Swiftly they filled the grave, and when it was done, Guthrie recited the Twenty-third Psalm. Reaching the wagons, Hattie refilled the coffeepot with water and added coffee. It would be a long night, with only the water in each wagon’s kegs.
“We’ll resume sentry duty as it was before,” Mac said, “with Red, Buck, Haze, and me takin’ the last watch.”
The night passed uneventfully, and the next morning after breakfast, Mac rode south in search of water. Trinity took one of the extra horses and soon caught up with him.
“Haven’t you noticed you always end up in trouble when you ride with me?” Mac asked.
“I’m tired of woman talk,” said Trinity. “As opposed to more of that, I’d welcome trouble with you.”
“What’s wrong with woman talk?” Mac asked.
“Since we buried that soldier,” said Trinity, “there’s been a whole new sympathy outburst. I’m afraid I know three females who are beginning to think of our quest as some noble undertaking. Soldiers are looking more desirable, and brave beyond the call of duty.”
“I reckon you don’t share that feeling,” Mac said.
“No,” said Trinity, “I don’t. The country’s not at war, and service is voluntary. After the experience I’ve had, I think too many men join the military to escape trouble at home. Then when soldiering becomes more difficult and dangerous than they had imagined, they become misfits and deserters.”
Mac laughed. “You’re startin’ to think and talk like a man.”
“I suppose one has to on the frontier,” said Trinity. “It’s a man’s world here, and it’s all grim reality. Back East, women are pampered. We’ve never had to tend a man who’s been shot, or watched a young man barely out of his teens die of blood poisoning. And do I have to tell you what people would have said, had the four of us been dragged naked into the presence of a dozen men, and then viewed in the same state by the four men who came to our rescue?”
“Tell me,” Mac said.
“We’d have been disgraced,” said Trinity. “No decent man would have ever given us a second look. Back East, reputation is everything, and one who is exposed to sin is forever branded as having partaken of it.”
“What a lot of hogwash,” Mac said. “The only reputation that matters on the frontier is the good sense to stay alive by whatever means may be necessary. Many a Western man has taken a wife out of a whorehouse. By Western standards, the four of you are as pure as driven snow.”
Trinity laughed. “I can see that now. We didn’t die of mortification, and we haven’t compromised our reputations. That’s all the reason I need to remain in the West.”
“If there are no more delays,” said Mac, “we should reach Fort Griffin within two more weeks.”
“Suppose we can’t reach the next nearest water by sundown tomorrow?”
“Then we may be in trouble,” Mac replied. “Provided we cover ten miles today and ten more tomorrow, we’ll still be forty miles from the White River. When we left Texas in the spring on a trail drive, there hadn’t been a lot of rain. That often is the promise of a dry summer, with the possibility of the only sure water being the rivers.”
“If we can reach the White River, what’s beyond that?”
“The Colorado,” said Mac, “and maybe another dry trail of about sixty miles. But we can follow the Colorado right on to Austin.”
The terrain grew rough, with occasional draws, but no sign of water.
“We’re not riding due south anymore,” Trinity said.
Mac laughed. “You’re becoming a Western woman, ma’am. You’re right, we’re veering to the southeast. You’ll notice there are more hummocks and arroyos, the rougher the land becomes. In Texas there are some mighty good springs in some unlikely places. Usually at the deep end of some arroyo, flowing from beneath solid rock.”
They had ridden only another mile or so when Mac reined up.
“What is it?” Trinity asked.
“Bees,” said Mac. “Look.”
At first Trinity saw nothing, but then one of the tiny winged creatures caught her eye and her vision followed it until it disappeared in the same general direction they were riding.
“I saw one,” Trinity said. “What does it mean?”
“Water,” said Mac, “and not too far off. Let’s ride.”
They soon reached the mouth of an arroyo, and there was a dampness where the runoff had been swallowed up by the sand.
“We’ll dismount and lead the horses,” Mac said.
But they had trouble holding the horses, for the animals had smelled the water. When they reached the blind end of the arroyo, they found the water tumbling from a crevice in the rock into a clear pool a dozen feet across.
“What a beautiful sight,” said Trinity. “To think we could have ridden within a mile of this and never have known it was here. How did you know to watch for bees?”
“It’s just somethin’ you learn on the frontier,” Mac said. “It never fails during a dry season, if you have patience. I’d been looking for bees for an hour before I finally sighted one.”
“I feel so foolish. I thought we were just riding until we stumbled on water.”
“Don’t ever rule out that possibility,” said Mac. “We might have found this water on our own, but when I saw the bees, I knew it was here.”
“My God, I shudder when I think of Hattie, Rachel, Elizabeth, and me setting out for Fort Griffin on our own. There’s so much we didn’t know, and would have had no way of learning.”
“It’s been the death of many an Easterner, I reckon,” Mac said. “The things you most need to know are the things you never learn until you get here, until you experience them. Experience is a hard teacher, especially when that experience may leave your bones whitening somewhere on the plains.”
