Trail of Golden Dreams

by Coverstone, Stacey

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay. Then let’s ride.”

  * * * *

  They rode hard all day, stopping only once to give the animals and themselves a short rest. Luckily, they’d come upon a wash at the base of a rocky hill where the animals could be refreshed and they could refill their canteens and splash their faces with cool water. It was like a magical oasis in the middle of a blazing hellhole.

  Grey didn’t allow them to stay long, however. Although there’d been no sign of the marshal and his posse, the bad feeling continued to haunt him. All morning he’d constantly looked over his shoulder and watched for tracks on the ground ahead. Josie knew it was better to be safe than sorry. She was glad to be riding with him. He was handy to have around. He knew how to track, shoot, hunt, and cook, and he carried the only coffee and morsels of food between them. She would have starved if not for him.

  They sat next to the puny stream and shared some dried fruit and a bit of salt pork that he’d been saving back. He pulled the map out of his pocket and said, “We’ll ride just past this mountain here and stop for the day.” He pointed to the picture of the upside down V Josie’s pa had drawn. “Do you suppose that’s Gallinas Peak?”

  “That’s what I was thinking. It’s been years since I’ve been this way. Last time I traveled this road, I was with both Ma and Pa, but I didn’t pay attention to the route. I was young at the time.”

  Grey stood up and brushed off his pants. “We’re going to start getting into some green territory soon, where we’ll be able to water our animals properly. I’m guessing we can ride another eight miles or so, then we’ll find a place to camp for the night. We need to push it and try to put in twenty miles a day. Can you handle it?” His dark eyes probed her.

  “Of course I can handle it,” she answered. The truth was, her thighs were giving her spasms and her bottom was numb, but she wasn’t about to let him know. She wanted to get to the nuggets as quickly as he did. She’d endure whatever pain she had to suffer in order to reach the pot at the end of the rainbow.

  “You ready to go?” she asked Grey, as she hobbled over to Traveler. Aware that she was walking slightly bow-legged, she caught his toothy grin before he said, “Yep” and ducked his head and mounted the white stallion.

  Frowning, she thought, how come he isn’t walking funny?

  * * * *

  Josie heard the tinkle of bells. “Look!” she cried, pointing. “There’s a flock of sheep ahead.” She and Grey were walking their mounts side by side, allowing them some cool-down time, since they’d been riding them so hard and fast most of the day.

  There was a small band of sheep grazing in a pasture. Grey had been right about the green land. The terrain had gradually changed from dry desert to abundant reed grass, and cottonwood trees dotted the landscape for the last couple of miles. Cottonwoods meant a source of water, and she saw plenty of trees ahead.

  She’d heard there were shepherds in this area called the flats. It was an amazing sight; all those furry animals bleating and moving steadily over the ground like one gigantic ocean wave. Two black and white dogs pushed the flock forward. Their yipping and barking brought a smile to her face. She’d had a dog for a pet once, when she was very young, but he’d run off. As they drew closer, she glimpsed a small wooden lean-to near a small crop of trees. The sheepherder turned and waved in a friendly way.

  “Trot!” she commanded Traveler, leaving Grey behind. When she reached the flock, she walked the mule right into the middle of them. The sheep bleated louder and glanced up at her with frightened, beady, black eyes.

  “Hello!” she called to the shepherd, who was a short, stocky man with skin darker than hers. Surveying him quickly, he appeared to be in his forties or fifties. He had a large nose and a luxurious black moustache. When he smiled, his teeth were so white they dazzled. He wore a loose fitting shirt and pants, sandals on his feet, a little cap on his head, and he carried a walking stick made of some kind of twisted wood.

  “Good afternoon,” he said in welcome, as he tipped his cap.

  “Good afternoon. My name is Josie Hart and”—she twisted around in her saddle and beckoned toward Grey, who’d trotted up behind her—“this is my partner, Grey Paladin.”

  The sheepherder nodded. “Good afternoon, Mr. Paladin.”

  Grey touched the brim of his Stetson and then gazed around, checking out the area. Although he was still wary, Josie’s worries had nearly dissolved. She imagined Marshal Kendall had given up tracking them. Probably, she and the map weren’t worth his time and energy after all.

