The California Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “Rosa,” said Gil, calmly as he could, “catch up to Ramon and have him hold the herd. We may be here awhile.”

  Rosa paused, and while she didn’t speak, her eyes said plenty. Finally she wheeled her horse and galloped off after the herd. Gil turned back to study the strangers, taking the girl first. Her eyes were blue, and she had curves like a cow path down a mountainside. Her too-tight red dress went well with her red hair, and so boldly did she return Gil’s look, he hastily focused his attention on her male companion. His graying hair was over his ears, long in the back to the collar. His once white shirt was dingy gray, the cuffs and collar frayed. One end of his black string tie dangled from the pocket of his gray pin-striped trousers, and a matching coat lay across the wagon seat. His florid face was lined, making him look older than he probably was. He had the look of a man who drank too much, too often, and there was a pompous air about him. Had he been a rooster, he’d have hopped up on a wagon wheel, flapped his wings and crowed. Instead the judge strove for some outward show of humility before he spoke.

  “I . . . we . . . damn it, Austin, we’re stuck here, and we need your help.”

  “It’s customary,” Gil said, “for a wagon to carry an extra wheel, a spare axle, and a wagon jack.”

  “Obviously, our wagon is missing all those things,” said the judge.

  “There’s no help for the wagon,” said Gil. “You’ll have to leave it.”

  “No,” Kate cried, “I won’t leave my trunk!”

  “Then you’ll just have to stay here with it,” said Gil, his patience wearing thin. “You’ll ride out astraddle a horse, or you’ll stay here, and don’t plan on takin’ anything with you that won’t fit on a packhorse. You can unhitch your team and ride them, trailing with us to the nearest town. We have bridles, but no extra saddles. But we have cinch strap leather, and with blankets for a seat, I can fix you a pair of Injun rigs. It’ll be some better than ridin’ bareback.”

  “I am mortified,” Kate snapped. “A lady does not ride astraddle.”

  “Then the lady will just have to walk,” Gil responded hotly. “This is the frontier, ma’am. Male or female, you ride astraddle, or you walk. The choice is yours.”

  He turned away in disgust, failing to see the murderous look the judge bestowed on the uppity girl. Her entire manner suddenly changed, and when she spoke again, she got Gil’s attention.

  “I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “You’re right. We’re asking you for help and I’m being difficult. Tell us what we should do.”

  Unknowingly she had reacted in a manner that appealed to Gil’s troubled vanity. How many times had Rosa raked him over the coals, refusing to give an inch? Of course, he recalled guiltily, she had been right most of the time. Now here was a woman who backed down, apologized for her sharp tongue, and had accepted him without reservation. He eyed her with new interest, and she smiled. Gil rode to the horse herd, and from one of the packhorses took cinch strap leather and bridles. From another he took four extra wool blankets. He then caught up a horse upon which the Donnegans could pack their belongings. He said nothing to the riders who circled the restless longhorns, and they said nothing to him, but he knew they didn’t approve of his dallying around with these inept strangers. As he rode back to the duo and their disabled wagon, it was just as well he couldn’t hear the comments of his outfit.

  “Something tells me,” Van said, “this trail drive will be movin’ mighty slow for as long as that pair’s with us. If they can ride, why were they piddlin’ along in a wagon anyhow?”

  “There is a trunk,” said Rosa. “Dresses, perhaps, all of them showing too much of her. She dresses like a puta.”

  The rest of the riders kept their opinions to themselves, waiting to see how this situation might affect them. For now, they watched in gleeful anticipation as Gil made preparations to mount these tenderfeet. First he unhitched the bay and the roan from the disabled wagon. Using the long cinch leather straps, he fitted each horse with a front and back cinch. He then folded the blankets, two for each horse, into a passable seat. The pad was held in place by tucking each end under the cinches.

  “Now,” said Gil, “I’ll have to get the two of you mounted so I can rig some makeshift stirrups. You’ll have to get used to the horses, and they’ll have to get used to you. If you’re afraid of a horse, he’ll know it, and he’ll take every advantage.”

