The California Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “It is beautiful,” said Rosa. “He would be pleased to know that you have remembered him in this way.”

  “But fer you,” Long John said, “I wouldn’t of been here t’ do this. I want you t’ put it on his grave.”

  “I am not sure I will be returning to Texas.”

  “Van tole me ’bout that redheaded wh—woman,” Long John said. “Don’t you reckon Gil’s learnt his lesson? Ye cain’t hold it agin a man ferever, jist ’cause he’s made a fool of hisself.”

  “It is not that, Long John. Just because he no longer wants her does not mean he wants me, and if he is to become a lawyer, I do not want him.”

  Long John took the package from the bed and put on his hat, but he paused at the door.

  “My mama’s a conjurin’ woman,” he said, “an’ she tells what’s goin’ t’ happen. I git a notion m’sef, sometimes, an’ this ye can be sure of. I aimed fer ye t’ lay this slab on ol’ Bo’s grave at Fort Yuma, an’ ye will.”

  Rosa closed the door and sat down on the bed. It was late afternoon, and the uncertainty was getting to her. Long John meant well, but he had no control over Gil Austin or his pride.

  Long John had been out all day, so he didn’t know whether Gil was in or not, but he knocked on the door. To his surprise, Gil was there.

  “Got somethin’ t’ show ye,” he said, stepping in without an invitation.

  Long John placed his parcel on the bed and again opened it.

  “It’s nice, Long John,” Gil said. His words had an air of finality, and sounded like an invitation to leave, but Long John didn’t go.

  “I aimed fer Rosa t’ put this on Bo’s grave,” said the Cajun, “but she says she ain’t goin’ back wi’ us t’ Texas.”

  “Oh, hell,” Gil groaned, “I heard that all the way from El Paso. Does she want me to whine and beg?”

  “I reckon she don’t like bein’ took fer granted,” said Long John. “If she felt fer me like she does fer you, I’d whine an’ beg, if that’s what it took.”

  “How in hell do you know what she feels for me?” Gil demanded.

  “I asked her,” Long John lied.

  The Cajun stood looking out the window into the twilight. Gil grabbed him by the shoulder and whirled him around until they were facing.

  “You lanky, meddling bastard.” Gil grinned. “Thanks.”

  Long John stood there until he heard a knocking on the door down the hall. Carefully, he rewrapped the granite marker, tied the string, and stepped out into the gathering darkness.

  Rosa’s heart almost stopped when she opened the door and found Gil standing there. He stepped in and closed the door.

  “I’ve had enough of this talk about you stayin’ in California,” he said.

  “Do you have one good reason why I should not?”

  “Because I don’t want you to,” he growled.

  “That is not good enough,” she said.

  “Then, by God,” he shouted, “try this. I want you with me, on Bandera Range. I aim to raise cows, horses, chickens, and kids. I aim to put my brand on you, and I don’t give a damn if you’re just sixteen and I’m a hundred and sixteen!”

  “I am twenty years old,” she said.

  Gil looked at her as though she had betrayed him. “Then why the hell have you strung me along, having me believe you were a child?” he shouted.

  “I have not misled you,” Rosa said, “for I have known my true birth date for only a little while. I found it within the old locket that belonged to my madre. I am much like her, small in size, but a woman in my heart. It was you who called me a child.”

  “So I’m the cause of all my troubles,” said Gil. “Do you aim to tell me to go to hell, shoot me, or just keep me in sackcloth and ashes for the rest of my life?”

  “None of those things,” Rosa said, with the half-smile that had always irked him. “I think having Gil Austin admit to being mortal will be enough.”

  “You purely know how to humble a man,” said Gil, “but I’m glad we finally know how old you are. I’ll feel better about marrying you.”

  “I will not marry a man who leaves me on the ranch and rides away to town to become a lawyer,” Rosa said.

  “I’ve always been a cowboy,” he said, “and that’s all I’ll ever be. Do you reckon there’s a lawyer anywhere in the world that’s made two hundred forty-four thousand dollars in less than six months?”

  “I do not wish to talk about money. I have waited a long time for you. Must I wait until we return to Texas?”

  “No way, my little chili pepper.”

  She slapped him. Hard. He backed away, unbelieving.

  “Do not ever call me that again,” she hissed, “or I will tear your hair out by the roots!”

  He seized her, and when their kiss ended, they were lying across the bed. Her face was flushed and her eyes were closed. Suddenly he laughed and sat up. She opened one eye.

  “Remember that night,” he said, “when you came into my room jaybird naked? I thought you were going to get into bed with me.”

  “I got no encouragement,” she said, “but you did see me.”

  “I reckon,” he said. “I may be old, but I’m still alive in some places. Let’s go somewhere, find a preacher, and take up where we left off.”