  She detected a foreign accent in the sheepherder. The man glanced into the sky and smiled brightly again. When their gazes met, he exclaimed, “My name is Leandro Garde, and this is my flock. I thank God for you! He brings me a miracle, just as I prayed this morning.”

  Josie and Grey exchanged curious looks. “What do you mean, Mr. Garde?” she asked.

  “It is lambing time and I have no one to help me. My grandson became ill, and my nephew has yet to arrive from Santa Fe, so I am here alone. But God has sent you.” Again, he peered into the sky and then slapped his hands together the way people do when they’re praying. “Thank you, Lord, thank you.”

  Grey’s dark eyes flamed under the brim of his hat. He whispered to her out of the side of his mouth. “We don’t have time for this, Josie. Kendall and his tracker could be right behind us. Besides, do you know anything about lambing?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But we can learn. It can’t be so hard. This man needs our help. We can’t leave him stranded with lambs coming. You just heard him say his grandson’s sick.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  Her mouth pursed. “Grey Paladin, we are going to help this shepherd with his flock,” she hissed. “You’ve been on the lookout for the posse for two days, and there’s been no sign of them. I don’t know why they stopped pursuing us, but I’m not going to question our good fortune in that regard. We’ve traveled far enough today. We can camp here tonight, amongst the sheep, after we help this man with the birthing. Maybe he’ll feed us,” she added. “I’m hungry.”

  Not waiting for his response, she climbed off Traveler and walked him to a tree and tied him off. “Bring Lightning over here,” she hollered. “And get out the grain.”

  “You’re getting a little bossy, ain’t ya?” Grey mumbled, as he slid out of the saddle and looped the stallion’s reins over the branch of the tree, next to the mule. The two animals had become the best of friends. One didn’t let the other out of its sight for long before raising a ruckus. After he fed each some grain from his pouch, he joined Josie and the sheepherder.

  “Mr. Garde,” she asked, “is there a source of water for our animals? We’ve ridden a long distance today.”

  “Yes,” he replied, pointing to a small stream behind the patch of cottonwoods.

  She nodded to Grey. “When Traveler and Lightning have eaten, you can take them to the stream and let them drink their fill. I’m going to find out what we can do for Mr. Garde.” She flashed the old man a sweet smile and shooed Grey away with a flick of her wrist.

  He growled low in his throat. As he passed by, he bumped her shoulder on purpose and whispered, “You might be pretty, but don’t think you’re the boss of me, you little crocodile.”

  Josie’s admiring gaze followed him as he strolled toward their animals. His tall, lean frame was a sight to behold. Her breath hitched. Did he just say I’m pretty?

  “Miss Hart?”

  She turned, having completely forgotten about the shepherd for a second. “Yes, Mr. Garde?”

  The old man rushed toward an ewe that was writhing on the ground. “Hurry! A lamb is coming!”

  She dashed off behind him. While running, she screamed over her shoulder, “Grey! Come quick!” She dropped to her knees next to the ewe, which was bleating loudly. The poor creature looked so uncomfortable, lying on her side, moaning. Her coat was dirty, and her eyes were glassy. She panted, straining with l
abor pains. Her body convulsed with the growing intensity of the contractions. Josie’s frightened gaze flew to Garde. “What do we do?”

  “The lamb is not coming on his own. I must take it out.” He quickly slipped his hands into the ewe’s body. Because of the animal’s thrashing, it was necessary for Garde to jam his legs against her rump before he could begin to pull. Agitated and scared, the mother screamed and fought against the sheepherder until her energy was gone.

  Josie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Was this the way it was with human mothers when they gave birth? If it was, she wanted nothing to do with it. She thought her eyes would pop out of her head. The ewe was being ripped open! Then suddenly the lamb slid out, dripping with blood and mucus. Garde wiped the afterbirth from the lamb’s face.

  Stunned into wordless shock, Josie stared with her mouth open. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she peered into Grey’s eyes. She could tell by the dazed expression on his face that he’d never seen anything like it before either. They were both drawn from their reverie when Garde shouted, “More are dropping! Please help!”

