American Blood (23 page)

Delgado managed to pitch the Pueblo sideways and rolled clear as the big knife came down where his head had been just an instant before. Grabbing a shaggy cedar post, one of the porch uprights,
Delgado hauled himself to his feet, ducked as the Indian swung the knife again. This time the knife, biting deep into the post, stuck fast. Delgado punched the Pueblo in the face. The Indian staggered back on his heels, spitting blood. Then a bullet drove him sideways and down. Delgado turned to see Falconer running across the hard-pack, reloading his Hawken on the move.

"Into the tunnel, Del!" yelled the mountain man.

Glancing past Falconer, Delgado could see that the compound had been completely overrun. He did not see any other buckskinner left standing.

Reaching the porch, Falconer grabbed Delgado and virtually lifted him into the house, vaulting over the bodies of Turley's woman and the Pueblo Indian who had killed her. Falconer slammed the door shut and dropped the bar—a few seconds later, Delgado heard bodies thump against the door. The bar splintered but held. He knew it would not hold for long.

"Go on!" snapped Falconer. As Delgado lowered himself through the trapdoor, the mountain man snatched up a lantern that had been lit last night and was still burning and smashed it against the door. Flames licked hungrily at the timber and spread swiftly across the puncheon floor. Falconer dropped down through the hatch. Delgado was already dragging himself blindly along the pitch-black tunnel. It was barely wide enough for him to squeeze his broad shoulders through. Over the roar of the flames above he heard the door give way. But the fire was already too much for their pursuers, and no one could follow them down through the trapdoor.

Ignoring his pain, Delgado clawed and squirmed
his way through the tunnel as fast as he could. Falconer was right behind him. The mountain man did not urge him to go faster; Delgado knew he was slowing Falconer down, but he was doing the best he could and Falconer was aware of that.

He saw a thread of pale morning light up ahead. Reaching a pile of rocks which concealed the exit, Delgado pushed against them, and the rocks gave way, tumbled and clattered down into the dry wash. Delgado squeezed through the hole and rolled down the rocky slope, gasping as he banged his ankle against stone. Falconer emerged right behind him, and together they crawled up to the rim of the wash.

Black smoke plumed from the windows of Turley's home. The shooting had ceased, but there was a great deal of shouting inside the compound. Delgado grimaced. The insurgents were celebrating. Turley and Amos Marsh and all the others were dead. Delgado could hardly believe he was still alive. He didn't expect to be for very much longer.

"Let's go," said Falconer.

They moved down the wash in a crouch, Falconer draping Delgado's arm around his neck and lending him support. Reaching the trees, they paused again to peek over the rim. It seemed that all the rebels were in the compound—they saw no one in the trees or along the Arroyo Hondo. Now that the killing was done, it was time for the looting to begin, and nobody wanted to miss out on collecting his share of the spoils.

Moving on to the Arroyo Hondo, Falconer and Delgado turned south, in the direction of Taos.

Chapter Nine

"I want to see Diego Archuleta's corpse."

1

O
nce again Delgado found himself bedridden, a virtual prisoner in his own room.

He and Falconer had made it back to Taos without mishap. Knowing that Delgado could not go all the way on foot, and refusing to even consider Delgado's suggestion that he go on alone and return with help, Falconer had staked out the main road north of Taos. Within the hour an old man driving a
carreta
appeared. Falconer stopped him, questioned him, and was convinced that the man remained blissfully unaware that a revolution was under way. The ancient one was merely transporting his produce to market, and he readily agreed to take them into Taos. Delgado rode the rest of the way home in the back of the two-wheeled cart.

In Taos all was peaceful after the storm. Diego Archuleta and his rebels had struck swiftly and then vanished, leaving the populace stunned and fearful. The streets were empty, the doors and windows closed and latched. It reminded Delgado of the reaction of the people to the arrival of the Army of the West.

His mother was safe. She and Jeremy had returned home, to find the butchered body of Angus McKinn where he had fallen. A doctor was sum
moned to remove the bullet from Jeremy's shoulder. He, too, was an invalid, and though he kept insisting that his duty was to rejoin Colonel Doniphan and the Missouri Volunteers, he was too weak to get out of bed, much less ride to Santa Fe. He had lost a lot of blood.

