My father was harsh to the Apache people

 Page 2. 

My father was harsh to the Apache people and would often accuse them of stealing army beef without any evidence to back his claims. Once he kicked a young brave in the stomach when he asked for something to eat telling him that dirt was always available to fill an empty gut. The Indian boy wasn't much older than I was and the army Captain threatened to have my father removed from the post over the incident. I was ashamed of what he did and will never forget the look on the face of that young Apache after several Apache women carried the boy away calling my father, “Gwii, Gwii”, their word for snake. I was forbidden to speak to or play with any of the Apache children who named me,”Gah” meaning rabbit. With no friends to speak of except a baby horned toad I raised in a wooden box feeding it spiders and fire ants when I could catch them without being stung. Some of the soldiers taught me how to ride a horse and care for it and an officers wife took it upon herself to teach me to read and write in a proper manner. Life on post at times stood still but there never seemed to be a time where the Apache wasn't at war with us or someone else including themselves.

Deep inside of me I believed they felt they were on the right side of things but. my father called them less than human with his opinions becoming louder the more he drank which he often did. Captain Thompson who ran the outpost once had my father tied and detained in a store room after one of his many drunken outbursts not to mention swearing in front of a lady who happened to be the Captains wife.  Once I overheard the soldiers talking loud enough for me to hear and they all agreed my father was more trouble than the Indians hoping the Apache would have their way with him the sooner the better. That spring is when I met an old Apache man named, “Bacho” the Apache word for wolf.  Rumor's had it he was too familiar with many of the available women in his tribe causing him to be banished by the elders with some wanting him killed. I first met him as he rode up to the fort falling off his pony and landing on top of a pile of some dried yellow cactus flowers. Both Bacho and his pony were covered with ticks and cactus needles and his boney legs were scratched and bleeding. It appeared to many of the soldiers who watched him ride in that he intentionally cut through the wilderness purposely to avoided the main trail into the fort. 

His back was crisscrossed with deep red welts with some of them bleeding, a sure sign the Apache women strongly disapproved of whatever he had done. Bacho's sudden arrival drew quick suspicion and he was immediately brought to Captain Thompson for questioning at gunpoint. One of the officers directed two soldiers to tend to Bacho's pony who was moved into the fort's corral and given some army oats and fresh water. It didn't take long for my father to take notice of all this attention as he watched intently from the armies store room with a bottle of spirits in one hand and a pistol in the other. He began to protest loudly about the treatment the pony was receiving and grabbed a stick and headed hell bent toward the animal at the same time dropping his bottle and gun that was cocked and loaded. Two soldiers quickly subdued my father and relieved him of the stick and retrieved his side arm threatening to beat him about the head should he take another step. My father cursed the men and uncorked another pint of whiskey he kept at the ready from inside his vest pocket and drained the bottle as if it were water.