by Lou Bradshaw
We broke camp shortly after the coffee was all gone. No one was able to get anything out of Blaze. He swore he didn’t remember anything after he came to wake me for night watch.
“Well, you woke me up and you headed for your bedroll, and that was the last I saw of you.” I told him. “But what I can’t figure is, how’d your sixgun get in the fire? I found it in the coals when I went to build it up… Look, you can see the notches are almost burned out. Who does that anyway?” I tossed the wreckage of his once fine Colt .44, and it landed in the dust between his feet. “It probably ain’t much good now.”
He just looked up and glared at me, like I was supposed to quake with fright. Maybe he didn’t remember anything; otherwise he wouldn’t try to intimidate a man who had just stripped him down to a babbling idiot. That didn’t mean I’d give him another second chance.
We got him on his horse and lashed his hand to the horn. As far as I was concerned, if he fell off, he was on his own getting back on. I would be way out in front and wouldn’t even know he fell.
Blaze came around somewhat by afternoon and was able to stay on his horse without having to be tied on, but he still looked pretty rough. And he still claimed to have a blank space in his memory box. If he ever did remember what happened, I’m afraid I’d have to shoot him because he’d back shoot me the first chance he got. He wouldn’t be able to live with how miserably he failed.
There were no problems on the trail that day. I saw no tracks less than a month old, and Carson reported no dust on the back trail. We didn’t have the feeling that comes with blue skies and singing birds. But not seeing any sign of Drummond’s crowd, we felt better about our chances at the end of the day. Tom Blaze was still a little loopy, but he was coming around; he was able to do most everything he needed to do without someone helping him.
Emma seemed to be in better spirits. Her smile when I helped her dismount was a little less forced. I wasn’t sure if she was angry or disappointed… probably a little of both. Her coldness was directed mostly at her father, but she wasn’t all that warm to me either. I reckoned it would take a little time to get her head around what she had learned. She likely heard enough of the conversation to form some doubts about her supposedly persecuted father. The problem was the information was put out there by me… I was the unwitting messenger.
She would learn that listening to private conversations have consequences, heartache is one of them. No one wants to learn their idol is clay footed. That would be like me finding out that my former boss, Ben Blue wasn’t really red headed but dyed it that color. Or that my pal, Spade Carson’s real name was Sally Carson.
We all agreed that Blaze was in no shape to stand watch that night, so Clayton took his place. It wasn’t that we felt any sympathy for him, but we couldn’t trust him to stay upright for two hours. Clayton made a suitable substitute, but he didn’t want his sleep broken. So he took first watch and everyone moved up a shift. I was in my usual slot of last watch. It seemed like everyone liked having coffee hot and breakfast started when they woke. Worst thing I ever did was to let folks know I could cook.
Carson woke me close to three o’clock and told me that it had been quiet as a tomb. I would have preferred he used some other comparison. But I got up and shook out my boots and put them on. He was already curled up and snoring before I had my gun belt buckled. After a stroll around the perimeter, I went back to the fire and poured myself a cup of coffee. After a bit, I went and checked the horses and the mules. There were still some renegade Comanche in some of the more isolated parts of the state…and this qualified as being plenty isolated.
I’d heard that the Apache liked mule meat better than all others. I didn’t know how closely related the Apache and the Comanche were, but they were both fierce fighting men, and both names ended with, “che”… That was enough to cause me to take night watch seriously.
It was near four thirty when I heard movement on the far side of camp. Making myself a shadow, I waited to see something or hear something else. I had no hope of seeing anything over that way because the fire was between me and whatever made the noise. So I waited. That old scout I spoke of earlier always said, “The first fool that moves is the first fool to die.” The only fool my mama raised was my brother, so I waited for something to happen.
Then I heard light footsteps on the dried grass across the way, and something white moved to the left side of the fire. It was Emma. I figured she had business of her own that woke her, and I expected her to disappear into the dark. But she turned toward the fire and circled around to where the coffee pot sat on a hot rock. She was in front of me with her back to me, as she bent down and poured herself a cup.
I eased down the hammer on my Winchester, and she turned with a slight start, as I stepped out from behind the tree. Her smile was genuine, but I didn’t know if was because it was me and not a cougar or a painted Comanche brave. Whatever the reason for the smile, I took it as a good sign.
She sat on a large rock and held her tin cup with both hands as she sipped it. She was wearing a dark skirt of the divided kind, a plain white blouse, and a woolen shawl against the chill of the early morning. Her hair was tangled and looked to be somewhat out of control, but it looked just right to me.
Setting my rifle against a rock, I picked up my cup and filled it. After a sip of my own I said, “Ma’am, you should be asleep.”
“Ma’am? I thought we had become first name friends.”
“I was hopin’ we had, but I thought you might be upset with me.”
She made a brushing motion with her left hand and said, “Shoo… that was when I was still a foolish schoolgirl, expecting everything to be perfect and creating fantasies expecting too much of people. There were those in school who told stories about my father. I cried and called them liars. My grandmother wouldn’t even talk about him… I tried not to hear the stories and wouldn’t believe them.”
