The Wild Huntress: Love in the Wilderness

Chapter Ninety Two

Gabriella Gonzales

“Puez, Señor!” commenced the Mexican, “your comrades tell me, you have been campaigning down below on the Rio Grande.”

“Quite true – I have.”

“Then you know something of our Mexican frontier life – how for the last half century we have been harassed by the Indios bravos– our ranchos given to the flames – our grand haciendas plundered and laid waste – our very towns attacked – many of them pillaged, destroyed, and now lying in ruins.”

“I have heard of these devastations. Down in Texas, I have myself been an eye-witness to a similar condition of things.”

“Ah! true, señor. Down there – in Tejas and Tamaulipas – things, I have heard, are bad enough. Carrai! here in New Mexico they are ten times worse. There they have the Comanches and Lipanos. Here we have an enemy on every side. On the east Caygüa and Comanche, on the west the Apache and Navajo. On the south our country is harassed by the Wolf and Mezcalero Apachés, on the north by their kindred, the Jicarillas; while, now and then, it pleases our present allies the Utahs, to ornament their shields with the scalps of our people, and their wigwams with the fairest of our women. Carrambo! señor! a happy country ours, is it not?”

The ironically bitter speech was intended for a reflection, rather than an interrogation, and therefore needed no reply. I made none. “Puez, amigo!” continued the Mexican, “I need hardly tell you that there is scarce a family on the Rio del Norte – from Taos to El Paso – that has not good cause to lament this unhappy condition of things; scarce one that has not personally suffered, from the inroads of the savages. I might speak of houses pillaged and burnt; of maize-fields laid waste to feed the horses of the roving marauder; of sheep and cattle driven off to desert fastnesses; bah! what are all these? What signify such trifling misfortunes, compared with that other calamity, which almost every family in the land may lament – the loss of one or more of its members – wife, daughter, sister, child – borne off into hopeless bandage, to satisfy the will, or gratify the lust, of a merciless barbarian?”

“A fearful state of affairs!”

“Ay señor! Even the bride has been snatched off, from before the altar – from the arms of the bridegroom fondly clasping, and before he has had time to caress her! Ay de mi, cavallero! Truly can I say that: it has been my own story.”

“Yours?”

“Yes – mine. You ask me for souvenirs. There is one that will cling to me for life!” The Mexican pointed to his mutilated limb. “Carrambo!” continued he, “that is nothing. There is another wound here – here in my heart. It was received at the same time; and will last equally as long – only a thousand times more painful.”

These words were accompanied by a gesture. The speaker placed his hand over his heart, and held it there to the end of his speech – as if to still the sad sigh, that I could see swelling within his bosom. His countenance, habitually cheerful – almost comic in its expression – had assumed an air of concentrated anguish. It was easy to divine that he had been the victim of some cruel outrage. My curiosity had become fully aroused; and I felt an eager desire to hear a tale, which, though beyond doubt painful, could not be otherwise than one of romantic interest.

“Your lameness, then, had something to do with the story of your blighted love? You say that both misfortunes happened to you at the same time!” My interrogatives were intended to arouse him from the reverie into which he had fallen. I was successful; and the recital was continued.

“True, señor– both came together; but you shall hear all. It is not often I speak of the affair, though it is seldom out of my thoughts, I have tried to forget it. Carrambo! how could I, with a thing like that constantly recalling it to my memory?” The speaker again pointed to his deformed foot with a smile of bitter significance. “Por Dios, cavallero! I think of it often enough; but just now more than common. Their presence – ” he nodded towards the lovers, whose forms were just visible in the grey twilight, “the happiness I see reminds me of my own misery. More especially does she recall the misfortune to my memory – this wild huntress who has had misfortunes of her own. But beyond that, señor, though you may think it strange, your conpaisana is wonderfully like what she was.”

“Like whom?”

“Ah! señor, I have not told you? She that I loved with all the love in my heart – the beautiful Gabriella Gonzales.”

Men of the Spanish race – however humble their social rank – are gifted with a certain eloquence; and in this case passion was lending poetry to the speech. No wonder I became deeply interested in the tale, and longed to hear more of Gabriella Gonzales.

