After the horses began walking out of the corral, Stolter ducked and wiggled his way back through the brush, waded across the creek and ran back up the embankment to the buckskin and hammerhead. Another set of three whistles and he heard a whinny. He urged the buckskin up the path to the road and the hammerhead followed. He trotted west about one hundred yards and whistled again. Another fifty yards ahead of him the three blacks bounded up on to the road and whinnied. The hammerhead whinnied back and trotted ahead to them. With slow hands, he lifted the frayed short lead ropes off them and checked for the braided pouches. He smiled a grin as he found all three were still there.
It was an old animal path that someone had dragged brush over to hide it. Stolter leaned on his saddle horn trying to see down it when the paint horses came into view followed by the chestnut. Stolter jumped down and hacked away at the brush again and dragged away a couple of limbs so the horses could come through.
As the animals walked past him, he frowned watching the red, white and black blotched hides climb with ease up to the road. The horses looked very similar to the ones ridden by the Mexican children. Back at his buckskin, Stolter cut up the last four apples and fed each horse a half, admiring the strength and gentleness of the animals. He climbed up onto the buckskin, gave out three more whistles and turned west in a trot. The hammerhead snorted a couple of times and pawed the ground when the paints walked near, but then quieted down. Stolter grinned as he saw the paints ease into a trot behind him followed by the yearlings and the chestnut.
The buckskin broke into a loping gallop and two of the big paints moved up along him. Stolter could imagine small black haired children gripping their manes as they urged their horses on faster and he grinned. What would Colton be doing right now? Had Kelly gotten that filly to calm down and not be so skittish? He longed for his family. It would be a long time before he would ever venture far from home again.
He came into sight of the dusty rut that led to the camp clearing and slowed down the horses. The hammerhead darted down the track and then Stolter led in the rest of the horses. Southcott stood up in surprise when the hammerhead trotted in and Beulah wiped off her hands exclaiming in surprise.
“I see you got your pony back, Nick. And it looks like you found a couple of your yearlings, too!” Stolter dismounted and told them about leaving the Rangers at the Goldeneye Ranch.
“It was your hammerhead that found these others, Griff.” Stolter told them about the corral and the hidden path to the holding pen.
“The thing is, these paints. I believe they belong to the Mexicans. Something must have happened to whoever was riding because they wouldn’t just leave their horses loose and unattended. I didn’t want to wait around to see if anyone showed up.”
Southcott soothed the big, panting horses and patted their necks. “None of them are branded or marked.”
Beulah looked at the chestnut mare. “She’s an older horse. Maybe 10 or 12 years old. She obviously belongs to someone but how she came to be in that corral is a mystery.”
Stolter said, “I’ll take them over across the road so they can all graze together.”
Beulah and Stolter unsaddled the hammerhead and the buckskin. Southcott was chuckling as he went back to the bedroll to lay down with a stern warning from the woman. After a few minutes, Stolter walked back into camp. Beulah had washed out and hung up four of the long bandages from Southcott onto low hanging tree limbs.
Stolter sat down on the stump on the other side of the clearing nearer to Beulah. He kept his voice low to allow Southcott to rest.
“Whelihan told me a story about how the Mexicans drop two or three of their horses in hidden valleys to roam free between Mexico and Canada. On the rides bringing horses down from Canada, they stop to see if the paints are still there and see if there are any other unbranded horses around.” Beulah nodded as she watched Southcott sleep.
“So maybe these three are ones that were left here on purpose? I’d think the Mexicans would come looking for them at some point. Did you say that the kids, little children ride those paints? That’s an awfully big horse for a little kid.” Beulah had a skeptical look on her face.
Stolter nodded. “Yeah, I thought so too, until I saw them ride. No saddles, no bridles. Just a little leather pad to sit on with short leather straps for stirrups. From the time those colts are born, they are around the kids all the time. They play with them, race them, train them so when the horse grow up, their like big dogs. Loyal, obedient and loving.”
