by Jim Cox
“If being a good moral person and helping people in need ain’t enough, Grant, what does it take?”
“It’s really very simple. All you have to do is believe Jesus is God’s son and He’s the Savior of mankind. If you confess those words and truly mean ’em, you’re a saved man. And your salvation will never be taken away under any circumstances.”
Minutes later, Buck asked, “Do you really believe what you’ve said about salvation, Grant?”
“Yes, I do. That’s how I was able to get rid of my war dreams. Jesus said to hand over all of our troubles to Him, and he’ll give us peace of mind. He didn’t mean we wouldn’t have problems or wouldn’t struggle trying to solve them, but He would be right beside us when we do, giving us peace and comfort.”
Both men sat in silence as they drank their coffee. The only sound was the crackle of the fire. The night’s sky was so clear the stars and moon seemed so large you could almost reach up and touch them. When their cups were empty, they went back to their bedrolls, undressed down to their drawers, and crawled in. Buck’s mind was churning with what his friend had told him about his faith—it was a long time before he went to sleep.
The days stretched on, each one like the previous. Bright sun, sweltering temperature, no rain, and the endless climb up and down the mountain passes. They had been traveling due west since leaving the Lazy Horseshoe six days ago, and had come to the end of a mountainous area and entered a flat terrain. There was an occasional outcropping of large boulders.
Buck thought if he was reading the Confederate map correctly, they were midway through the Arizona Territory, and a couple hundred miles north of Flagstaff, a small town at the foot of another mountain ridge. It was a town the ranch hands bragged on and said was an up-and-coming place. Buck and Grant concluded Flagstaff would be a suitable place to stop and get the lay-of-the-land, finding out what Arizona had to offer, so they turned south.
Thoughts of Jude and Wade had mostly faded from their minds, but two days after turning south, when they had stopped behind a cluster of boulders for their noon meal, the two troublemakers showed up. Black and the other two horses were grazing a good distance from camp and didn’t hear or smell the rustler’s horses as they approached the camp downwind. Buck and Grant had already eaten and were cat-napping with their heads resting on their saddles when the thieves slipped up from behind the boulders. “Stand up and raise your hands,” Jude shouted, “and don’t try anything stupid, there’s guns aimed at your bellies. Get their pistols, Wade.” Buck and Grant glanced at each other in disgust and then rose, looking into the wide grins of Jude and Wade.
“We’ve been keeping an eye on ya’ from a distance ever since you left the ranch. We ain’t been in no hurry ’cause we wanted to catch you off guard,” Wade said.
“What do ya’ want?” Buck asked, “We ain’t got time to fool with you two.”
“You’ll take time for us or else you’ll have a belly full of lead,” Wade said with a snarl. “We already had a buyer for those twenty steers you caught us with—had ’em sold for seven dollars a head. You should’ve left us alone. It weren’t nothing off your skin, and the Lazy Horseshoe sure wouldn’t miss ’em.”
“We ain’t made that way,” Grant said. “His bread we eat. His song we’ll sing.”
“Huh. What does that mean?” Jude asked.
“It means, when we work for an outfit, it’s the same as working for ourselves.”
“Enough of this kind of talk. It’s payback time,” Wade shouted. “Payback for those cattle you took from us. Payback for making us walk all the way back to camp. Payback for being farmers and coming out here to take over.”
“What kind of payback are you talking about, Wade? Get on with it,” Buck said sternly.
“We want the money Mr. Summers paid you. We figure it’ll be close to four hundred dollars, more than enough to cover the steers you took away from us.”
“We ain’t got the money. Mr. Summers said he’d send it to us when we get settled,” Buck lied.
“Don’t give me that! You’ve got the money, and we aim to get it. Search ’em Jude. Maybe they have it on ’em.” Minutes passed as Wade held them under gun point and Jude did the searching.
“They ain’t got no money on ’em, Wade. It’s gotta be in their gear.”
Wade’s glare was penetrating. “Look through their gear, Jude. It has to be there if they ain’t carrying it.” Several minutes passed as Jude searched through every piece of gear Buck and Grant had. Their saddles and saddlebags, bed rolls, and all of the items in the horse’s back rack.