“En verdad,” continued the Mexican, after a pause, “there are many things in the character of your countrywoman to remind me of my lost love – even in her looks. Gabriella, like her, was beautiful. Perhaps your comrade yonder might not think her so beautiful as the huntress; but that is natural. In my mind Gabriella was everything. She had Indian blood in her veins: we all have in these parts, though we boast of our pure Spanish descent. No matter; Gabriella was white enough – to my eyes white as the lily that sparkles upon the surface of the lagoon. Like yonder maiden, she inherited from her ancestors a free daring spirit. She feared neither our Indian enemies, nor danger of any kind —Por Dios! Not she.”

“Of course she loved you?”

“Ah! that truly did she – else why should she have consented to marry me? What was I? A poor cibolero– at times a hunter and trapper of beavers, just as I am now? I was possessed of nothing but my horse and traps; whiles he —Carrambo! señor, proud ricos pretended to her hand!”

It is possible that my countenance may have expressed incredulity. It was difficult to conceive how the diminutive Mexican – as he appeared just then in my eyes – could have won the love of such a grand belle as he was describing Gabriella to be. Still was he not altogether unhandsome; and in earlier life – before his great misfortune had befallen him – he might have been gifted with some personal graces. High qualities, I had heard of his possessing – among others courage beyond question or suspicion; and in those frontier regions – accursed by the continual encroachment of Indian warfare, and where human life is every day in danger – that is a quality of the first class – esteemed by all, but by none more than those who stand most in need of protection – the women. Often there as elsewhere – more often than elsewhere – does courage take precedence of mere personal appearance, and boldness wins the smile of beauty. It was possible that the possession of this quality on the part of Pedro Archilete had influenced the heart of the fair Gabriella. This might explain her preference.

The Mexican must have partially divined my thoughts, as was proved by the speech that followed. “Yes, amigo! more than one rich haciendado would have been only too happy to have married Gabriella; and yet she consented to become my wife, though I was just as I am now. May be a little better looking than at this time; though I can’t say that I ever passed for an Apollo. No – no —señor. It was not my good looks that won the heart of the girl.”

“Your good qualities?”

“Not much to boast of, cavallero. True, in my youth, I had the name of being the best horseman in our village – the best rastreador– the most skilful trapper. I could ‘tail the bull,’ ‘run the cock,’ and pick up a girl’s ribbon at full gallop – perhaps a little more adroitly than my competitors; but I think it was something else that first gained me the young girl’s esteem. I had the good fortune once to save her life – when, by her own imprudence, she had gone out too far from the village, and was attacked by a grizzly bear. Ay de mi! It mattered not. Poor niña! She might as well have perished then, by the monster’s claws. She met her death from worse monsters – a death far more horrible; but you shall hear.”

“Go on! From what you have disclosed, I am painfully interested in your tale.”

Chapter Ninety Three

A Bloody Bridal

“Puez señor! what I am about to tell you happened full ten years ago, though it’s as fresh in my mind as if it was yesterday. You may have heard of the village of Valverde? It is about fifty leagues south of Santa Fé, on the Rio del Norte – that portion of the valley we call the Rio Abajo. It was at one time a settlement of some importance – rich and prospering as any in New Mexico – but, in consequence of the incursions of the Apachés, it fell into decay. Is now a complete ruin without a single inhabitant.”

“Well, amigo; it was there I was born: and there lived I, till I was twenty-five years of age – up to the time when that calamity befell me, and mine – the same I am about to speak of. I may say two years after that time; for I did not leave the neighbourhood till I had taken revenge upon those who were the cause of my misfortunes. I have spoken of Gabriella Gonzales. I have told you that I loved her; but I could not find words to tell you how much I loved her. You, who have come all this way in pursuit of a sweetheart, – you, cavallero, can understand all that. Like you with yours, I too could have followed Gabriella to the end of the world! Puez amigo! Like you, I had the good fortune to be loved in return.”

