“Because we ain’t stoppin’ for the night,” Beavers growled. “These horses can’t carry a double load more’n two or three miles. Use your damn head.”
“Please let us go now,” said Rose.
“Shut up, woman,” Beavers said. “I’ll decide when we let you go.”
But the added weight was beginning to tell, and soon the horses were heaving. Beavers and Dent reined up. Beavers dismounted and lifted Rose down.
“This is as far as you go, girlie,” said Beavers. “Help the other one down, Dent.”
Dent seized Sarah, taking some liberties as he helped her down.
“Keep your hands off me!” Sarah shouted, slapping him.
“You damn wildcat,” said Dent, going after her again.
“Leave her be,” Beavers shouted.
Sarah stumbled away from him and Rose took her arm. The two of them disappeared into the darkness. After the horses had rested, Beavers and Dent mounted and rode on. The moon rose, casting an eerie light. An hour later, the outlaws again stopped to rest their horses.
“That trail boss was lyin’ to us,” Dent said. “There ain’t no Indians around.”
“Maybe not,” said Beavers, “but we can’t afford the risk. Restin’ the horses, we can travel a hundred miles before daylight. Indians ain’t likely to be watchin’ the trails after dark.”
But as the outlaws mounted their horses, a pair of shadows detached themselves from the ground. The moonlight was more than adequate, and each of the Paiutes drew an arrow from his quiver, nocked it and let it fly. Each of the arrows buried itself in the back of one of the outlaws, and they fell from their saddles. Spooked by the smell of blood, the horses galloped away into the night, back the way they had come.
Clinging to one another for support, Rose and Sarah stumbled along, stopping often to rest and to listen.
“Someone will be coming for us,” said Rose.
“Perhaps we should just wait where we are,” Sarah said. “We may be going the wrong way, in the dark.”
Sarah’s foot slipped off a stone, and with a cry, she fell.
“Are you all right?” Rose asked anxiously.
“I turned my ankle,” said Sarah.
“Then we’ll wait here and listen,” Rose said.
Mike and Bob had stopped to rest their horses. There was no wind, and suddenly the silence was broken by a sharp cry.
“One of the girls,” said Bob. “Let’s ride.”
“I hear horses coming,” Sarah said. “Perhaps it’s Indians.”
“I don’t think so,” said Rose. “I hear the jingle of bridle iron.”
“Here,” Sarah cried. “It’s Rose and Sarah.”
The horses came on at a gallop. Mike and Bob left their saddles almost while their horses were on the run. Wasting no time with words, Mike lifted Rose to his horse while Bob went after Sarah. Within minutes, they were on their way. When they rode in, there was a shout from the rest of the outfit. Quickly, Mike helped Rose down.
“I turned my ankle,” said Sarah, as Bob was lifting her down. “I can’t stand on it.”
“One of you fetch a blanket for Sarah,” Bob said. “She has a twisted ankle.”
With the arrival of Mike, Bob, Rose, and Sarah, the men on the first watch had come in. Red and Charlie were using saddles borrowed from Jim Roussel and Les Brown. From somewhere in the darkness, a horse nickered. Bob’s horse answered.
“Somebody’s comin’,” said Don. “Let’s go.”
The horse nickered again, closer.
“Halt and identify yourselves,” Red shouted, his rifle cocked and ready.
But then they could see the horse, and it was riderless. Behind it was a second horse, also riderless.
“It’s our horses, with our saddles,” shouted Charlie.
Charlie and Red caught the trailing reins of the two animals, led them in, and began unsaddling them.
“I reckon we don’t have to wonder what happened to Beavers and Dent,” Bob said, “and if anybody wants to argue that Paiutes don’t strike at night, we can tell ’em a thing or two.”
“I aim to find out what them jokers was carryin’ in their saddlebags,” said Red.
“Probably gold,” Don said. “They claimed they were prospectors.”
“They looked and acted like a pair of thieves, plain and simple,” said Charlie.
“Maybe they were,” Don said. “For sure, they had no intention of going to California with us. Open their saddlebags.”
