Camila is a protagonist in the novel’s main historical thread, a round and dynamic character whose journey embodies resilience and transformation. Orphaned and raised on the fringes of criollo society, she develops a toughness and independence that sets her apart from other women of her time. Her close proximity to the Indigenous ranch hands during her childhood gives her an understanding of the land and its people, skills that prove essential to her survival. Initially, she enters a marriage of convenience with the elderly Don Leopoldo Ezguerra to escape a miserable life as a governess, demonstrating a pragmatic approach to her limited options. After his death, she is again marginalized by the arrival of his American son, Hector, and his puritanical wife, who strip her of her authority on the ranch.

Camila’s capture by Mangas Coloradas’s band marks the central turning point in her life. The ordeal is brutal, subjecting her to extreme physical and psychological violence. However, it also becomes the experience through which she forges a new identity. Rather than resigning herself to death or despair, she makes a conscious decision to survive, adapting to the Apaches’ customs, diet, and language. Her journey from captive to a wife of Chief Mangas Coloradas is a deep illustration of the fluidity of borderlands identity. She ultimately rejects the opportunity to return to the Mexican world, telling Zuloaga she would “rather take a bullet than return to Janos” (441). By choosing to stay and raise her child as an Apache warrior, Camila completes her transformation, embracing a new culture that, despite its harshness, offers her a sense of power and belonging she never found in criollo society.

As a protagonist of the main historical storyline, José María Zuloaga is a round, dynamic character who represents the fledgling Mexican Republic’s attempts to impose order on the chaotic borderlands. Initially, he approaches his duty with a certain detached amusement, viewing his expeditions to punish Apaches as a form of sport, “like going hunting” (5). He is a man of his class and time, a criollo officer who casually relies on and commands Indigenous people. However, his mission to rescue Camila forces him to confront the complexities of Apachería and the limitations of his state-sanctioned authority. His character arc is defined by a gradual shift from a cynical enforcer of a distant government’s will to a man who learns to respect the different laws and loyalties of the desert.

Zuloaga’s leadership is pragmatic and adaptable. He assembles a motley posse of irregulars that includes a cross-dressing ex-singer, a dancing master, Yaqui prisoners, and a Raramuri boy, a group that itself mirrors the hybrid identity of the region. He learns to rely on their diverse skills, particularly the tracking abilities of the Yaquis and the keen perception of his young Raramuri corporal, Mauricio Corredor. His journey into the heart of Apache territory becomes an education, forcing him to shed his preconceived notions. Upon finding Camila and understanding her choice to remain with the Apaches, he accepts her decision without judgment and even agrees to carry a message of peace from Mangas Coloradas to the Chihuahuan government. This transformation shows his capacity to look beyond the rigid binaries of his mission and recognize a more complex human reality.

Geronimo appears in the novel in two distinct forms, serving as both a legendary historical figure and a young boy on the cusp of becoming a warrior. This dual portrayal makes him a complex, round character who embodies Apache resistance across time. As the historical shaman, he is a symbol of indomitable will and eloquent defiance. The narrator obsesses over his legacy, particularly his final surrender and the famous words, “Now I surrender to you and that is all” (40), which becomes a motif for the irrevocable end of a world. In this context, Geronimo is less a person than a historical force, the last warrior of a 350-year war whose story is appropriated and sanitized by the United States, as symbolized by his strange, pyramid-like tomb.

In Camila’s timeline, he is Goyahkla, a boy apprentice to the warriors. Here, he is humanized, shown as a “shrimp” (397) who is proud, observant, and eager to prove himself. He is fiercely loyal to Mangas Coloradas and becomes a protector and companion to Camila, teaching her the Apache language. His jealousy of Mauricio Corredor’s pistols reveals the youthful ambition and insecurity he harbors beneath his warrior’s training. This depiction of Geronimo as a youth provides a contrast to the hardened legend he will become, grounding the myth in the experiences of a boy growing up in a world defined by violence and the fight for survival. The name “Geronimo,” given to him by Camila, links the boy to the legend he will one day be.

Mauricio Corredor begins as a minor character, an adolescent boy-of-all-work in Casas Grandes, but develops into Zuloaga’s most capable and trusted subordinate. He is a round and dynamic character whose journey parallels his rise from a nameless “kid” to a corporal and “citizen” in the irregulars. As a Raramuri raised in a criollo household, he embodies the complex cultural landscape of the borderlands. Initially underestimated by Zuloaga, he quickly demonstrates superior perception and knowledge of the desert, possessing an “eagle eye” (147) that proves indispensable to the expedition. His quiet competence and fierce loyalty to Zuloaga are unwavering, even as he remains proud of his Indigenous heritage.

Corredor also is a moral and cultural guide for Zuloaga. He is the first to challenge the lieutenant colonel’s casual racism, insisting on the use of proper demonyms and demanding respect for Indigenous identities. His assertion, “We call ourselves Raramuri” (62), is a quiet but firm act of resistance against the colonial practice of naming and categorization. His transformation is marked by the acquisition of new tools of power: A Springfield rifle, boots, and finally the Argentine detective’s pistols and poncho, which make him look “more solid” (172). By the end of the expedition, he is a seasoned gunman and a confident young man.

Elvira, or “Elvis,” is a zarzuela singer who has adopted the persona of a nun in the desolate town of Janos. A round, static character, she is a vivid representation of the eccentric and adaptive nature of life on the frontier. She defies categorization, embodying both the sacred and the profane; she wears a habit and rosary but also carries a “massive U.S.-made revolver” (63) and drinks a diabolical punch. Her past as a performer gives her a theatrical flair and a sharp wit, which she uses to navigate the harsh realities of her environment. Despite her assumed piety, she is pragmatic and worldly, acting as a caretaker for the town’s prisoners and possessing a fierce loyalty to her friend, Camila. Her presence in Zuloaga’s posse introduces an element of unpredictability and humor, while her skills as a formidable sharpshooter make her one of its most valuable members. She represents the resourceful and unconventional forms of identity that emerge in the spaces between established societies.

The Yaqui twins, Guadalupe and Victoria, are formidable warriors freed from a Janos jail cell by Zuloaga to serve in his posse. They function as a single entity, often speaking in unison and sharing a cynical, darkly humorous worldview shaped by years of imprisonment and conflict. Their ironically patriotic names, a reference to Mexico’s first president who granted citizenship to Indigenous people, underscore the deep disconnect between the ideals of the Republic and the violent reality of the borderlands. They are driven by a code of honor rooted in vengeance, as shown in the graphic story of their retaliation for their cousin’s murder. This logic is a byproduct of the theme of Violence as the Foundation of the Nation-State. Despite their mistrust of both criollos and other Indigenous groups, their expertise as trackers and fighters is important to the expedition’s survival. They are both a source of tension and an essential asset, embodying the fierce and untamable spirit that the Mexican state seeks to control.

The historical chief of the Bedonkohe Apaches, Mangas Coloradas is a towering and formidable figure in the narrative. Described as the “chief of chiefs” (57), he is a man of immense physical presence and authority who leads the raid that results in Camila’s capture. From the perspective of the Mexican state, he is a fearsome antagonist, but through Camila’s eyes, he becomes a complex and even tender character. He is decisive and brutal in war but also proves to be a charismatic leader who is “modest, shy” (395) in private. His relationship with Camila transcends a simple captor-captive dynamic; he chooses her for her strength and ultimately respects her as his wife. He represents an alternative form of sovereignty and civilization, one governed by Apache customs and a deep connection to the land of the Gila River Valley. His willingness to parley with Zuloaga shows a political pragmatism, seeking peace with Chihuahua on his own terms.