I could not divine the object of the Mexican in proclaiming this similitude. Perhaps it was done with the view of cheering me – for the quick-witted fellow had not failed to notice my despondency. It could only be a conjecture on his part: for how could he know ought of Lilian, beyond the fact of my preference for her, and that she was the object of our expedition? Of course he was aware, like all the others, of the purpose of our pursuit. From Sure-shot, or Wingrove, he might have learnt a little more; but neither he nor they could possibly have been acquainted with a sentiment of which, alas! I was myself in doubt – the very doubt which was producing my despondency. His incidental allusion could have been only conjecture. I would have joyed to believe it just; but whether just or not it had the effect of soothing me; and, silently accepting it, I permitted him to continue his narration.

“I need not enter into the particulars of my wooing. Gabriella lived upon a hato some distance below Valverde, and nearer to the desert of the Dead Man’s Journey (Jornada del muerto) – of which no doubt you have heard mention. Her father was a hatero, and owned large flocks of sheep. He pastured them upon the great plains on the eastern side of the Sierra Blanca – where I was in the habit of going in my capacity of cibolero to hunt the buffaloes. The hatero and I became acquainted – became friends. He invited me to visit his house, and I went. I saw Gabriella for the first time; and ever afterwards was her beautiful face before my eyes. I went often, as you may believe, cavallero; but for a long time I was uncertain whether I was welcome – I mean to Gabriella: for her father still continued my friend. It was only after the incident I have mentioned – my saving her from the bear – that I felt certain my love was returned.

“She had ventured too far into the mountains, where I had chanced to be at the time. I heard her voice calling for help. I ran through the rocks, and came up, just as a huge bear was springing upon her. I was a good shot, and my bullet brought down the monster – stretching him lifeless at her feet. Gabriella thanked me with sweet words – with smiles that were far sweeter, and told me still more. From that hour I knew that she was mine. Shortly after she consented to marry me.”

“You were married, then?”

“Married – but only for an hour.”

“Only for an hour!”

“Ah! señor; just so. One hour of wedded life, and then we were parted for ever. Death parted us. Death to her – to me worse than death; despair that has never left me – no – never will.”

The voice of the speaker trembled in sorrowful tone. It was manifestly a sorrow that defied any efforts I might have made at consolation. I made none; but in silence and with eager attention awaited to hear the dénouement of a drama, whose prologue promised such a tragical ending.

“Puez, señor,” proceeded the narrator, after a short silence, “Gabriella, as I have said, consented to marry me, and we were married. It was the day of our wedding. We had parted from the church; and with our friends had gone out into the country for a dia de campo. There were about twenty of us in all, young men and girls – about, an equal number of each – all in their holiday dresses, just as they had been to the church. Most of the girls were Gabriella’s bridesmaids, and still wore the flowers and jewels they had used at the ceremony. The place chosen for our dia de campo was a pretty spot, about a mile distant from the town. It was a glade in the midst of the chapparal, surrounded by beautiful trees, and sweet-smelling flowers. We went afoot: for the distance did not make it worth while for us to ride. Besides, we preferred enjoying the ramble, without being encumbered with horses. Well, señor; we had arrived on the ground, spread out the repast we had brought with us, uncorked the wine-bottles, and were in the full tide of enjoyment – talking and laughing gaily – when all of a sudden – we heard the trampling of horses. Not of one or two; but the hoof-strokes of a whole troop. At first we thought it might be the cavallada of some rich proprietor, galloping past the place. We knew that horses were pastured in that neighbourhood; and it was like enough to be one of the half-wild droves straying through the chapparal. Still we were not without apprehension: for it might also be a troop of Apachés – who in those times made frequent forays upon the defenceless settlements. Alas, cavallero! our apprehensions proved but too just. We had been seated on the grass, around our festive preparations. We had scarce time to spring to our feet, ere the yell of the savages sounded in our ears; and almost on the instant the glade was filled with dusky warriors. They were all upon horseback, brandishing their long lances, and winding their lazos around their heads. Fearfully painted, and whooping their wild cries, they resembled the very demonios! We could neither retreat nor defend ourselves. Against such odds it would have been idle to have attempted the latter: besides, we were all without weapons. On an occasion like that which had called us forth, one does not think of preparing for such an event. I own it was imprudent of us to go out unarmed – more especially when the country was filled with Indian novedades– but who could have dreamt that such was to be the fatal termination to our joyous dia de campo? Ay de mi! I may well call it fatal. Very few of our men survived that dreadful day. Two or three of the young fellows managed to retreat into the bushes; and afterwards got off. The others were killed upon the spot – most of them impaled upon the spears of the Apachés! The women were left untouched: for the Indians rarely kill our women. Them they reserve for a different destiny. Ah! cavallero! a destiny worse than death! Not one of them escaped. The poor niñas were all made captives; and each, borne off in the arms of a swarthy savage, was mounted upon his horse. Gabriella, the queen of all, – because by far the most beautiful – was chosen by the chief. I saw her struggling in his grasp, I saw him dragging her over the ground, and raising her to the withers of his steed. I saw him leap up behind her, and prepare to ride off – Gabriella, my beloved – my bride!”