The day after Delgado's return, Colonel Doniphan himself came to visit. Only then did Delgado learn the full extent of the rebellion.

In addition to the slaughter in Taos and at Turley's Mill, two more mountain men, Harwood and Markhead, had been waylaid at the Rio Colorado, a few miles north of the Arroyo Hondo. Both men were killed, scalped, mutilated, and left for the wolves and buzzards. The village of Mora had also been attacked. Several Missouri traders, having left Bent's Fort in the belief that the American occupation of New Mexico had gone off without a hitch, were killed. Their names were Romulus Culver, Lewis Cabano, and Ludlow Waldo. Several other Americans also lost their lives in and around Mora.

"Obviously," said Doniphan, "the object of the rebels is to put to death every American in New Mexico, as well as every New Mexican who has aided us."

"What are your plans, Colonel?" asked Delgado.

"I am told the rebels are holed up in the village of Canada. I have five companies of my Missourians and a company of Santa Fe volunteers commanded by Ceran St. Vrain, Charley Bent's business partner. I also have four mountain howitzers. I intend to take Canada and capture or kill every last insurrectionist."

"I know that place," said Falconer. "There is
high ground to the south of town. They'll likely dig in there and make you drive them out."

"Which is precisely what I intend to do," said Doniphan. "These rebels are murderers and cowards, who slaughter innocent, helpless civilians. I doubt they will hold their ground in a stand-up fight against trained soldiers."

"You weren't at Turley's Mill," said Falconer.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"He means you wouldn't underestimate these people had you seen them in action at Turley's Mill," said Delgado.

"Nonsense," said Doniphan. "There were—what?—two or three hundred of them and nine of you? I hardly think that situation called for heroics on their part."

Delgado didn't feel up to arguing the point. Doniphan was merely exhibiting that same arrogant overconfidence he had seen portrayed by so many other Americans. The lawyer turned soldier and his volunteers were aching for a fight. Now they would get their wish—and learn the hard way that Delgado and Falconer were right. Delgado found himself wishing General Kearny was still in New Mexico, and that Charles Bent was still alive. Those two men would not underestimate Archuleta and his rebels, and many lives would probably be saved as a consequence.

Jeremy, of course, was upset that he would not be able to participate in the big fight. That was a part of the young Bledsoe that Delgado did not understand: his desire to place himself in harm's way.

"I would have thought," Delgado told him, after Doniphan had gone, "that after what
happened here a few nights ago you'd have seen enough of the rebels. I know I have."

"Some men are born to be soldiers and others are not," replied Jeremy, sullen.

"Well, I'm certainly no warrior. But Jeremy, twice in the span of one year you've nearly been killed."

"I don't care about that."

"Do you
want
to die?"

Jeremy didn't answer. Delgado was troubled. Jeremy had become more than a friend in the past months; he was almost like a brother. But there was part of him that Delgado could not fathom—a dark, angry, violent part. What was Jeremy trying to prove by flirting with death?

A fortnight later, news arrived of the battle at Canada. As Falconer had predicted, the insurgents occupied the high ground south of the village. The Missouri volunteers charged valiantly up the steep slopes, even though the rebels outnumbered them by a ratio of three to one, their ranks having swelled as a result of the revolution's initial success. But many of the insurgents did not have guns, and they could not take the pounding from Doniphan's mountain howitzers. The Americans dislodged the rebels and sent them running. A few more well-placed rounds from the howitzers and the retreat became a rout. Only the advent of night prevented Doniphan from pursuing. Miraculously, the volunteers had only two men killed, with six more wounded.

After two days of regrouping at Canada, Doniphan pressed on after the rebels. The Missourians ran into eighty guerrillas in a canyon near the village of Embudo, brushed them aside, and then ran into a much stronger force, nearly six hundred
insurgents, dug in on the slopes of a mesa. While Ceran St. Vrain led his Santa Feans around one flank of the enemy position, a detachment of Missourians went up and around the other side. Once again the rebels slipped away. Doniphan lost one man. His adversaries left twenty dead behind.

By now the Missourians were beginning to suffer from two weeks of hard marching across snowy, rugged county to come to grips with an elusive foe. Then Doniphan got the break he was hoping for. The rebels sought refuge in the Taos Pueblo. They had finally stopped running. The Missourians encircled the pueblo and prepared for the final confrontation.

