The California Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “Bueno,” said Gil.

  The Apaches on watch had been removed, the horses were being held north of the tepees, and the incredible Indian duo had quietly and swiftly freed all the horses!

  “We’ll fan out in a wide enough line,” said Gil, “that way we’ll have a chance to keep the horses bunched. We don’t want them breaking east or west if we can help it. Once they’re on the run, keep ’em moving. We’ll strike just minutes away from first light, and I want every horse to pile out of there like it’s Judgment Day and the Hell fires have been lit. Use your Colts to make the horses run, but don’t waste any lead on the Apaches unless they try to counter our attack. Once we leave this bunch afoot, taking their horses with us, that ought to be enough bad medicine to rid us of them.”

  When Gil gave the order to ride, they moved out in an east-to-west line, a dozen yards apart. The camp dogs began the expected clamor, but the riders were already among the tepees before the Apaches could get to their weapons. At a fast gallop, Gil and the riders thundered toward the horse herd.

  “Hiiieeeyah!” Gil shouted. “Hiiieeeyah!”

  Some of the riders were firing their Colts, and such a spectacle, roaring out of the gray of dawn, was more than enough for the horse herd. They all broke into a gallop and headed north, with Gil and the riders in pursuit.

  “Malo,” said one of the Apaches. “Malo medicina.”

  Some of his companions grunted, and one of them kicked a barking dog.

  Van and Rosa set out in the first light of dawn. The wind had died, and a golden glow to the east promised an end to the coolness of the night. Van suddenly stopped, listening. There was the faint but unmistakable sound of gunfire to the south.

  “Gil and the boys are attacking the Apaches,” said Rosa.

  “Yes,” said Van, “and they’ll be driving the horses north. If I’m figurin’ right, and we’re heading anywhere close to our old camp at the spring, there’s a small chance that the outfit and the horse herd might catch up to us. But only if we’re in the right place, and in time.”

  “Perhaps we should wait for them,” said Rosa.

  “We can’t risk that,” Van said. “We may be too far east, and they may not be coming due north. If our old camp lies farther west, then they’ll be riding northwest. They’ll pass us by without knowing that we’re here. I reckon we’d better keep moving, and if they don’t find us, we’ll still be a little closer to our old camp. I think we ought to just plan on walking the rest of the way. We get to dependin’ on the outfit finding us, and we’ll start to slack off, not doing anything for ourselves. By tonight we’re goin’ to be hurtin’ for grub.”

  “Por Dios,” Rosa sighed, “do not speak of food. A bellyful of water does nothing to satisfy one’s hunger.”

  By the time the sun was an hour high, Van and Rosa were sweating, and every cut and scratch on their bodies came alive.

  “I wish for a creek or a river,” said Rosa. “Water deep enough that I might get into it up to my neck, to free myself of the dirt and sweat.”

  “I know how you feel,” Van said. “The chill of the night kind of numbs us to our hurts, and the sun thaws them all out again. I didn’t realize I was so skint up and raw. There’s a cut across my backside that feels like I’ve been raked with a grizzly’s claws.”

  “It looks that way too,” said Rosa. “You have been bleeding. You need some of the sulfur salve from our supplies.”

  Suddenly, just ahead of them, there was a rustling of leaves. Something or somebody was coming. The fugitives froze, relaxing only when they found themselves face-to-face with a horse.

  “Indian pony,” said Van. “With all this dirt, blood, and sweat, maybe I smell enough like an Apache to catch him.”

  Gil and the riders kept the horses moving, flanking the herd, turning them to the northwest. By Gil’s estimate, they had lost only three or four of the Indian ponies. Those had broken away to the east, and they were so few they weren’t important enough to be pursued. Most of the Indian mounts were still part of the herd the Texans had bunched and were driving toward the distant spring where Bo and Long John waited.

  “Better we keep Injun horses,” said Juan Padillo as he rode next to Gil.

  “I think so,” Gil said. “At least until we reach Tucson. With Long John hurt, we can’t just pick up and go. I look for us to be there at the spring another day or two, and I’ll feel better if those Apaches are thirty miles away and without horses.”

