Nick Stolter

by Lee Anne Wonnacott

  An hour later, Stolter leaned against one of the posts and watched as the horses grazed in the pasture. He’d made it this far, had food, a warm fire, and he was still alive. Tomorrow he would buy a few more supplies in the next town and keep moving towards home. He was asleep within seconds after wrapping the blanket around himself.

  ###

  Rising out of the dusty flat land was an area marked by Gary on the map as Sawyer Flats. Wind damaged sandstone spires of rock had been honed into sharp points. Outcroppings of black basalt and lava jutted from the earth. Red dirt and clay missed with dark brown rich earth where tiny green plants pushed up through it to find the sun.

  Decades of sudden fierce flash floods had carved through the land making sudden gullies and arroyos where the sandstone forced the water to turn around curves. The horseman paused on a butte to look at the tall saguaro sentinels of the desert. Birds flitted in between the spiny arms chasing bugs.

  A gust of wind caught his attention and his eyes turned south. A storm was blowing up with gray angry clouds headed towards him. He wound his way down the north end of the butte and into a stand of stunted trees sheltered up against the sandstone. More rain was coming and he had to work fast. He tied a rope between two of the twisted trees. He slung the canvas tarp over the rope and created a tent as the wind started to whip up. He pounded small wood spikes down through the corners to hold the tent down. He shoved in a couple of alder and birch poles, stacking them to get him up off the ground. It was when he took off his boots that he felt the soreness in his arches and ankles. Somehow he had hurt his feet and had been ignoring the discomfort.

  Over half an hour the rain poured in sheets. Thick grayness blotted out the other side of the gully and the drumming beat of rain on the canvas drowned out any other noises. After the first downpour, there was a few seconds of brilliant sun licking against the rust colored cliffs above him. It was gone as fast as it came. His plans to put miles behind him washed away with the heavy rain.

  The horses were gone out of sight. They must have found grass somewhere. Stolter pulled a chunk of the stale cornbread out of his saddlebags and chewed on the rough, grainy texture. He thought about a fire but there were more clouds rolling over the top of him and the rain would have drowned the flames.

  The flickering match showed the time to be 8:30. He’d managed to get some rest for almost four hours. Judging by the stars overhead the storm had blown itself out or moved on north. His bellow growled and he needed food. He busted up two of the long poles from inside the tarp and managed to get a couple sparks to catch in the kindling. He ate the last of his beef and beans and drank down two cups of coffee.

  Perhaps he had just enough sand left to finish what he had started. He had already gone farther than he had anticipated. He had committed to seeing this ride through and knew he had to make it home. But just what that meant he had no idea from here on, But he was determined. Stolter knew he had to avoid getting hurt, avoid trouble and try to keep himself healthy. He couldn’t let himself get drained of energy and run down. That was a sure way to have sickness come settle in. And sickness was what killed Marianna.

  He wasn’t going anywhere in the dark. It was a foreign unknown landscape and he would be a fool to get back in the saddle. He’d never find all the horses. He built up the fire and drank another cup of coffee. He looked at the map again and tried to memorize the next three stops, but his mind drifted away to pretty brown hair and the memory of her soft skin. He laid down and pulled the blankets over himself. He watched the fire until his eyes grew heavy.

  ###

  The day dawn with a clear blue sky. Dozens of water drops fell when the breeze blew through the trees. The pasture looked like it had hundreds of gleaming diamonds in the grass.

  Stolter had been riding for about an hour after leaving Sawyer Flats. The terrain had become more flat lands, scrub brush and fragrant sage. After he came around a turn, the road broadened out and it appeared to be a crossroads where wagon tracks led to the edges. Stolter slowed down to take a look. Catty corner across the intersection there were three small dark haired children standing on a big wooden box about three foot high.

  “Mr. Nick! Mr. Nick!” They smiled and waved their hands. Stolter frowned and pulled his roan over to the kids who are jumping up and down.

  Stolter opened his mouth and started to say something, but the biggest boy put his fingers in his mouth and gave a two toned whistle at the horses. They all pricked up their ears and meandered around. The big Mexican paint nickered back and tossed his head as he moved in between Stolter and the children.