Beulah murmured an acknowledgement. “Griff’s ranch is about two hundred acres. If we take them to Tucson, they’ll be turned loose to graze and someday the Mexican’s might come in to pick them up. I wouldn’t want having that horse on the property to cause anyone trouble, but like you said, someone locked them in that corral.”
Stolter was lost in thought for a few moments. “I can probably saddle that white stockings gray mare or that chestnut mare to give you a horse to ride, Beulah. I can ride the buckskin bareback with a rope halter, as I have done that before. The three of us should be able to get those horses all the way to Tucson now, God willing.”
“I figure if we saddle up an hour before sunset and ride through the night, we should roll in his front gate right close to midnight,” she said.
“To be honest, I’m not sure he’ll make it that far. Just so you know, Nick, you may have to ride double with him to hold him on the horse until we get there. He’s stubborn and won’t want to stop. But I don’t need him falling to the ground from the back of a horse, either.” Beulah busied herself combing her fingers through her long blondish hair. With expert moves, she twisted it around into a tidy bun on top of her head.
“About a mile out from the ranch we’ll come to a cross roads where a big track comes in from the south. It’s popular with the big freight wagons. There’s a couple of saloons and some shacks that call themselves restaurants because they let you sit on a wood stool under the overhanging roof. When I was there last year there was a place with pretty good Mexican beans, tortillas and beef. We should be able to get food there.”
“The only thing I’ve had to eat today was part of an apple. I felt guilty keeping that back from the horses, too. I was desperate so I ate that last scrap of beef jerky that I got from Desiree. By the time we get into Tucson, I’ll be ready to eat one of those horse, let alone ride one.” Stolter grinned.
Stolter spread out a saddle blanket on top of the grass at the edge of the clearing and laid down. He’d need some rest before riding an unknown road in the dark, with a wounded man, headstrong woman and fifteen straggling horses.
Chapter 14
The inky black sky was lit up with a thousand glittery stars. The air had cooled down and crickets chirped in the grass. From time to time an owl called out. The landscape became indistinguishable with darkened rocks and trees along the road. Stolter, Southcott and Beulah had been walking their horses for over an hour.
It had taken all three of them sounding off whistles to urge the herd of horses out of their comfortable grazing and back up onto the road. The big paints were the first to fall in behind Stolter and Southcott. The yearlings kept straggling behind and from time to time simply stopped in the road staring in a defiant manner until Stolter whistled for them.
There was nobody traveling at that time of night. Twice they smelled campfire smoke but couldn’t see any firelight. At the crest of a steep hill, Southcott stopped them and point out onto the mesa below them. About five miles out there were dotted lights spread out in the darkness.
“That’s South Pass over there where you see them lights. That’s where we’re headed. They know me there so we’ll stop the herd out a couple hundred yards to the north, at the Armstead Ranch waterhole. There’s trees and cover for us.” Southcott looked at Beulah.
“Nick, if you stay with the herd, Beulah and I’ll go get food and come back so we can eat and get back on the road. I don’t want to draw the attention we’d get if we were to stop them h
orse’s right in town. The fewer eyes on us, the better, I’d say,” said Southcott.
Stolter asked, “How much farther after this to your place, Griff?” His eyes were on the glimmering dim light in the distance.
Southcott motioned with his hand. “We’ll swing northwest up into the hills for about a mile, then go south, southwest another three miles. We should be on the ranch by then.” He stopped and turned in the saddle to focus on Stolter.
“This is gonna be a full out run to the ranch. You make sure to keep them horses with us. I don’t want to have to backtrack to find a pony who decided to graze along the way. Home is close and I’m anxious to get there.” There was a gritty edge to the man’s voice.
“I understand. You lead the way and I’ll bring the horses along in behind you.” Stolter nodded and reset himself into the saddle.