  What Gil didn’t say was that he couldn’t move on without Van and Rosa. If they hadn’t returned to the spring by the following morning, something was wrong, and he would have to search for them or their bodies. Apaches or not.

  Van took a cautious step forward, and the horse back-stepped. He was silently cursing himself for not having spent more time at the horse ranch, observing the Indian trainers and learning their “horse talk.” Coming from Solano, Mariposa, and Estanzio, it sounded like meaningless gibberish, but it had a calming effect on horses. Van took another step, and again the horse back-stepped. Now his ears were laid back, and that wasn’t a good sign. One more wrong move on his part, Van decided, and he was going to lose this horse. He couldn’t remember the strange words of the Indian trainers because the words seemed to have no meaning, except to the horses. Though he didn’t know the actual words, he still might imitate the sounds. He had nothing to lose except this skittish Indian pony, and he was about to lose it anyway.

  “Hoh,” said Van. “Hoh, hoh.”

  Van didn’t move. He dared not, until he saw some change in the horse’s disposition. Van tried again.

  “Hoh, amigo. Hoh.”

  Van had made no threatening moves, and the voice was soft, soothing. Slowly the flattened ears rose, and Van spoke to the horse again. This time when he took a step toward the horse, it stood its ground. Van continued to talk softly until he was within reach of the animal. It trembled at his first touch, but with his stroking and continued “horse talk,” he was able to win its trust. Rosa moved next to Van, letting the horse get used to her.

  “No saddle, no bridle, not even a rope,” said Van. “Just a horse.”

  “I always rode a mule without a saddle,” said Rosa.

  “But not with your backside naked, and raked raw from briars and thorns.”

  “I am so hungry, so weak, and so tired,” said Rosa, “I am not sure I can mount, since there is no stirrup. But if you will help me up, I promise I will stay there.”

  “Here,” said Van, linking the fingers of his right hand with those of his left. “Now you have a stirrup. But I can’t do this and hold the horse. Put your arms around his neck while I help you up.”

  Weak from hunger and exhausted from the unaccustomed walking, Van had trouble mounting the horse behind Rosa. He eventually managed it by first hoisting himself to the trunk of a fallen tree, and from there mounting the horse.

  “We must allow him to take his time,” said Rosa, “since he is carrying both of us.”

  “We’ll take it easy,” said Van, “as much for our sake as his. I feel like I been throwed and stomped. I can understand ridin’ bareback when you have to, but not with a bare bottom that’s cut, bleedin’, and sore.”

  By the time the sun was two hours high, Long John had some fever. Bo poured a pewter cup half full of the whiskey, and a little at a time the half-conscious Cajun downed it. Bo wondered if the attack had been successful. He had strained his ears, listening for gunfire, but he had heard nothing. The distance had been too great. From his and Long John’s position, he could not see the spring, but he could see what was left of the horse remuda. Beyond a doubt, they had to recover the horses the Apaches had taken. The morning drew on, and Bo dozed. Suddenly he was wide-awake, his hand on the butt of his Colt. A horse had nickered. Of course, it might have been one of theirs, but he didn’t think so. Their horses had ceased cropping grass and had their heads up, looking back toward the spring. Gil had specifically warned Bo to avoid trouble and remain with Long
John, but the Argentine cowboy crept toward the spring. Before he could see anything, he heard a voice. A very familiar voice.

  “I reckon nobody’s here,” said Van, “and it’s just as well. We’ll have time to clean ourselves up and get into some kind of clothes.”

  “Van,” cried the Argentine, “it’s Bo. Long John was hurt, and I have remained with him. Have either of you been wounded?”

  “Not by the Apaches,” said Van, “but we’ve been scratched and clawed, and we need to wash off the blood, sweat, and dirt. The Apaches took our clothes. When we’re decent, we’ll join you. We’re goin’ to take one of the iron pots to heat some water, and go down near the end of the runoff. I’m goin’ to take some matches and a tin of sulfur salve from our supplies.”

  “I have no extra clothes,” said Rosa. “I will have to use a blanket.”

  “You can’t go from here to California in only a blanket,” said Van.

