by Jim Cox
Shorty had drifted away from his side-kicks and started bragging about things he’d done in his past and things he expected to come his way. A slender man with a tied-down gun started laughing and spoke out, “You ain’t big enough to have done all of those things. You need to eat a few more beans and grow up a bit ‘fore you start bragging like that.” Everyone laughed and started making fun of Shorty. One man even pretended to be fighting with him, making empty swings. Shorty went along with the fun at the start, but after a spell, when they started making fun of his clothes and the way he talked, it wasn’t funny to him any longer, and he pulled out a long knife from under his right pant leg. Everyone sobered a bit and stepped back.
“Let’s see if you keep funning me when I cut out your liver,” Shorty said with a gnarled face. The room got deathly quiet, which got Hide and Lefty’s attention.
“You’d better put that knife away before I take it away from ‘ya and skin you alive,” said the man with the tied-down gun who had confronted Shorty in the first place. He was one of the men Lefty had seen whispering behind raised hands.
“I’d like to see you try that!” Shorty said taking a step closer with his knife at arms-length, pointing at the man’s midsection.
“You come a step closer, old man, and you’re dead,” Shorty’s challenger said with his feet apart, and right hand spread over his gun, obviously ready to draw his pistol. By this time, Lefty had gotten to the scene and stepped beside Shorty.
“If I was you, mister, I’d leave your gun in its holster,” Lefty said in a firm voice. “There ain’t no reason to threaten, Shorty. Everyone here heard you funning him.”
“Stay out of this, mister. It ain’t none of your affairs.”
“I’m making it mine… Shorty’s a friend,” Lefty said throwing out a challenge.
“Better watch out, young man,” a voice in the crowd called out, “that’s Bob Ellis you’re bracing. He’s known to be the fastest draw in this part of the country.”
“That don’t make no never-mind to me. My name is Lefty Newman, and I ain’t from this part of the country,” Lefty said with blink-less eyes.
Ellis was becoming a bit irritated, not wanting to add to his already string of killings, so he told Lefty in a smug tone to back off; that there was no need to get himself killed over an old man. Lefty didn’t listen and stood glaring into the eyes of his challenger. Ellis was ready with his feet spread, and his hand hovered over his gun.
“I ain’t leaving Ellis, but you’re obliged to high-tail-it away unless you want to keep standing there trying to talk me to death. Otherwise, you can draw if you’ve a mind too.” Ellis took on a sideways smile and then his hand dropped for his gun so fast it was hardly seen. But his gun never completely cleared leather before he was falling backward onto the dirt floor with a bullet hole between his eyes. The crowd backed away in shock. They’d never witnessed a draw like they’d just seen.
“Did you see that?” a man in the crowd asked of no one in particular, “That young man is faster than greased lightning.”
“That may be,” another voice in the crowd rang out, “but he has Bob’s two brothers to contend with now. I hear Joe and Frank are a lot faster than their kid brother.”
While a couple of men were dragging Ellis’ body out of the saloon, Lefty and Hide grabbed Shorty’s arms, one on each side, and took him back to camp. After settling their nerves while draining the coffee pot, the men said their goodnights and went to their beds. Lefty laid his gun a mite closer than normal.
As Lefty laid atop his bedroll, his stomach kept churning from the killing. He felt ashamed and uneasy with himself. Killing ain’t the Godly thing to do unless it’s in a war, he thought. I’ve already killed two men, and I ain’t even twenty yet. When is my killing gonna stop?” Lefty thought on the matter for a spell longer and then turned to his side with more pleasant thoughts about his ma and brother. He was soon sleeping.
Chapter Five
After the three men worked out their kinks and had breakfast the next morning, Shorty said his goodbyes and headed for the Gila River at first light where he planned to catch a boat if one was available. If it wasn’t, he’d ride horseback along-side the river’s bank all the way to where it emptied into the Colorado River at Fort Yama, a distance of well over a week’s travel on horseback. At Fort Yama, he’d cross the river into southern California.
