BY: Lynda A. Sánchez

THE LOST APACHES OF THE SIERRA MADRE

Aristeo Garcia rode into ranch headquarters at Nacori Chico, a primitive settlement at the base of the Sierra Madre. Over the saddle in front of him lay a small Indian girl. At the home of Jack Rowe, he stopped and bailed the house. Rowe came from inside the large adobe and waited patiently as his foreman rolled a cigarette. Garcia then told him about a shoot-out with Apaches. The year was 1932.... It has been a hit-and-run guerrilla existence for the Apaches since the surrender of Geronimo, when the remaining Indians broke into small bands and disappeared into the deep, silent barrancas of the Sierra Madre, the mother mountain range of Mexico.

There were continual conflicts with ranchers, miners, and loggers. On both sides, hatred brewed, and little quarter was given except to children, when and if they were captured. Carmina was the name of the young Apache taken by Aristeo Garcia in 1932. Her lot was better than most because Jack Rowe and his partner, Jack Harris, took pity on the desperate, frightened child. Later Harris and his wife adopted the girl.

THE LOST APACHES

Carmina's people, the Sierra Madre Apaches, had raided the San Bernardino Ranch on the Arizona side of the border in 1907. Later, in the 1920s and '30s, there were reported sightings of the Indians in New Mexico and Arizona. The Fimbres family, who lived near Nacori Chico, survived a shoot-out with them in 1929 and again in 1930. In 1934 another encounter occurred at a pass near Cumpas, Sonora. The Apaches, surprised by a group of cowboys, were convoying a stolen pack train to a mountain stronghold. The leader and four women were killed. It was reported they had human scalps hanging from their belts, among which were those of three merchants from Cumpas, still bloody. After reclaiming the mules, the cowboys found seven Apache children stuffedinto buckskin pockets hanging from the sides of the animals. Several were wounded. The ranchers divided the chil-dren among themselves. Only one sur-vived, however, and is said to be a teacher today somewhere in Sonora.

Over the years, repeated attempts have been made to contact the Apache survi-vors in the Sierra. In 1934 anthropologist Grenville Goodwin wrote to his colleague Morris Opler: "They are fighting a losing battle in Mexico, and it seems only a question of time till they will be extermi-nated. In the last few years, about five of them have been killed in fights with Mexi-cans.... A girl of about eight years was caught by two Mexicans. They kept her tied on the end of a rope that was fas-tened to a tree. A friend of mine down in Mexico offered a hundred pesos for her, but before he could get in touch with the Mexicans...she had died. It is hard to imag-ine how wild these people are...."

In 1938 Dr. Helge Ingstad tried to make contact with the Indians but failed. Other attempts were made as late as 1982. That survivors still exist, however, is certain. Camps have been identified, and sight-ings of individuals have been made from 1955 to 1980 in such places as Juarez and Chihuahua.

The latest and perhaps the most omi-nous report of their existence appeared in a recent issue of Gun Digest, in which a writer commented that leftist guerrillas and drug smugglers were supplying the Sierra Madre Apaches with AK 47s and light machine guns....

"Natches," by Bill Ahrendt. Oil on canvas, 18 by 24 inches. Son of Cochise, Natches (also rendered as Naiche, Nachee, and Nachez) was a comtemporary of Geronimo who also raided extensively in the Sierra Madre until both surrendered to the U.S. Army.