  “Rosa,” said Bo, “I have extra clothes in my roll. I am closer to your size than any man in the outfit. Take a pair of trousers and a shirt.”

  “Thank you, Bo,” said Rosa. “There are stores in Tucson, and I can buy something there.”

  Suddenly she remembered the gold coins. She found her own saddlebags, and to her relief the little treasure was still there, knotted in a bandanna. She followed Van along the runoff, taking with her a pair of Bo’s trousers and a shirt. She was glad Bo and Long John were above the spring, leaving them free access to the runoff, where they couldn’t easily be seen. Van got a fire going, and they waited impatiently for the water to heat. Once it was a little warm, they scooped out handfuls and began washing away the blood, dirt, and sweat. They weren’t more than half finished when Gil and the riders returned, driving the recovered horses and the captured Indian mounts. Uneasy, Rosa looked at Van, and he tried to reassure her.

  “Bo will tell them we’re tryin’ to clean ourselves up. Not a man in the outfit would come stompin’ down here, knowin’ what we’ve been through.”

  But Rosa had her doubts, and it took Gil just a few minutes to confirm them.

  “What’n hell’s goin’ on here?” Gil demanded.

  “What’n hell does it look like?” Van responded. “We’ve been out in the briars and brush all night, and we’re dirty, sweaty, and bloody. Since you can’t seem to figure it out, we’re tryin’ to make ourselves look and feel human again.”

  “And I reckon you have to do it together,” said Gil.

  Van’s face was livid with anger, but before he could speak, Rosa took up the conversation.

  “Of course we have to do it together,” she said calmly. “There are cuts that need salve that we cannot reach. Turn around, Van.”

  Speechless, he did. Rosa grabbed the tin of sulfur salve and started rubbing it into the vicious cut that angled across Van’s backside and was again oozing blood. Gil went white all the way to his shirt collar, and without another word turned and stalked back the way he had come.

  Van laughed. “Rosa, I could kiss you! He’s so damn jealous, so poison-mad, he could bite a rattler and it wouldn’t stand a chance. He’ll give us hell until this wears off. If it ever does.”

  “We have done no wrong,” said Rosa, “and I will not be punished for something I have not done. Before this trail drive is over, Gil Austin is going to learn one thing, if he learns nothing else. I am not seeking a man to replace my dead father, to spank me when he believes I have been naughty. Gil has no claim on me. When it is time to decide whether or not he ever does, the decision may not belong to him. Perhaps it will be mine.”

  “Have you told him that?”

  “No,” said Rosa, “but I will, and knowing him, I will do it before the sunrise tomorrow.”

  The outfit was into their third day with virtually no sleep, so Gil made no demands on them for the rest of the day. After some jerked beef to satisfy their hunger, Van and Rosa slept for a while. Long John was awake, sweating and hung over. Mariposa and Estanzio spent the afternoon making moccasins for Van and Rosa from a deer hide. Two hours before sundown, Van and Rosa were up and about.

  “If you will start the fire,” said Rosa, “I will begin the supper.”

  “I ain’t et since ye left,” Long John joked. “Cain’t nobody else in the outfit cook wuth a damn.”

  Van got the fire going, and they finished supper well before dark. Gil had said little, speaking only when he had to. When it came time to assign the watches for the night, he would have to. Whatever mood Gil was in, he never ceased to be cautious, nor did he underestimate an enemy. Even with the Apaches thirty miles away and afoot, the outfit would stand watch as usual. Gil asked for first-watch volunteers, and those who were left were considered the second watch. Van usually took the first watch, and he did tonight. Rosa said nothing, and Gil’s eyes paused briefly on her. Was he expecting her to take the first watch, to avoid him? Now he knew she had no intention of avoiding him; and they both knew a storm was building, and that before the morning lightning would strike.

  They were well into the second watch before Gil said anything, and his first overture was milder than Rosa had expected. “You didn’t have to stand watch tonight,” he said. “We could have managed without you.”

  “It was I who insisted on being part of this drive,” said Rosa, “and I will do my share.”

  “Today,” said Gil, “I . . . I . . .”