“There ain’t nothing here, Wade. I’ve looked through every bit of their belongings twice. It ain’t here.”
“I’ll give you one more chance to tell us where you’ve hid the money or else we’ll take your horses and leave you a foot,” Wade said.
“You’ll have to take our horses and gear ’cause we ain’t got the money,” Buck said, “but remember, if we die out here and you’re caught with our belongings, you’re sure to be hung.” Jude quickly looked as his cohort and then turned back to his hostages saying, “We’ll leave you one of your horses a few miles south of here. You can ride double ’til you get to a town. By the time you walk to the horse, we’ll be miles away, so don’t try to follow us. If we ever see you again, we’ll kill ya’.”
Jude fetched Black, Bell, and the steel-gray gelding and loaded all of Buck’s and Grant’s gear on them. Then the thieves swung into their saddles and headed south with the three horses tethered to them.
As the five horses topped a rise and disappeared, Buck stood. “They ain’t seen the last of us, Grant! We’re gonna get our belonging back if it takes us a year. And if they give us trouble, I’ll shoot ’em dead!” Buck said firmly with a red face and furrowed forehead. “Let’s go!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
September in Arizona was always hot, but this mid-September afternoon in 1866 was exceptionally hot with no breeze whatsoever. Their shirts were soaked and their eyes burned from beads of sweat running into them. Every so often the men removed their hats to wipe their foreheads with their already sweat soaked bandannas. Their hats were pulled low to shade their eyes from the sun, but it didn’t help much because the sun’s reflection off the bleached sand was almost as intense as the direct beams.
Buck and Grant had been walking for about an hour after their confrontation, a distance they estimated to be three miles, but they had no idea how much farther it would be until they reached the horse Jude had promised. He only said, ’We’ll leave you one of your horses a couple miles south of here.’ That could mean four or five miles -maybe more. Whatever the case, the men had no choice except to continue chasing the horse.
Walking in the deep Arizona sand was tiring. Their heeled boots with pointed toes were designed for riding in the saddle, not walking, and besides that, the boots’ smooth, leather-soles slipped back a bit with each step. However, they went on with determination—everything they owned was on their horses. Their guns, bedrolls, clothing, canteens, food, and most importantly, the hundred and eighty dollars each had earned during their eight months work for the Lazy Horseshoe. Black also carried an additional eight hundred dollars of Buck’s original money.
The men were miserable as they walked through the dry hot desert. Their sweaty feet had blisters, their bodies were exhausted, their eyes were blood-shot and burning from the sweat and bright sun, and their mouths seemed to be full of cotton. It was unspoken but each man knew if the outlaws hadn’t left them the horse, or if they didn’t find it by nightfall, they’d be in dire need of water, making it necessary for them to spend the hot part of their days in the shade and walk during the cooler hours. And even at that, their bodies would become so weak after a couple days they’d be unable to walk. Their only good thought, as they plunged along, was the knowledge they were going in the right direction because of the special prints the horses left in the sand. Since their first hour of walking, Buck and Grant had follo
wed their plan of taking a short rest stop every half hour whenever they found a place offering shade. They were now at one of these stops. The sun was in its four o’clock position, which meant they’d been chasing the horse for four hours. Nearly ten miles. During this time, they’d spoken very little, but as they sat against a boulder away from the sun, Buck started a conversation. “Grant, I know you can read and write ’cause I saw you do it a couple times at the ranch. Was it hard to learn? Who taught you?”
Grant shook his head as he turned toward Buck, “I ain’t much on it, Buck. I never had no schooling. My wife taught me to write my name and a few other simple words, but I ain’t capable to write a letter or nothing very complicated. As far as reading is concerned, I ain’t much better. I can make out a few words as long as they’re short and simple, but not many.”
“How about numbers, Grant? Are you able to count and figure out what numbers mean?”
Grant grinned. “I’m a fair hand when it comes to figuring out numbers, Buck, much better than my reading and writing.”
“You ought to be proud of yourself for being able to read and write, and doing numbers, Grant. There’s a lot of folks who can’t say that…me included.”