“I remembered only the gentle loving man who would come home with gifts and attention… but then he would be gone again for months. Mother said he had to travel in his business. When I heard your conversation, all my dreams crashed down on top of me. I needed a little time to sort my feelings out.”
“Mother knew what he did and she still loved him for what he was to her… and me. Now I know the truth. And I can do no less than my mother. I can’t approve of what he’s done or what he’s doing… but I will always love him for what he means to me.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Emma. I think it would be best if you had a talk with him, and let him know that you know. Tell him how you feel. It’ll make him proud.”
“I will, Tru… uh Truman, And I’ll try to get him to return the gold to whoever it belongs to.”
“That might not be the easiest thing on your list of things to do.” I told her, and she laughed.
I took another tour around the camp and checked the animals again, and when I got back she was gone… presumably back to bed, which was a good thing. I sure didn’t want Burley to wake up and find us having a late night tryst by the light of a campfire.
By the time the sun was climbing over Mount Livermore, we were on the trail again. We had left the mountains behind and were again on the open plain. Burley had told me to go due west until we reached the river. The only river I knew of in these parts was the Rio Grande. Was he taking us across? Or was he planning to follow the river to find another landmark?
Officially, the Rangers don’t cross the Rio Grande without permission from the Mexican Government. And then, we had to show our paperwork to every two bit official and Rurale officer and his superior officer. And each encounter meant an exchange of cash. Cash that never seemed to be reimbursed, especially since the Rangers didn’t take or pay bribes.
Even worse than dealing with the Rurales, was the prospect of dealing with banditos. Those outlaw gangs that roamed throughout Chihuahua and Sonora taking what they needed or wanted, from folks who didn’t have anything to begin with. Travelers through the are
a were always at risk of attack. Even the Rurales wouldn’t press them without superior numbers.
If we crossed the Rio Grande we were at a high risk of not crossing back over again. A small band of heavily armed men would stand a chance by staying out of sight and being able to make a stand and fight their way out if necessary. But with eight mules, we’d be hard pressed to come back intact. And then there was my concern for Emma’s safety. A girl like her would fetch a high price in brothels of some of the larger cities and towns.
Carson figured we were still a day away from the river. He was more than a little concerned about crossing over into Mexico.
“The mules alone would be worth a pretty penny. Those are big long legged Missouri mules, and not the small black Spanish mules.” He told me. “That’s some pretty wild country over there… nice folks, but they’re scratchin’ to make a livin’ and feed their families… I wouldn’t want to put the temptation of eight mules loaded with corn in their line of sight, let alone eight mules loaded with gold.”
When we reached the river, Clayton called a stop. We made camp, with the expectation of crossing the river in the morning, But Clayton was looking north. We had just come over some long narrow mountains of about five thousand feet, and we were on banks of the Rio Grande with plenty of water and graze for our stock. The river was about forty feet below us. It reminded me of the Rio Grande Gorge up in New Mexico but not nearly so deep.
Clayton kept looking north, but for the life of me, I couldn’t see what had captured his attention. I tried to follow his gaze, but the only thing I could see was a hint of a low desert mountain close to the river maybe twenty miles away. The way he was staring at that hump of a mountain, I figured he was getting his bearings and picking out another landmark.
Just when I was feeling a little better about the possibility of crossing into Mexico, he turned his attention west and was looking at a collection of dry hills on the Mexican side of the river. He was forming a triangle with our position as the base, and he didn’t like it.
“We’ll ride north along the river in the morning… I better take the point… You drop back and keep Emma company.” Burley told me.
We hadn’t seen hide nor horn of Drummond and his men for three days, but I wasn’t easy about him. He wanted that gold, and I didn’t think it mattered if he was short handed or not. I imagined he had been dreaming of it since he first heard about it.
Riding north along the river, we had the sun to our backs, and I could see the low mountain Clayton had been paying so much attention to the evening before. Spade told me, it was known as Eagle Peak, and one of the higher points along this stretch of the river. As we drew closer to Eagle Peak, I gained a little more respect for its size. It was at least seven thousand feet at the summit. With the dust and haze of late afternoon the day before, I couldn’t get a good look at it.
The mountain was sitting there on the dusty plain with nothing around it of any size, it looked much more formable. I began to wonder if that was where he had hidden the gold. It looked as if it would make a good hiding place. The mountain itself was well worn by the elements over the years, but there were any number of piles of broken and shattered debris from long ago slides or quakes.
It would have taken some brutal hard work, but a wagon could be buried under one of those piles, so that a person wouldn’t know it from more than a few feet away. I was just speculating, of course, I had no idea what went on in Burley’s head.
We were still a few miles short of the closest point of Eagle Peak, when Burley called a halt. He was looking at a jumble of rocks off to the right away from the river. It looked like an up thrust of worn and rugged limestone. The desert varnish had taken its toll on the rock. The lee side of the jumble was much lighter than the windward side. Otherwise, I would never have pegged it for limestone. From the midst of the smaller stones, none of them were over twelve feet high, rose two towers of forty or fifty feet. The smaller of the two had a definite tilt toward Eagle Peak.