Shorty did his best to get Hide and Lefty to go with him, but they backed off due to the cost. Their money was short, and they wanted to save every cent for digging supplies when they got to the gold fields. Instead, they’d ride on the alternate Gila Trail to Tucson, which would take about nine days. At Tucson, they’d switch to the main Gila Trail, traveling across New Mexico to Fort Yuma.
The ride would be hard and long. They’d been told the area was mostly desert and stretched on for miles. That it was so big, the powers-to-be in Washington was considering splitting it into two territories. Of course, this was only trail talk, but according to the talk, the politicians couldn’t agree on where the new boundary lines should be. Some wanted a north/south split while others wanted an east/west split. The new territory was to be called Arizona if a decision was ever made.
When Lefty and Hide stepped into their stirrups, the morning was cool, and the sky was cloudless with a bright sun climbing to bring another hot day.
A cotton bag with the skinned-out hind-quarters of the mountain lion Hide had killed was hanging from Hide’s pack-rack. Lefty’s pack-horse was now carrying both of the five-gallon water skins, and each man had two full canteens hanging from their saddle horns.
By mid-morning, Lefty and Hide were riding in the New Mexico desert, just beyond the high hills jetting out from the Organ Mountains. The sand was deep, much deeper than before they got to Las Cruces, causing the horses to labor. And in spite of stopping a couple of times every hour for water and rest, all four horses were lathering up a good bit.
The morning’s coolness gave way to the bright, hot desert conditions as the noon sun approached. Hats were pulled low, and eyes squinted. The sky was solid blue, not a cloud in sight, and the wind was dead. They plodded on. The sun was miserable.
Come mid-afternoon, the horses’ heads were hanging low due to total exhaustion, and there was no shade, no relief in sight, and to stop would mean death, so the men got down from their saddles and walked beside their staggering horses. It wasn’t long until the men were staggering, too. Both men fell a couple of times but managed to get enough strength to climb back up. Once, Hide’s horse stumbled and fell, unable to get up, but through a great deal of tugging and effort by both men, they got it up and walking.
The men’s eyes were burning, their throats were dry, and their lips were crusty, but they kept putting one foot in front of the other. Their progress was slow, but it was progress. They tried to keep their minds off of their misery and on something pleasant. Lefty thought of the ranch, of his mother and brother. He also had thoughts of Betty Ringer. Betty was a girl he’d talked with a time-or-two in Pecos. She was about his age and was kind of pretty. They seemed to have hit-it-off right good, and Lefty thought something might be catching on between them, but once, when he came to Pecos, he got word she’d married a young man who worked in the mercantile, so that ended that.
Lefty’s girl thoughts didn’t end with Betty Ringer. As he staggered along, his thoughts went to his future. He wanted to get married sometime before long. After all, most men got hitched before they were eighteen and he’d already had his nineteenth birthday a while back; time was wasting. Lefty knew he wanted to have a family, maybe two sons and two daughters. He wished they’d look like their mother, who he hoped would be pretty, instead of an ugly cuss like him. After I find gold and get rich, pretty girls might not be hard to come by. Bub always told me women like rich husbands so they wouldn’t have to do hard work.
Lefty’s thoughts were interrupted when Hide called out, “Our horses are all tuckered-out and about to drop. If we keep g
oing, we’re gonna kill ‘em. We’ve got to find a place out of this sweltering heat to stop.”
“I agree,” Lefty said, “but I ain’t seen no shade since we started out this morning.” The men continued.
Nearly an hour after Hide had given his warning, the sand got firmer, and a few small rocks started to show on the ground. To their surprise, the further they rode, the larger the rocks became. A few good-size boulders were starting to appear and some offered shade, but not enough to shelter all four horses, so they rode on. They needed to find a larger area of shade for the horses. Finally, they came upon a cluster of tall boulders casting a great deal of shade. Without hesitation, they decided to hole-up behind them until late evening when the temperature got cooler. Then they could continue on in the cool of the night. The horses were soon free of their loads, watered, and now lying in shaded sand on folded legs. Hide and Lefty were also resting in shadows.
