American Blood (16 page)

2

Bent's Fort had been built in 1833 by Charles and William Bent and their business associate, the French-American, Ceran St. Vrain. The oldest of four brothers destined to leave their mark on the American frontier, Charles had been six years old when his parents moved to St. Louis. There he had grown up rubbing elbows with trappers and traders. Thrilled by their tales of life in the untamed wilderness, Charles joined the Missouri Fur Company at a tender age, and then became involved in the lucrative Santa Fe trade. In 1830 he organized the Bent & St. Vrain Company. His partner, though born in Missouri, lived in the Taos area. The partnership prospered, and soon Bent and St. Vrain ruled a commercial empire.

Where Charles was the entrepreneur, his younger brother William was by nature the true frontiersman of the family. It was William, therefore, who saw to the day-to-day operations of the trading post and wilderness stronghold that came to be known as Bent's Fort. Married to a Cheyenne princess named Owl Woman, William had tremendous influence among the Indians, and not only did he cement strong trading relations with the various tribes, to the immense benefit of the Bent & St. Vrain Company, but he also proved instrumental in keeping the peace between the Indians and the pioneers.

Charles Bent spent a lot of time in St. Louis and New Mexico. He was married to an affluent Mexican widow and had established a permanent residence in Taos, becoming one of that community's leading citizens. Bent's Fort was only two weeks' journey from Santa Fe.

Bent's Fort was located on the northern bank of the Arkansas River, a hundred miles east of the Rockies. The walls, fifteen feet high and four feet thick, were built of adobe in the form of a hollow square, and the compound contained twenty-six rooms surrounding a courtyard. There were bastions at two corners, and parapets on all sides, and a small cannon on the wall above the gate, where the Stars and Stripes proudly flew. In the center of the courtyard were three large rooms. One was a storehouse and magazine, another a dining hall, and a third a council room. The fort could accommodate more than one hundred souls comfortably, and on any given day one could find Santa Fe traders, mountain men, Indians, emigrants, and soldiers there. One of the fort's most notable assets was Charlotte, a black woman who served as cook, and who was justly famous for her pancakes and pumpkin pies.

Falconer and Charles Bent were old friends, having met in St. Louis as youths more than twenty-five years earlier. When he heard that the Army of the West was only a few miles away, Bent was overjoyed.

"As you can see," said Bent, "trade with Santa Fe has come to a complete standstill. If something isn't done, and soon, many of our friends will be ruined, Hugh."

Falconer had counted more than a hundred wagons, all filled with merchandise, in a sprawling encampment of idle and disgruntled traders on the other side of the Arkansas River.

"General Kearny is authorized to offer you the position of provisional governor of New Mexico," Falconer informed his friend. "Will you take the job?"

Bent nodded grimly. "It is a task I do not relish, but I will not decline. I have many friends in New Mexico, and I want only the best for them."

"I know, and most of them know that, too. They're bound to prefer you over Manuel Armijo. With any luck we'll pull this off without a shot being fired."

"You've become an optimist in your old age," said Bent, grinning.

When Kearny and his troops arrived, they bivouacked across the river from the fort, near the trader's camp. Kearny dispatched Captain Moore and his company of dragoons on a reconnaissance in the direction of Raton Pass. Moore promptly returned with three Mexican prisoners, whom he declared were spies. These men were incarcerated at Bent's Fort and Kearny turned to Delgado for a favor.

"Go and talk to the prisoners, Mr. McKinn. Find out what they were up to, and what the situation is on the other side of those mountains."

In a few hours Delgado reported back to the general.

"They admit to being spies, General. Armijo sent them. They expect to be lined up against a wall and executed by firing squad. What they have seen of your army has made them despair. They are especially impressed with your artillery. In fact, one of them wept. He asked me what would become of New Mexico. Armijo's got them believing your army has come to rape and pillage."

"I have no intention of executing them," replied Kearny. "I want them to see everything there is to see, and then I will set them free, so that they
can report back to Armijo. What do you think of that, Mr. McKinn?"