“No gold in this one,” said Red, who had the saddlebag that had belonged to Beavers. “It’s too light.”
“Same as this one,” Charlie said, who had taken the saddlebag belonging to Dent.
There was plenty of moon-and starlight, so they had no trouble seeing what the pair of saddlebags contained.
“Lord Almighty,” said Red, “it’s money, all in hundred-dollar notes.”
“This one’s full of it too,” Charlie said. “Let’s count it.”
Swiftly they began counting.
“Fifteen thousand, five hundred dollars in this one,” said Red.
“Fifteen thousand even,” Charlie said.
“The varmints must have robbed a bank,” said Jim Roussel.
“Not necessarily,” Don said. “They stole our horses, but this money may be exactly what they claimed. Maybe they did earn it in the gold fields.”
“However they got it, they won’t need it now,” said Bob. “Question is, what will we do with it?”
“Take it with us,” Don said. “When we reach California, maybe the law can shed some light on this, and how they got their hands on it. If it’s stolen, and there’s some record as to who it belongs to, it should be returned. If the law has no proof that it’s stolen, then it may belong to us.”
“However it turns out,” said Red, “I’m satisfied just to get my horse and saddle back.”
“Same here,” Charlie said. “Them Paiutes finally did us a good turn.”
Rose had put on a pot of water to boil. When it was hot, she began bathing Sarah’s swollen ankle.
“With Beavers and Dent showin’ up, we never learned what Don and Roberto found,” said Jim Roussel. “Will we have water tomorrow night, Don?”
“Water,” said Don, “but that’s about all. We’ll be leaving the trail, traveling southwest maybe fifteen miles. The water, Roberto says, is from an underground river. There’s not a blade of grass, no vegetation, and no firewood.”
“Damn,” Felton Juneau said, “them longhorns is strippin’ the leaves and bark from the bushes now. Tomorrow, they won’t even have that. It’ll be as bad as no water.”
“Not quite,” said Don. “They may be racks of bones by the time we get them to Los Angeles, but after some decent graze, they’ll fatten up. Water’s the most important. We’ll be as bad off as the herd. Without firewood, there’ll be no hot coffee and no grub.”
“That can’t be,” Charlie said. “I’m goin’ to talk to Dominique and Roberto.”
Following an earnest conversation with the Mexicans, Charlie returned.
“Well,” said Don, “what’s their answer?”
“In the mornin’, they aim to consolidate our grub and supplies on four of the mules,” Charlie said. “The other two will be loaded with firewood.”
“There’s no wood here,” said Red.
“Dominique and Roberto aim to go back to the closest wood and load up,” Charlie said.
“They’re likely to find more than wood,” said Don. “Beavers and Dent didn’t have to ride very far to get themselves bushwhacked by Paiutes.”
“Dominique and Roberto know that,” Charlie said. “They aim for some of us to ride with them. I said for the sake of hot coffee and hot grub, we’d do it.”
“There’s never been a trail with danger enough to override a Texan’s concern for his belly,” said Don. “Now you and Red get back to the first watch. Midnight will be here, and none of us on the second watch have slept a wink.”
After breakfast, Dominique and Roberto freed two of the mules of their packs simply by loading what remained of their supplies on the other four mules.
“Bob,” Don said, “I want you, Jim, Les, and Mike to ride with them. Help them load as much wood as those mules can comfortably carry and get back here as soon as you can. We have to cover at least fifteen miles today, and we’ll be getting a late start.”
“Wood, three day,” said Dominique.
“You think we can cross this desert in three days?” Don asked.
“Si,” said Dominique. “Sheep do.”
“That’s mighty good news,” Charlie said, “but not so good for the longhorns. One day without graze will be somethin’ to behold. But three days! My God.”
“It’s a shame they can’t smell grass like they smell water,” said Arch. “They’d all light out for California and they’d be there tomorrow.”
Bob, Jim, Les, and Mike saddled their horses. When Dominique and Roberto rode out leading the mules, the four Texans followed. While he had time on his hands, Don sought out Sarah.