  “But it is late.”

  “Not as late as it’s gonna be. Tonight you have a bed. Tomorrow night, we’ll be on our way to Texas. You’ll be on hard ground, rocks pokin’ you in the backside, and a dozen men listenin’ for all they’re worth.”

  “Let us find this preacher, then.”

  They found one, and while they wouldn’t have a ring until the next day, they did have a best man. Long John Coons was glad to oblige.

  July 24, 1850. San Francisco

  Gil bought Rosa the ring she hadn’t had when they’d stood before the preacher the night before. Since it was their last night in San Francisco, the outfit had made an event of it. Even Van went out and had a few drinks to celebrate a wedding he had thought would never come to pass. Everybody was at the hotel in time for breakfast except Long John.

  “Damn it,” said Gil, “he knows we’re pullin’ out today. If I can be up and ready at daylight, why can’t he?”

  “Perhaps he has a good reason,” said Rosa.

  As it turned out, Long John did. He finally showed up at ten o’clock, with a girl who was no older than Rosa. She had dark eyes, long black hair, and curves that would have made Kate Donnegan envious.

  “This is Suzanne,” said Long John. “She’s from New Orleans, an’ don’t much like Californy. She’s goin’ t’ Texas wi’ me.”

  Suzanne looked at Long John in a way that said the lanky Cajun was in deep water.

  “Long John does not just play with fire,” Vicente observed. “He takes a keg of powder with him and lights the fuse.”

  They had ridden the California Trail to the end, and on the day they departed for Texas came the news. The ship on which Lionel Donnegan had escaped had been lost at sea. There were no survivors.

  EPILOGUE

  Texas Ranger Captain Benjamin McCulloch was J. born in Rutherford County, Tennessee, on November 11, 1811. A friend of David Crockett, McCulloch went to Texas and fought under General Sam Houston in the battle of San Jacinto. He served as scout for Ranger Captain John Coffee (Jack) Hays in 1842, and in 1846, led a spy company of Rangers into Mexico, during the Mexican war.

  W. A. A. (Bigfoot) Wallace was born in Lexington, Virginia, on April 3, 1817. In 1836, after a brother and a cousin died in the Goliad Massacre, Wallace set out for Texas to “square the account.” He joined the Rangers under Captain John Coffee (Jack) Hays, and was active with the Rangers all through the war with Mexico.

  N. H. (Old Man) Clanton and his gang of outlaws settled in southern New Mexico and Arizona, after being run out of Texas by the Rangers. Clanton’s four sons—Isaac, Ike, Phineas, and Bill—were gunslingers, sidewinder mean. The Clantons moved into Tombstone following a silver strike there, and ro
se to power through payoffs to Sheriff Johnny Behan, staunch opponent of Wyatt Earp. After Bill Clanton died at the OK Corral, things were never the same. A year later, in 1882, Curly Bill, John Ringo, Old Man Clanton and the rest of his boys ambushed a mule-train in Skeleton Canyon, slaughtering nineteen muleteers and taking seventy-five thousand dollars in silver bullion. But relatives of the men slain in the bullion-train massacre got their revenge. While Clanton and some of his gang drove stolen cattle through Guadalupe Canyon, they were shot dead, ending the Clanton reign.

  Joaquin Murrietta’s young wife was raped by California miners, and his 1849 gold claim was forgotten, as Murrietta organized a band of eighty gun-slinging desperados and terrorized the mining camps of the High Sierra. He was finally ambushed in 1853, by a Los Angeles gunfighter and twenty men. His head was severed and sold for thirty-five dollars. He was twenty-three.

  HERE IS AN EXCERPT FROM

  THE SHAWNEE TRAIL—

  BOOK 6 IN RALPH COMPTON’S

  BOLD NEW WESTERN SERIES:

  “Come on, gents,” Long John said. “Let’s rope this critter an’ move her acrost the water.”

  Sky Pilot, foreseeing the need, had installed iron rings on both sides along the bottom of the wagon box. Long John tied his rope to a ring near the front of the wagon, while Quando Miller tied to a ring nearest the back. Dent Briano took his place in the middle, and they were ready. Stoney swam his horse across, and as they clambered up the opposite bank, the slack went out of the rope, and the wagon lurched toward the rushing brown water of the Pecos. The trio of riders kept pace, and when the wagon left solid ground, the current took hold. When the wagon hit the ends of the steadying lines, Long John’s horse staggered. Little by little they gained on the river, and Stoney sighed with relief as his horse drew the wagon to safety. Long John, Stoney, Dent, and Quando quickly freed the wagon from the cottonwood logs, as Sky Pilot began harnessing the teams. Seeing the wagon had safely crossed, Malo Coyote and Naked Horse had driven the horse remuda into position. Long John, Dent, and Quando rode downstream to assist in crossing the horses. Curiously, the Indians didn’t drive the horses into the river, but rode in ahead, leading them. The remuda followed willingly, as the rest of the riders already were moving the longhorns toward the river. Llano was at drag, and Stoney noted with satisfaction that Suzanne was with him. Once the horses were safely across, Long John, Dent, and Quando rode out to meet the oncoming herd. The Kid, Stoney, and Bandy Darden were at right flank, on the downriver side. Long John, Dent, and Quando had ridden to left flank, while Deuce Gitano had joined Llano and Suzanne at drag.

