July 26, 2025 • 7 mins
Dive into the fierce frontier drama of the early-day Southwest, where the relentless Apache was the central antagonist. This podcast, based on a collection of historic photographs, brings to life the chilling experiences of the pioneers who contended with this tireless foe. Experience the Apaches cunning and treachery, their ambush tactics, and the fearsome reputation of the squaw - possibly even more formidable than the man. Listen as we unravel numerous captivating biographies and historic headlines that paint a vivid picture of this tumultuous era. This gripping narrative is brought to life by Laurie Banza.
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Section nine of the Dread Apache That Early Day Scourge
of the Southwest by doctor Merle Pingree Freeman. This Lieberbox
recording is in the public domain. Kidd Near's end of
his trail of blood. Through Kidd's career ended Kidd Near's
(00:22):
end of his trail of blood. But at last the
end of his career of robbery and bloodshed is approaching.
The opportunity that Clark has been waiting all these years
is nigh at hand. The Apache Kidd's race is about run.
Clark had been away from home, and when returning on
(00:43):
February fourth, eighteen ninety four, passing by the house of Emerson,
a neighbor about a mile from his own home, he
noticed the tracks of three Indians about the house, and,
going inside, found that they had robbed it of its contents.
Going on home, he found his partner, Scanlon, whom the
(01:04):
Indians had not disturbed, and said to him, Scanlon, your
old friend, the kid has been around again. Soon after, Clark,
taking his gun, went out of the house for the
purpose of scouting the country around and seeing whether he
might get sight of the Indians, going to the top
of the peak near by, where he could overlook the
(01:26):
surrounding country without unduly exposing himself. He awaited events, not
realizing what an approaching one should mean to himself and
to an old enemy on whom he had bowed vengeance
for the death of his old time partner, and that
this event would mark an era in a life ever
filled with its dangers, not one of which had ever
(01:49):
been shirked, but always bravely met. The opportunity for which
he had waited, and in his way away, probably familiar
only to the old scout, had prayed for, was but
a few short hours away. The language of his prayers,
except for its fervency, may not have been up to
(02:09):
the Orthodox standard, but he knew what he wanted, and
in asking for it, used the language with which he
was familiar, the language of the desert and the mountain,
the campfire, and the trail closing act in great drama.
Clark had been there for probably twenty minutes when looking
(02:32):
off across an intervening canyon, he noticed three Indians approaching
his horse where it was grazing, about one thousand, five
hundred yards away. The Indians, not having discovered Clark, who
knowing it would be impossible to get across the canyon
in time to save his horse, raised the sights of
(02:52):
his gun and fired at them, not expecting, however, to
hit any one of them at that distance, but hoping
to frighten them away from his horse. On firing, Clark
immediately ducked into the canyon, out of sight of the Indians,
who were evidently frightened by the shot. Waiting there until dusk,
(03:14):
He cautiously crawled towards his horse for the purpose of
taking him to the house, and was within about seventy
five yards of him, it being too dark to see
an object distinctly at any distance, when he saw two
Indians approaching the horse, and only a few steps from
the animal, and about fifty yards from where Clark was.
(03:36):
Owing to the darkness, it was impossible to more than
distinguish the two Indians, who were but a few feet apart,
one ahead of the other. These were subsequently found to
be the kid and his squaw. The squaw in front
and nearest to Clark, but owing to the darkness it
was impossible to distinguish one from the other. Clark instantly
(04:00):
raised his gun and fired at the one nearest to him,
but being unable to see the sights could only take
a quick aim along the barrel. By his long experience
with a gun, he knew the danger of overshooting in
the dark and made allowance accordingly. As Clark fired, there
came a simultaneous report from the kid's rifle and an
(04:24):
outcry from the squaw. And from the character of this outcry,
Clark knew that he had made the mistake of firing
at the wrong Indian. The ball from the kid's gun
whistled alarmingly close to Clark's head, but fortunately did no harm.
Following the shots, the two Indians immediately dropped to the ground,
(04:46):
and as fast as the old scout could work his rifle,
he pumped the lead into where he had dropped, firing
several shots. The Indian, however, fired but the one shot.
Clark then made a run for his but the animal,
being frightened, he was unable to catch him. Not knowing
how many of the Indians there might be about, Clark
(05:09):
immediately set out for Mammoth on the San Pedro, where
he procured a small posse and was back at the
scene of the shooting by morning, finding the squad dead
a short distance from where she had been shot. Following
the kid's trail, they found that he had hopped on
one foot to where he had left his horse, one
(05:30):
of his legs evidently being broken. Scouts from San Carlos,
following his trail, found some bloody rags where he had
built a little fire and probably dressed his wounds. Kidd's
career ended. Thus ended the murderous career of the kid,
the terror of the Southwest. Clark had undoubtedly hit him
(05:55):
with one or more of his shots. Where or how
soon after he may have died. No white man knows,
Clark being the last one to see him, as the
two shots simultaneously rang out on the silence of that night.
Had it been the kid instead of the squaw, Clark
would have earned the large reward that was offered for him,
(06:17):
dead or alive. Tom Horn, an old scout who spoke
the Apache language like a native, came from Denver subsequently,
hoping that by some chance the kid might still be
living somewhere and that he might earn the reward. The
mother and the sister, however, both assured him that the
(06:37):
kid was dead, but beyond this would say nothing. It
would seem that there could be no more fitting ending
to this little sketch than its dedication to the memory
of those old timers, makers of early day history. The
old pioneers each well played his individual part in that
great border drama. On them, a curtain has rung down
(07:01):
for the last time. To them, the succeeding generations owe much.