“How is your ankle?”
“Sore,” said Sarah, “but it will be all right in another day. Rose is heating some more water.”
Red was spending some time with Molly Rivers, and Charlie was similarly occupied with Wendy Oldham.
“If we’re able to cross this desert in three days,” Molly said, “we should be almost to Los Angeles in a week.”
“I hope so,” said Red. “It’s been a long trail. We left San Antonio the first day of February.”
Charlie’s conversation with Wendy had much to do with the trail ahead.
“With the Indians behind us, what can harm us, except perhaps the desert?” Wendy asked.
“There’s still time for outlaws to try and take the herd,” said Charlie. “They’ll wait for us to do most of the hard work.”
“We can see for miles, here on the desert,” Wendy said. “Will they attack us?”
“Not in daylight,” said Charlie. “More than likely, they’ll try to gun us down in the dark.”
“Oh Lord,” Wendy cried, “what can we do?”
“Try to get them before they get us,” said Charlie. “I expect Don will have somethin’ to say about that tonight.”
Don Webb already was considering the possibility of such an attack. He stood facing the north, squinting his eyes. Nothing moved except distant buzzards drifting across the blue of the sky.
“The map says there’s nothin’ north of us but Nevada’s Great Basin,” Felton Juneau said, “and from what I’ve heard, it ain’t much better than the desert.”
“That’s about the equal of what I’ve heard,” said Don, “but there’s no hostile Indians.”
“There’s likely some water in that Great Basin, if a man knows the territory,” Juneau said. “Instead of followin’ the trail, like we had to, we could have turned west long before we got into Paiute territory. Then we could have come south, pickin’ up the old trail here in the desert.”
“I’ve been thinking those same thoughts, Felton,” said Don. “It’s unfortunate that none of us knows the territory.”
Not a breath of air stirred, nor was there a sign of dust against the blue of the sky. Yet, when Webb wiped his sweating brow, it felt gritty, and there was a smudge on the back of his hand. Somewhere to the north, in the Great Basin, men had been riding in the darkness, so there would be no dust against the blue of the morning sky. While Don Webb had no idea who they were, he had a Texan’s eye for trouble. To his mind came a remnant of scripture. Men love darkness, for their deeds are evil.
Fifty miles north, in the Great Basin, the band of outlaws had made camp near a waterhole Griff had recalled. While there was water, there wasn’t even a hint of shade, and the men were already sweating in the heat of the morning sun. Since breakfast, the bunch had devoted all their time to complaining about the day of inactivity and the unrelenting heat.
“Damn it,” said Griff, “I’ve had about enough of your whining. I told you we’ll ride at night and rest during the day, and all of you know why. If you can’t live without shade, you can always ride back to Paiute country.”
While they didn’t like it, what they were planning demanded the utmost secrecy, and they settled down to wait for darkness.
To find enough firewood for the crossing of the desert, Dominique and Roberto had to ride back to the bend in the river, where they had camped the day before. They had four short-handled axes, which allowed four men to work and two to keep watch. In less than an hour, they had all the wood the two mules could comfortably carry.
“Why in tarnation didn’t some of us think of this yesterday, before we left here?” said Les Brown. “We could already be on our way to the next water.”
“We’ve had a lot of more important things on our minds,” Bob Vines said. “Such as getting out of reach of the Paiutes.”
When they returned to the herd, Don and the other riders had saddled the horses and loaded the pack mules. The outfit was ready to pull out.
“Dominique,” said Don, “I want you to ride with me. We’ll ride beyond tonight’s water and go looking for tomorrow’s.”
“Si,” Dominique said.
But before the herd moved out, Don got the outfit together, for he had something to say.
“I have reason to believe we’ll be having company, maybe as soon as tonight. They’ll be riding in from the north. All of you keep your guns handy and your eyes open. Les, help Roberto with the horse remuda and the mules. Dominique and me will be back as soon as we can.”
Don and Dominique rode southwest, toward the distant water that the longhorns must reach before dark. The rest of the outfit soon had the herd moving in the same direction. Mike Horton was riding drag. Rose had a question, and trotted her horse alongside his.
