by Peter Grant
She smiled up at him, teeth gleaming against her lips. “You’ve done something better. You’ve married me, and you’re taking me to my new home with you.”
He bent and kissed her upturned mouth. Colleen responded eagerly, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. The kiss began slowly, but gained intensity by the moment, until they were both breathing hard, savoring the taste of each other’s lips and the urgent pressure of their bodies against each other.
“Darling,” she said throatily, softly, almost purring, “I… I don’t want to go for a walk any more. I want you to take me back to our room.”
He scooped her into his arms and carried her back through the door, kicking it closed with his boot as they crossed the threshold. He walked down the hall to her room, pushed open the door and set her down inside, then turned to close it. His head was awhirl with passion.
She stretched, raising her hands high above her head, and smiled at him. “Would my husband care to undress me?” she asked coquettishly.
He reached for the top button of her dress. “Your wish is my command.”
Later, much later, that night, she sighed sleepily. “My husband… that word has such a nice sound!”
“And you’re my wife. Happy?”
“Silly! Of course I am!” She thought for a moment. “You know, I’ve heard the words ‘husband’ and ‘wife’ many times, but I never really knew what they meant before tonight. I’m yours now, truly yours, in a way I could never properly understand before.”
“That goes both ways, darling.”
They snuggled into each others’ arms, and drifted off to sleep.
14
They stayed one more day at the estancia. Colleen supervised the last of the packing, and double-checked that everything important had been loaded, including all the food. Walt paid off the gunhands from Monclova, including a hundred-dollar bonus to Sergeant Robles, who thanked him effusively. He then supervised his men in branding the estancia’s horses with his Rafter A brand, lightly underlined twice to distinguish the breeding stock from the less valuable animals. They were then driven into the herd from Saltillo and allowed to mingle with them.
“D’you reckon we have enough men to handle over six hundred horses?” he asked Angel.
“Yes, señor. The horses from Saltillo are all accustomed to the rope, and know not to fight it, so they stay inside our simple rope corral at night on the trail. Those from the estancia may not, but they will learn from the example of the others. We may have to rope a few of them if they break out, but that will teach the rest not to do that.”
“Fair enough. Let’s try, and see how they take it.”
“Si, señor.”
Four of the hands took long ropes from pack horses, and strung them at chest height around bushes and trees to form a circle, with an opening left at one end. The herd was driven into the rope circle. Most of the horses had been repeatedly lassoed in the past. They understood the futility of fighting a rope, and so regarded the makeshift corral as a much stronger containment than it really was. However, the estancia’s horses had been treated with greater delicacy, and had not yet developed as much caution where ropes were concerned.
One of the estancia’s stallions showed that he had no intention of being confined inside something so flimsy as a rope corral by these two-legged creatures. He broke back the first time the horses were driven into it, and jumped over the rope the second time. On each occasion, the hands chased him down, and drove him back to the corral.
Walt turned to Angel. “He’s got to be stopped. That sort of behavior’s catching. Next time he tries, teach him a lesson.”
“Si, señor.” The mesteñero took his lariat off his saddlehorn and spread out the loop, ready for action.
Sure enough, the next time the rope corral was moved and the herd driven in, the stallion broke back again, galloping away from the mouth of the corral, heading for the open range. Angel spurred his horse after him, accelerating fast before the stallion could get away. He began to whirl the lariat over his head, building its momentum, then sent it sailing out. It crossed over the shoulder of the blithely unaware stallion, then a twitch of Angel’s wrist sent it downward. It hit the horse’s knees, then dropped further to catch its forefeet in the loop. Angel pulled back on the rope, and the horse’s front legs locked together abruptly. It crashed to the ground, neighing shrilly in fear and outrage. Its calls were cut off as the breath was slammed from its body.
Walt nodded approvingly. The forefoot throw had been beautifully executed by a master of the craft. There was a risk that the stallion might have broken its neck, but better that than have it ruin other animals by teaching them its habit of disobedience. They could not afford to keep chasing after horses, particularly when they reached Indian territory. There, a rider pursuing an escaping horse might find a lot more trouble than he’d bargained for.
He watched as Angel got off his horse and removed the loop. The stallion staggered to its feet, then rejoined the herd with no further urging. This time, it did not attempt to break back or jump over the rope.
“Well done, Angel,” Walt praised as the mesteñero rejoined him, coiling his rope. “Reckon he’s learned his lesson?”
“I hope so, señor. If he has not, we shall have to repeat it.”
“If need be, go right ahead. On my ranch, with plenty of time to use gentle methods, I’m all for them; but we have to hit the trail, and we’ve run out of time. He’s got to learn fast. If that means the hard way, well…”
Both men shrugged.
That night, Walt asked one of the workers to cut him four pieces of wood, each a foot square and two inches deep, with a notch cut in the center of two sides, opposite each other. The man delivered the sawed and sanded pieces to him within an hour.
“What are those for?” Colleen asked, puzzled, when he showed her.
Walt grinned. “I’ll show you.”
He took her out to her parents’ converted celerity wagon, now a comfortable canvas-sided camping wagon, with room to store personal possessions, food, and the like. “We want to sleep in this, don’t we?”
