A Daughter of Slaughter

Indian scouts, Slaughter, Fisher and a ranch hand, probably William Hildreth-moved forward on foot, attempting to surround the renegades. But the Indians, sensing trouble, suddenly came out of their wickiups and scattered.

"They ran like deer to the canyon away from us," Averill wrote in his official report. "We all fired as soon as they made the break but only one fell and he never got up, but before we could get to him he rolled down into the canyon where we could hear him yelling."

The shooting stopped briefly, then the Indians returned and began firing again from a steep hill about 600 yards away. Averill said they were driven away with fire from his carbine and a heavy gun of Slaughter's.

The Indians left their entire camp behind. Slaughter and the soldiers found seven saddles and bridles plus a store of Mexican and American plunder. This included a Winchester reloading outfit (probably belonging to Hand), powder and balls, horseshoeing outfits, hatchets, blankets, part of a carpet, fresh leather and $1.25 in U.S coins. They also recovered four horses belonging to Slaughter, including Dixie, Viola's personal mount.

As inspection of the camp continued, Slaughter entered one of the wickiups and poked his rifle butt at a bundle on the ground. When it stirred, he looked closer and saw an Apache toddler, most likely forgotten in the excitement.

The barefoot child was about 14 months old, dressed in crude garments and covered in dirt. Slaughter wrapped her in a brown fringed shawl he found there. He also picked up a war-bag and two buckskin baby carriers.

The number of Indian casualties in the engagement is impossible to know, although the man seen tumbling from the rocks almost certainly died. Some speculate that he was the father of the girl returning to rescue her.

After pillaging the camp for souvenirs, and burning everything that remained, the posse started home. Allen Erwin, Slaughter's biographer, wrote that the tough old rancher, at that time past 50, carried the chubby little girl in front of him on his saddle as if he had unearthed a bucket of gold.

and burning everything that remained, the posse started home. Allen Erwin, Slaughter's biographer, wrote that the tough old rancher, at that time past 50, carried the chubby little girl in front of him on his saddle as if he had unearthed a bucket of gold.

He sent a runner ahead the 50 miles to the ranch to alert his wife. When he finally rode up, Viola ran out and John said, "Hi, Vi, here is a little Apache for you."

Fearing that most of the work would fall on her, Viola blurted, "Now, John Slaughter, you can take that child down to a Mexican family and let them raise it."

But Viola soon agreed the baby could stay, although she probably had second thoughts. When she changed the child's clothes, Viola discovered they were made with items stolen from the Merrills and Alfred Hand.

[LEFT] May's Apache mother used stolen materials, including an election poster, to dress her. [ABOVE] Fascinated by a buckskin baby carrier, Viola Slaughter, John's wife, had her picture taken with Apache May snuggled in it. BOTH FROM ARIZONA HISTORICAL SOCIETY-TUCSON [RIGHT] The homestead on the 100,000-acre San Bernardino Ranch provided a haven for several foster children and dozens of hardworking cowboys. JACK DYKINGA The brown shawl Slaughter wrapped her in also belonged to the Merrills, and the full-gathered skirt she wore was made from Hand's election poster. The names printed on it were still clearly visible, and included Silas H. Bryant, the man Slaughter had defeated that year for sheriff.

The black-eyed girl with high cheekbones, copper-colored skin and thick black hair-named Apache May, for the month she was found-soon became a celebrity.

The Tombstone Prospector joshed that it was making overtures to adopt her as its mascot, and the competing Tombstone Epitaph devoted considerable space to Viola's visit to C.S. Fly's Tombstone studio to have the girl's picture taken.

"As soon as it became known that the papoose was in town, a steady stream of people visited Fly's Gallery to catch a glimpse of the young captive," the paper reported on June 3, 1896. "Isn't she cute?' said each of the ladies in their turn, and the youngster merely calmly munched some cake."

But adjustment to her new life was difficult. Patchy, as she was nicknamed, naturally persisted in Indian ways. Erwin told of the Slaughters' practice of watering their oleanders after dinner, andThe girl's cotton underwaist was fashioned from Eliza's clothing,Patchy's delight in lying flat on her stomach and drinking the muddy water from the ground.

Hankin wrote that she preferred silence over talking, and "slipped noiselessly about the house, often startling some unsuspecting visitor by appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere." And she was satisfied "to curl up and go to sleep wherever the sandman overtook her."

She also had a cantankerous temperament at times and, according to Frankie Stillman, didn't play well with other children at the ranch, often hissing at them when she got angry.

Some wondered if the girl would grow up to harm the Slaughters and others. After all, wasn't she a wild Apache? This opinion was prevalent around Cochise County, particularly after word spread that she was dressed in the belongings of murder victims.

But Patchy eventually adopted new ways. She learned to eat from a plate, delighted in wearing brightly colored clothes and even became vain about her beautiful black hair, which the Slaughters cut short in front but let grow long in the back.

Viola's memoirs tell of more harmonious times than Stillman described. She wrote that Patchy and Lola Robles, another child the Slaughters had taken in, "slept together, ate together and learned to speak English slowly."

By the fall of 1896, when the Slaughters took on another foster child, a boy named Arthur, "the two girls were fast friends and the boy [Arthur] won his way into their hearts."

But Viola clearly had misgivings about raising an Apache child. On one occasion, after receiving a sound paddling for disobedience, Patchy stoically left the house, refusing to cry, and told Lola of the spanking Viola had given her.

Lola later said to Viola, "Aunty Slaughter, do you know what I just heard Patchy say?"

"No, I don't. What did she say, Lola?"

"She says when she grows up, she will kill you!" Lola exclaimed. Viola continued stitching a new dress for Patchy, saying nothing. But that night, when John Slaughter had finished his dinner and the children were in bed, his wife told him of the incident.

