"There must be a hundred dogs. Why do they keep so many?"
"For hard times," Van said. "When the hunting is poor and meat becomes scarce, they'll drop a dog or two in the cook pot."
"For Dios!" said Rosa. "I would starve first."
Van and Rosa, east of the Apaches, trudged north until there was no sound from the Indian camp. Even the multitude of dogs had become silent.
"Here is where we turn to the west," said Van, "and once we're far enough beyond the camp, we'll turn back to the north. By then it'll be daylight, and maybe we can start lookin' for a trail that'll lead us back to our old camp."
"Perhaps we will meet Gil and our riders when they come to take back our horses," said Rosa.
"Not likely." Van said. "Gil will want this to be a surprise attack, so I look for him to hit the Apaches from the south. That means our outfit will ride far to the east or west. Too far for them to find us."
"An attack from the south would stampede the horses to the north," Rosa said.
Van chuckled. "Now you're thinkin' like a Texan. Hit them directly from the north, and our horse remuda would end up in Mexico. If I know Gil, he'll stampede every damn horse in the camp. I think that bunch of Apaches will be glad to see us go. If there's any with revenge on their minds, they won't get far without horses."
* * *
"Bo," said Gil, "I don't look for you and Long John to have any trouble while we're gone. We're going to deal those Apaches enough misery that they'll leave us be. I aim to hit them from the south and stampede all the horses this way, so we shouldn't be away too long. If you hear something, don't be too quick to shoot. I look for Van and Rosa to find their way here."
Long John was still out of it, sleeping off the whiskey he'd taken prior to having the arrow removed. Bo had found a place away from the spring, where it was unlikely he and Long John would be discovered. From there, Bo could see the remainder of the horse remuda. When the outfit was mounted and ready to ride, Gil had some final words.
"Bo, if there is trouble—any kind of trouble—stay where you are. If Long John comes around and is in pain, or if he has fever, give him another slug of the whiskey. There's nothing more we can do for him."
Gil led out, the outfit following. The wind was from the west, and they rode ten miles eastward before turning south. That would keep them downwind from the Apaches until they were far enough south to double back for their attack. They rode in silence. Gil's thoughts were of Van and Rosa. The Apache camp was a good thirty miles south of the spring where Bo and Long John waited, and it was to there that Gil expected Van and Rosa to return. But even if they had escaped uninjured, they couldn't cover thirty miles from moon-rise to moonset, so they would have to continue their journey in daylight. If the attack on the Apaches came off as planned, the Indians would have no horses, but Van and Rosa would have no way of knowing that. He concluded that he had to depend heavily on Van's savvy and intuition. His brother had too much Austin in him to hole up and depend on somebody to come looking for him, and from a purely practical standpoint, he should know that recovery of the horse remuda couldn't wait. At dawn the Apaches might pull up stakes and move on, taking the horses with them. Gil hoped that after the attack, when they returned to the spring, Van and Rosa would be there. What bothered him most was that he couldn't be sure they were still alive. Perhaps they had been recaptured. If they had, and were yet alive after tonight's attack, their deaths would be swift and sure. Gil rode on, uncertain, but knowing what he must do.
* * *
"I reckon we'd better be lookin' for a place to hole up until daylight," Van said. "If we don't, once the moon's down, we'll have a long, uncomfortable night ahead of us."
"My hands have no feeling in them," Rosa said, "and my feet are so dead, they could be full of cactus thorns and I would never know. I fear that when I get warm, the pain will be terrible."
"Come mornin'," said Van, "you'll be wishing you had some of this cool night air. This is still early summer, and the sun will be hot. You ever had all-over sunburn?"
"Once," said Rosa, "and por Dios, I could not sit, lie down, or bear having clothes touch my body. But then 1 was very young, and madre covered me with bacon grease."
"You've filled out some since then," said Van, "and we don't have that much bacon. Besides, I'm almost certain Gil wouldn't like it, you wearin' nothing but bacon grease. We need to get as far as we can tonight, before the sun has a chance to work on us."
Wearily they went on, until they came to what seemed the runoff from a spring.
"Let's follow it," said Van. "The spring's likely at the foot of a ridge, or the water may be out of a rock crevice higher up. We need somethin' to keep the wind off us, even if it's a bunch of boulders or the lee side of a ridge."
It was a small spring on the side of a hill, and above it they found a ledge of rock that faced the east. While there wasn't much room, it kepi the west wind from their half-frozen bodies. Their crevice was too shallow to have gathered any windblown leaves, and they had to settle for the bare ground.
"At least we are out of the wind," said Rosa, "and that is enough."
Chapter 14
Though they had ridden far to the east of the Apache camp. Gil had no trouble knowing when they were even with it. The wind was still from the west, and it brought the distant yipping of a camp dog. Gil led out, and they rode on, reining up when he judged they were half a dozen miles south of the camp.
"Now we ride west a ways," he said, "but before we hit the camp, we need to know where the horses are. We also need to eliminate their sentries. This is a tricky piece of work for Mariposa, Estanzio, and their Bowies. Ready, hombres?"
"We ready," said Mariposa. "Kill all?"
"All that's in the way of us gettin' to the horses," said Gil, "and that'll likely just be the sentries. When you've cleared the way, slip back and join us, and then we'll hit them all together."
The moon had set. Mariposa and Estanzio slipped away like shadows. Despite anything Gil had said, the intrepid pair still regarded the loss of most of the horse remuda as their personal disgrace. They were eager to redeem themselves, at least in their own eyes. But the camp was full of dogs, and within a matter of minutes one of them yipped a question. His answer came with a fifteen-inch blade, and his first yip became his last. Mariposa and Estanzio finished what they had been sent to do and made their report.
"Apach' watch horse," said Estanzio, "them die."
"Where are the horses?" Gil asked. "This side of the camp, or the far side?"
"Tepee," said Mariposa, "then horse. No picket. Them loose."
"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.
"Hüieeeyah!" Gil shouted. "Hüieeeyah!"
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 grunt
ed, 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 then 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 fugi-tives 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 or. 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, th
ey 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."
California Trail Page 18