  Grey gazed around and ran to the nearest ewe in trouble and fell to his knees.

  Another ewe toddled over and collapsed at Josie’s feet. She could see this mother was struggling, same as the first had been. She appeared weak, but still managed to beat her head on the ground, like she was trying to knock herself unconscious. It was horrifying to watch, but there was no time to think about anything except helping the ewe. If Josie could dig a bullet out of the arm of an Apache, surely she could birth a lamb.

  She sucked in a deep breath and squatted on the ground and placed her boots against the mother’s rump like she’d seen the shepherd do. “Okay, mama. I’m going to do what I can here, but you have to do your part.” Swallowing hard, she forced back the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. Before she could change her mind, she reached down and buried her hands inside the hot body of the ewe. The animal cried out and went rigid.

  “Oh, my heavens.” Josie jerked her head around, trying to locate Mr. Garde. She saw him huddled over another sheep, delivering a baby. Grey, too, was working frantically, with his hands inside an animal. She was on her own.

  “I can do this,” she said, as she stared into the glazed eyes of the ewe. It began smashing its head on the ground again, giving itself a bloody nose. “Stop that! Don’t die on me, mama. I need your help to get your baby out.”

  She pushed her hands deeper inside and could feel the powerful uterine muscles squeezing against her fingers. Then the ewe let out such a terrible sound, Josie thought she might burst into tears. The mother was dying. The sheep’s body convulsed violently. Feeling something solid in her hands, Josie began to pull. “It’s coming!” she shouted, more to herself than either of the men who were busy with their own deliveries. With one last burst of strength, the ewe twisted and attempted to stand.

  “Lie down! Your baby’s coming!” Leaning back, Josie pulled as hard as she could. Just as the lamb slipped out, a rattle erupted from the mother’s throat. Her body went limp, and she closed her eyes and died. Josie fell back with the lamb filling her arms. Her face was covered in sweat, and her clothes and arms were soiled with blood. She plunged her fingers into the lamb’s nose and mouth and wiped away the mucus. It wasn’t breathing!

  “No!” she sobbed.

  Grey pushed his way through the packed crowd of bleating animals and dropped to his knees at her side. He grabbed the lamb out of her arms and began slapping it. After four blows, the lamb gasped and began to breathe.

  Josie’s cheeks felt damp with tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “Oh, Grey! You did it! You saved him!”

  He grinned while panting heavily. “No, you did it.”

  In a flash, Mr. Garde was next to them. “We must jacket this lamb for a new mother,” he said. “Come with me.” He lifted the newborn into his arms, and the three of them waded through the flock until they found a stillborn lamb. Josie looked into the heartsick eyes of the ewe that had lost her offspring. It seemed she knew she had just lost something very precious. The shepherd picked up the dead lamb, and the trio walked about forty feet away, so the mourning mother could not see them. Then Garde yanked a knife out of the holder tied around his waist and quickly sliced away the dead lamb’s skin. Without a thought, he tore the pelt off and dropped the carcass on the ground.

  Josie turned away, thinking she might be sick. How could they leave the bloody little body there in the grass? It was so tragic. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks again. She felt Gray’s hand circle her waist, and she rested her head against his arm.

  “Come with me!” the shepherd yelled.

  She forced herself to regain her composure, and the three of them raced to the lamb she’d just delivered. Garde shook out the pelt like it was a dusty rug and then tied it onto the back of the new lamb with string pulled from his back pocket. Once again, they ran through the flock, and he placed the other mother’s baby under the bereaved ewe’s belly and shoved the lamb’s mouth against her teats.

  Fresh blood dripped from the grisly jacket the newborn wore. The lamb looked like it had two tails. Josie couldn’t imagine the grief-stricken mother would be fooled by such a trick, but after several nudges, the baby began to suckle and the ewe’s mourning bleats took on a different kind of sound. Her wailing ended, and she grew calm and even licked at the coat.

  Josie had never seen anything like it. She felt physically drained and emotionally exhausted, but the shepherd informed her their work was not over. There were more sheep ready to deliver.

