Part II  ---   Cochise's War
 

     For years Cochise had made an effort to be friendly to the new arrivals -- these "white eye" strangers from the east.  Though he must have resented their insolence and arrogance as they freely took land right from under the Apache's noses, settling without permission in the best places, taking game for which they had little need -- he somehow recognized that fighting the Americans would be a mistake.  For one thing, he had his hands full with the Mexicans, and it seemed to him that the Americans hated Mexicans as much as did the Indians.

      But trust did not come easily to any Apache, and hardest of all to Cochise.  He never trusted the Americans and when he was so horribly betrayed at Apache Pass what little tolerance of them he had managed was crushed by the loss of his loved ones.   He now seethed inside and became consumed with a need for revenge.  The months that followed saw a rising tide of bloodshed and settlers in the area grew miserably fearful of their lives.  Cochise was like a killer storm, coming and going unpredictably and without warning.  He would descend upon ranches and villages, hitting and running, sometimes disappearing for months at a time below the border.  His name alone brought on anguish and cold sweats to those who had read of his awful penchant for torture and his total lack of mercy toward his enemies.
 

     Coincidentally, unbeknownst to Cochise, America in 1861 was fighting another war -- with itself.  The Civil War was at a fever pitch and gradually, as the wave spread westward, more and more resources were taken from Indian warfare and redirected to meet the challenge.  To Cochise's eye, the fact that forts were closing down all over his territory and the overall white population was thinning out meant only one thing:  The Apaches were winning, sending the Americans scrambling for safer lands.  And when in 1862 his scouts reported columns of new soldiers approaching from far in the west, he assumed they were being sent to avenge their losses.  It was a fight he had been expecting.

     In fact, this was the California Volunteers, commanded by Brigadier General James Henry Carleton, and they were on their way to head off a Confederate invasion of New Mexico -- not to punish Indians.  Their route would take them through Apache Pass, a place now despised by Cochise and thought to be haunted by the spirits of his dead relatives.   In spite of the dread he must have felt, Cochise summoned a huge force into Apache Pass comprised of his own and several other Apache bands, including the Bedonkohes and Chihennes commanded by his powerful father-in-law Mangas Coloradas.  Cochise knew that acquiring water at Apache Springs would be absolutely crucial for the Americans after the long dry march across the Sulphur Springs Valley.  As a ploy, Cochise cautiously greeted the first trickle of soldiers at the springs, feigning friendship, though it was noted by Americans at the scene that the Indians were well armed and on edge.  As Ed Sweeney remarks so succinctly in his Cochise biography, "[Cochise's] word given to the enemy when at war was disingenous."   In Apache culture, this in no way diminishes a person's truthfulness at the deeper moral level.

     Again, space does not allow a detailed accounting of the battle -- or battles, to be more exact -- that followed.  Let it be said that after two days of courageous fighting on both sides, the affair drew to a close without a clear victory on either side.  Losses, strangely, were minimal in spite of the pitched battles, and in spite of the American forces turning two howitzers on the astonished Apaches (occurring two days in a row).   The California Volunteers managed to hold the springs, deflecting a remarkable force of Indians -- but the Apaches escaped with little damage except perhaps to their egos.  Days after the engagement, General Carleton ordered that a fort be built on the site to protect travelers, military and otherwise, and to guard the precious springs.

    Thus was born Fort Bowie.