She Wore It Tied-Down

by r. William Rogers

  “Yeah…come on in,” she offered.

  The two oldtimers were obviously prospectors, judging from the bulging loads that threatened to buckle the knees of their donkeys. It wasn’t so much the burdens that gave them away as it was what was tied onto the outsides of the packs: pick-axes, shovels, pots and pans and the like.

  They reined up and dismounted.

  “Much obliged for yer hospitality,” one of them said, while he tied his horse’s rein to a barren tree limb that was handy. “We been dodgin’ Injuns most a the day an’ surely could use a sip or two a what’s most likely in that pot.” He jutted his chin toward the pot of coffee that rested on a mostly flat rock that was situated along the edge of the campfire.

  “You boys eat today?” Wayne asked.

  The two prospectors exchanged glances.

  “No we ain’t...now that cha mention it,” the other oldtimer said as he craned his neck to get a better look-see at the vittles inside the cooking pot.

  “It’s just beans ’n bacon,” Dolly informed him. “But you’re both more’n welcome to what’s left.”

  “Much obliged, ma’am. Reckon that’s right neighborly of ya.”

  They squatted while she dumped the remaining contents of hers and Wayne’s cups. She then poured them about half full with the black liquid and offered them to the prospectors.

  “You gents look a mite drawn,” Wayne commented, not expecting much of an answer until after the prospectors had enjoyed the initial effects of a sip or two.

  “You two fellas gunfighters?” the gent straight across from Dolly asked as he gestured with his cup toward her. “Eh...sorry little lady. I can see right off that you ain’t no feller. It’s just a figger a speech.”

  Dolly felt amused and grinned slightly. “That’s okay. I expect I’ve been called worse things.”

  “You fellas got names?” Wayne asked. “I’m Wayne an’ this is Dolly.” He indicated each of them respectively.

  “Well, course we got names,” the gent next to Wayne said, with what was at first a bit of indignation, then realizing that maybe the young fella was only joshin’, loosened up a bit and grinned crookedly. “My name’s Willie.” He thrust his already nearly empty cup toward his friend. “An’ this near worthless partner a mine is Axel Washburn.” He then moved the cup toward the animals. “Them horses ain’t got names but the donkeys does...leastways Pedro does. His name’s Pedro. Anymore coffee in there?”

  Dolly picked up the pot and poured the last of its contents into Willie’s outstretched cup...grounds and all. She then set about building another pot.

  “So what about them Injuns?” Wayne asked. “You said you was havin’ some trouble with some.”

  “No I didn’t,” Willie insisted. “What I said was...we been dodgin’ ’em most a the day. There’s a mighty big difference ’tween that an’ havin’ outright trouble with ’em.”

  “What about that one day last week?” Axel asked. “We surely had us a time when them two bucks stumbled across our fire.”

  “Yeah...well...that was surely different, alright,” Willie said. “I’d say we was havin’ trouble with ’em that day, alright enough.”

  “What happened?” Dolly asked as she situated the pot as close to the fire as she dared. A bit of water sloshed out of the pouring spout and disappeared in a sizzling, bubbling protest against the heat of a rock.

  Axel set his empty cup down. “Well...these two Mescalero bucks appeared kinda ghostlike from the trees right at the edge of our camp. Well...one thing led to another and we shooed ’em away is all.”

  “There was a bit more to it than that, but leastways we’re here to tell the story,” Willie added. “Reckon it could’ve been a whole lot worse. Probably woulda been, too, but we decided maybe it was best to just pack up our belongin’s an’ leave that spot to its rightful owners...an’ here we are, I reckon.”

  “That was a ways up north a here,” Axel added. “Up there on the south-facin’ slopes of Salinas Peak, ta be exact.” He looked at his pard. “Wonder why we ain’t never found real good color up there.”

  “Cuz we ain’t never split open the exact right rock, or panned the exact right shovelful in that creek up there, that’s why,” Willie informed him. “That ain’t no secret ta be wonderin’ about.”