“There’s nobody in sight and no dust. How does he know we’ll be having visitors, and who are they?”
Mike laughed. “That’s why he’s trail boss. He’s expecting outlaws who will try to take the herd away from us.”
“If they come after us in the dark, what are we going to do?”
“I expect we’ll be waiting for them,” said Mike. “By the time he returns, Don will have a plan. You can be sure of one thing. We won’t wait until they attack us to prove their intentions.”
The other women, also among the drag riders, had ridden close enough to hear most of the conversation.
“They’ll be shot without us knowing if they mean us harm?” Sarah asked.
“Sarah,” said Mike, “when a bunch of men get together in godforsaken country like this, they’re usually up to no good. If we wait to see what they have in mind, some of us will die.”
“Early this morning, I saw Don looking toward the north,” Millie Nettles said. “There was no sign of anyone, as far as I could see. How does he know they’ll be coming from that direction?”
“They’re riding at night,” said Mike. “You can’t see the dust, but it’s there. A good frontiersman can tell. Tonight, they’ll reach this waterhole we’re leaving behind. If they don’t come after us tonight, they will tomorrow night, for sure.”
Dominique rode unerringly to the water bubbling from the rock, to which Roberto had taken Don the day before. Wordlessly, they dismounted. After their horses had rested, they watered the animals. Mounting, they rode out, Dominique leading. Again they were riding southwest, a considerable distance to the south of the Old Spanish Trail as shown on the map. Don said nothing. Having ridden more than a dozen miles, they reached a second outcropping much like the one they had just left. Again there was water but nothing else.
“Good,” said Don. “Tomorrow?”
He pointed to the southwest, and Dominique shook his head. He pointed more to the west, a direction that would take them back toward the old trail. Don nodded. Tomorrow they would be leaving the desert. Once again, the Mexican wranglers had proven themselves. Mounting their horses, they r
ode back the way they had come.
By noon, the longhorns had become unruly. The drag riders were kept busy, as increasing numbers of the brutes broke away, galloping madly along the back-trail.
“They’re hungry,” Arch said.
“Not as hungry as they’ll be tomorrow,” said Red
Arch, Red, and Mike were riding drag. While the women had no saddles and couldn’t be of much help, they tried. A stubborn old steer, bawling his fury, charged the horse Bonita Holmes was riding. The horse reared, screaming. A horn raked its flank and she was pitched off. The blanket that she had been forced to wear had been blown up over her head. Arch dismounted and ran to her.
“Is anything broke?” Arch asked anxiously. “I don’t think so,” said Bonita, “but get me some clothes as soon as you can, and I’ll not ask for anything more.”
They struggled on, the herd settling down only when they became weary from lack of graze. They chose their own gait, refusing to be hurried, bawling like a demented chorus. They had traveled not more than five miles when Don and Dominique met them. Making his way along the flank, Don found the drag riders sweating and swearing. Tired as they were, three longhorns broke away, and Don headed them.
“They’ve been like that all the way, I reckon,” Don said.
“Oh, hell no,” said Arch. “They’ve been worse. They’re tired now.”
“They ought to be steppin’ a mite wider,” Don said. “We’re still ten miles from water.”
“They wouldn’t move any faster if there was a rider behind ever’ damn one of ’em with fire on the end of a prod pole,” said Mike.
“Then don’t allow them to go any slower than they are already,” Don said. “As it is, I look for us to be after dark gettin’ to the water.”
“That’ll be in our favor,” said Mike. “The varmints will be so wore out, maybe they’ll not get any rambunctous ideas durin’ the night.”
Don remained with the drag riders until there were no more bunch-quitters. While the longhorns continued bawling their displeasure, it seemed they had little strength for anything more than the steady gait they managed to maintain. As usual, near sundown, there was just a hint of wind. While the longhorns were hungry, they were thirsty too, and the smell of water prodded them into a shambling trot. The riders let them go, holding back the pack mules and the horse remuda.
The Old Spanish Trail Page 22