Lupa – Great Granddughter of Geronimo
as written by Nelle Spilsbury Hatch
In the wild jagged country about 50 miles wide along the border between Sonora and Chihuahua are high rugged mountains divided by deep, narrow canyons. Here trout fill streams while deer, bear, mountain lion, wolves, and turkey range the hills. The climate is mild, and palm trees grow in the lower valleys. There are no weather hazards. Here with food, water, and fuel in abundance, and caves in which to seek shelter, outlaw Indians from the United States and remnants of the Apache Kid band were as inaccessible as natural barriers could make them. Occasional trappers and prospectors unwittingly furnish guns, ammunition, saddles and tools, and ranchers living in the Arres and Bonita tributaries made good picking when cattle, corn or potatoes were needed. Even the Mormon colonies in the mountains had lost cattle, horses and mules to them.
Leading the group of Apache remnants in the 1920’s, was Indian Juan. His atrocities paralleled those of former desperado Indians and he spread terror in a similar fashion. He struck unexpectedly and slaughtered a family from Atla Mirana, Chihuahua, and a woman schoolteacher who were on their way to a weekend visit in Casas Grandes. He stripped their bodies, looted their wagon, and made off with their mules, leaving the dead to be buried by friends when they found them. He ambushed and killed a Mexican man in the same vicinity and kidnapped the boy who was with him. The boy made his escape when sent to round up horses and in a few days returned.
Juan’s raids on Mexican ranchers often resulted in killings. His very approach sent whole families scurrying to hideouts. Capitalizing on this fear he often called out as he rode up in the night, “Soy Indio Juan,” knowing his victims would flee or lock themselves in and leave him free to make off with whatever he pleased. Many ranchers had seen them, knew him by sight, and many more had suffered at his hands. But the pueblitos (little towns) in eastern Sonora suffered most, Nacori being consistently stripped. Its inhabitants were poor, few in number, with small patches of corn and wheat, few cattle and fewer peach trees. Yet in one night 30 head of stock and the major portion of their winter supply of corn were stolen.
Juan Garabos, Pedro Firmbres, and Abram Valencio went in search of the thieves. On top of a high peak they found a recent campsite and with the aid of field glasses they located a camp on a nearby peak and identified their missing cattle near. The Indians were preparing to break camp, and the Mexicans made haste to intercept them. To do so they had to slide their way to the bottom of a deep arroyo and climb out again up the steep sides of the high mountain peak. In the bottom, they divided, Valencio climbing the north side, Fimbres the south, and Garabos the east. High cliffs on the West side made ascent or descent impossible from that quarter.
Closing in they made the ascent without being suspected. Valencio reached the rim first and spied a young Indian riding a mule and guarding cattle near the bluffs. This Indian shouted an alarm that scattered the Indians into the brush like quail surprised by hounds. But the young Indian stayed with the cattle. First he tried pushing them off the bluffs and when they refused he rushed them to the southern end, Valencio firing wild shots at him as he ran in pursuit. Garabos and Fimbres, hearing the shots hurried to join the chase, Fimbres met the fleeing Indian face-to-face as he topped the rim on the south. The Indian slipped off the mule backward and bounded over the southern cliffs like a frightened animal. All three Mexicans followed in close pursuit, shooting at the fleeing Indian each time he came in sight.
He climbed down a cliff, leapt off a precipice, and darted into a cave, where he was crouching in fear and fatigue when they caught up with him. They beckoned for him to come out, threatening to shoot him if he didn’t, but the Indian only hissed and growled back.
Finally Garabos laid down his gun, went in, and much to the surprise of himself and others, led the captive out by the hand. They were further surprised to find the captive to be, not man, but a girl about 13 years of age. She was dressed in expertly tanned buckskin and calf hide. Her moccasins reach to her knees, were stitched and artistically trimmed with beads. Short calfskin pants, and with their hair left on, were covered by a short but skin skirt. A soft, smoked buckskin jacket, fringed at the bottom and latched at the throat complete her costume. High cheekbones and a around plump face indicated her true Apache descent.
Once the girl had surrendered she stopped fighting and calmly allowed herself to be led off. They returned to the Indian camp and gathered up everything the Indians left— which was everything, including the girl.
Allowing her to choose her own mounts they all started for Nacori. Her choice was a sorrel burrow which she wrote without saddle or bridle. She showed no emotion, never once looked back, nor made any attempt to leave trace or sign by which they might follow her. After an hour or so she began cutting capers on the burro. She rode standing first on one foot then the other and then on both. She rode backwards, then squatted on the donkey’s haunches. She slipped off his back, trotted along his side, then vaulted to her place again like a trained acrobat, never seeming to tire.
When they camped at night she helped unpack, unsaddle, and tether the animals, then wolfed her tortillas and gulped her coffee. Refusing a blanket they offered she curled up on a piece of rawhide on the ground near the fire and slept like a tired kitten.
When they arrived at Nacori and had distributed the stolen articles to rightful owners, the question of who should have the girl was decided by drawing lots. She fell to Valencio, then she favored Fimbres and spent much of her time with his wife and two children.
They took her to church where she took her vows and became a Catholic. They christened her “Lupa.” She quietly adapted herself to Mexican life, learn to speak the language, busied herself grinding corn on flat rock metates, washing clothes on a rock at the creek, sweeping with a broom made of tall grass tied with a string, and weaving hats with leaves from the palms. She was tall, straight, and agile as a cat. Her strength was prodigious and she feared no one. She was artistic and her tastes and beautiful work showed plainly her descent from a highly talented and civilized race of people.
She could carve one’s likeness from a piece of bark, touching up personal features till it was at once identifiable. When one day a cowboy jokingly asked her to “take a picture,” she in a few minutes handed him back the piece of bark. The hat brim had the same droop, the jacket the correct number of buttons, the chaps the same trimmings, his mouth the same curve, finished with the bowlegs of a cowboy. He was friendly and agreeable but refused absolutely to talk of her past tribal life.
After about three months she was given permission to return to her people if she desired. She took a few tortillas, some ground corn and set out a-foot, refusing the horse and saddle they offered. After three days she returned tired and footsore saying she couldn’t find them. Three months later she was again given the privilege. This time she returned after weeks absence saying she didn’t want to find her people now, finding her so Mexicanized, they would surely kill her.
After that she seemed content although she often took long walks alone. (In 1954, at the time Nelle Hatch wrote this, Lupa, great-granddaughter of Geronimo, still lived in Punta Pinal, a little Valley between Garcia and Hop Valley in Mexico) said that she married a man a drink a lot and that she told him that if he would straighten up and stop drinking she would show him where there is enough gold to make him the richest man in Mexico.
Taken form Pacheco History and Stories Compiled by Sylvia Lunt Heywood