still ahead, on the well trodden trail. He had been cut off from his horse, so flight was necessarily on foot to safety at the Milt Hall ranch, where he had been stopping with five others. The detour necessary was about fourteen miles. The next day the scene of battle was visited, the bodies were found unmutilated, but the heads had been crushed in with stones.
Early in 1899, Colonel Kosterlisky of the Mexican Rurales declared that the Apache “Kid” was still alive at the head of a little settlement of well behaved Apaches, renegades from the United States, in the Sierra Madre Mountains of Chihuahua Mexico. The Colonel intimated that if the settlement of Apaches ceased to be well behaved its end would come immediately.
From 1875 to 1886 there was almost constant warfare between the people of Arizona and the Government troops on one side, and the Apaches on the other. During this period Al Sieber was chief of scouts for the government. This man Sieber had adopted an Apache boy, a son of chief Toga-de-chuz, whom he called the “Kid”. The boy was sent to school where he acquired some education, and, when old enough, was enlisted as a scout, and later was promoted and made First Sergeant of Agency Scouts.
In a drunken brawl, at an Indian dance, at San Carlos, Graham County, Arizona, the Kid’s father, Toga-de-chuz, was killed, it was said by an Indian called Old Rip. According to the Apache code of honor, it became the duty of the Kid, who was the oldest son of Toga-de-chuz, to avenge his Father’s death. Sieber warned the Kid not to harm Rip, but the boy answered never a word. Shortly after the killing, Sieber and Captain Pierce, the agent at the San Carlos reservation, went to Fort Apache, leaving the Kid in charge of the scouts to maintain order at the agency, while they were away. No sooner were they gone than the boy took five of his men, went to the camp of Rip, and shot him, and then went to the part of the country where his tribe was located, instead of returning to the agency.
When Sieber returned to the agency, he ordered the Kid to come to the agency, which he did, accompanied by eleven warriors. Sieber had them drawn up in line before his tent, and then told the Kid to take the guns and cartridge belts from the five who had government rifles. This he did. He then told the Kid to take his own belt and lay it on the ground with his rifle. The young man complied. Sieber then told him to take the five men and go to the guard house. At this, some of the Indians showed resistance, and Sieber, seizing his rifle shot and killed one of them.
In the fight that followed, Sieber was wounded and the Indians escaped. They went on the war-path, and committed several murders before they were finally run down by the troops. The Kid was tried for desertion. The trial took place in Globe Arizona, in 1889, at the fall term of the U.S. District Court. He was sentenced to a long term in prison, but after being confined for a short time, was pardoned by President Cleveland. After being released from the prison, he was arrested by the civil authorities of Gila County, charged with murder committed while he was on the warpath. In July 1888, the Kid with five of his companions was tried and sentenced to life imprisonment at Yuma, for the crime of murder. These five Indians and one Mexican prisoner, were started by special stage over the Pinal mountains on their way to the penitentiary at Yuma, to which they had been committed for life. The posse, which proved too small indeed, comprised Sheriff Glenn Reynolds and special deputy, William H. Holmes. The driver was Eugene Middleton, proprietor of the stage line and a member of a Tonto Basin family that had had serious trouble with Apaches.
The second day of the journey, on the Gila river, near the little town of Kelvia, or Ray Junction, in Pinal County, the sheriff took six of the shackled prisoners from the stage at the bottom of a steep sand wash. As the little party trudged up the hill, two of the Indians suddenly grasped the sheriff, who was in front, while two others wheeled upon Holmes. The latter, who, though brave, was subject to heart trouble, fell backwards as his pistol was wrenched from him by the Indian Pash-lau-te, who first attended to the sheriff. Reynolds struggling desperately, was shot in the base of the neck, and then the Indian turned and shot Holmes through the heart. Middleton, who told this story, as one of the party, stopped the stage, and, pistol in hand, was guarding the two prisoners, who had been left with him. One of these was the “Kid” who, in good English, shouted, “I will sit down, don’t shoot.” The scene of the tragedy was not visible from the stage and the pistol shots were supposed by Middleton, to have been fired by the Sheriff. A moment later he was better informed, for the Mexican prisoner ran up, seeking his own safety, just as the unseen Pash-lau-te, from behind the coach, fired at the driver with the Sheriff’s rifle. The four horses bolted, and Middleton fell to the sand with a bullet through the cheek, neck and left side of the body. The Indians rolled him over, searching for valuables and cartridges, and, fully conscious he felt the muzzle of a rifle against his temple. Then, as Pash-lau-te, was about to make sure of his job, the “kid” saved his life by observing, “Save the cartridges; he is dead anyhow.” The Mexican prisoner escaped from the Indians and made his way to Florence, where later he received a pardon from the Governor.