  The makeshift stirrups couldn’t be used as stirrups in mounting or dismounting, else the entire rig slide off the horse’s back and under his belly. Such “stirrups” were useful only to steady the rider once he had mounted, and both feet had to remain in place. Gil assisted the judge in mounting the bay, and Donnegan, listing like a sinking ship, slid off the other side. Getting him mounted a second time, Gil managed to get the stirrup loops at the right length on the front cinch, and got his feet into them before he slipped again.

  “Keep your feet in those loops,” Gil warned, “or you’ll end up on the ground again. When you’re ready to dismount, kick both feet free at the same time and slide off.”

  With a sigh, Gil turned to Kate. Getting her mounted wasn’t difficult, but keeping her there was. While her long dress was almost ground length, it still hiked higher than decency allowed, and she sat there uncertainly. The roan was as nervous as she, and when the horse suddenly back-stepped, she lost one of the stirrup loops. The rig shifted and she slipped down the offside of the horse as the judge had done, but her descent was far more spectacular. Her startled screech terrified the already skittish roan, and he went galloping down the back trail. Gil did a most ungentlemanly thing. He left Kate sitting there, the voluminous dress over her head like a tent, and went after the runaway roan. When he returned with the horse, nobody spoke. Silently, Gil hoisted the girl back into the position she had just vacated.

  “The both of you just sit there until I return,” he said. “I’ve held the drive up as long as I can. I’ll load the packhorse for you then.”

  The riders saw him coming, erasing their grins and wiping the tears of mirth from their eyes before he arrived.

  “Ramon,” Gil said, “ride and tell Mariposa and Estanzio to take the horses on to water. It’s maybe five more miles. Then you take the longhorns ahead, but don’t push them. I’ll be along as soon as I can.”

  “Gil,” said Van, “while I don’t like to interfere with you bein’ a good Samaritan, this purely ain’t a Sunday evening lark for eastern dudes that don’t know one end of the horse from the other.”

  “But you are interfering,” Gil said angrily. “Would you have left those people sittin’ there with a busted wagon wheel?”

  “You’re just muddyin’ the water,” Van said. “Long as you’re bossin’ this trail drive, it ought to come first. If you aim to wet-nurse these dudes at the expense of the drive, then maybe you should just do that, and let us appoint another trail boss.”

  “You, maybe?”

  “Why not?” Van replied. “I’d devote all my time to it, and we’ll go on to the goldfields like we planned.”

  The situation was getting out of hand, and the riders hesitated to become involved, because they liked both the Austins. Rosa recalled Bo’s quiet way of dousing the flames when tempers flared, and she proposed a truce, if only temporary.

  “Let us wait until tomorrow, after we have stopped for the night,” she said, “before we judge what Gil is trying to do. Then let us decide if these strangers are costing us miles because they cannot keep up with the drive. If they are slowing us, then we cannot afford to lose time because of them. We can then leave these people some food, allowing them to go as slowly as they wish, or Gil can stay with them. Is that not fair to them and to us?”

  “Damn right it is,” Van said. “One slow day won’t hurt us, but I won’t have it plague us any farther.”

  Gil resented Rosa backing him into such a corner, but he was in no position to argue. If he disagreed, there would be trouble, and he would be the cause of it. He sighed.

&nb
sp; “All right,” he said, “I’ll talk to them and explain our situation. Now let’s get this herd moving.”

  When the longhorns were again on the trail, Gil rode back to the cause of the controversy. He had left the Donnegans astride their mounts, and he noted with a small glimmer of hope that they hadn’t slid off. Without beating around the bush, he told them of tomorrow’s ultimatum.

  “I’m trail boss,” he concluded, “and my first obligation is to the trail drive. As I’ve had pointed out to me, helping you folks is one thing, but teaching you to ride is another. We’re still half a dozen miles from water, and the herd will be there before sundown. Whatever it takes, I aim to be there too. Now do you aim to ride sittin’ up, or do you want me to tie you belly down across your mounts?”

  “I’ll try it sitting up,” said Donnegan.

  “So will I,” said Kate. “I’m sorry you’re losing time because of us.”

