Soul of a Gunslinger

by Jim Cox

  Traveling north from the ranch on the pass through the Franklin Mountains was beautiful. The passes’ landscape was a mite on the sandy, dry side but the morning cactus flowers and the tall grass flowing in the easy breeze set things off. Eagles soared in the high-up wind currents over the distant mountains.

  The mountain’s surface they were riding beside was mostly solid rock with large protruding boulders pointing skyward. It had very little vegetation, but a few trees were scattered about, appearing to be reaching for the heavens. Occasionally, they rode beside a straight-up ledge rising several hundred feet with a trickle of water flowing out of a crack, creating a small creek across their path.

  The terrain during the first part of the morning was fairly flat with low rolling hills, making the travel easy for the horses. There were a few fairly steep inclines to climb, but the horses didn’t seem to mind. Occasionally they came to mountain streams, which provided the riders and horses cool drinks. As the morning dragged on, the sun became more intense, and its sweltering beams caused hats to be pulled low and sweat to be wiped. It wasn’t often, but whenever mountain cliffs cast a shadow or when the shade of a lonely tree was found, the men would stop for a few minutes to give their horses a breather.

  It was high-noon when they stopped in the shade of a cliff for their noon meal. Not far off was a mountain creek with grass growing along its banks, a good place to put their horses. After removing the gear and hobbling their horses in the grass, Hide gathered up a few dead limbs from a straggly tree close by and started a fire. While he was getting the fire going, Lefty fetched the two bags of food his mother had sent along. Both were bulging and heavier than he remembered when he loaded them. As he took his mother’s food from the bags, both men started grinning from ear-to-ear. There were all sorts of garden things, including a couple dozen large potatoes, sealed pots of canned hominy and beans, six sides of salted bacon, and a sack full of biscuits. Of course, there were other items, such as flour, cornmeal, salt, and enough ground coffee to last a month. Loose in one of the large bags were pots and pans, plates, and eating utensils. There were also flint stones and matches, and a coffee pot with two cups inside. The last thing Lefty pulled out of the bag put a big grin on his face. It was a sack stuffed full of tobacco. “Thanks, ma,” Lefty mumbled.

  The men heated water for coffee and fried enough bacon to have several pieces left-over after each had eaten two bacon/biscuit sandwiches. When they finished eating, Hide washed the dishes in the creek while Lefty fetched water to put out the fire. Afterward, they sat cross-legged holding coffee, giving the horses a bit longer to graze.

  The horses bolted a little when the men walked up to get them. Acting like they hadn’t got their fill and were not ready to leave the grass. But their hobbles were soon removed and led back to camp. Lefty saddled Sandy for the next leg, and Star carried the pack. Hide switched from Abe to Gray.

  The landscape stayed pretty much the same until mid-afternoon. Then it took on more of an arid appearance and the occasional tree that existed during their morning travel was missing. The low rolling terrain turned into higher hills which didn’t seem to affect the horses, but stops were made more often anyway. Streams of water no longer crossed their paths, leaving them without water. They had water bags, but they weren’t filled. Both men felt ashamed of themselves for not filling their water bags when plenty of water was available. It was a blunder that wouldn’t happen again.

  Neither man had seen a wild animals, but they’d seen a lot of dried-up buffalo manure all afternoon. Knowing buffalo had passed through the area caused the men to be on the lookout with thoughts of killing a small calf for fresh meat. In the late afternoon, they saw a coyote cross their path a good distance ahead, and as the evening coolness approached more wild animals were seen; deer, antelope, rabbits, and twice they crossed the trail of a rattler. More-than-likely the animals had been holed-up in the shade during the heat of the day and were now getting out to eat and drink.

  The sun was beginning to hide for the night when Hide and Lefty started angling east toward a ridge of mountains in hopes of finding water for their night’s camp. Luckily, before the sun was completely gone, they came to a creek that was nearly dried-up, but a trickle of water was still flowing. They stopped and dammed-up the water trickle, creating a small pool for the horses and their private needs. There wasn’t much grass along its banks for the horses, but there was some.