Burley looked at the high point on Eagle peak, the low dry hills across the river and back to the straighter of the two limestone spears.
Turning back to Emma and me, he said, “We’ll camp here tonight… and cross in the morning.”
So much for having only Drummond to worry about.
Chapter 16
We camped that evening at the base of the limestone up thrust. We were all just a little edgy about what the morning would bring. If we could slip in and slip out, everything would be all right. The one thing we had working for us was the low population in that part of Chihuahua would be to our advantage. The best Carson could recall was only a few peon villages scattered here and there. Mostly they were of mixed ancestry or mestizo. These were descendents of the Spanish and native Indians who had intermarried and were creating their own culture based on the Padre’s teachings and their Aztec heritage.
Avoiding all contact with them would be to our best advantage. Of course that was easier to say it than it would be to do it. With six people, seven horses, and eight mules it would be considerably harder to do. But the mission didn’t have options based on degree of difficulty. So we had it to do.
Again, the last watch belonged to me. We had our fire in a little nook among the rocks, and the plan was to let it die out after supper. Carson took the first watch, and by the time I curled up in my blankets the fire consisted of nothing more than a few coals. I wasn’t scheduled to wake up until around three o’clock, so I was rudely surprised when I felt Morgan not so gently shaking my shoulder and whispering, “Tate… Tate wake up!” It was only midnight, and Blaze was next on the watch schedule.
I thought seriously about shooting him, but that would wake the whole camp, so I did the next best thing and told him to go away. But he wouldn’t leave, nor would he shut up.
“Tate… There’s somebody coming up the river bank…”
“Wake Blaze and keep it quiet.” I told him. “And put out that damned fire.” he must have built it up during his watch.
I woke Burley, and then I went to where Emma was sleeping and woke her. Signaling to her to keep quiet, I helped her up and led her to a place among the rocks and gave her a blanket and motioned her to pull it over her head. She gave me a quizzical look and I whispered that it would make her look like a boulder in the dark. I turned around and Carson was at my elbow… just where I’d expected him to be.
“We got company comin’ up the bank.” I whispered to the group. “They may pass us by, but our animals might give us away, or they might smell the smoke…If they come our way… Open up!”
Making sure of where Blaze was, I found myself a place where he wouldn’t have a shot at me. I was pretty sure his memory had returned, and that knowledge kept me from being in his line of fire at all times. He was the kind of person, who didn’t mind shooting me in the back because he didn’t believe Carson was salty enough to do anything about it… Probably the biggest mistake he’d ever make.
We could hear them coming up the bank nearing the crest. The few words, which were spoken, were in Spanish. They were milling around getting organized. Then one of them said, “Shhhh… esperar… Humo!” They were suddenly very still. They had smelled the smoke and everyone was looking for the source.
In the half hearted way Morgan did everything, he had put out the fire the way ten year old boy washes his face and ears… just enough to get by. A slight gust of breeze set a few embers to blazing, and those on the river bank saw it. They could surely see the two stone towers against the night sky so they knew where we were.
Spurs were jammed into horseflesh and bloody yells were made. They almost leaped in our direction. At best they weren’t much more than fifty yards away. All we had to go by were the vague silhouettes of horses and men with weapons raised high. No one gave the order to fire; it was every man for himself. The best I could do was get off two shots before they were on us.
Using my rifle like a club swing it right to left and left to right, I made very
satisfying contact more than once, and then it was knocked from my hand. My Colt replaced it and I was as good as I was going to get. On my fifth shot, my Ralph Barber’s Colt was coming from my waist band. My sixth shot took a man in the throat, as he came over the boulder I was using for cover. I only had a glimpse of his face in the flash, but it was enough to let me know he was done.
Six shots left and I would have to reload or find my rifle; otherwise I would be fighting with rocks and a Bowie. Drawing back the hammer of the backup pistol, I made a note to be sure and cock it after each shot. But there were no targets only a few moans and cries of pain.
Were they gone? No one moved or made a sound except those moaning and crying. The best I could tell they were on the outside of the stones. I waited. I’d been so busy holding my own position; there wasn’t time to see how the others were doing. It came to me that if bandits had won, they’d be looting our bodies by now.
“Tate?” It was Clayton’s voice.
“I’m all right.” I answered.
Then he called Carson and got the same answer, next he called out Morgan and Blaze and both responded. The fire was coming back and we could see a little. Carson came out from the far end, and I saw Morgan rise up from behind two boulders. Clayton stepped out with his rifle in hand and ready. Blaze stepped out from behind the two stone towers carrying his rifle in the crook of his arm, and then he climbed down… I didn’t recall any fire coming from up there, and I knew where he was when we all took our positions.
I may have been wrong about no shots coming from Blaze’s position, but I was plumb suspicious. It would be like him to hide out up there and not draw fire on himself, but… I could be wrong. By the time I stepped out, I had my Peacemaker reloaded and back in the holster. My rifle was laying in the dirt not far from where I had lost it. My next move was to make sure Emma was safe.