Delgado smiled. "I think that's a very wise decision, General."

"Tell them we have not come to make war upon the people. I enjoin the citizens of New Mexico to remain quietly in their homes, and not to take up arms against us, as we mean them no harm. If they will do this, I guarantee that their rights, both civil and religious, will be scrupulously respected, and they will not be interfered with in their daily pursuits."

"I'll tell them, sir, and gladly."

Kearny remained at Bent's Fort for a week, making arrangements for the final push across Raton Pass to Santa Fe, and for leaving the sick behind at the frontier outpost. This gave Delgado plenty of time to visit with Charles Bent, whom he knew well; he had been a guest at the wedding of Bent and Maria Ignacia Jaramillo, and the Bents had accepted invitations to the McKinn house on numerous occasions.

"You know, Del," said Bent as he and Delgado and Falconer visited over drinks in Bent's quarters one evening, "in all this talk about the possibility of a clash between the Americans and the Mexicans in Santa Fe, we have overlooked one very important and volatile ingredient. The Pueblo Indians."

"What do you think they will do?" asked Delgado.

Bent shook his head, and Falconer said, "With the Pueblos, there is no way of knowing."

"Well," said Bent, "they were here long before anyone else. They are, after all, direct descendents of the Anasazi, the Ancient Ones. And, though
they've been at peace for a long time, they know how to fight. Long before the first conquistador arrived, the Pueblos were defending their homes against the Comanches and the Apaches. Remember, when Coronado came searching for the golden cities of Cibola, the Pueblos resisted and nearly killed Coronado himself."

"Then the missionaries came," said Falconer, "and tried to make good Christians of them, which they didn't appreciate, either."

"Yes," said Delgado, "the Pueblos revolted, led by a chief named Pope. Several of my mother's ancestors lost their lives in that revolt. They drove the Spanish away, and it took my mother's people twelve years to regain control of the province."

Bent sighed. "If Armijo is smart, and he is that, he will try to stir up the Pueblos, too. And if that happens . . . "

He didn't finish. Didn't need to. Both Falconer and Delgado knew what would transpire if the Pueblos Indians revolted. It was not a pleasant thought.

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The following day, Falconer and a handful of his Shawnees and Delawares, joined by a few of the mountain men who were idling away their time at Bent's Fort, reconnoitered the mountain passes to the south. They returned to Kearny with word that the passes were clear. On August 1st Kearny put Doniphan's Missouri Volunteers on the trail. The day after, Kearny and his staff accompanied the dragoons and Laclede's Rangers as they embarked on the final leg of their journey.

By the fourth day of August they were deep in the Raton Mountains. The snowy peaks of the Sangre de Cristo range seemed to float in the far distance, disembodied above the desert plain. The climb to the divide was an arduous one, and Kearny let his troops recuperate for a day while Falconer and the scouts ventured on ahead into enemy territory. The men enjoyed the scenery, and the cool, wildflower-scented air at seventy-five hundred feet above sea level was refreshing after the stifling heat of the plains below. The pine forests provided them with shade from the summer sun.

Again Falconer came back with news that no sign of a hostile enemy force could be found, and the Army of the West began to descend from the Ratons onto the desert plains, red earth cut through by purple arroyos beneath a dazzling blue Mexican sky.

Delgado felt a stir of excitement. Taos was only a couple of days ride. This was his homeland. He had been away for three long years, and he realized just how much he had missed this country now that he was back.

A man from Taos, a trader, came to sell a quantity of flour to the army, which Kearny was quick to purchase. Delgado knew the man and asked about his mother and father. The trader assured him that, as far as he knew, they were both well. But all was not well in Taos. In these turbulent times the situation could change in a heartbeat. . .

"Governor Armijo has issued a proclamation placing the entire province under martial law," said the trader. "He has called upon all able-bodied citizens to take up arms. He is using the priests to tell the people of the many horrors that
the Americans will visit upon them. Many of the people believe these lies, and there are at least two thousand who have answered the governor's call. That includes many Pueblo Indians."