  After setting up camp and tending to the horses, Hide walked around the area, picking up a couple dozen buffalo chips to fuel their campfire. The long day’s ride had been tiring, and they were in no mood to cook, so they only made coffee and ate the noon’s leftover bacon between biscuits.

  Sitting around the fire drinking coffee, Lefty and Hide started talking about their past and what their lives had been like. They were both surprised to find out how similar they’d been. Both had been raised on a small ranch. Their mothers worked from first light until darkness, and both fathers had not been around. However, unlike Lefty’s father who had been killed in the war, Hide’s father had run off from the family shortly after Hide was born. The men also talked a good bit about the gold fields and how easy it was going to be to scoop-up their fortunes. They even talked about the lifestyle they’d lead with their pockets full of money.

  Gold was on both men’s mind when they tossed out the last bit of their coffee and headed for their bedrolls. The beds had already been placed on top of their ground-cloths, and their saddles were used for pillows. Both men’s pistols and boots were placed at arms-length under their saddle blankets to protect them from the night’s moisture. They stretched out on top of their bedrolls, knowing full well they’d be under covers later on when the night’s cold air moved in. Two coyotes were singing in the distance when Lefty turned to his side.

  The first day had been long and tiring, but Lefty and Hide had made a good dent toward their first stop, which was the little settlement of Las Cruces in the New Mexico territory, about an eight-day ride, they figured.

  The following morning started out on the cool side, but as the day passed, it was more of the same; sun-blistering hot, just like yesterday afternoon. No wind and the air so dry sweat wouldn’t show up. After a short noon meal, the men followed the old timer’s directions and headed west. Both men were feeling their stretch in the saddle, and only a day had passed on their long trek. Their backs hurt and their rear-ends stung, feeling like they were covered with blisters and no matter which way they twisted in the saddle, their butts didn’t ease up any. The heat was miserable. Possibly well over a hundred degrees. And even though their hats were pulled low, their eyes burned like fire from the sun’s brightness. The late afternoon sun would even become more brutal as they rode west, directly into it. And travel was becoming a struggle for the horses due to the sand getting softer and deeper which caused more frequent stops. By mid-afternoon, the far distant mountains behind them were a faint image, and by the time they stopped for the night they were completely gone.

  The next three days were pretty much the same—miserable. They did have some excitement on two occasions. Once they saw a large herd of buffalo that Hide guessed numbered in the thousands. Apparently, they were traveling across the desert to get to one of their known grazing areas with grass and water. By the time the men got to where the herd had crossed, they were out of sight. Another day, they saw a distance plume made by a group of traveling Indians, and even though it had been reported the U.S. Calvary had settled the Indian uprisings by building forts throughout the southwestern territories and sending out forces to control the area, Lefty and Hide didn’t take any chances and rode with caution, trying not to show themselves.

  Conversations were limited while they rode. They mostly thought about home or the riches coming their way, but once during a blistering afternoon, Lefty asked, “When do you think we’re gonna get to Las Cruces, so we can rest up and let the sores on our butts heal up, Hide?” Lefty paused for a few seconds. “Maybe we shoul
d find a place and hole-up for a day or two.”

  “My butts on fire, too, Lefty, but there ain’t nothing for us to do but keep on riding for Las Cruces. We should be there in six or seven days. Lefty groaned.

  A little before noon, three days later, they stopped at a line of trees along a fair-sized river next to a mountain ridge. A place to relax and rest the horses. The men walked their horses along the river’s swift current that flowed around large rocks to a deep hole upstream. The hole was made from falling water coming from a crack in the mountain. It was a perfect place to set up their camp and rest their saddle-sore behinds and wash the sweaty trial-dust from their bodies. Not far from the hole was a good patch of grass where the horses could graze and rest-up their tired, worn-out bodies.

  After tending to the horses, Hide and Lefty got bare-naked and slowly walked into the freezing water. They stopped with goose-bumps when the water got to their knees. Hide was the first to lower himself, letting the freezing water swirl around his backside for several seconds before getting enough nerve to go all the way down, sitting on the bottom; it nearly took his breath. Lefty was next. After letting their bodies adjust to the cold water for a minute or two, both men scooted further out into water up to their necks. It was cold but very invigorating and relaxing. The swirling current around their bodies, felt as though they were being rubbed all over.

