Coulee City dispatch. [volume] (Coulee City, Wash.) 19??-19??, 1940-08-01
BY FRANK H. SPEARMAN


riding at breakneck pace out of the
hills.
Naked or half-naked, they dashed
helter-skelter down on the ranch
house, yelling and beating their po-
MES. Don Alfredo and the two va
queros were caught at the corral
gate. Realizing their deadly peril,
they ran on foot toward the ranch
house for muskets. They hoped that
the marauders might stop first at
the corral to run off horses. But the
Indians were after more than
horses.
Despite the speed of their pur-
suers the frantic Spaniard and his
fleet cowboys, each of them already
hit but not disabled, by murderous
arrows, managed, breathless, to
make the front door of the house.
Don Alfredo sprang at the thumb
latch to throw open the door.
He gave a loud cry. The door was
barred from the inside. He raised
his voice in mighty shout, his COM
panions joining in. With only Sec
onds left before the yelling horse
men should be upon them the three
desperate men threw themselves
with all their force against the
barred door-in vain. It had been
the boast of the Rancho Los Alamos
that no foe, however powerful. could
break through that door.
Only moment of life was left to
the distracted Don to wonder,
amazed, at why his own door had
been thus barred against him. The
next moment he and his men lay
on the porch, shot through and
through with arrows. The foremost
of their pursuers, springing from
ponies, we're already astride their
victims, hacking their bodies with
knives as they glutted their fury
and grunted at each stab into the
bodies of their dying victims.
In less time than the telling, it
was over. The brown tile of the
portico was a shambles. The saw
ages, frenzied with triumph,
dragged the bodies from the door,
and the chief, his hands dripping
with the blood of Don Alfredo,
pounded on the door and shouted in
his Indian tongue.
The door was promptly flung open.
The savages, rushing into the house,
ran to the bedrooms. There were
four. The Indian houseboy, Yosco,
who had barred the door to his mas
ter, opened it to the murderers and
pointed with eager, cunning eyes to
the room Of Don Alfredo.
Within the room there were more
whites to be butchered. Don Alfre-
dos wife, clasping in each arm a
young daughter, was on her knees
before plying statue of the Bless
ed Virgin, calling distractedly for
protection. The chief dashed toward
her. His Ratchet was uplifted to
cleave her skull when, shrieking
aloud, Monica, the Indian maid,
dashed through the crowding war
riors and seized the chiefs arm.
He turned and struck her to the
floor with his fist. Before he could
turn again and bring his Ratchet on
the Dona's head Monica had sprung
to her feet and grasping his enraged
arm, pleaded for her mistress life.
He struck her off and turned again,
with Ratchet uplifted. But the two
screaming little girls clasped their
arms about their mothers head.
The Infatuated butcher tried to
tear them away. They screamed
the more and chung the closer to
their mother. Monica once more
threw herself upon the savage. The
lust for killing momentarily passed
The beauty in the uplifted, terror
stricken faces of the girls gave him
another thought. He thrust the pant
ing Monica away, ordered the moth
er of the girls bound and, with the
savages who had crowded after him,
ran from room to. room, searching
for more victims.
Every corner of the premises was
searched till the hidden guns and
powder of the rancho were found,
and these, with many grunts and
yells, were taken out of doors for the
chief. Wines and brandies were dis
covered. With bottles and demi-
johns to their mouths the attackers
poured fiery potions down their
throats, grabbing the bottles from
one another until they were stag
oerinp around in every stage of
drunkenness.
The chief grew even more vicious