“Yes, of course. I want my husband in my bed at night!”
“And he wants to be there, but…” Instead of saying more, Walt reached out and pressed down on the rear corner of the wagon bed, bouncing it gently on its elliptical springs. They creaked in the still night air. He kept on bouncing the wagon bed, and Colleen blushed scarlet as she suddenly realized what he meant.
“Oh! I never thought of that!”
“That’s what these blocks of wood are for.” He slid them in between the springs at each corner of the wagon bed, lifting it slightly to make room for them. The notches held them in place between the top and bottom springs, preventing them from contracting. When he tried to bounce the wagon bed again, it didn’t move. More importantly, the springs didn’t creak.
Colleen burst out laughing. “How did you think of that?”
Walt grinned. “Rose and I had the same problem in the Rucker ambulance I converted for her, when we came west across Missouri, Kansas and Colorado. I learned that trick from an Army private who taught us how to handle six-mule teams. You put them in when you stop for the night, and take them out in the morning. Good thing I remembered before we left.”
“I’m glad you did. I want your company, darling – but without the whole world knowing about it!”
The next day, they hit the trail at sunrise. Walt rode his horse, and Colleen drove her buggy. “I’ll work up to riding all day, too,” she promised, “but let me start slowly.”
“No problem, as long as there’s a trail. When that runs out, I don’t know whether your buggy will be able to cope.”
“You’re probably right, but I’ll use it as long as I can.”
Walt stopped the herd for the night outside Nueva Rosita. He invited Colleen and a couple of the estancia’s women to come into town with him as the sun set. She and Walt rode in her buggy,
while the others drove a light wagon.
Walt led them to the house occupied by young Maria, her mother, and her grandfather. They looked astonished to see him again – this time with a retinue. He grinned at them as he introduced his wife and the women. “May we come in?” he asked. “I have much to tell you.”
When they had crowded into the small front room, Walt told the family about what he’d read in the diary, and what he’d done about it. He didn’t go into detail about the money, but described how following Major d’Assaily’s route had led him to the estancia, where he’d met and married Colleen and bought her father’s entire horse herd. “I owe all that to you,” he finished. “I wanted to thank you for giving me the diary, and for your prayers for me each night. They’ve led to my being married once more, and going home rich in love, in horses, and in money.”
The old man smiled. “It is good to know God has used us to bless you, señor.”
“He certainly has. I’m willing to give you a lot of money as a reward for all you did to help me, but I don’t know how safe that would be. I remember those bandidos who tried to make trouble. I’m sure they’re not the only ones of that kind you’ve seen here. If they heard you had money, they might try to steal it from you.”
Edelmira shivered. “They would not just rob us, señor. They would torture us to make sure they had found all the money, then they would kill us.” Her father nodded silently.
“That’s what I feared, so I have another offer for you. I’m taking the estancia’s workers back to America with me, to my horse ranch in Colorado. I’ll build them houses there. They’ll work for me, and I’ll pay them each month, and they can stay in their houses even after their working years, if they wish. I’m willing to make you the same offer. We can load your belongings onto the wagon outside, and you can travel with us. I’ll help you find work on the ranch or in Pueblo, and we’ll put Maria into school.”
“School?” Her mother’s voice was suddenly excited. “She will learn to read and write?”
“She sure will, and more besides. There are classes for adults, too. You could do the same.”
Walt asked Colleen and the two women to reassure Edelmira that his offer was genuine. She listened in fascination as they described packing up everything in the estancia, and their departure. It didn’t take long to convince her that Walt was serious.
The old man wavered. “Señor, I am not the man I used to be. I do not think I could work hard enough to earn my wages.”
“You’ve already earned them, Guillermo. You gave me that diary, which led me to my new wife and everything else. You don’t need to do anything more for me, ever again.”
A smile dawned on the old man’s face, and his eyes lit up. “Edelmira?”
“I… do you think this is right for us, papa?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. I think this is an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime. What is more, we will not be alone in a strange place among strangers. Many of our own people will move there with us, like these two ladies.” He nodded towards the women from the estancia.
Edelmira took a deep breath. “Come, Maria. Let us pack your clothes. We are going to Colorado!” Her daughter squealed with delight.
There wasn’t much to pack. They had very little furniture and not many clothes. It took no more than half an hour to load the wagon with their pitifully few possessions.
The old man came out of the house and closed the door behind him, then handed Walt the grey kepi. “I think you should take this now, señor, and put it with the other things. It is fitting that they should remain together.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Back at the campsite, Colleen supervised the preparing of food and sleeping spaces for the new additions to their number. Meanwhile, Walt sought out Nastas. “You remember the horseshoe canyon where we dealt with those three bandidos?” he asked.
“Yes, very well.”
“You remember the rock under which the old man buried the soldier? The one marked with a cross scratched on it?”
“Yes, that too.”
“The man buried there was a warrior as well as a soldier. He fought bravely until he was too wounded to fight on, and even then took steps to help his friends continue his mission, if they found him. He never fought alongside me, but we wore the same uniform. I don’t want to leave him there, forgotten. I’d like to bring his bones back with us, to send them to his family for honorable burial.”
