The Santa Fe Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “She’s gonna blow,” Vic Brodie predicted.

  “Yeah,” said Gavin, “but maybe the thunder and lightnin’ won’t be as bad.”

  “We can’t count on that,” Woody said. “After supper, we’ll all take to the saddle and try to calm the herd before the thunder and lightning gets too close.”

  “Beyond that,” said Pitkin, “I suppose there is nothing we can do.”

  “Right you are,” Woody replied. “I’ll have Gonzales hurry the supper.”

  “While he’s doin’ that,” said Nip, “some of us ought to be stretchin’ a piece of that canvas between these two wagons. At least we’ll have a dry place to hunker and drink our coffee durin’ the night.”

  “Come on,” Gavin said. “I’ll help you.”

  The chuck wagon was already positioned with the tongue to the north. Gavin and Nip quickly harnessed a team to the second wagon and moved it parallel to the chuck wagon, at least twenty feet distant. One side of the big canvas was thonged to the bend in the first and last bows of the chuck wagon, while the other side was secured in similar fashion to the upper side of the first and last bows of the second wagon Pitkin had bought. With the bulk of the chuck wagon and its canvas top to bear the brunt of the expected storm, and the tightly stretched canvas between the wagons as protection from the rain, the outfit had the assurance of a fire and a place to dry out, whatever else happened.

  “Not be much wood in possum belly,” Gonzales suggested.

  “There’s still time to rustle up some more wood,” said Woody, “before supper and before the storm. Some of you get at it.”

  “Rusty,” Vic said, “you an’ Ash come on. I ain’t wantin’ to hunker down at midnight, dyin’ for hot coffee, and not a stick of dry wood.”

  In the Stubbs camp, Bonita, Jania, and Laketa went about preparing supper without much enthusiasm. There was no room in any of the wagons and they had no shelter where they might spread their bedrolls to escape the pouring rain.

  “Of all the things I’ve come to hate,” Laketa complained, “the storms are the worst. I am so tired of wet, muddy clothes, trying to start a cookfire in the rain…”

  “Damn it,” Stubbs shouted, “cut out the jabberin’ an’ git supper done before the storm gits here.”

  “I swear to God,” said Bonita, “if I had anywhere to go, I’d slip away durin’ the night and he’d never see me again.”

  “We’ve been through this before,” Jania said. “We’ve agreed we’ll all leave together, once we reach Santa Fe.”

  “Yes,” said Laketa, “but I’m not sure I can last that long.”

  The storm came closer and the thunder rumbled, but the lightning never reached the violent proportions that often led to a stampede. The herd bawled their unease, but didn’t rise to their feet, for everybody within the Pitkin outfit was in the saddle, except Gonzales. The Mexican had made use of the plentiful dry wood and had started a fire between the two wagons, under the protection of the canvas. There he had both coffeepots on the fire. While the wind rose to gale force and the rain swept down in gray sheets, the presence of the riders calmed the herd. The thunder and lightning moved one, but the rain seemed to have set in for the night. Woody called the outfit together.

  “The worst of it’s over,” Woody said. “Nip, Gavin, and me can take the first watch, with Rusty, Vic, and Ash takin’ the second. The rest of you, crowdin’ in close under the canvas, can get some sleep.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair,” Naomi said. “We trail with the herd during the day, and I think we should take our turn on watch.”

  “No,” said Woody. “We appreciate both of you helping with the drive, but we hired on for that purpose. If there’s goin’ to be trouble, it’s likely to come at night, and I’d not want to risk either of you gettin’ hurt.”

  “Woody’s speaking from experience,” Pitkin said. “Do as he says.”

  The camp settled down, and with the herd calm, Woody, Gavin, and Nip picketed their horses. Eventually the rain ceased, the wind swept away the clouds, and from a deep purple sky, a thin quarter moon smiled down. Stars twinkled like distant splashes of silver.

  “I’m ready for some of that coffee,” said Nip. “That wind ain’t let up much, and in these wet duds, it’s enough to chill a gent to the bone.”

  The three of them got their tin cups, and while they tried to be quiet, they managed to awaken those who had spread their blankets near the fire, under the protection of the canvas.