  For the next few hours, the three of them tended the ewes in labor and watched over the new mothers and their lambs. Out of a hundred sheep, amazingly, only three died, including the one that was stillborn, and only one ewe had refused her lamb. Josie nearly cried again when she realized that orphan was doomed without fresh milk to drink.

  “There has to be something we can do for this little fellow,” she said, cradling the lamb in her arms. He had grown very weak by the time they had found him lying in the grass alone. “Do you have milk, Mr. Garde? Can we feed him from a pan?”

  He shook his head. “He would have to be fed five times a day. I don’t have time for that. It’s more important to make sure the healthy ones make it.”

  “What about another mother?” Grey asked.

  Again, the shepherd shook his head. “Even if another mother accepted this one, she will not have enough milk. Then two lambs might weaken and die. I cannot afford that.”

  Josie gazed into Grey’s eyes, pleading for him to do something. She couldn’t stand to think of the lamb orphaned. She knew all too well what it felt like to be alone in the world.

  He sighed. “We have to do something, Mr. Garde. Tell me what we can do.”

  The old man relented when he saw Josie’s eyes well up and her lip quiver. “I have a small amount of milk in the cabin. Have you got a strip of cloth?”

  “Yes, I do!” she cried, thinking of her skirt and petticoats.

  Grey lifted the tiny lamb out of her arms, and she ran to Traveler. After digging the skirt out of her saddlebags, she ripped off a piece from the hem, jogged back, and thrust it into Garde’s hand.

  “Follow me to the cabin,” he said.

  What the man called a cabin was really a primitive lean-to with three sides. Inside was a cot, a hard chair and a box on the floor, which contained some food and the jar of milk he had spoken of. He offered the chair to Grey, who was still holding the lamb. Then he wrapped Josie’s skirt material around Grey’s big thumb and dipped it into the jar to soak for a minute. “Now push it into the lamb’s mouth,” he urged.

  Josie watched with anticipation as Grey gingerly stuck his thumb into the little fella’s mouth. The lamb did not respond. “It’s not working,” he said.

  Garde leaned forward and shook the animal hard. When its eyelids fluttered open, he pinched the lamb’s ear. It squealed, and he grabbed Grey’s thumb again and jammed
it into the lamb’s mouth. “Stroke its throat,” he told Josie, as he stepped back and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. She knelt and stroked the lamb’s neck and throat with her finger. When its eyes popped open, it suddenly began to suck on Grey’s thumb hungrily. They all exchanged wide smiles.

  “He has life in him after all!” Garde exclaimed.

  “Will he live?” Josie asked.

  Collapsing onto the cot with exhaustion, Garde answered, “If you can nurse him through the night, he should live.”

  Josie petted the small head. “We’ll nurse him, won’t we, Grey?”

  He grunted a reply. His gaze was locked with the little lamb’s soft, innocent eyes. It looked to her like he’d fallen in love.

  Chapter Nine

  That evening, Mr. Garde made a campfire outside the lean-to after butchering one of the dead ewes for supper. Josie didn’t think she could eat it, and told him so, but her empty stomach won out over sentimentality once the tantalizing smells wafted into her nostrils. He also cooked biscuits in a large Dutch oven. They pulled the cot up to the fire, as well as the wooden chair, and enjoyed the soft bleating of the sheep as they savored the feast. The shepherd’s two dogs received a special treat, too—the sheep’s entrails.

  The only time Grey put down the baby lamb was to inhale his plate of mutton, but he ate fast and kept an eye on the little guy the whole time. When he picked the lamb up again and cradled it in his big hands, Josie was so moved that a lump formed in her throat.

  From the moment she first spied Grey in Dry Gulch on the day of her pa’s hanging, she was drawn to the mysterious man in black and his noble white steed, for unknown reasons. When the two of them met face-to-face in the cave and he forced her to give up the map, she considered him a heartless man who only cared about himself. At the cemetery, her opinion of him began to change when he shared his blanket and offered to make her his partner, which he didn’t have to do. Today, she’d nearly fallen over when he told her she was pretty. And now he was rocking and nursing a lamb like it was his own flesh and blood child. The man was as complicated as a puzzle.