About two hundred yards out into the desert, Stolter was taken aback by the sound of horses hooves walking across a wide, wooden bridge. Southcott paused as the entire herd stepped onto the wooden structure.
“The United States Calvary came to this pitiful little creek one year during a flash flood. They couldn’t get across and had to wait a full day for the water to drain and lower. Six months later the Army Corp of Engineers came out and built this bridge big enough to let an army cross over during a flood.” Southcott chuckled.
“If you pick your way down the embankment, there is a big grassy area underneath for picnics and fishing. It’s also big enough to hide a herd of horses if the need should ever arise.” Southcott winked in the dark and Stolter grinned. It was not a quiet crossing and Stolter wondered how far the sound carried in the night air.
After they had reached the Armstead Ranch waterhole, Southcott and Beulah trotted on into South Pass. Half an hour later they returned and the three sat down to eat in the darkness. Chili and biscuits, shredded spicy beef, ears of corn and three pieces of apple pie. Beulah poured beer into the tin cups from a half gallon jar. After having nothing, it was a feast.
Stolter wiped off his mouth with his handkerchief and stood up. He walked out among the grazing horses and patted each one. It would be a long two hundred mile walk to the California border and then another one hundred twenty miles to get to Yucca Valley.
Southcott had walked out to the clearing. “There’s water hole in about five miles up. They’ll be fine until we get there.”
There was concern in Stolter’s voice as he asked, “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m alright. I’ll be damned if I’ll let anything stop me now,” said Southcott with a low laugh.
“Gentlemen, let’s get this show on the road. I’m tired and I want to sleep in a comfortable bed tonight.” Beulah gestured with her head towards the west.
“Well, let’s not keep the lady waiting!” Southcott led the way west and Beulah and Stolter pushed the herd after him. True to his word, the older man loped into an easy gallop and they began a climb up a low hill. After about ten minutes, he slowed and turned in between two big boulders and skidded down a rocky path to a water hole. The three dismounted and stood to one side while all the horses drank.
“In the daylight, this is pretty little area up in here. Lots of wild flowers and cacti. Seen deer and antelope up in here sometimes.” Southcott gestured in the darkness.
Stolter rubbed his face and flexed his tired shoulders. “I might not pass this way ever again. If I do, at least I know where water is at now.”
The hammerhead turned and started to walk back away from the water hole. Then he lifted his head, pricking his ears back to the east. They all went quiet and listened.
“It would be a good idea to move these horses on down the road. The night darkness covers up a multitude of saints and sinners. I don’t wanna hang around and see which one that is,” said Southcott with gravel in his voice.
Stolter rubbed his eyes and squinted into the dim light. It was a moving mass of horseflesh and he swung up into the saddle. He watched the buckskins and the black yearlings trot after the hammerhead. Five gone, ten to go. The Appaloosas were next to trot out followed by the chestnut colts and the filly. Five more gone.
Beulah trotted past him on the white stockings mare followed by two white and rust pintos. When Stolter twisted around in the saddle he saw the big Mexican stallion had moved up right behind him. The horseman grinned and reached into the saddlebag to pull out an apple. Using both hands, he tore it in half and fed the big animal the pieces. The white blazed head tossed and the horse trotted out onto the road. That was all of them.
Once Stolter got onto the road he looked back to the east as he gathered his reins. If anyone had been watching they would have counted and then seen the three people riding herd. Perhaps it was a good idea that they decided to leave right then. Like Southcott, he was in no welcoming mood for the unknown and his heels urged his horse into a gallop.
Chapter 15
His pocket watch read 9:30. They had stopped for water twice more. It was more a mist than rain is just starting to come down when Southcott led the way up a narrow trail at Elk Creek. Four walls, a roof and three pole benches outside.
Stolter heard the thunder rumble but there was no lightning yet. While the woman built up a fire in the rusted wood stove and the kindling caught, Stolter unsaddled the gray mare and turned her loose to graze. The hammerhead tossed his head with a whinny after his saddle came off and he trotted away into the darkness.
