Broken Arrow

This is the story of a land...

of the people who lived on it in the year 1870...

and of a man whose name was Cochise.

He was an Indian, leader of the Chiricahua Apache tribe.

I was involved in the story...

and what I have to tell happened exactly as you'll see it.

The only change will be that when the Apaches speak...

they will speak in our language.

What took place is part of the history of Arizona...

and it began for me here where you see me riding.

Since getting out of the Union Army...

I'd been prospecting for gold off and on.

And one day, I got a message that a new colonel had come to Tucson...

and wanted to see me.

The story started when I saw some buzzards circling in the sky.

A buzzard's a smart bird.

Something or somebody was getting ready to die.

I figured it was a hurt deer or a rabbit or a snake.

Not a rabbit, not a deer.

His kind was more dangerous than a snake.

He was an Apache.

For 10 years, we've been in a savage war with his people...

a bloody, no-give, no-take war.

Drink.

Ah, better slow.

I could've killed you before.

I knew it was dangerous to keep a fire going in Apache country...

but the boy's wounds were badly infected, and he was running a high fever.

He had eight pieces of buckshot in his back...

and I had to dig every one of 'em out with my knife.

I could hear him grinding his teeth together, but he never let out a sound.

For the next few days, I panned the stream for gold...

and kept an eye on the boy.

I wanted to be on the move, and I was glad he was getting his strength back quickly.

- Do your legs feel stronger today? - Little bit.

- You've still got a limp. - Today I must leave.

No, I must go. Too soon for you.

For my legs, yes, but for my family, no. This is my novice time.

I am 14, so I learn to be a man.

I go on trips alone. But I have been away too long.

In the wickiup, my mother is crying.

My father looks for me, I think.

I am their only one now.

My brother and my sister were killed at Big Creek.

"My mother is crying," he said.

Funny. It never struck me that an Apache woman would cry over her son...

like any other woman.

"The Apaches are wild animals," we all said.

Do you pray to Killer of Enemies?

- Mm-mmm. - Not even to Life Giver?

- The ones up there. - Oh. We have another name.

Apaches pray for all white men to die.

But now, I pray to keep you safe.

At sunset last night, I threw pollen to the four winds for you.

Well, thanks, boy.

This is very big against headache and sickness.

But now, it is yours.

They could have killed. Put away your gun.

I know my people. They have been watching us. They see I am not harmed.

This is clear talk. It says they can still kill.

This white man is my friend!

This white man is my friend!

- He must not be hurt. - When did my son become a tame Apache?

Father, look. He gave me life again when the soldiers wounded me.

- Where did you meet soldiers? - It will shame us to say.

An Apache should not do what others cannot know.

This one... he was with them?

No. He found me later. He healed me. It will be wrong to harm him.

You do not give orders.

- Do you speak our tongue? - A little.

White men pay many dollars for the scalp of an Apache. You know that?

- I know. - Then why did you not take his scalp?

If I kill an Apache, it'll not be for scalp or money.

Why not? My people and your people are at war.

- It is not my way to fight. - It is the way of all white eyes!

- It is not my way! - You are a woman, maybe.

It is well known that Apaches do not take scalps either, and they are not women.

He hides something.

- Why are you here in our mountains? - I look for gold and silver.

- For what? - For yellow iron.

You did not kill.

We will not kill this time, but not again.

Give him his gun.

They wanted to kill me all right, but they let me go.

I learned things that day...

Apache mothers cried about their sons.

Apache men had a sense of fair play.

Ambush! Run!

Two men were killed, and for three others...

it was much worse because they were only wounded.

But this was war, and there was terrible cruelty from both sides.

They found a pouch on one of the wounded men...

and in the pouch there were three Apache scalps.

So they dug a pit in the ground and they rubbed his face with the juice...

of a mescal plant...

and they made me watch the ants come.

Learn it. Learn it well. This is Apache land! You have no right here.

Where Cochise lives, no white man can live.

Take your weapons. Go! Let your face not be seen again.

- Howdy, gents. - Hi, Tom.

- Did you find yourself a gold mine? - No.

- Howdy, Terry. Just coffee for me. - We have smoked turkey today.

No, just coffee, thanks.

Wipe them all out. Butcher 'em.

- Jeffords? - Yes, sir?

I'm Colonel Bernall. You received my message?