  Several minutes later, when their bodies were chilled through-and-through, they washed from head to toe with hand-made lye soap. Afterward, they washed their trail-dirty clothes and hung them on tree limbs to dry. When they had toweled-off and dressing in clean clothes, they started a fire and put on coffee water.

  The men rested for the balance of the day, lying around resting their sore bodies and drinking coffee. They did clean and oiled their guns and trimmed each other’s beard and hair. That evening, while sitting back watching the sun slide behind the horizon, Lefty saw a rabbit hopping toward the water. It wasn’t long until the rabbit was roasting and fried potatoes were cooking. After eating and drinking a couple cups of coffee, Hide went to the creek with dirty dishes while Lefty took the horses to water. Not long afterward, they were lying on their bunks thinking about the gold.

  Nothing changed much after leaving the trees. The men were now traveling in the Mesilla Valley of the New Mexico territory looking at the beautiful Organ Mountains in the far distance. Both men knew from past experiences that mountains are farther away than they look, so taking that into account, the men judged it would take a mite longer than a half-day to get there. Hide had been told Las Cruces was located at the foot of these mountains.

  The men’s eyelids were becoming heavy when they topped a hill and saw a man sitting in the shade of a boulder with his horse and pack-mule off to one side in another patch of shade. The man waved Lefty and Hide in. “Howdy,” he said, “I’m taking up a good share of this boulder’s shade, but there’s room for you to squat beside me if you want. Pour yourselves a cup of coffee…I believe there are two cups left in the pot.” The man was chewing on a hardtack/bacon sandwich and looked kind of crusty. Hide dug out two cups from his pack and filled them with the thickest, strongest coffee he’d ever seen. He’d heard of coffee so strong it would float a horseshoe and this coffee would certainly fit the saying.

  While Hide was handing Lefty his coffee, the crusty man said, “We might as well get to know one another. My name is Lucas Goshard, but folks call me Shorty. I hail from South Georgia, and I’m on my way to the California gold fields. What're your handles and where’s home? I expect you’re like me, heading for the gold.”

  “We go by Lefty Newman, and my friend is Hide Hideman. Those ain’t our real first names, but that’s what we go by. We’re both from Pecos, a little town in southwest Texas; and you’re right, we’re traveling to the gold fields.”

  Shorty looked totally out of place. It was obvious he was a farmer by the clothes he wore. His sweat-stained straw hat sat atop a head of curly brown hair sprinkled with gray along his temple and sideburns. His long beard was totally gray. His eyes were steel-black, set in deep sockets, and his facial skin was tanned dark and covered in wrinkles. He wore a light blue shirt, and his pants were the strangest looking things Lefty and Hide had ever seen. They were extremely baggy with a bib from his waist to his neck, held up with two strap-like suspenders going over his shoulders and fastening in the back. Shorty sat cross-legged, showing off his ankle-high, clod-hoppers. Both men guessed him to be in his mid-sixties, but they found out later he was only fifty-one.

  Hide, and Lefty were surprised when Shorty stood. He was very short for a full-grown man. Hide guessed him to be five-foot-two, and that might be stretching things. Shorty smiled at their surprised expression, showing his tobacco-stained teeth and said, “While you finish your coffee, I’ll put out the fire and pack Sally; that’s my mule’s name. Then we’ll be heading out. I’ll be tagging along with you if you don’t mind? It gets mighty lonely traveling by yourself.” Lefty looked at Hide and shrugged his shoulders.

  Chapter Four

  The three men were awe-struck with the beautiful scenery when they rode into Las Cruces. What made the area so beautiful and breath-taking were the huge, snow-capped Organ Mountains looming in the north which over-powered and accented the entire region. It was at least ten degrees cooler, but the cloudless, desert-like conditions still existed. The landscape had turned as flat as a tabletop, and the wind was so strong it formed wind tunnels in the sand and blew dozens of tumbleweeds every-which-way.