Two lanterns lit up a rustic thirty foot deep room. More of a cabin with a wood stove, two old buckets and four cots up against the walls. A fine shower of dust fell with each gust against the building. Beulah gestured with a blackened kettle and disappeared out into the darkness. As the fire crackled, Southcott sat down on one of the cots and pulled off his boots.
“Sep Kingman was a good man. He came out of the war with all his fingers and toes. He was a lucky one. Wore his sergeant stripes until they tattered away. Everyone liked him. He’d wandered over the gold fields and made some money,” Southcott explained with a gruff voice.
The gust of wind blew even more dirt and dust around when the woman walked in with a dripping kettle. She smiled and set it on the stove. “I didn’t know you knew Sep Kingman!” Southcott snorted with a wry grin and handed the saddlebags to the woman.
“I was coming back from up in the Utah territory. I was camped out in the desert above the canyon and listening to the coyotes howl. I heard someone call out the name and I’d heard of him more like a legend. He came in with three mules and settled down with me. We must have talked for a couple of hours. I needed sleep so crawled into my blanket and he was gone the next morning.” Southcott looked at the floor as he shook his head.
“It must have been about a year later that I came through here headed home. I heard an accordion playing and someone singing so I pulled in up the path and there he was sitting on the porch. He’d felled a dozen trees and had built this cabin. I stayed here with him for a couple of days singing and drinking.” Southcott gestured to the cabin.
“Over twenty years ago, now.” Southcott rubbed his tired eyes.
Beulah poured two cups of coffee and handed them to the men. “My husband had done some business with Sep many years ago when we were first married. Always called him a strange and lonesome man. He rode those mules alone wherever he went. Never in a hurry.” Beulah blew across the steaming cup.
Stolter bent down and picked up a couple of sheets of paper with scribbling on them. He moved over closer to the lantern on the table. After a few minutes he smiled and set them down with an old iron ring on top to hold them.
“Poetry. Good love gone bad. Drowning at the bottom of a bottle. Dog ran away.” Stolter grinned and shook his head. “Everything but the wagon breaking down.” Beulah and Southcott chuckled.
She ladled out plates of the chili and the cold cornbread. They ate in silence listening to the wind whip around the cabin. The creaks and groans of the wooden building blocked out anything else besides the wind.
Later, after the lantern was blown out, Stolter laid in the dark musing about the man’s written words. Kingman had shied away from folks because he feared they would not understand him. He had known what he wanted and went out and worked for it. And along the way, as humans can do, he made mistakes and had misunderstandings.
After a while, Southcott’s rattling snore began and Stolter rolled over to watch the rain slide down the window. He had grown up cautious of others luring him into traps. He had grown into a man secure in himself because of hard work and a basic fear of where he had come from. But now, it would be a life raising his children as Marianna would have wanted them raised. It was the unknown ahead of him that made him think twice.
The morning was clear and cold. The surrounding landscape was scattered buck horn cholla cacti in yellow petals with purple tips. Everything was laden with heavy drops. It was a lean breakfast of beans, coffee, and small squares of cornbread.
After drying off the horses, they saddled up and made one last check on the lean-to. As Southcott led them on the road, Stolter made sure all the horses followed. They had rested well in the night and now had miles to go before the next rest.
Chapter 16
“You sure it was him? There’s a dozen men east of Dodge that look like him.” Texas Ranger Henry Elliot stared at the bartender. Both Texas Rangers paced across the rough plank wood floor peering behind tables.
“People have accused me of being him and I outweigh him by fifty pounds!” Elliot tossed back the drink and sat the glass down on the bar.
The bartender with wide eyes poured another shot of whiskey for the lawman. The black shirt, black slacks and black boots under the sand colored duster was the uniform of those who rode for the oldest law enforcement organization in the country.
Nick Stolter Page 13