  “Woody,” Nell said, “I’m dried out and I’m not sleepy. If I stay close to you, may I walk around some?”

  “I reckon so,” said Woody.

  “I want to come too,” Naomi said.

  “Then stay close to Gavin or Nip,” said Woody. “One of you at a time is about all I can look after.”

  While Gladstone Pitkin didn’t move, Woody thought he heard Pitkin laugh.

  “The storm’s gone, the herd’s calm, and there’s goin’ to be four of you out there,” Nip said. “If nobody objects, I’m goin’ to hunker here by the fire, drink my coffee, and see if I can dry out.”

  Woody and Gavin weren’t sure how much Kelly knew and how much he only suspected, but they didn’t doubt he was intentionally allowing them some time alone with Nell and Naomi Pitkin. But it was the first time since Council Grove that Woody and Gavin had come even close to such an opportunity, and they said nothing to discourage it. They walked between the herd and Cottonwood Creek, and they could hear the gurgle of rising water.

  “Now I see why it was so important that we cross ahead of the storm,” Nell said.

  “Yes,” said Woody. “The creek will overrun its banks by morning.”

  “But the rain’s stopped,” Naomi said.

  “Somewhere to the west of here, it’s still raining,” said Woody. “Cottonwood Creek may be on the rise for several more days. Even when the water goes down, there’ll be so much mud, crossing would be impossible.”

  “There will be other streams ahead of us,” Nell said. “Won’t we have trouble there?”

  “Not necessarily,” said Woody. “Every creek or river is different. We’re still a long way from the Arkansas. We may have more storms behind us before we get there.”

  Woody looked around and found himself alone with Nell Pitkin. Obviously, Gavin and Naomi had sought some privacy of their own. Woody stopped, his hand on Nell’s arm. He promised himself he wasn’t going to appear as much the fool as he had at Council Grove. Nell was facing him, and even in the pale moonlight, he could see her face. Her lips were parted just a little, and he placed both hands on her shoulders. Only then did he speak.

  “If I do what I’m tempted to, are you gonna slug me again?”

  “Perhaps,” she said, “if you don’t do it right. Am I worth the risk?”

  “I reckon,” he replied.

  He drew her close to him, kissing her long and hard. Slipping her arms around his neck, she returned the kiss. When they parted for air, Woody sighed. Finally he spoke.

  “I reckon I got it right, this time.”

  “Yes,” said Nell. “You didn’t try to justify what you did. You wanted me and you took me. It’s what a woman expects of a man.”

  “I know that now,” Woody said. “I just thought, you bein’ English…”

  “That if you got too aggressive with me, I’d burst into tears or fall to pieces in your hands?”

  “Somethin’ like that, I reckon,” said Woody sheepishly. “Do you want me to tell you honestly what was botherin’ me…before?”

  “Yes,” Nell said softly. “I think I’d like to know.”

  “I had…have…powerful feelings for you,” said Woody, “and I didn’t want you to…to think I was just a clumsy cowboy who had never been with a woman outside some…some whorehouse.”

  “I never thought that, even when I was angry with you,” Nell said. “I don’t believe you’ve ever been to such a place. Have you?”

  “No,” said Woody. “Once, when I was just
eighteen, there was this girl in Waco…she liked me, and well…I got her drunk, stripped her…”

  “And had your way with her?”

  “No,” Woody admitted, “I didn’t…couldn’t…do anything. I was afraid. I got her back into her clothes as best I could, and left her there in the barn, to sober up.”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “Then what did you do?”

  “I joined a trail drive bound for Abilene,” said Woody, “and I never went back.”

  “Woodrow Miles,” Nell said, “you are an honest cowboy. Would you think me brazen and forward if I told you I want you?”

  “I reckon I’d consider myself the luckiest cowboy ever to come out of south Texas,” Woody said, “and you’d better not be just teasing me. When we get to Santa Fe, I aim to speak to your daddy about you and me goin’ before a preacher.”

  “I’m not teasing you,” said Nell, “and when you speak to Father, I think he will be delighted.”

  Gavin and Naomi stood beside Cottonwood Creek watching the light from a pale moon and the distant stars dance off the surging water.