The next four days didn’t change. They’d hole-up during the heat of the day and traveled in the evening and night when the sun was gone, and the temperature had cooled off. However, their situation got life threating on the fourth day. In spite of being skimpy in the amount of water given to the horses and only taking an occasional sip themselves, they ran out of water. Traveling without water was life-threatening and caused the already frail bodies of the men and their horses to weaken by the hour.
Their travel for the last four days had been brutal, but the next two days without water was much worse. Once, when it was time to leave after the evening coolness had set in, Hide said, “I ain’t leaving now, Lefty. I ain’t got the strength. I’m gonna rest up for a day, but you can go ahead if you have a mind too.”
Lefty stood. “That’s stupid, Hide. I’m heading out, and so are you. Now get up and get your horses ready.” Hide shook his head.
“I ain’t leaving. I ain’t up to it.”
“You’re going with me, even if I have to drag ‘ya,” Lefty said in a tone that left no doubt. “If we stay here, we’ll never leave, and in a day or two, we’ll be just as dead as those folks whose bones we’ve seen along the way. Now get up!” Hide looked through deep-set, red eyes at Lefty’s out-stretched hand and took it. Somehow, the men survived the next two days without water. It was hard and miserable, but they made it. Luckily, the large boulders had stayed with them.
On the seventh day, the men started seeing mountains in the far distance, possibly thirty to forty miles away. A long day’s ride, maybe two. Hide had been told the mountains they were seeing was actually five different mountain ridges with the town of Tucson located at their base in the Sonoran Desert. Being able to see the end to their long miserable trek pepped the men up with a better attitude and helped increased their pace a bit; especially since they’d been told the temperature would be several degrees cooler.
They traveled throughout the night and slept for a couple hours come morning. Afterward, they headed out, expecting to reach Tucson sometime around noon. Lefty and Hide walked along-side their worn-out horses, often times holding on to the saddle horns. Their horses had been without water for two days and nothing to eat for seven. All four horses were nearly to their end, with drooping heads, and staggering strides. The men were covered in sweat-soaked dust; their faces were sunburned beat red from the sun’s reflection off of the white sand and, their eyes were bloodshot and appeared to be bleeding from their exposure to the glaring sun. Their lips were covered with cracked open bleeding scabs, and their mouths felt as if they were full of cotton, unable to swallow because their throats were swollen closed. Like their horses, they’d had no water to drink for two days and no desire to eat because of their mouth’s dryness. It wasn’t unusual for the men to fall from exhaustion, but once, Hide fell and couldn’t get up. Lefty had a hard time getting him to his feet, and when he did, the two men walked, clasped together.
The noon sun had passed when Lefty and Hide spotted a line of trees which they believed was the banks of the Santa Cruz River. The river was nearly three miles from the Gila Trail they’d been traveling on, and as they’d find out later, it was two miles from Tucson.
Swallows of water was limited when they got to the river, only a few sips were allowed for both the men and horses. They knew drinking large amounts of water after going without it for days in the sun would cause cramps and colic. More would come later. The men hobbled the horses in a nearby patch of grass and then set up camp with a pot of water sitting on a flat rock beside their fire. It was a mite hard to drink the coffee because of their swollen throats, but they were finally able to get a cup down before digging out clean clothes from their bags and going to the river with soap. The river was running low this time of the year, but there were a couple holes deep enough to take a good bath. The water felt good as it cooled and relaxed their tired bodies. While in the water, they washed the desert grime out of their clothes they’d taken off and hung them on tree branches to dry. Feeling refreshed with a spurt of new energy, they cut each other’s hair and trimmed beards. Afterward, they cleaned and oiled their guns.
The afternoon passed kind of fast. They mostly sat against trees drinking coffee and taking naps. Occasionally, travelers were seen on the distant Gila trail leading into Tucson, most likely in route to the gold.
By late afternoon both Lefty and Hide’s bodies were starting to kick in, especially their stomachs. They were growling and felt like they’d been shunned of food long enough. However, the mountain lion meat had spoiled, and the only things left in their food bags were a tin of hominy and a couple raw turnips. Their supper wasn’t great, but they made do and drank an extra cup of coffee to settle their hunger.