"You take a grave risk, then," said Delgado, "by coming here to trade with the army."

"I have been doing business with Americans for many years. Armijo is a liar. He is only concerned with himself. He knows the Americans will strip him of his authority, and power is life itself to Armijo."

"What does my father think about all this?"

The trader grimaced. "I regret to say this, Delgado, but your father refuses to take a firm stand either way. I, and others, have pleaded with him to speak out publicly for peace. He has great influence, and a lot of people would listen carefully to what he has to say. Excuse me for saying so, but your father has taken the coward's way. He waits to see in which direction the wind will blow the grass."

Delgado did not take offense. After all, this man had risked everything by coming here. In trading with the Americans he was making a very strong statement regarding where he stood on the issue. It was a courageous thing to do, and Delgado respected him immensely for it. And he had to admit that the news of his father's fence straddling did not really surprise him.

"A man must stand up for what he believes is right, my friend," said the trader. "I hope you will be able to persuade your father to do what he knows in his heart he should do. The future of our people must be our foremost concern. I am sure we will fare better under the American flag than we have as part of the Republic of Mexico.
The people have no say in their own government. They remain poor because what they do not pay in taxes to the government they are required to give to the Church. Your father knows all these things. But still he will not act."

"My father has always believed that his first duty is to his family," said Delgado, but he spoke with a noticeable lack of conviction. It was the same tired old refrain, and it did not hold up particularly well against this man's intrepid loyalty to his principles and his people.

That evening Kearny called Delgado to his tent. Falconer was present, along with Lieutenant Emory, and members of the general staff.

"While we were at Bent's Fort," Kearny told Delgado, "I sent Captain Cooke on a confidential mission of the most crucial nature—and one, I might add, that was not without its risks. Do you know Captain Cooke, Mr. McKinn?"

"Certainly," replied Delgado, "and I do not wonder that you have the utmost confidence in him."

Philip St. George Cooke was a bold and resourceful army officer who was much admired in New Mexico. He had been responsible for the capture of a band of Texas freebooters known as Snively's Invincibles a few years ago. In the process he had saved a Santa Fe caravan. Texas, then an independent republic, had lodged a stiff protest with Washington. The United States government had sought to placate Texas by bringing Cooke before a court of inquiry. Kearny had given Cooke strong support during the proceedings. The court ruled that Cooke had acted properly. Now Cooke was devoted to Kearny, and in turn he was the subordinate most trusted by the general.

"Cooke volunteered to deliver a message to Governor Armijo," continued Kearny, "which expressed my earnest desire for peace, along with certain guarantees. I have today received a reply from the governor. He has agreed to meet with me in Las Vegas for negotiations."

"Negotiations!" exploded Emory. Impaled on Kearny's flinty gaze, he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Pardon me, sir, but may I speak freely?"

"By all means."

"By all accounts Governor Armijo is a treacherous individual. We cannot trust him. Besides, we have no need to negotiate. The Mexicans cannot stand against us. They were reptiles in the path of democracy. It is our destiny to have this land, and it is the fervent desire of every soldier in this army to meet the enemy upon the field of battle and prove the superiority of American arms. That is why they have come so far and suffered so much."

"I presume you are referring to the Missourians," said Kearny. "My dragoons came so far and suffered so much because they were under orders to do so. It is my wish to avoid a confrontation. I believe I can reason with Manuel Armijo, and I am bound to try."

"Not to forget," remarked Falconer, "that Captain Cooke's life may depend on it."

"They are holding him as a hostage?" guessed Delgado.

"Yes," replied Kearny. "Mr. McKinn, I know you want to get home to Taos. But I am turning south for Las Vegas in the morning. I want you to come along with me. Your name is known and respected in these parts. In Las Vegas we may face
the moment of truth. There, our actions may dictate whether we have peace or war. I want your help, I need it, but I will not force you to go."

Delgado sighed. "I cannot refuse, General, since you put it like that."

"God bless you, sir."

God help me
, thought Delgado. He had a distinct feeling that he was getting in way over his head.