Here the speaker paused – as if overcome by the very remembrance of the incidents he was relating; and it was some time before he became sufficiently composed to resume his narrative.

Chapter Ninety Four

A rough Drag

Recovering himself, at length, the narrator proceeded: —

“You may ask, señor, how I came to be witness of all these outrages. Was I not speared like my companions? Was I not, like them, killed upon the spot! I answer, no. I was still alive; and I might almost say uninjured. True I had been beaten and bruised in the struggle – for I had made an impotent effort at defending myself – but they had not killed me. I was for a time stunned, and senseless; but my senses returned before the fray was over; and I was a witness to the closing scene. It was then I saw the young girls in the act of being hurried off by their captors. It was then my heart was wrung, by the spectacle of Gabriella struggling in the arms of the chief. I was helpless to interfere. I was prostrate upon the earth, and held fast in the gripe of two brawny savages – one kneeling on each side of me. I expected them at every instant to put an end to my life. I awaited the final blow – either the stroke of a tomahawk or the thrust of a spear. I only wondered they were delaying my death. My wonders ceased, when I at length got my eyes on the face of the Apache chief – which up to that moment I had not seen. Then I recognised an old enemy, whom I had encountered on the plains; and I saw that the recognition was mutual. This explained why they had not finished me on the spot. I was spared only to suffer some more horrible mode of death.

“It was not long till I was made acquainted with their intention. I saw the chief telegraph some order to the Indians who guarded me; which one of the latter hastened to execute. A lazo was looped around my ankle, and carried out. The other end of it was made fast to the tail of a horse; after which the Indian leaped upon the back of the animal. The other also mounted his own horse; and the whole troop appeared ready to gallop off. I could see that the savages were hastening their departure. There was but a small band of them; and, as the place was near a large town, they had reason to fear pursuit. Those of our party who had escaped would return at once to the town – where troops were stationed at the time. This explained to me the hurried movements the Indians were making. Carrambo, señor! I had not much opportunity to reflect on the chances of our being rescued by our friends. I saw what the savages intended for me; and that was sufficient to occupy all my thoughts. I was to be dragged at the tail of a horse!

“Yes, cavallero! and the infernal design was instantly carried into execution; for in a moment after, the chief gave the signal to ride forward, and the whole troop went off at a gallop. He to whose croup I was attached was last in the line; and, consequently, I was trailed along without coming in contact with the others – the long lazo separating me from his horse by a distance of more than a dozen yards. Fortunately the ground over which they dragged me, was free from rocks or other inequalities – else I should have been torn to pieces. It chanced to be a smooth, grassy sward; and protected by my leathern jaqueta and calzoneros, I was less injured than one might expect. It was my ankle that suffered most – for the loop soon slipped down below the joint, and nearly drew the bone out of its socket. That, señor, is how I came to be ‘un cojo’ as you see.”