  “You fellas know this part of the country, do ya?” Dolly asked, deciding to change the subject and leave Axel to wonder if what Willie had said was true enough.

  Axel instead swelled up noticeably. “Just about as good as anyone, I’d say,” he offered proudly. “Me ’n Willie’s been roamin’ the dead center an’ outskirts a this desert for way longer’n a bunch of folks’s been alive. Fact is—”

  “Axel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up.”

  “You wasn’t sayin’ that when I found that color a while back up there in them San Andres Mountains.”

  “Well...that was then an’ this’s now. ’Sides...in case you done fergot, I was near delirious from us bein’ clean outta food. Why if it hadn’t a been fer that broken legged deer we come across...why, who knows what mighta happened to us?”

  “I reckon that’s true enough. Might even come a day when we’ll find that place again and haul about as much a that gold outta there as them donkeys can carry.”

  “You two been on top of those mountains?” Dolly asked.

  “That’s a true fact. Fact is...that’s zactly where we’re headed right now,” Willie said.

  “Is it as bad as they say it is?”

  “Reckon so,” Willie said. “Eh...how bad are they sayin’ it is, anyways?”

  “Don’t rightly know,” Wayne said. “It’s just that legend has it that about the only ones that ever go up there are Mescaleros an’ fools.”

  “Maybe them folks is right. One thing’s for sure though...we ain’t no Mescaleros.” Willie then leaned over and looked into the pot of beans. “How about dishin’ up some a them beans?”

  Chapter 29

  The San Andres Mountains were all that they had hoped for. At least right at first they were, what with the trees, and shade, and not a single trace of sand to be seen anywhere. But as the day wore on and the procession climbed higher, it was becoming increasingly clearer that the access they had chosen wasn’t going to be anywhere near an easy one.

  “I thought you said you fellas have been up here before?” Dolly asked as they sat their horses, overlooking a deep chasm that was about as impassable as any she’d ever had the misfortune of being faced with having to cross.

  “Well, we ain’t been on ever’ single one a the trails up here,” Willie said informatively. “Fact is...I’m thinkin’ this could be our first time ever on this one.” He grinned disarmingly, showing brown stained, crooked teeth against the contrasting whiteness of the growth of beard that covered not only the bottom half of his face, but continued on down past the top edge of his coat collar.

  “I’d say that might be a distinct possibility,” Dolly said and returned the grin.

  Axel mistakenly figured his help in clearing things up was needed. “Well, I surely know we ain’t never—”

  “Axel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up.”

  By that time, Wayne had pretty much gotten their dilemma all figured out.

  “Looks like we can maybe skirt this thing if we just stay up here on the edge and continue that way.” He pointed up the slope. “Looks like it’s tendin’ toward pinchin’ down up there a ways.”

  “Yeah...peers like, now that cha mention it,” Willie agreed, as he surveyed the indicated option. “What say we give ’er a try.”

  They headed out with Willie and Pedro in the lead, followed by Axel leading his donkey, then Dolly and the pack mare, and finally Wayne on the dun.

  The decision proved to be right on the button and the procession eventually was able to work its way around the end of what had been a previously gaping chasm. They thankfully continued up the side of the mountain, re
maining on a particularly wide and seemingly well-traveled game trail.

  They’d gone barely a few hundred yards, most of it through a particularly thickly forested section, when they suddenly broke out into an open stretch and found themselves faced with another ravine. However, this one appeared doable as the trail led down into it and could easily be seen cutting a swath through the vegetation as it climbed the other side at what looked to them to be a relatively gentle angle.

  “Peers like we can work our way across this’n,” Axel observed, and kicked his mare over the edge.

  “Might wanna hold on there a bit, Axel,” Wayne said solemnly. He then pointed in the direction of the opposite crest, as Axel pulled his mare to a sliding stop on her haunches in the loose dirt that covered the somewhat steep decline.