Grant nodded slightly and said, “I had it figured out you couldn’t read or write before we left Pinos Altos, Buck.”
A minute or two went by as Buck collected his thoughts. “I wanna learn to read and write. I know it’s important. I’ve had people, who I respect, tell me I need to learn. They said I need to be able to read and write if I’m gonna keep up with things and make something of myself. They said it’ll even be more important as the years go by. As soon as I get settled I’m gonna find someone who’ll learn me.”
“Count me in, Buck. I need to have some more learning.”
“I thought you were going on to California, Grant.”
“We’ll see. I’ve a notion to stay here in Arizona and find a town where I can do my shoeing. That is, if we ever find the horse and get back to civilization.” They both grinned even though it caused their sunbaked faces a bit of discomfort.
The sun was starting to send long shadows when the tracks led Buck and Grant to the top of a small ridge where a view of the Southern landscape stretched on for several miles. It took a few minutes for the men to observe every nook-and-cranny, every boulder, every valley, but no horse was in sight. “They ain’t gonna leave us a horse,” Grant said shaking his head. “We’d have found it by now if they’d left one. They lied to us.”
“I think you’re right, Grant. We’ve walked for nearly fifteen miles. If we ain’t come to it yet, they ain’t left one.” The men stood in silence.
Buck finally voiced his thoughts, “Wonder how far this desert stretches on. How far we have to go before we come to a town or at least some water?”
“I don’t have any idea, Buck, but we’d better be prepared to be stranded in these conditions for a few days. We’ll have to travel in the evenings and nights when it’s cool and hole-up in the shade during the day. It’ll be a miracle if we’re able to survive for more than two days in these desert conditions.” After a short rest watching the red and orange sun rays form, the travelers stood, gathered their tired, sore bodies, and with a great deal of effort, continued their pursuit.
As the evening light passed into darkness, the night air became chilly, but it was tolerable as long as they walked. Luckily, the moonlight highlighted the hoof prints in the sand, so the men trudged on until nearly midnight before stopping for a couple hours of sleep.
As usual, the next morning started off with bright sun rays, but a bit of the night’s chill was still in the air causing the temperature to be fairly comfortable. Somehow, Buck and Grant mustered up enough strength for their tired, thirsty, weakened bodies to carry on.
They were surprised at the westerly turn the thieves had taken in mid-morning. Following the western prints for a mile or so, the horse tracks suddenly became trampled over with buffalo tracks, probably from a herd heading for grass and water. Apparently, the outlaws had seen the buffalo walking in the same southerly direction as they were going, and thought by traveling ahead of the herd, the tracks would stomp-out their horses’ tracks, and they’d lose their pursuers. Buck and Grant stopped to study the situation. Finally, Grant said, “They have to ride away from the herd at some point or else the herd will turn and leave them. All we have to do is follow the buffalo, one of us on each side of the tracks.” An hour later the herd turned in a southwesterly direction and the horses continued south leaving their identifiable prints.
Sometime later, when the men were looking for a shady place to stop and wait out the heat of the day, a bank of dark clouds appeared in the far Southern horizon. “Are those rain clouds?” Buck asked.
“It sure looks like it,” Grant answered. “I hope they bring us a good rain. I ain’t sure how much longer I can go on in this heat without water. It’s going on two days since we’ve had a drink.” Buck nodded.
They had stopped behind a large boulder to wait out the afternoon’s heat, but before Buck sat down, he took another look at the distant rain clouds. Turning to Grant, he said, “I don’t think those are rain clouds, Grant. Since we’ve got closer, they look more like a range of mountains to me.”
After a closer look, Grant agreed, “I think you’re right, Buck. And if that’s the case, they’ll be some streams from melting snow.” Both men smiled at the mention of melting snow and then turned to settle themselves behind the boulders for the balance of the afternoon.