  “Icksy! Icksy!” They all hugged and scratched the big stallion, talking to him in rapid Spanish. As the oldest boy, maybe eight or nine, threw the padded blanket over the back of the stallion, Stolter realize these were Mexican children. They all wore khaki pants, pull over woven cotton shirts, colorful quilted jackets and brown leather boots. They looked like miniature grownups.

  “Who are you? Stolter looked from child to child and waited for someone to answer. “Oh, is this your horse?”

  The oldest boy grinned. “I am Eduardo, but everyone calls me Eddie.” He pointed to the next boy. “Juan.”

  The littlest girl waved and smiled. She did not look to be any older than about three or four. She opened her mouth and then looked at Eddie who nodded. “My name is Margarita but you can call me Chita.” She giggled, then blushed and buried her face in Juan’s shirt.

  “Very good, Chita.” Eddie grinned and looked at Stolter.

  “She’s been practicing her English.” Eddie reached and patted her black hair. Then he turned to the big mustang.

  “This is Viento Salvaje. It means the wild one of the wind. We call him Icksy, for short. Nobody owns the mustangs, Mr. Nick. They are wild animals, but they let us ride if we feed them.” Stolter watched the smiling, tiny girl feed apple halves to the big horse. She could have walked underneath the big horse, she was so small.

  “Wait. How do you know who I am?” Stolter rubbed his face with his bandanna.

  “Rio said you would be coming by. We were waiting for the ride to Yuma. To see my aunt, who is sick. We are going to help her for a couple days.” It was a shining eye, white toothy smile of a child. All three children were smiling. Stolter frowned and a dozen questions raced through his mind.

  Each child had a big cloth satchel on their back. Eddie climbed back up onto the tall, wooden box and then spread another padded blanket onto the horse’s back.

  “All three of you will ride the same horse? Do you want to ride with me?” Stolter watched the girl get on first, then the older boy and then the tallest boy. They got comfortable with their feet in the little leather straps.

  “No, thank you. We’ve been waiting for him. We ride him all the time.” They had an odd look of puzzlement on their small faces.

  “Where are your mom and dad? Why are you out there all by yourself?” Stolter had started to let the questions out.

  “We aren’t all alone. You’re here. Icksy is here. We’re late. Let’s ride.” Stolter was incredulous and shook his head. Eddie clucked his tongue and the mustang walked towards the road and then broke into a trot. Stolter blinked and watched the other horses fall into line behind the mustang.

  Stolter yelled, “Wait. Why are we late? When was Rio here?”

  It was a verbal command the boy gave to the big horse. It was moving art to watch the weight shift and the powerful animal shift his weight into an easy lope. Stolter then woke up to having to follow three unknown Mexican children on a Mexican mustang with no bridle on a strange trail.

  Five miles seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. The children rode as a single rider. When Stolter looked behind him it was an astounding sight to see two abreast herd running with them. His roan had to pull up to avoid hitting the mustang when they slowed to veer off the trail and then picked up speed once again.

  There was a row of weathered shacks with women and children waving as the horses passed
through. The kids started yelling in Spanish and waving their hands. Two cloth packets were tossed to the waiting hands. Cheers followed, kisses were thrown and hands were waved to them as they ran up a narrow path and veered back onto the main road. Stolter waved and chuckled to himself at the informal delivery systems.

  The group galloped another three miles until the mustang slowed to a trot. Stolter pulled up alongside the mustang and again was amazed at the waving, smiling children. Just then the trot became a walk. Stolter looked around at small scrub trees, sandy ground and barren hills in the distance.

  The oldest boy gestured to the left and the mustang turned into a path in between boulders and trees. Stolter followed about a quarter mile and then stopped on the side of the path. All fourteen horses walked in. The path led to a wide grassy area with a flowing creek to the east side. The kids jumped down and all the horses waded into the water.

  Stolter waved a hand. “I don’t think this is on the map, Eddie. I don’t want to be lost.”