End of Section nine. End of the Dread Apache, that
early day scourge of the Southwest, by doctor Merle Pingree Freeman,
read by Laurie Benza,
Section nine of the Dread Apache That Early Day Scourge
of the Southwest by doctor Merle Pingree Freeman. This Lieberbox
recording is in the public domain. Kidd Near's end of
his trail of blood. Through Kidd's career ended Kidd Near's
(00:22):
end of his trail of blood. But at last the
end of his career of robbery and bloodshed is approaching.
The opportunity that Clark has been waiting all these years
is nigh at hand. The Apache Kidd's race is about run.
Clark had been away from home, and when returning on
(00:43):
February fourth, eighteen ninety four, passing by the house of Emerson,
a neighbor about a mile from his own home, he
noticed the tracks of three Indians about the house, and,
going inside, found that they had robbed it of its contents.
Going on home, he found his partner, Scanlon, whom the
(01:04):
Indians had not disturbed, and said to him, Scanlon, your
old friend, the kid has been around again. Soon after, Clark,
taking his gun, went out of the house for the
purpose of scouting the country around and seeing whether he
might get sight of the Indians, going to the top
of the peak near by, where he could overlook the
(01:26):
surrounding country without unduly exposing himself. He awaited events, not
realizing what an approaching one should mean to himself and
to an old enemy on whom he had bowed vengeance
for the death of his old time partner, and that
this event would mark an era in a life ever
filled with its dangers, not one of which had ever
(01:49):
been shirked, but always bravely met. The opportunity for which
he had waited, and in his way away, probably familiar
only to the old scout, had prayed for, was but
a few short hours away. The language of his prayers,
except for its fervency, may not have been up to
(02:09):
the Orthodox standard, but he knew what he wanted, and
in asking for it, used the language with which he
was familiar, the language of the desert and the mountain,
the campfire, and the trail closing act in great drama.
Clark had been there for probably twenty minutes when looking
(02:32):
off across an intervening canyon, he noticed three Indians approaching
his horse where it was grazing, about one thousand, five
hundred yards away. The Indians, not having discovered Clark, who
knowing it would be impossible to get across the canyon
in time to save his horse, raised the sights of
(02:52):
his gun and fired at them, not expecting, however, to
hit any one of them at that distance, but hoping
to frighten them away from his horse. On firing, Clark
immediately ducked into the canyon, out of sight of the Indians,
who were evidently frightened by the shot. Waiting there until dusk,
(03:14):
He cautiously crawled towards his horse for the purpose of
taking him to the house, and was within about seventy
five yards of him, it being too dark to see
an object distinctly at any distance, when he saw two
Indians approaching the horse, and only a few steps from
the animal, and about fifty yards from where Clark was.
(03:36):
Owing to the darkness, it was impossible to more than
distinguish the two Indians, who were but a few feet apart,
one ahead of the other. These were subsequently found to
be the kid and his squaw. The squaw in front
and nearest to Clark, but owing to the darkness it
was impossible to distinguish one from the other. Clark instantly
(04:00):
raised his gun and fired at the one nearest to him,
but being unable to see the sights could only take
a quick aim along the barrel. By his long experience
with a gun, he knew the danger of overshooting in
the dark and made allowance accordingly. As Clark fired, there
came a simultaneous report from the kid's rifle and an
(04:24):
outcry from the squaw. And from the character of this outcry,
Clark knew that he had made the mistake of firing
at the wrong Indian. The ball from the kid's gun
whistled alarmingly close to Clark's head, but fortunately did no harm.
Following the shots, the two Indians immediately dropped to the ground,
(04:46):
and as fast as the old scout could work his rifle,
he pumped the lead into where he had dropped, firing
several shots. The Indian, however, fired but the one shot.
Clark then made a run for his but the animal,
being frightened, he was unable to catch him. Not knowing
how many of the Indians there might be about, Clark
(05:09):
immediately set out for Mammoth on the San Pedro, where
he procured a small posse and was back at the
scene of the shooting by morning, finding the squad dead
a short distance from where she had been shot. Following
the kid's trail, they found that he had hopped on
one foot to where he had left his horse, one
(05:30):
of his legs evidently being broken. Scouts from San Carlos,
following his trail, found some bloody rags where he had
built a little fire and probably dressed his wounds. Kidd's
career ended. Thus ended the murderous career of the kid,
the terror of the Southwest. Clark had undoubtedly hit him
(05:55):
with one or more of his shots. Where or how
soon after he may have died. No white man knows,
Clark being the last one to see him, as the
two shots simultaneously rang out on the silence of that night.
Had it been the kid instead of the squaw, Clark
would have earned the large reward that was offered for him,
(06:17):
dead or alive. Tom Horn, an old scout who spoke
the Apache language like a native, came from Denver subsequently,
hoping that by some chance the kid might still be
living somewhere and that he might earn the reward. The
mother and the sister, however, both assured him that the
(06:37):
kid was dead, but beyond this would say nothing. It
would seem that there could be no more fitting ending
to this little sketch than its dedication to the memory
of those old timers, makers of early day history. The
old pioneers each well played his individual part in that
great border drama. On them, a curtain has rung down
(07:01):
for the last time. To them, the succeeding generations owe much.
End of Section nine. End of the Dread Apache, that
early day scourge of the Southwest, by doctor Merle Pingree Freeman,
read by Laurie Benza,
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