Each man had a small rock inside his mouth to generate saliva and help eliminate the craving for water, but it didn’t help much—their mouths still felt as if they were full of cotton. The temperature must have been well over a hundred degrees and the heat reflecting from the sunbaked boulders added to their discomfort. They had stopped wiping the beads of sweat from their foreheads because their bandannas were saturated with the salty sweat, and were now allowing the droplets to run down into their eyes. Their hats were pulled low to block out the brightness even though they sat in shade. Once, Grant lay down to take a catnap, but quickly sat up because of the scorching sand.
The afternoon lingered on. The sun seemed to be stuck. They were miserable, but the wretched afternoon finally ended and with it came the setting of the sun and the passing of the blistering heat.
When twilight brought coolness, they rose on wobbly legs and started out again. On and on they went, stopping only twice for a couple of hours to sleep. Eventually, the morning sky turned gray and by the time it was full light, the snow-capped mountains loomed before them. They were enormous, filling the entire Southern hemisphere and looking to be within a mile or two, but both men knew from past experiences they were at least ten miles away. The sandy landscape they’d been traveling through for days was starting to turn into a lush meadowland of grass, which was undoubtedly being watered from the mountain’s run off. They came across cow tracks and soon saw a few cows grazing in the distance.
As they continued following the horses’ tracks toward the mountain, they spotted two wranglers sitting by a fire alongside a small stream a couple hundred yards away. When they were within hearing distance, Buck shouted out, “Hello the fire.” They were waved in.
The wranglers were typical cow men of average height and thin bodies. Their suntanned faces shone a couple days of whiskers shadowed under out-of-shape, high crown, black hats. They wore dark shirts, mostly covered with vests. Wide belts with big buckles circled their pant loops. Their pants were covered with chaps extending down to scuffed-up pointed toe boots. Both men held coffee cups and one had a cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. “Pour yourself a cup and sit a spell,” one of the wranglers said even though there wasn’t anything to sit on.
“We ain’t got cups,” Buck said as he hurried past the wranglers toward the stream, “besides we gotta get to that creek water.” Buck and Grant were soon lying on their chests.
Once they had their fill and return
ed to the fire, one of the wranglers said, “You boys look like you’ve been up against it, coming off the desert afoot with no water, or any other gear. A person can die traveling through the desert the way you came.”
Buck started to explain their arrival, but one of the wrangler interrupted, “Let me pour you men a cup of coffee and give you a couple hardtacks before you start. You look like you need it.” Both wranglers tossed out their coffee, refilled their cups, and handed them to Buck and Grant. One went for the hardtack.
After Buck and Grant had finished the hardtack and coffee, they told their story, describing Wade and Jude and the horses in great detail. “Have you men seen anyone passing by here fitting those descriptions?” they asked. The wranglers looked at each other. “We were a ways east of here late yesterday afternoon when we saw men and horses like that stop here at the creek for water.”
“Got any idea where they might be headed?” Buck asked.
“They turned east a mile or so south of here and rode along the mountain. I’d say there’re headed for the little town of Flagstaff.”
“How far is it to Flagstaff? How long will it take us to walk there?” Grant asked.
“Ain’t ever walked it before,” one of the wranglers answered with a smile, “but it takes a long day by horseback.” Buck and Grant nodded as they thought of spending another grueling time on blistered feet and tired bodies.
“You ain’t thinking about walking to Flagstaff in your condition, are ya’?” a wrangler asked.
“I reckon so,” Buck said. “We gotta get our gear back and we ain’t got no other way to get there.”
The wranglers eyed each other. “The boss might loan you a couple horses for a few days if you tell him your story. He’s an obliging man. Always helps folks out when there’s a need. Besides, we’re not busy this time of the year, so the ranch horses ain’t busy.”
»»•««
At mid-morning two days later, Buck and Grant rode into Flagstaff on two sorrel geldings. One had four white stockings and both wore a Mountain Peaks’ brand. While riding east through the middle of town, they passed businesses like most small western towns. A saloon, a mercantile, a café, sheriff’s office, and a hotel with gambling and bar facilities. The buildings looked like they’d been built within the past few years and had been well maintained. Boardwalks and hitching rails fronted the businesses where folks were scurrying about and horses were tied—mostly buggies. A road running parallel and west of the business street was lined with homes and at its east end was a church and schoolhouse.