That's why I'm here, Colonel. What's on your mind?

I've just been given the command at Fort Grant.

Congratulations.

My orders are to clean out Cochise and his Apaches from the Graham Mountain area.

A pretty big order, sir.

Wipe them all out. Butcher 'em like hogs, I say.

Like hogs!

This man was in a party of miners ambushed yesterday afternoon by Apaches.

Half of 'em were killed.

- Whereabouts was the ambush? - Just south of here.

He said they wounded Cochise.

Said they got 10 or 12 Apaches out of a war party of 50.

There weren't 50. There were only five, and not a one of 'em got scratched.

- How do you know, Jeffords? - I watched it.

Watched it? Seems to me most men would have lent a hand.

I was hog-tied. The Apaches jumped me earlier.

- Oh. You fought your way out, eh? - They let me go.

Huh. Never heard of a thing like that happening to a white man.

- Did you, John? - No.

- Did you, Milt? - No.

I ran across a wounded Chiricahua boy. I healed him up.

I guess they thought they owed me somethin'.

Apaches playing fair?

- Yes. - I don't understand.

You mean you found a wounded Apache and didn't kill him?

- That's right. - I'd like to ask you why.

Just what did you wanna see me about, Colonel?

Jeffords, I think I know how we can stop Cochise.

I have 250 fresh men from Pennsylvania and New Jersey.

They're smart, disciplined troopers.

- Yes, I've seen those fellows around. - I have a good plan.

I want information from you, and I want you to do a little reconnoitering for me.

In six months the war will be over, and we'll have Cochise up by his neck.

No, you won't, Colonel.

Listen, Jeffords, I'm an expert on open-field warfare.

- I have 30 years... - Cochise can't even read a map.

But he and his men know every gully, every foot of mountain...

every water hole in Arizona.

His horses can go twice as far as yours in a day...

and his men can run on foot as far as a horse can run.

He can't write his name, but his intelligence service knows...

when you got to Fort Grant and how many men you've got.

He stopped the Butterfield stage from running,

he stopped the U.S. Mails from going through...

and for the first time in Indian history...

he has all the Apaches from all the tribes fighting under one command.

You're not gonna string him up in six months, Colonel.

Not in six years.

Good day, gents. Terry.

Jeffords! But you are gonna scout for me?

You can find somebody else.

Maybe Captain Jeffords became too friendly with the Apaches.

Maybe he doesn't know what side he's on.

Easy, gents.

I'm not lookin' for trouble, but if you don't fight against 'em, you're with 'em.

- I've got a right to say that. - Who says so? What's your name?

Ben Slade. I own a ranch only a mile out from Fort Grant.

Even so, the Apaches burned my house last month. My wife was inside.

They almost got my boy too.

Seems to me a white man would want to see that sort of thing stopped.

That's right. Anybody would.

Then why don't you join the colonel's staff?

That's private business, Slade.

War ain't private business, not when they're murdering our women and kids.

At Big Creek, we murdered Indian women and kids.

Cochise started this, and...

Now, hold... Now, just let's get the facts straight here.

Cochise didn't start this war. A snooty little lieutenant...

fresh out of the East started it.

He flew a flag of truce, which Cochise honored...

and then he hanged Cochise's brother and five others under the flag.

Oh, you hear all sorts of stories.

You wanna know why I didn't kill that Apache boy?

Well, for the same reason I wouldn't kill your boy or scout for the army.

I'm sick and tired of all this killin'!

Besides, who asked us out here in the first place?

I don't know, Tom. I don't claim the white man's always done right...

but we're bringing civilization here, ain't we?

Clothes, carpets, hats, boots, medicine.

Why, I got a wagonload of first-class whiskey waiting for me in the East.

I could sell that at a dollar a bottle if it wasn't for Cochise.

It's an ambush! Run!

Hi, Juan. Come on in.

- Hi, Tom. - Hi, Milt.

After all this time, one single freight wagon squeezed through with the military.

Cochise didn't show his ugly face.

You gonna send your mail riders under military guard too?

I'd take the army and the navy.

No eastern mail has gone out or come in for seven weeks.

The Apaches are shootin' my job right from under me.

Well, Milt, I kind of think maybe there's a way to get your mail through.

A new route?

Could I have the use of this office every afternoon for a while?

- What for? - Juan?