  Gil looked upon her even more favorably. He loaded their belongings on the packhorse, and while their progress was slow, the Donnegans kept their seats and did better than he expected. But the real test would come tomorrow. By dawn their backsides would be in such a state, neither of the Donnegans would ever want to see another horse. He seriously doubted they could keep up with the trail drive, but he didn’t want to abandon them. He wanted to see more of the girl with the red hair.

  The horses and longhorns reached water before sundown, but Gil and the weary Donnegans didn’t arrive until after dark. The judge rode with his arms around the horse’s neck, not so much to avoid falling as to take some of the pressure off his hefty backside. Rosa had saved supper for them, but they had to help themselves. Finished eating, Donnegan abandoned all dignity, found a place away from camp, and stretched out on his belly. Rosa took the first watch, not wishing to encounter Gil during the night. Much to her disgust, but not to her surprise, when Gil arose to begin the second watch, the Donnegan woman was with him. Rosa slept little, worried a lot, and imagined the worst. Gil felt self-conscious with Kate Donnegan walking, so he dismounted and walked with her. He hadn’t asked her to come along, nor had she asked permission. Gil knew very little about this father-daughter duo, but he suspected he was about to learn more. While propriety didn’t allow him to question her, he could listen.

  “Daddy retired from the bench in New York,” she began, “and the West excites him. That’s why we’re here.”

  “Gold fever can get to a man, I reckon.”

  “Oh, we’re not here for the gold,” she said hastily. “Once our holdings in New York have been liquidated, Daddy plans to select a partner and establish a school of law somewhere in the West.”

  “I’ve heard there’s a crying need for lawyers in mining country,” Gil said. “There’s always claim jumping and boundary disputes.”

  “Daddy’s school of law will be in a large city,” said Kate. “While I don’t mind the West, I’m used to town living, and I think San Francisco will suit me. That’s where our funds will be sent. We should have stayed aboard ship and continued there, but Daddy wanted a look at Los Angeles.”

  “My uncle Stephen was a lawyer,” Gil said. “I’ve enjoyed reading some of his books.”

  “The Stephen Austin who founded the Texas colony? Daddy says he was a brilliant man, that Texas ought to build a monument to him. He’s the kind of man Daddy has in mind for a partner.”

  “It’s a mite late for that,” Gil said. “Uncle Steve’s been dead fourteen years, but I’m sure he’d have been flattered.”

  “It’s never too late to build a monument to him. You could call it the Stephen Austin School of Law, and you could become its first graduate.”

  “Me? I’m just a cowboy, liking to read, but seldom finding the time.”

  “But you’re not all that satisfied, being just a cowboy. It’s just the nature of most men, wanting to fly as high as they can. But you must forgive me. Here I am trying to change the course of your life. This is just Daddy’s dream, and I’ve really no right to be talking about it.”

  No more was said on the subject, but the seed had been planted. . . .

  22

  June 19, 1850. North of the Mojave River

  The outfit was ready to move out at first light. Except for the latest addition to the drive, the Donnegans. Gil finally roused them up, threatening to leave them behind.

  “What happened to breakfast?” Judge Donnegan asked, bleary-eyed.

  “Breakfast was an hour ago,” Gil said, striving to hold his temper. “You were called. Now you’ll wait for supper.”

  “There’s no water on our map,” Van said, “until we reach the Cuyama River, and that’s a good eighty miles. You got any objections if I send Estanzio to scout ahead for water?”

  “No,” Gil said, “and have him ride out immediately. We’ll have to count on unmarked springs and water holes from here to the Cuyama.”

  Gil and the Donnegans soon fell behind. Van and Rosa were at drag, and she rode her horse alongside his so they could talk.

  “I do not know about this judge,” Rosa said, “but the hija has not been honest. There is a hardness in her eyes I do not like.”

  “I don’t think Gil’s lookin’ at her eyes,” Van said, “and for that reason, I have my doubts about this ’good Samaritan’ business.”

  “He cannot get that gitano pair to water before dark,” Rosa said, “and there will be the big fight. He shirks his duty as trail boss, but he will not allow you to replace him.”