With a bitter smile the speaker pointed to his deformed foot, and then continued: – “Well – I suppose it would have killed me in the end: since the smooth turf did not extend far in the direction the savages were taking. But just then an idea came into my head, that gave me some hope of being able to relieve myself from my perilous situation. After the first hundred yards or so had been passed over, I saw that the savages had ceased to pay any attention to me. They were all too eager to hurry onward; besides, they were occupied with the women captives. It occurred to me, that if I could only get my foot free from the noose, I might part company with my captors, without any of them perceiving it. I remembered that I had a knife in my pocket; and, as my hands had been left free, I believed that I could get my fingers upon it, notwithstanding the rapid rate at which I was being jerked over the ground. I tried to get out my knife, and succeeded. As good luck would have it, just then, the path on which my captors were travelling, narrowed between two groves of timber – forming a kind of avenue or lane. Through this the troop had to pass in Indian file – my particular horseman still keeping in the rear. While going through, the gallop of the horses was interrupted – or at least their pace was greatly slackened – the rearmost of the band being thrown almost into a walk. This gave me the opportunity I desired; and, making an effort, I doubled my body over on itself – until I was able to reach the lazo beyond my foot. A single cut of my keen blade severed the thong; and I was detached on the instant. With anxious gaze I looked after the retreating horsemen: fearing they would see what I had done, gallop back, and spear me where I lay; but to my great joy I saw them ride on, till the last of them was out of sight. Yes, cavallero!” continued the narrator, “I saw the last horse, and the very tail to which I had been attached, pass out of sight. No doubt the horse knew what had happened, but not his rider. Not one of the whole troop appeared to have any suspicion that there was aught amiss – until I had crawled into the bushes, and got some distance from the path. Then I could hear them, as they galloped back, and rode whooping through the thicket in search of me. Carrambo, señor! I then felt more anxious than ever. Up to that time I had no thought of anything else than being rubbed out. I had been certain of it, from the first moment of the attack upon our party. Now, however, I had conceived a hope that I might escape, and return to the rescue of Gabriella. To be captured the second time would have been ten times more disagreeable than at first – when there was no opportunity either to hope for safety, or to reflect on the means of securing it. Now that a chance of life had offered itself, I was doubly fearful of losing it. I could make but little headway – so much was I disabled – but half hobbling, half crawling, I worked on through the thicket in the direction of the town. I could hear the savages beating the bushes behind; and every moment I expected to have them upon me. They would in time have traced, and overtaken me; but perhaps they cared not much for the capture. They had secured the booty they most prized; and, probably, reflected that, by wasting time in searching for me, they might risk losing it again. For this, or some other reason, they gave up the search; and I could tell by their voices, heard at a greater distance, that they were riding off. Without staying to assure myself, I limped on to the town – which I reached at length. Two of my friends, who had escaped at the first onslaught, had got there before me. The news of the sad disaster had spread like a prairie fire. The whole population was excited by the outrage; for the young girls made captives had many friends and relations in the place. So also the men who had been murdered. The troops were summoned to arms. It chanced to be a squadron of lancers – one of the best then in the service of the government – and these, along with about a hundred volunteers, all mounted, rode forth in pursuit of the savages. Notwithstanding that my wounded ankle pained me exceedingly, I was able to accompany them on horseback. Americano! I fear my narrative may be wearying you; and therefore I shall not enter into the particulars of the pursuit. Sufficient to say, that we succeeded in overtaking the ravishers. It was near midnight when we came up with them. We found them in their camp, with huge fires blazing all over the ground. We approached within pistol range before any alarm was given. They had been carousing on mezcal, and were keeping no guard. The bright blaze showed us how they had been occupied. The women sat here and there, many of them lying prostrate upon the earth. Their torn garments and dishevelled air betokened that a sad catastrophe had befallen them! We could bear the sight no longer. With hearts full of vengeance, both soldiers and citizens rushed upon the base despoilers; and the work of retribution began. Gabriella had been the first to become aware of our advance; and, springing to her feet, had bounded beyond the reach of her captors, and was running outward to meet us. Ay de mi! it was the last race of her life. An Indian arrow shot after was too quick for her; and, pierced through and through, she fell dying into my arms. Pobrecita! She kissed me with her parting breath, and then expired. Ah! señor, that was a kiss of death!” A long deep-drawn sigh, and the drooping attitude into which the speaker had fallen, told me that he had ended his narrative. Out of respect to the sacredness of his sorrow, I forbore questioning him farther at the time. It was only afterwards that I learnt from him some additional particulars: how most of the savages were slain upon the spot, and the captive girls rescued; but, although escaping with lifer they had all been the victims of barbarian lust, that brought more than one of them to an early grave! A wild tale it may appear; and, although we may term it a romance of New Mexico, its counterpart is not the less an oft-recurring reality in that unhappy land.