“An excellent thought. A warrior should be honored by his people.”
“Will you help me do that? I can’t go back to that valley myself – I’ve got to see to the herd and everyone with us – but if you’re willing, I’ll ask you to go there and dig up his remains. He was buried more than eight years ago, without a coffin, so his body’s sure to have decayed. There’ll only be bones left, and maybe some scraps of his uniform. If you’ll put them into a pack horse pannier and bring them back to the herd, I’ll buy a small box to hold them for the journey to Colorado. Once we get there, I’ll see about tracing his family, so they can bury him properly.”
Nastas nodded. “Of course. I shall leave at dawn. How long will you be on the trail from here to the border?”
“Four days, I think.”
“Then that is easy. I shall rejoin you before you get there.”
Walt shook his hand in real gratitude. “Thanks, Nastas. I owe you for this.”
The Navajo shook his head vehemently. “No, you do not. This is a service I, a warrior, can render to a fallen warrior. Because he wore the same uniform as you, he counts as your ally, and therefore mine, too. It is an honor for me to do this. Nothing is owed.”
Nastas was as good as his word. The night before reaching Piedras Negras, he rode into the camp, leading his pack horse. He dismounted, took a pannier from the pack saddle, and carried it over to Walt. “Here are your brother’s bones,” he said solemnly. “I made sure to gather them all, leaving none behind. I have handled them with honor, as I would want mine to be treated if I were in his place.”
Walt took them from him. “Thanks, Nastas. I’ll take good care of them from now on.”
He put the pannier into a wood box that he’d bought before leaving Nueva Rosita. Major d’Assaily’s mortal remains would be safe there for the rest of the journey.
Crossing the border proved to be easier than Walt had expected. He’d been worried that getting the estancia workers into America might be difficult, particularly since none of them had travel documents. However, passage of workers across the border in both directions was so common that no questions were asked. Since the horses were being brought into the country to meet Army requirements, and he had a letter to prove that, no import duty was payable. He carefully failed to mention his own horses that were mixed in with the Army’s mounts.
Walt paused for the rest of the day on the American side, in the town of Eagle Pass, to catch up on minor details. He telegraphed Pablo in El Paso, asking him to send an update to Fort Clark on how things had gone, and Nate on the ranch, advising him of the arrival in a few months of his new wife, plus a couple of dozen estancia workers and their families.
The workers’ clothing was proving less than adequate for the rigors of living out of a wagon on the trail for weeks on end. Walt sent a telegraph message to a supplier in San Antonio, recommended by a local storekeeper, asking for a selection of tough readymade clothing, bolts of suitable cloth, sewing thread, needles and other necessities to be sent to Fort Clark. He also ordered a large quantity of supplies, for the journey north to El Paso and beyond. He knew the sutler at Fort Clark would be unable to provide all he needed. Meanwhile, he almost cleaned out the stocks of the general store in Eagle Pass. When that wasn’t enough, he sent a wagon back across the border to buy more in Piedras Negras.
Their arrival at the fort, two days later, was cause for celebration. Tyler Reese and his men were already there, waiting for them. Walt paid off the hands he’d hired in Mexico and sent them on their way, smiling in satis
faction as they counted their gold dollars. He had his ranch hands separate his breeding stock from the rest of the herd. They amounted to two hundred and seventeen horses, both from the estancia and the best of those bought in Saltillo and Monterrey. The rest, less the wagon teams and working horses, were inspected, passed as suitable, and formally accepted by the cavalry.
Colonel Mackenzie looked over the horses, and pronounced himself satisfied. “You’ve done all I asked of you, and more. General Sheridan agreed with my request, and increased our horse-buying budget. Like me, he thinks this year will see hard fighting to contain the Comanche and Kiowa, and he wants the cavalry prepared for trouble. Come to my office, and I’ll give you a U.S. government draft to cover all your horses.”
Walt invited Tyler to accompany him, since he’d invested three thousand dollars of his own money in their venture. They sat down and tallied up the numbers. Between the two of them, they’d delivered 2,107 horses to Fort Clark, bought for an average of almost exactly $8 per head, and sold for an pre-contracted price of $25 each. Tyler had bought 375 of those horses with his money, so he received a draft for $9,375. Walt had bought the rest, using his own funds and part of those he’d recovered from Major d’Assaily’s cache. That brought him a draft for $43,300.
Even though he’d known the return on his investment would be good if everything went as it should, Walt was still staggered at the amount of the draft in his hand. He said so, and Colonel Mackenzie smiled. “Don’t forget the horses your partner’s delivered in El Paso,” he reminded him. “They’ll bring in more money.”
“I asked him to send me a report on how he was doing. It should be waiting for me here.”
“My adjutant is holding a telegraph message for you. Check with him as you go out.”
“I will, thank you, Colonel.”
The senior officer sat back in his chair, looking quizzically at Walt. “You’ve acquired quite a reputation, and it’s spreading fast. People are talking about you, not just in Mexico but in Texas, too.”