While they were drinking coffee after supper, Hide spoke up. “I’ll be going hunting in the morning, Lefty. We need some meat to tide us over. Maybe I can kill us a deer or some other animal. Lefty nodded and took another swallow.
As Lefty sat drinking coffee early the next morning, he expected to hear a gun ring out, but there was none. And as the morning continued, there were still no shots. It was mid-morning when Hide came walking in. “I saw plenty of tracks,” he said, “Deer, antelope, mountain lion, and a large bear print. I even saw deer flags a time or two in the far distant, but I didn’t have a chance to shoot.” Hide paused and then continued, “I’ll head back out and try my luck this evening.”
The men were hungry, but they didn’t have anything to cook, and the longer they sat drinking coffee, the more a Tucson cafe breakfast festered. Neither man had much money, and what they did have they wanted to save to buy digging equipment when they got to the gold fields, but after struggling with their stomachs for several minutes, they decided to head for the cafe.
Tucson’s town folks were much like the people in Las Cruces; a mixture of everything, especially Spanish, since Mexico was only sixty miles south of Tucson. However, the town’s structure and demeanor were different. Tucson was an up-and-coming town with homes and businesses lining the streets. There was even a church building at the north end of a street where folks lived. Along the east side of the main street running through Tucson were a mercantile, a barber shop, a café, and a saloon. On the other side of the street was another café, a hotel, two saloons, a feed and grain store, and a livery/blacksmith. The business street was dusty because of the area’s hot, dry conditions, but horse manure was everywhere, sending off an odor.
Hitching rails along-side the main street were lined with a wide range of horses and a few mules. The store-front benches on the boardwalks were full of ordinary men, dressed according to the part of the country they’d come from. Many smoked a pipe or had a flimsy cigarette they’d rolled, dangling from their mouths. Every once-in-a-while, a brown string of tobacco juice came flying from an old-timer’s mouth into the street, often time falling short and landing on the boardwalk. Like Las Cruces, there were men walking about with cocky attitudes and tied-down pistols, trying to impress people into thinking they were important. Lefty noticed many of the bench-sitters were sizing-up him an
d Hide as they rode by.
Lefty and Hide tied their horses to a rail in front of a building supporting a TUCSON CAFÉ sign over its door and walked in. Lefty hadn’t been in many cafes before, but this one looked nice to him. It was clean, with checkered tablecloths and had two waitresses who were about his age, well dressed, and kind of pretty. Hide counted eight tables, and all but two of the tables had men around them with food; some of the plates were already pushed back. They went to one of the empty tables along a wall, and before they got settled with their chairs pulled up, one of the young waitresses was bringing coffee. She said she’d be back shortly with their food. Her eyes stayed focused on Hide a bit longer than necessary.
Their breakfast of fried beefsteak, three fried eggs, and a bowl of gravy with a platter of biscuits, butter, and apple preserves in the center of the table was delicious and filling. After eating, Lefty and Hide lingered over coffee a bit, watching the busy waitresses spend time filling cups around the room and listening to their customer’s wild tales.
When they were ready to leave, each laid two-bits on the table for their meal and was ready to stand when a middle-aged man walked up and asked, “Ain’t you the man who shot and killed Bob Ellis in Las Cruces a few days back?” Lefty didn’t get a word out before the man answered his own question. “Never seen anything like it before…you draw faster than greased lightning.” Lefty was dumbfounded and looked around at men staring at him with bugged eyes; they’d obviously heard what was said. The man who had made the comments had turned and started off but then turned back, “Better be careful, mister. I hear Frank and Joe Ellis are tracking you. They’re saying you had no call to kill their brother, and you’re gonna pay for it.” When Lefty stood to leave, his glare at Hide was sobering. The room’s eyes were on the swinging batwings when Lefty and Hide left, or so Lefty imagined.
Lefty and Hide stayed on the bank of the Santa Cruz River letting their horses rest-up and get in shape for the next leg of their gruesome trip to Fort Yuma. They had been warned they’d be crossing a scorching, life-threatening, arid land for eight days. A journey where many people died.