  “There’ll be no fight,” said Van. “I’ll talk to the rest of the outfit so they’ll understand. Without Gil gettin’ his hackles up, I learned that these Donnegans are goin’ to San Francisco. Accordin’ to our map, that’s about two hundred forty miles.”

  “Por Dios, they will be with us for three weeks!”

  “No matter,” Van said. “If you’re right, and this pair’s ridin’ under false colors, they’ll give themselves away. As for Gil, there’s nothin’ like a good, strong dose of somethin’ to make a man sick of it. I’m thinkin’ he’ll have to be cured by the hair of the dog that’s bitin’ him.”

  “From this hija, this puta,” said Rosa, “I fear that Gil may get a dose of something that will not go away.”

  “Not if you refuse to leave them alone,” Van said. “You played right into her hands last night. From here on, take the same watch Gil takes, and stay within sight of him. I don’t think Gil will fall to such temptation, but it won’t hurt if he has a conscience lookin’ over his shoulder.”

  “He will hate me,” Rosa said.

  “No he won’t. If he’s the kind of man you want, and the kind of man I think he is, he’ll end up thanking you.”

  “I will do as you say,” said Rosa. “I would have him hate me before I would see this perra get her claws into him.”

  When Estanzio returned, Van estimated they had to travel about twelve miles to water. It should be an easy day, with only chaparral plains as far as they could see. Rosa looked back but was unable to see Gil and the Donnegans. Far behind, Gil’s mood shifted from sympathy to disgust and back again. He contemplated, just as Rosa had, the long miles ahead. Even if Van and the rest of the outfit tolerated this, he thought morosely, he wasn’t sure he could. Suppose there was trouble and they had to ride for their lives? He dared not even consider such a possibility, and forced his thoughts off in another direction. Kate’s talk of a school of law named for Stephen Austin intrigued him, and even more so the possibility that he might study law. He wondered what it would be like, spending his days in town, riding home in the evening. But if Donnegan established such a school in or near San Francisco, where did he fit in? He had no intention of remaining in California, and even if he did, it made no sense naming the place after Stephen Austin. A memorial to Stephen Austin should be in Texas. Slowly it dawned on him what Kate had been suggesting. Suppose he, Gil Austin, became the partner Judge Donnegan was seeking? Kate had implied that for the right man, Judge Donnegan’s plans might be changed. What bett
er place for the Stephen Austin School of Law than San Antonio? It was an exciting possibility, and Gil determined to explore it further. Once the herd was sold, there would be money aplenty, and perhaps Gil Austin was destined to become more than just a cowboy. . . .

  The Donnegans were game, and despite their discomfort, managed to reach water before dark. Gil was pleasantly surprised when the confrontation he had been expecting didn’t materialize. His good humor lasted until he found Rosa on the second watch with him, and he suspected that accounted for the outfit’s acceptance of the Donnegans. Rather than try to convince him of the error of his ways, they were going to keep him out of mischief by keeping an eye on him. In defiance, he sought out Kate and took her with him when he began the second watch. It was a poor watch on his part, he thought guiltily, because he didn’t circle the herd as the other nighthawks were doing. He held the reins while his horse cropped grass, and talked to Kate. Rosa made her rounds quickly, often riding close enough to hear their words.

  “That little tamale follows you around like she’s your mother,” Kate said angrily. “Does she take a switch to you when you’re naughty?”

  “Ignore her,” said Gil, thankful the darkness hid the flaming red of his embarrassment. “I want to talk to you about this school of law the judge has in mind. I might consider goin’ partners with him, if he’d start it in San Antonio. Once the herd is sold, I could put up some gold.”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said, as calmly as she could. “This is his dream, and I doubt he’d accept your money. I don’t know how he’d feel about Texas. It seems there’s so much potential here. Really, I spoke out of turn when I mentioned it to you. You’ll have to talk to him, but not until I have spoken to him first. To justify your interest, I’ll have to tell him that I spoke of it to you. He becomes angry when I talk too much.”

  June 24, 1850. Sierra Madre foothills

  After five hard days on the trail, the Donnegans had progressed to the extent they could at least keep within sight of the drag riders. Gil felt better. Just when he had begun to wonder if the judge ever intended to approach him about the proposed school of law, Donnegan did.