  “Why? What’s the—?” He glanced at the opposite crest and easily made out the pair of Mescaleros that had appeared just this side of the line of trees. “Oh...eh...yeah...I see what cha mean.”

  Dolly and Wayne had both already freed the hammers of their pistols. They didn’t, however, wish to show any aggression at this stage of the game and elected to leave them in their holsters.

  The two Mescalero braves remained right where they were for a few more seconds. Finally, one of them, a fella who appeared a year or two older than the other, raised a hand. “This is our land,” he said in Spanish and waved at the expanse around him.

  Dolly had spent enough time around her father’s Mexican drovers to get the general drift of what he’d said. She had also learned a few words of her own. She raised a hand in what she hoped was a sign of friendship. “Amigos,” she offered. Digging down into her memory, she was able to come up with, “We do not look for trouble. We have gifts and will use them to pay to cross your mountain.”

  The Apache brave grinned and turned to his friend. They conversed briefly. He then returned his attention to the whites. “You will come to this side,” he said and began to dismount.

  “He wants us to come on over there,” she said to Wayne.

  “That’s a true fact,” Willie confirmed. “Been around this part a the country long enough ta pick up the lingo myownself. I’m of a mind that these two bucks ain’t out fer no scalps. Leastways not today.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Wayne said. “’Sides, I’m thinkin’ we ain’t got a whole lotta choice in the matter.” He motioned with a jutting chin. “Might as well go on down there, Axel. I’m figgerin’ that if they do decide to take a scalp, it’ll be yours instead of mine.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Axel said and nudged his mare lightly with his heels.

  The others followed, single filing their way down into the cut and up the other side. Once they were all back on level ground they swung down, and prepared to join the two Mescalero bucks who had long since found a more than adequate spot as they sat cross legged with their backs leaned up against a couple of Ponderosa Pines.

  “Why don’t we just do away with these two and go on about our business?” Wayne asked under his breath, as he and Willie stood together, tying their horses reins to a limb.

  “Mainly cuz these two ain’t alone,” Willie replied, out of the corner of his mouth. “They wouldn’t be near this easy about sittin’ an’ parlayin’ with a bunch of whites what’s got ’em outnumbered two ta one if they didn’t have a whole passel a their friends around somewheres real close by.”

  That made some sense to Wayne, but not nearly enough to satisfy all of his questions. “That bein’ true...then why don’t the whole bunch of ’em just jump out from the bushes and see what comes of it?”

  “Simple...cuz Apaches may be ruthless, but they sure as heck ain’t stupid. We got guns an’ they ain’t. Maybe you ain’t noticed that, but I’ll danged well guarantee ya they have.”

  “Oh,” Wayne said as they headed for the pair of bucks.

  Chapter 30

  Wayne tugged the cinch tighter around the dun’s midsection while Dolly looked on impatiently.

  “C’mon. We can’t waste anymore time if we’re gonna stand any chance of catching up to those two,” she said and briefly turned her attention to the valley floor that stretched below them.

  “Just hold yer horses,” he said good-naturedly. “We’ll find ’em soon enough.”

  The meeting with the Mescaleros had gone well. In fact, way better than their wildest dreams. She and Wayne had been relieved of a few trinkets and a lengthy strip of bright red cloth off the nearly half a bolt they’d brought along for just that purpose. In exchange for the items, they had learned that the Jacobs brothers weren’t but a few hours ahead of them. Leastways from the description the Indians had provided she felt relatively sure it was them. After all, this was the shortest way to Las Cruces. Besides, how many white men would be crazy enough to be out here with Apaches all around...not counting her and Wayne, that is?

  Shortly after leaving the two Mescaleros, they’d said goodbye to Willie and Axel, rightly figuring that without the natural obstacles and distractions associated with having the contrary donkeys, or Willie and Axel for that matter, to deal with, they’d make way better time.

  “You gonna lollygag away the entire day?” Dolly asked, as he’d finally lowered the stirrup and was in the process of climbing onto the dun.