  “Let’s hit ’em hard!” Llano shouted.

  Deuce and Suzanne followed his lead, swinging doubled lariats against dusty flanks and screeching like Co-manches. The lead steers plunged into the swirling water without hesitation, and it looked good. But it all changed in an instant, and Stoney saw the trouble coming. A broken cottonwood branch had been submerged, but when the butt end hit some obstruction, the leafy end of the branch reared up out of the water directly in front of the lead steers. It sprang out of the river like some green apparition, and while it hung there by a few seconds, it was enough to spook the leaders. With the rush of the current to their left and the rest of the herd behind, the lead steers turned downstream, seeking to circle back to the river bank they’d just left. In doing so they were about to engulf the three flank riders in the resulting turmoil.

  “Ride,” Stoney shouted. “Get out of their way!”

  Bandy Darden broke free and rode downstream ahead of the longhorns, but the Kid wasn’t so lucky. His horse screamed, trying to buck as a flailing horn raked its flank. Even then the Kid might have made it, but another horn ripped into his left side. The force of it drove him out of the saddle, and he disappeared beneath the swirling brown water of the Pecos.

  Dodging flailing horns, Stoney fought his way to the Kid’s frightened horse, to the offside where the young rider had left the saddle. The Kid, had he been trampled beneath the hooves of the milling herd, was finished. There was one chance in a thousand he was hurt but alive. A slashing horn tore a burning gash across Stoney’s right thigh as he leaned out of the saddle, seeking the offside stirrup of the Kid’s horse. While Stoney could hear someone shouting, he couldn’t distinguish the words.

  Suddenly his frantic fingers touched the toe of a boot. The Kid’s foot was caught in the offside stirrup! Taking a firm grip on the horn with his right hand, Stoney leaned far out of the saddle, his left hand grasping the Kid’s pistol belt. The Kid was a dead weight, almost more than Stoney could handle. When he came up, the first person he saw was Llano Dupree, as he was about to rope Stoney’s horse. With Llano’s help, the horse fought its way free of the longhorns. Stoney shook his head, trying to clear his eyes and ears of the muddy water. He had been lucky, but he wasn’t so sure about the young rider. The Kid looked dead, or close to it. . . .

  THE SHAWNEE TRAIL

  ANOTHER EXCITING ADDITION

  TO RALPH’S COMPTON’S

  TRAIL DRIVE SERIES!

  TERRY C. JOHNSTON

  THE PLAINSMEN

  THE BOLD WESTERN SERIES FROM

  ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS

  COLLECT THE ENTIRE SERIES!

  SIOUX DAWN

  RED CLOUD’S REVENGE

  THE STALKERS

  BLACK SUN

  DEVIL’S BACKBONE

  SHADOW RIDERS

  DYING THUNDER

  BLOOD SONG

  ASHES OF HEAVEN

  CRIES FROM THE EARTH

  AVAILABLE WHEREVER BOOKS ARE SOLD

  FROM ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS

  PLAINS 2/00

  THE TRAIL DRIVE SERIES

  by Ralph Compton

  From St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  The only riches Texas had left after the Civil War were five million maverick longhorns and the brains, brawn and boldness to drive them north to where the money was. Now, Ralph Compton brings this violent and magnificent time to life in an extraordinary epic series based on the history-blazing trail drives.

  THE GOODNIGHT TRAIL (BOOK 1)

  THE WESTERN TRAIL (BOOK 2)

  THE CHISOLM TRAIL (BOOK 3)

  THE BANDERA TRAIL (BOOK 4)

  THE CALIFORNIA TRAIL (BOOK 5)

  THE SHAWNEE TRAIL (BOOK 6)

  THE VIRGINIA CITY TRAIL (BOOK 7)

  THE DODGE CITY TRAIL (BOOK 8)

  THE OREGON TRAIL (BOOK 9)

  THE SANTA FE TRAIL (BOOK 10)

  THE OLD SPANISH TRAIL (BOOK 11)

  THE GREEN RIVER TRAIL (BOOK 12)

  THE DEADWOOD TRAIL (BOOK 13)

  AVAILABLE WHEREVER BOOKS ARE SOLD

  FROM ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS

  TD 1/00