The rebels enjoyed a strong defensive position, and Doniphan ordered an artillery barrage. But the cannon shot had little effect on the thick exterior walls of soft adobe brick. The next day Doniphan ordered an assault. The rebel stronghold seemed to be a church on the northern side of the pueblo. Under cover of the artillery, two companies of volunteers hacked through the northern perimeter wall, reached the church and, using ladders to gain the roof, chopped holes in the ceiling large enough to drop artillery shells by hand into the building. Meanwhile, a pair of six-pounders were rushed into the pueblo through the breach in the north wall. Round after round of grapeshot wrought havoc upon the rebels, who tried to drive the Americans out of the pueblo. Finally, they abandoned the attempt. While some took refuge in various parts of the pueblo, sixty tried to escape. All but a few of these were cut down by St. Vrain's men, who had been posted on the other side of the pueblo to prevent any insurgents from fleeing into the mountains.

As a day of hard fighting drew to a close, Doniphan was confronted with the prospect of having to clear the pueblo of rebels house-by-house. The losses on both sides would be extremely high. He was saved from having to give the order to proceed in such costly but necessary work by the arrival early the next morning of several Indian residents of the pueblo, under a flag of truce. They wanted to surrender and save their homes from destruction. Doniphan agreed to spare the pueblo if the leaders of the revolt were handed over. In addition, all firearms would be confiscated. A few hours later, two ringleaders, Pablo Montoya and El Tomacito, were delivered into Doniphan's hands.

A mountain man who called himself "Uncle Dick" Wootton showed up at the McKinn house, looking for Falconer. Since the fight at Turley's Mill, the latter had been a guest of the McKinns, taking upon himself the responsibility of protecting the other occupants. Every night he had maintained a tireless vigil in case the assassins returned to make another attempt on the lives of his friends.

As he polished off a bottle of
aguardiente
, Wootton told Falconer, Delgado, and Jeremy what had happened at the Taos Pueblo.

"I was up north a ways when I heard the news about what happened at Turley's," said the shaggy, fierce-eyed buckskinner. "Some of my best friends got themselves kilt that day. Figured you were gone beaver, too, Hugh. I was happy as a pup with two tails to learn otherwise. I come down to hit a lick agin them what kilt my friends. Got here in time for the big scrape at the pueblo. I was right surprised you warn't there, Hugh."

"Not much interested," said Falconer.

Uncle Dick gave him a funny look. "What about Sime Turley and all them others?"

"What about them?

"An eye for an eye, Hugh. That's the way we've always lived."

Falconer shook his head, "Maybe I'm just getting old, Dick, but live and let live sounds better to my ear."

Wootton grunted in amazement. "Well, you sure as hell must be. The Hugh Falconer I knew twenty years ago would have spilt a river of blood on account of what happened at Turley's place. Hell, ain't you the one who curled Wolf Montooth's toes for takin' your plews and leavin' you to the mercy of the Blackfeet?"

"I was young and foolhardy then, Uncle Dick. I've got more to live for these days."

"Oh, yeah. You got hitched to a white woman, didn't you?" Wootton gulped down some more
aguardiente
, gasped as the liquid fire exploded in his belly, and chuckled. "Gettin' squawed up is bad enough, but marryin' a white woman is downright dangerous. They'll make a gelding out of a man ever' time."

Listening to this exchange, Delgado expected Falconer to take offense, but it didn't happen. Falconer just smiled tolerantly.

"It's not so bad," he replied. "You should try it, Dick. A good woman might even be able to make a halfway decent human being out of you."

Wootton guffawed at that notion.

Jeremy leaned impatiently forward in his chair. "What happened at the Taos Pueblo, Mr. Wootton?"

"Mister
Wootton? Good God, call me Uncle
Dick, boy! I'll tell you what happened." The mountain man related the events of the battle—the artillery barrage, the assault, the taking of the church, St. Vrain's cutting off the rebels' escape, and the appearance the following morning of the delegation under the white flag.

"I reckon," added Wootton, "that Montoya and El Tomacito chose between the lesser of two evils when they gave themselves up to Colonel Doniphan."