  “We know all the stops between here and Yuma, Mr. Nick. You won’t get lost.” The boy grinned. “Show me your map and I’ll help you with it.”

  Stolter unfolded the brown paper map and Eddie traced the route with his finger to Yuma.

  “Just after Silverhaven and before Yuma, we come to my aunt’s house. You can stop and eat and stay overnight. The horses can rest and graze there. Chita, give me your pencil so I can mark the map for Mr. Nick.” The small girl rustled around inside her pouch and then handed a lead pencil to Eddie.

  The young boy made four wavy lines at difference places on the map. “These are the water holes that are safe. It is where we usually stop.”

  Stolter looked at the boy. “What about the places I have already marked as water holes?”

  Eddie looked at Juan who nodded. “Too many people stop at those water holes, Mr. Nick. Too many not good people. We’ve had trouble on the times when we’ve stopped at those water holes. There are other places to stop that are safer.” Just then Juan said something in Spanish.

  “We have to ride if we are going to make it on time, Mr. Nick.” Eddie tugged on Juan’s jacket.

  “Come on, help me check the horses.” The kids stood up and one by one checked over all the horses.

  “Mr. Nick!?” Eddie called out. Stolter walked over to the boy who was standing next to one of the black yearlings.

  “He’s got a bad cut on his back leg. We’re going to put some mashed up cactus on it and wrap it up so it doesn’t get real bad. When we get to Aunt’s house, my uncle will take another look at it.” Eddie pointed to the rear leg as Juan and Chita trotted into the brush.

  Stolter slid his hand down the flank and then looked at the bloody four inch long gash. Stolter frowned. “How do you know to use cactus?”

  “Because that’s what Uncle uses at the ranch. We watch and learn, Mr. Nick. These horses are important to our lives every day. We have to take care of them.” Juan murmured to the horse as he cleaned the wound with the edge of his shirt.

  Chita laid down three chunks of cactus onto a flat rock and began mashing them with another rounded rock. Juan lifted the top saddle pad off Icksy and laid it flat on the ground. With his knife he ripped out the seam and folded back the leather. Inside, underneath was a thick white cotton blanket which he cut a six inch wide strip. He handed the long strip to Eddie.

  Several times the yearling nickered and was answered by Icksy. Stolter’s roan nickered twice. There was an unusual communication going on while the kids tended to the yearling.

  Chita cut up two apples and after Eddie stood up to wash his hands, she fed the pieces to the yearling. Stolter felt a sudden pang as the yearling had always danced sideways to avoid the man’s hands. Yet here was a small child, without fear, feeding it from her hand. There was a sudden memory rushed over his mind of Lola out in the yard feeding a carrot to a young colt. The white bandage covered the wound and had been tied on with a small narrow leather strap. They all mounted up and Icksy carrying the children led the way west.

  Chapter 19

  At dusk, Icksy and the children slowed to a trot and then to a walk. Eddie pointed to the blocked path. Prickly pear cacti had grown across the trail off to the right. The deep green thick skin was dotted with pink to reddish flowers with broad petals. Stolter took out his machete and after about twenty minutes had cleared the path. The mustang led the herd down a slight incline, then left around an outcropping of black rock and about fifty yards further there was a springs.

  Juan and Chita cleared out the campfire ring and gathered kindling and wood. From each child’s pack w they took out a soft canvas sling. Eddie tied the rope end between the trees. The three saddle pads were sorted into the slings. The kids had brought their own hammocks.

  Stolter took out one of the steel pans and shared food with the children. After cleaning up their meals, they took off their shoes and climbed up into the hammocks.

  “Would you tell us a story while we go to sleep, Mr. Nick?” Juan asked. The dancing light of the fire threw shadows up onto the trees and rocks. It seemed years since he had told a story to Colton.

  Stolter rolled out his bedroll and then built up the fire. He nodded and looked at the three sets of shining eyes watching him.

  “Jordy Lawrence and Zeb Black used to ride hired gun for the stagecoach from Dodge City down to Oklahoma City twice a month. It’s about 275 miles and because it was a common route, it was a pretty good road to run.” Nick poked and stirred the fire.