  “Today you were jealous,” said Rosa, “and you made an asno of yourself.”

  “Well, what the hell did you expect?”

  “No more than I got,” said Rosa shortly.

  “But you told me nothing about—”

  “Nor will I,” said Rosa, “because you are expecting me to prove myself, to confirm my innocence. I have but one thing to say to you. Your brother has grown up in ways that you have not. Dorinda is a fortunate woman.”

  “Thanks,” said Gil, with all the sarcasm he could muster. “Did you make those decisions before or after you looked at his naked carcass?”

  “Only a man judges other men by what his eyes can see,” said Rosa. “A woman sees with her heart first, and then with her eyes. Van is a man on the inside, as well as the outside.”

  “I reckon that means I ain’t, then.”

  “I reckon it does,” said Rosa. “After you returned with the horses and came stomping after Van and me, did you ask how we were, or if we had been hurt? No, you spoke down to us, like we were a sinful Adam and Eve, and you the Almighty. You are not the man I knew on Bandera Range, who looked at me with compassion and read his Bible. You have come to treat me as one of your possessions, like your horses, your cows, and your land.”

  “Are you workin’ your way around to tellin’ me I should have said to hell with the horse remuda and come lookin’ for you?”

  “No,” said Rosa, “I understood the need for the horses, and I did not fault you for going after them. I fault you for treating Van as though he took your toy when you weren’t looking, and for you looking at me as though I already had my ears cropped and your brand burnt on my backside.”

  “Are you done preaching?”

  “No,” said Rosa.

  “Well, that’s just too damn bad,” Gil shouted, “because I aim to have my say. I know the pair of you didn’t aim to get captured and stripped by the Apaches just so you could spend the night jaybird naked. But the two of you seemed mighty familiar with one another when I found you below the spring, and it’s askin’ an almighty lot of a man to believe that nothin’ serious went on durin’ the night. All I’m askin’ is that you tell me nothin’ did.”

  “I don’t intend to tell you any such thing,” said Rosa bitterly. “You may think what you wish, and I will not speak to you again tonight.”

  That’s how they left it, each knowing it was far from finished.

  Come first light, the first thing Gil did was talk to Long John, and the Cajun vowed he could and would ride. Gil took him at his word, and his wound was bound securely. Besides recovering their own
horses, the outfit had acquired about fifty Indian horses. Gil seemed in a surly mood, so Rosa asked Ramon about the Indian mounts.

  “We take them to Tucson, I think,” said Ramon.

  “I wish Gil would just turn them loose,” Rosa said. “The Apaches have had most of yesterday and all night last night, and they know the direction we are going. Even afoot, they could be somewhere ahead of us.”

  “Gil think of that,” Ramon said. “Mariposa and Estanzio scout ahead for water. They watch for Injuns too.”

  Rosa, Long John, and Bo rode drag. Juan Padillo had joined Gil and Ramon to help handle the increase in the horse remuda. The horses were kept at a faster than usual gait, and the longhorns had to be pushed to keep up. When the herd was moving, and there seemed to be no bunch quitters, Van rode from the flank back to drag, where he could talk to Rosa.

  “We all heard him pawin’ the ground last night,” said Van. “If the wind had been right, I expect the Apaches could have heard him too. He thinkin’ we got ourselves captured and stripped so we could spend the night naked in the woods?”

  “He knows it was not something we planned,” said Rosa, “but he is not sure we did not yield to temptation after our escape. He only wants me to assure him that what he fears might have happened did not.”

  “So you didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear.”

  “No, and I will not. He is a selfish asno who is never wrong, who must have everything his way. He is too stubborn to admit he is at fault, even when he knows better. I am tempted to confirm the lie he is trying to force me to deny, to tell him we spent the night doing that of which he accuses us. But then there would be trouble between you and him, and I cannot become the cause of that.”

  “Leave him be,” said Van, “and when he can think of some way to back off without seemin’ to, he’ll leave us alone. It’s still a long ways to the goldfields.”

  “If there is no change in him, Van, if he still does not trust me out of his sight, I will not be returning to Bandera Range. I will remain there in California, and if there is nothing else for me, I will take in washing.”