"You might just as well take a coyote and put it in that pen out there and expect it to be a pig," she said. John Slaughter just smiled, tried to calm her and began shuffling the cards for their nightly poker game.

All accounts agree that Patchy's favorite was John Slaughter. She followed him around the house, holding the top of his boot to steady her toddler's feet. When he held her on his lap, she sat perfectly still for long periods, and when he was absent from the ranch, Patchy turned glum. She'd stand at the gate, sometimes for hours, awaiting his return. She called him Don Juan, a name used by Slaughter's Hispanic friends and employees.

Patchy stayed at the San Bernardino for four years. But her time was cut short one terrible day in February 1900.

Viola and Addie, Slaughter's daughter from his first marriage, were riding to Bisbee in a buckboard. At their feet was a large rock that had been heated in a firepit, wrapped and used for warmth.

They were about 10 miles away when a cowboy from the ranch galloped up with the news that an accident had occurred. Patchy, Lola, Arthur and another child were using sticks to play in the embers of the pit when Patchy's clothing caught fire.

In panic she'd run, and by the time she was stopped and the fire extinguished, the girl had suffered terrible burns. She was carried to the house and a doctor summoned from Bisbee, the nearest town at the time. The trip was 55 miles over bad roads.

As the hours ticked away, Patchy lay fully conscious and in tremendous pain. "My pretty hair is all burned," she mourned at the loss of her signature attribute.

The doctor arrived later that night and announced that he could do little for her. With John Slaughter sitting at her side, she whispered, "Don Juan, I am going to die. I heard the doctor say so. Goodbye, Don Juan."

The girl who lost her parents to violence, then found new ones through unlikely providence, passed away the next morning. She was buried in the ranch cemetery in a coffin of undressed lumber.

For years to come, as Slaughter, one of Arizona's toughest men, sat in his rocker on the front porch quietly pondering the child he'd found in the mountains of Mexico, his eyes would fill, and he would weep as he watched the sun go down. All EDITOR'S NOTE: Apache May is buried in one of 33 unmarked graves, among cowboys and farmhands who worked for John Slaughter and a couple of outlaws reportedly killed by him. The gravesite is located in what became the San Bernardino National Wildlife Refuge, adjacent to the ranch. On request, visitors may be escorted to the site on foot.

Tucson-based Leo W. Banks has visited the Slaughter Ranch many times. Brad Schmidt of Glendale has been painting detailed yet romantic portraits of Arizona's Indians for nearly two decades.

LOCATION: 255 miles southeast of Phoenix.

GETTING THERE: From Phoenix, take Interstate 10 southeast to Benson, then State Route 80 south to Douglas. In Douglas, drive east on 15th Street, which becomes Geronimo Trail. Follow the road approximately 13 miles, passing through a white gate with a large "Z" and a sign that reads "SLAUGHTER."

PHONE NUMBERS: All are area code 520.

HOURS: Wednesday through Sunday, 10 A.M to 3 P.M. Closed on Christmas and New Year's Day.

FEES: $3, adults; free, children under 14.

TRAVEL ADVISORY: Geronimo Trail is unpaved but tame enough to travel by car. The ranch house is the only building that is wheelchair-accessible. Visitors are encouraged to pack a lunch and enjoy a picnic on shaded grass near the pond.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: Slaughter Ranch, 558-2474. San Bernardino National Wildlife Refuge, 364-2104.

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS 15

THE BRAVE LITTLE JOSHUA ‘TREE’

While technically not a tree, this hairy brown desert plant hospitably hosts birds and bugs and some special baby moths Explorer John C. Fremont usually waxed eloquent in his descriptions of the West, but he took one look at the Joshua tree and wrote that it was “the most repulsive tree in the vegetable kingdom.” Technically, at least, Fremont was wrong. The Joshua tree is not a tree, although it is an evergreen perennial. Actually, as Yucca brevifolia, it stands among the tallest of the desert yuccas and a member of the lily family, despite the scant resemblance.

The spiky, shaggy Joshua tree grows 30 to 40 feet high with a thick red-brown or gray trunk covered with small rough rectangular plates. An irregularly forked cluster of dagger-shaped green leaves appears on the ends of twisted arms, and its springtime blooms last only a few weeks.

After the leaves die, they stay connected to the limbs, giving the Joshua tree the appearance of a hairy brown beast. Hikers who have spent too much time in the hot desert sun might think they are sighting Bigfoot or a dirty Abominable Snowman. One woman commented that the grotesque tree looked like it was waving green bottle brushes. Some Mormon pioneers with imaginations running more to the religious side thought it resembled the Biblical Joshua with upraised arms. They gave the Joshua tree its name.

It serves as a landmark, too, because when you see a Joshua tree, you know you are on the Mohave Desert, the only place in the world it grows. It prefers the cooler and slightly wetter portions of the desert, appearing mainly between 3,000 and 3,500 feet in elevation, but can range generally from 2,000 to 6,000 feet. Forty-niner William Manly admired the Joshua and recorded that it was “a brave little tree to live in such a barren country.” Brave or not, it definitely proves hardy. A slow grower, it lives up to 300 years and endures temperatures between 30 and 125 degrees. Neither droughts nor desert thunderstorms faze this rugged and distinctive plant.

A Joshua tree dusted white by a rare desert snowstorm delights those lucky enough to come upon it. Images of a bushy Joshua tree, with and without snowy embellishment, darkly silhouetted against a red Arizona sunset have graced many a postcard: A whole grove of these so-called trees outlined against the sky can make a grown photographer cry for joy. The Joshua tree puts on its brief but showy flower display in springtime from about March to May. That's when the lily family resemblance finally comes out, as the Joshua adorns itself with greenish-white to