  “Mick Nissen was the driver. Long time driver. Been all over the US taking stages just about everywhere. You knew you were in good hands with Mick driving. It had been bad weather on that trip. Lighting and thunder. Lots of rain. Rain makes the road muddy. As they went around a corner the stage slid in the mud, hit a rock and broke one of the rear wheel. It was in a dozen pieces.”

  “On that trip there were only four passengers, two men and two women. Nobody wanted to travel in the rain but these four people had wanted to get to Oklahoma City for some reason. So here they all were broke down alongside the road. Mick knew there wasn’t another stage due for two days going in either direction.”

  “One of the women said she would ride one of the stage horses if they were to be unhooked and given some reins. She was a country girl used to riding bareback and mainly with a halter. The driver, Mick, didn’t want a woman out riding by herself and he raised all kinds of complaints about a lone woman and things.”

  “Now Jordy and Zeb were hired to keep the passengers safe. They talked it over and said that they’d ride alongside the women if they wanted to ride on into Fort Supply. It was a four horse team pulling a small stage and they were experienced horses so it wouldn’t be any difficulty having the women ride. It was about twenty more miles. That way they could send back a wagon with a wheel and fix the stage. Because he was the driver, Mick had to stay with the stage.” Stolter noticed that Chita had rolled over to face away from the fire.

  “The two men passengers start talking about how they don’t want to stay alone with the broken down stage. They don’t want to walk either so they weren’t too happy about riding the stage horses but they did. Before they all rode away, the driver had them help pull the stage over to the edge of the road out of the way. Mick built himself a fire and settled in to wait for help.”

  “At the Wells Fargo station in Fort Supply, Jordy and Zeb found someone to fix the stage, another wheel and help with the horses. About an hour later, it was close to sunset then and still raining fairly hard. It was a miserable ride back to the broken down stage.”

  Stolter said, “Except the stage wasn’t there when Jordy and Zeb got back. It was gone.”

  Eddie asked, “What do you mean gone?” Stolter nodded.

  “At first, they thought that they had gone to the wrong spot in the road. But they found the gouged out dirt where the axle had dug in when the wheel broke. Zeb said that he found the blacked rocks of the fire ring that the driver had started.�
� Stolter shook his head as he poked a long stick into the burning embers.

  Juan asked, “Who took it?”

  “They never found it. Jordy and Zeb think that another stage came long and helped somehow to fix the wheel. Now, there aren’t too many stages rolling along with spare wheel on board. That’s like teeth in a chicken. You don’t find them.”

  Eddie swung himself into the hammock. “So what happened to the stage?”

  “Jordy and Zeb told me about it over beers one night in Dodge City. They never did find out what happened. They never saw Mick again. And he was one of the top drivers. No way would he have ever had anything to do with the wheel breaking. Mick had been talking about heading out to San Francisco so Jordy and Zeb thought that was where he went.”

  Juan asked, “How long ago was that, Mr. Nick?” Stolter was quiet for a moment while he thought back over the years.

  “Close to eighteen years ago. It was during one of the last runs I made between Missouri Springs and Dodge. Long time ago,” Stolter sat down and pulled off his boots. Both boys had rolled over in their hammocks away from the low burning fire.

  “We’ll ask around and see if anyone remembers Mr. Mick. I think someone in the family probably knows him.” It was Eddie’s voice in the darkness.

  Stolter smiled to himself. “Goodnight Eddie. Goodnight Juan.”

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  Stolter woke up to the sound of a crackling fire. Eddie tendes a small flat pan warming tortillas to one side. Three small metal pans with lids balanced on the rocks. Stolter pulled on his boots and stood up to stretch. He shook his head and rubbed his face. Chita grinned and then looked at Juan who laughed. He made coffee and sat down to eat a savory beef missed with soft beans in one of the tortillas. Half an hour later, they mounted up and trotted out onto the road.

  There must have been a lot of rain up in the surrounding hills because the water rushed past in Willow Creek. “The water is too high right here, Mr. Nick. We’ll have to go on farther and try to cross up near the arch.”