Leaving Middleton still “playing possum”, the Indians unshackled themselves, took their commitment papers from thee Sheriff’s pocket, tore them up, gave a whoop of joy and left the scene. When all was still, Middleton, horribly wounded as he was, staggered to his feet to seek help. He found that Holmes’ body had not been molested, but the Sheriff’s face had been terribly jabbed and cut by the muzzle of the gun, and the forehead had been smashed with [left blank]. It was not until the following morning that Middleton managed to drag himself back to Riverside station, about five miles distant. A posse from Globe started on the trail of the fugitives, but soon had to return on account of a snowstorm. The Indians had struck up the river to the mouth of the San Pedro near the site of the town of Hayden and thence on to San Carlos. It is told that the wife of a rancher named Cunningham, hearing of the escape of the Indians, died of fright. At San Carlos most of these outlaws were killed by Indian scouts. The head of Pash-lau-te, was cut off and carried to agency headquarters in order to give full assurance of his death. One of the Indians was badly wounded. He was captured at Florence and was tried and sentenced to life imprisonment at Yuma.
The “Kid” managed to make his escape, however, and for several years thereafter was a veritable nightmare in central and southeastern Arizona. He was heard from, all the way from Tonto Basin to the Sierra Madre mountains of Mexico. In all the district there were many murders charged to him. Possibly some of them were not his doing.
It is know that the “Kid” returned several times to the San Carlos reservation, where he stole several squaws and where he was so feared by the Indians that his visit was only known after he had gone. At different times he headed small bands of outlaw Apaches and made his excursions in force. On one of these trips, on Dec. 12, 1890, the Indians penned up three white men on a hillside twenty miles southeast of the San Bernardino ranch. One was Gus Mickey, who later became chairman of the board of Supervisors of Cochise County Arizona and a prosperous merchant in Bisbee. The other two were cowboys Jack Bridger and Bunk Robinson. Mickey had been called to the spot by a cowboy to see a steer that had been killed by the Indians. When the trio came to the dead animal, one of the cowboys swiftly raised a rifle and shot down an Indian, who, unconscious of their presence, was on his way for more beef. Then it was that the trio discovered that they had to settle with a band of not less than twelve Indians, led by the “Kid” himself. The white men were behind a clump of rocks in making a rather insecure sort of fortification. One of the attacking party was the notorious “Big Foot”, whose moccasin tracks, it was claimed, measured fourteen inches in length. The siege had continued several hours, and the party behind the rocks had begun to reel relative security, when a shot knocked a corncob pipe from Mickey’s mouth. Bridger, laughing at the occurrence, leaned forward, possibly exposing himself, and received a shot through the head. Only a few minutes later, Robinson fell back killed in the same manner. Then it was that Mickey established a marathon record and beat an Apache Indian at running. He struck the trail for camp, in the bottom of a sandy gorge in which some water was flowing. At the first bend, however, he sprang behind a boulder on the side of the canyon and struck away at a right angle, while the Indians kept running down the canyon thinking him still ahead, on the well trodden trail. He had been cut off from his horse, so flight was necessarily on foot to safety at the Milt Hall ranch, where he had been stopping with five others. The detour necessary was about fourteen miles. The next day the scene of battle was visited, the bodies were found unmutilated, but the heads had been crushed in with stones.
Early in 1899, Colonel Kosterlisky of the Mexican Rurales declared that the Apache “Kid” was still alive at the head of a little settlement of well behaved Apaches, renegades from the United States, in the Sierra Madre Mountains of Chihuahua Mexico. The Colonel intimated that if the settlement of Apaches ceased to be well behaved its end would come immediately.