  “Nope,” he said simply, as he settled into the saddle. He then tested his handiwork by rocking it from side to side a couple of times. Deciding that it would do, he looked into her soft, blue eyes. “You’re much too pretty to be frettin’ about catchin’ up to them two lowlifes. Especially since...” he inclined his head toward the expanse below, “especially since they’re only right down there.”

  “What? What’re you talking about?”

  He pointed while he spoke, “See that mess of big rocks way down there on the flat?”

  She found them easily. “Yeah...so what?”

  “Just keep yer eyes on ’em.”

  She squinted as she watched the pile of rocks. Barely five or six seconds had passed when a movement between a couple of the boulders peaked her interest, giving cause for her eyes to narrow, and lines of wrinkles to fill her brow. She shielded her eyes against the late afternoon glare with a cupped palm, again picking up the movement of two mounted riders. “It’s them!” she exclaimed, almost gleefully. “I mean—”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said and nudged the dun’s flanks with his heels. He hipped around in the saddle. “You gonna lollygag here all day?”

  They maintained their pace at a slow canter as they descended the gently sloping hillside. Once on the valley floor they pulled up and allowed the animals a brief respite from the rigors of spending the day on the side of a lofty mountain.

  Wayne pointed. “Looks like they most likely headed across that flat and into them trees over yonder,” he said informatively, above the sounds of the dun’s rattling bridle.

  “Yeah...and if we hurry we can catch ’em!” Dolly said excitedly, and pulled the buckskin’s head around in preparation.

  “Whoa there,” Wayne said as he hooked the buckskin’s cheek strap with a finger. “Don’t you think it would make a measure of sense to wait?”

  “For what? If we hurry we can be riding right up their backsides in about an hour or so.”

  “That’s my point exactly.” He gestured toward the western horizon. “In case you haven’t noticed, we ain’t got an hour of daylight left.”

  Torn between looking at the last shreds of sunlight that capped the hills in the east, the top sliver of sun that was all that remained in the west, and hightailing it after the Jacobs brothers to the south, she reluctantly caved, “Oh yeah, the sun,” she finally said feebly, as the realization sank in.

  They made camp in a mass of boulders and bushes that was well protected from the prying eyes of passersby.

  *

  With the full moon having risen late that night, sending its silvery glow ricocheting throughout the valley, they were back on the trail before the false dawn had even thought of showing
its first hint of gray.

  They rode steadily, with the squeaking of leather and the dull thudding of plodding hooves screening out anything else that might be going on around them. They finally arrived at the line of pines and junipers that bordered the valley on the southwest edge.

  They spoke in hushed whispers.

  “How far you figure those two went before making camp last night?” she asked, with the sun just having risen directly behind her, highlighting her head and shoulders in a shimmering array of orange and gold.

  “Take off yer hat,” he said, with a seriousness that nearly startled her.

  Tentatively, she reached a hand. “Take off my hat? But why? What’s that got to do with—?”

  “Just do it...please.”

  She removed the black, flat-brimmed hat, and after settling it onto the top of the saddlehorn, used both hands to smooth the sides of her hair. She then brought the braided portion that hung down her back to the front, laying it across her chest. “What?” she asked, seeing his expression as he looked at her. “What?” she repeated, genuinely perplexed.

  “Oh nothing...well...not really nothing. It’s just that...that you’re so beautiful with the sun highlighting...with the sun behind you like that. It’s almost as if...as if...you look just like an angel.”

  Feeling a bit on the feisty side, she grinned mischievously, and asked, “You know about angels do you?”

  He grinned boyishly. “I’d say so. In case yer wonderin’ I have been inside a church or two in my time...just not in a long time, is all. But that ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. All I’m saying is that you’re one mighty pretty gal.”

  She noticed that his face had turned a slight shade of red. Deciding against drawing attention to it, she instead said, with a slight tilting of her head, “Why, thank you, Sir.”

  “I...eh...I-I imagine I’m most likely a mite on the pinkish side.” He ducked his head, shielding most of his shyness behind the brim of his hat.