  “I reckon Woody and Nell are gettin’ along some better,” Gavin said. “So far, I ain’t heard a body hit the ground.”

  “I can tell you a secret about my sister Nell,” said Naomi, “but you must promise not to repeat it. Least of all to Woody.”

  “I’ve done my share of hoorawin’,” Gavin said, “but I’d never use anything personal against a man. Woodrow Miles is a gent to ride the river with, and I’m hopin’ he’ll do his best to win Nell, if she’ll have him.”

  Naomi laughed. “I think I can ease your mind. If Woody wants her, he’s got her, but he’ll have to conduct himself better than he did at Council Grove. Nell thought he was…well…afraid of her.”

  “Hell,” Gavin said, “ain’t that better than havin’ a man try to lay her down and have his way with her?”

  “Perhaps up to a point,” said Naomi. “I told her to be more patient with him, because he may not have had much experience with women.”

  “Not many cowboys have,” Gavin said, “except in…”

  “Where?” she persisted.

  “Whorehouses,” said Gavin.

  “I suppose that’s proof enough that Woody’s never been to such a place, then,” Naomi said.

  “Not durin’ all the years I’ve known him,” said Gavin. “He was just eighteen when we first met. He’d fought with the Confederacy since he was fifteen, and like the rest of us, I’d say he’d been to hell and back more than once. Woody’s next to the youngest man in the outfit, but he’s trail boss. He may be a shorthorn when it comes to women, but as a man, he’s nine feet tall and a yard wide.”

  Naomi said nothing. Slipping her arms around Gavin’s neck, she kissed him.

  “I ain’t complainin’,” Gavin said, “but what was that for?”

  “For justifying my faith in Woody, and what I told Nell,” said Naomi, “and for telling me something about Gavin McCord that I’d never have dared ask.”

  “What have I told you about me?”

  “You said that in the years you’ve known Woody, he’s never gone to a whorehouse. That tells me you haven’t gone there, either,” Naomi said.

  “I’m two years older than Woody,” said Gavin. “How do you know I didn’t make the rounds before we met?”

  “If you did,” Naomi said, “you’ve kept away from them for a long time. But I don’t believe you’ve ever been there.”

  “You’re right,” said Gavin, “but I can’t truthfully say I’ve had no experience with women. I’m a long ways from perfect.”

  “Then don’t tell me about…the others,” Naomi said.

  “You’ll have me like I am, then?”

  “Yes,” said Naomi. “A woman has no right to condemn a man for his past, unless it’s still part of his life. You’re not a drunkard or a gambler, are you?”

  Gavin laughed. “No, ma’am. Even if I was so inclined, I couldn’t afford either one, on a cowboy’s pay.”

  “When are you going to speak to Father, to tell him…about us?”

  “When we reach Santa Fe,” said Gavin, “unless you want me to do it sooner.”

  “I want you to do it much sooner,” Naomi said. “I’m fond of the other riders, but I’d feel better if they know about us. Then I won’t feel guilty about spending so much of my time with you. Does that make sense, or am I just a nervous female?”

  “It makes sense to me,” said Gavin. “I don’t want them thinkin’ you’re neglectin’ them and being partial to me without a good reason. I’ll talk to Pit in the morning.”

  Rusty, Vic, and Ash were two hours into the second watch, when they heard a footstep. Instantly the three had Colts in their hands.

  “You’re covered,” Vic said. “Identify yourself.”

  “Bonita. Bonita Stubbs.”

  “What is it?” Vic asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “No more than usual,” said Bonita. “I’m wet, cold, and lonely. I…I just wanted to do something…to walk…and my brother Whit’s on watch near the wagons. I thought I’d best stay near the creek, so I didn’t get lost in the dark.”

  “Good thinkin’,” Vic said. “I’m Vic Brodie, and the gents with me is Rusty and Ash Pryor. Would you like to have some hot coffee?”

  “Lord, yes,” said Bonita. “We have no shelter from the rain.”

  “I’ll get you some coffee,” Ash said.

  “Life on the trail is hard on a woman,” said Rusty. “I’d’ve thought your daddy would’ve left some room in the wagons for you and your sisters.”

  Bonita’s laugh was bitter. “He don’t think as much of us as he does the mules, and he hates them.”