  Lefty and Hide were expecting a town, but Las Cruces wasn’t a town at all. There were no permanent buildings, only tents around three shabby constructed sheds; a blacksmith shop, a store with a few basic items, and a saloon. However, at the foot of the Organ Mountains, a hundred yards or so from the sheds was a mountain stream with Mojave Desert Trees along its banks, and among the trees were sprinklings of black spots of bygone fires. Several fires were burning, with horses and mules hobbled close by.

  As the three men passed the campers, they saw all sorts of folks who were most likely heading to the gold fields, like them. Some were young, and some were well past middle age. There were a few women, and two women held babies. Lefty noticed folks with the same nationality pretty much hung together; whites, blacks, Chinese, Irish, and others. The people were different sizes, and shapes, and wore a variety of clothes. But what Lefty’s eyes focused on were the men with cocky expressions, strutting about like they were the king of the roost, wearing low hanging, tied down pistols. Not many men fit this cocky description, but enough to give Lefty concern.

  The three men were nearly past the campers, riding toward a vacant area they’d selected when Lefty’s eyes caught two men with tied down guns looking their way and whispering behind raised hands. Those men have something up their sleeves, Lefty thought, we’d better keep a look out for ‘em.

  Shorty tagged along with Hide and Lefty to the camping spot they’d selected, which turned out to be a good location, not far from water and a good size patch of grass just beyond the tree line for their horses and Shorty’s mule.

  By the time the horses were tended, it was twilight and past time for supper. Hide quickly built a fire while Lefty dug out vittles from his food bag. Shorty immediately took the food from Lefty and assumed the cook's position. He was sloppy and even cleaned the pots and pans with a handful of grass before being put away. The bacon was overcooked, and his coffee was strong and thick, just like what he’d made on the trail. But in spite of all this, the meal tasted good and filled the bellies who’d had nothing since noon.

  They were sitting against trees holding coffee, with only a twinge of light left in the western horizon, when Lefty said, “We’re getting’ low on food. We have plenty of ground coffee, and some of staples left, but there’s only another meal or two of potatoes and bacon. We’ll have to start living off of the land.”

  “I’ve been figuring we might be getting a mite low,” Hide said. “I’ll get up early in the mornin
g and follow the creek up the mountain a-ways. It’s likely an animal of some kind will be at the creek drinking; maybe a deer or mountain lion.”

  Shorty piped-up, “I’m thinking critters might be few-and-far-between in these parts since a good share of the travelers are likely to be living off the land.” Hide nodded.

  The men were sitting back, drinking coffee and looking at the New Mexico stars on display when a fiddle started squeaking, and a sorry-voiced man started singing. No doubt, the sounds were coming from the saloon.

  The music hadn’t been playing long when Shorty said, “I think I’ll go see what’s going on at the saloon…wanna come along?” Hide and Lefty looked at one another and nodded.

  The little saloon room was crowded. Hide guessed there might have been close to twenty, maybe twenty-five men standing around holding tin cups. The crowd didn’t look like most western saloons. Men had on all shapes and colors of hats. Some were flat-crown, some high-crown; there were derbies, straw hats, captain caps, and a few other types, but they were all sweat-stained, and many had seen better days. Most of the clothing was dirty, and some were ragged. They were a mixture of various types, some that Hide hadn’t seen before. Even though the night was young, a few men were already staggering around with hollow red eyes. Two men had drunk themselves into stupors and laid by the side wall. The place smelled of spilled whiskey but also had a strong body odor.

  A man at a front table was pouring two-fingers of whiskey into tin cups for two-bits. Off to one side of the table were the singer and fiddle player. They were dressed a little better than the run of the mill folks in the saloon but not by much. There was a bucket sitting beside them in case anyone liked their music and wanted to make a donation. The bucket was empty. Shorty bought two-fingers of the brown liquid, took a swallow, and then offered to buy Hide and Lefty a drink. They accepted his offer, and after taking a drink, they both turned to Shorty with turned-up noses. He was grinning.