  Ash returned with a tin cup of hot coffee, and Bonita sipped it gratefully. She held the cup in both hands, seeming to relish its warmth.

  “Ma’am,” said Rusty, “if I ain’t bein’ too bold, do you folks aim to settle somewhere around Santa Fe?”

  “I…I don’t know,” Bonita said. “Thank you so much for the coffee. I must go, before I’m missed.”

  As suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone.

  “Damn it, Rusty,” said Vic, “you scared her away.”

  “I didn’t mean nothin’,” Rusty said. “They’re three mighty handsome gals, and if they aim to be around Santa Fe, I might just go callin’ on ’em.”

  “Don’t let me discourage you,” said Vic, “but old man Stubbs strikes me as the kind that’d greet you with a loaded shotgun.”

  “I wonder what the old varmint’s got loaded on them wagons,” Ash said. “It wouldn’t take much for me to sneak over there and have a look.”

  “Like hell,” said Rusty. “You’d be asking for a dose of lead poisoning. You heard her say one of her brothers is on watch.”

  Bonita returned cautiously to her own camp, only to find that her absence had been discovered.

  “You sneaked off somewhere,” Jania hissed. “Where did you go?”

  “For a walk,” said Bonita, “if it’s any of your business.”

  “You went to the Pitkin camp, didn’t you?” Laketa said.

  “Yes, if you must know,” said Bonita. “I wanted coffee, and they gave me some. Tell Paw, either of you, and I’ll claw your eyes out.”

  “We’re not telling Paw anything,” Jania said. “Tell us what you did, what you said.”

  “I told them I was cold, wet, and lonely,” said Bonita, “and nothing more. They had hot coffee and offered me some. I took it.”

  “Who did you talk to?” Laketa demanded.

  “The three men watching the herd,” said Bonita. “Vic Brodie, Ash and Rusty Pryor. They’re no older than we are, and they were very nice to me.”

  “But they must have asked about us,” Jania said. “What did they ask?”

  “Rusty asked if we would be settling near Santa Fe,” said Bonita. “I told them I didn’t know. Then I left.”

  “I’m surprised they didn’t ask why we’re
going to Santa Fe, and what we’re hauling in the wagons,” Laketa said.

  “You sound like Paw,” said Bonita in disgust. “They were interested in me…us.”

  Jania sighed. “It would be so nice to have something to look forward to in Santa Fe. Something better than cooking and washing for Paw, Wiley, and Whit.”

  “Paw would take the whip to you, if he heard you talking like that,” Laketa said.

  “That’s all Paw knows how to do, takin’ the whip to anything or anybody that crosses him,” said Bonita.

  “We all made plans to leave, when we get to Santa Fe,” Jania said. “I still want to.”

  “So do I,” said Laketa.

  “I may not wait until then,” Bonita said.

  “You’re going back to see those cowboys again, aren’t you?” said Jania.

  “I am,” Bonita said.

  “When you do,” said Jania, “please take me with you.”

  “Only if I can go,” Laketa said. “My God, I’m twenty-six years old, and I’ve never so much as had a man look at me twice.”

  “These three cowboys are somewhere within a year or two of us,” said Bonita. “Next time we’re close enough to them, maybe all of us can slip into their camp.”

  “Paw may never let us get this close again,” Jania said. “He wouldn’t have, this time, if Wiley and Whit hadn’t already unharnessed their teams.”

  “Paw may surprise you,” said Laketa. “I was watching him after the Pitkin riders came to our rescue during that Indian attack, and he was scared. For all his cussing and yelling, he was afraid. He put his hands in his pockets so we wouldn’t see them tremble. I believe we’ll be staying close to the Pitkin outfit because of the Indians.”

  “You may be right,” Bonita said. “He was determined to get our wagons across the creek before the storm brought high water. I suppose we’ll know, after we make camp for tomorrow night.”

  “Pit,” Gavin said, while they waited for breakfast, “there’s something I need to ask of you.”

  “Then ask,” said Pitkin. “I am listening.”

  “I have asked Naomi for her hand,” Gavin said, “and she has accepted. Now, I reckon the proper thing for me to do is ask for your blessing.”