“Is it safe for the horses to drink? This fellow’s about to drag me into the spring.”
“Yes,” said Mac, “they can drink, and we’ll take ourselves a long drink before we ride back with the good news.”
“The canyon’s too narrow to bring the wagons in here,” Trinity said.
“We’ll leave the wagons on the rim and post our sentries there,” said Mac. “Even if the arroyo was wide enough, we couldn’t bring the wagons in, nor could we ever be safe down here. We’ll eat here, near the water, water our horses and mules, and then spread our blankets on the rim, near the wagons. Tomorrow morning, we’ll repeat the procedure and fill all the water barrels.”
“I suppose this is another important thing a tenderfoot would overlook,” Trinity said.
“Usually,” said Mac. “An enemy with rifles could cut you down from the rims before you could fire a shot.”
Mac and Trinity mounted and rode back to meet the wagons.
“How far do you think we rode before finding the water?” Trinity asked.
“More than ten miles,” said Mac. “Probably closer to twelve.”
“Perhaps the thought of fresh water will excite everybody enough to cover the extra miles before dark,” Trinity said.
“We’ll have to,” said Mac. “The terrain’s rough, with stones and dropoffs. We can’t risk splintering a wagon wheel or snapping an axle in the dark.”
The teamsters reined up to rest the mules, allowing them an opportunity to learn what Mac had to report.
“An arroyo with a spring,” Mac announced, “but it’s maybe twelve miles. We’ll have to travel a mite to the southeast, but it’ll be worth it.”
“I reckon it will,” said Red. “My coffee had mud in it this mornin’.”
“Sorry,” Hattie said. “We did the best we could with what we had. Since there’ll be a spring with good, clear water, suppose some of you rinse out those water kegs before you refill them? There’s still mud in there from the Cimarron.”
“Red, I reckon you’ve been assigned a worthy task,” said Mac. “I hope you can enlist some help. Those kegs are heavy when they’re full.”
“Everybody to your wagons,” Port
Guthrie ordered. “If we’re to reach that spring today, we’ll have to make up some time.”
* Doan’s Crossing is fifteen miles north of the present-day town of Vemon, Texas.
CHAPTER 12
The wagons reached the arroyo, remaining on the rim. The stock was led down to the spring and watered and returned to scant graze on the rim. Supper was prepared near the spring, but after the outfit had eaten, the fire was doused and they returned to the wagons on the rim.
“If my memory serves me right,” Red said, “we’ll have to swing back toward the southwest to reach Fort Griffin. It’s on the clear fork of the Brazos River.”
“How would you know that?” Mac asked. “We went up the Chisholm Trail when we took the herd north.”
“There’s a big map on the wall at the courthouse in San Antone,” said Red. “It’s got all the Texas forts and rivers. We crossed the Red almost due north from Fort Griffin, and somewhere before we reach the fort, we’ll be crossing the Brazos.”
“I never been to Texas,” Port Guthrie said, “but if there’s another river between us and Fort Griffin, there ought to be some creeks feedin’ into it.”
“I don’t know,” said Red. “The map I was lookin’ at only had the rivers on it. I think after we leave here, we’d better turn back to the southwest, else we’ll come out somewhere to the east of Fort Griffin.”
“Well, hell,” Mac said, “so we’re a mite off course. We needed water, and this was the closest. We’ll get back in line as we travel south.”
“Don’t get your hackles up,” said Red. “Damn it, I’m only tryin’ to be helpful.”
“Then why don’t you scout ahead for water?” Mac said. “Yeager had a map with the White River on it, but I don’t remember seein’ the Brazos. That tells me Yeager’s map wasn’t all that accurate. Maybe you’ll have better luck than I’ve had.”
“I don’t think this is the time for a disagreement among us,” said Buck.
“No disagreement,” Mac replied. “I said Red can scout ahead for water, instead of me. For that matter, so can you. I’ve never been through this part of Texas before, and if any one of you knows it better than I do, then speak up.”
“Since we’re going to Fort Griffin,” said Haze, “and Red knows for sure it’s on the clear fork of the Brazos, then we got to pull back to the west. Instead of Mac doing all the scouting, why don’t we take turns? Red can go tomorrow, Buck can ride out the next day, and the day after that, I’ll take a turn. Then Mac can go again. What’s wrong with that?”
“I’m the damned wagon boss,” Mac said irritably, “and it’s my responsibility.”
“At the risk of speakin’ out of turn,” said Port Guthrie, “I can only tell you what Mr. Yeager told me. He said you gents have equal responsibility for the safety and wellbein’ of this outfit. Bein’ wagon boss don’t pile all the responsibility on one man’s back, nor does it mean he’s the only one with savvy enough to scout the trail ahead. Let me remind you that if Mr. Yeager’s plans had worked out, Watson Brandt would of been wagon boss. Can any one of you imagine him ridin’ into unknown country lookin’ for water, or anything else?”
For a moment they looked at him in silence. Red laughed and everybody else joined in. Mac laughed the loudest of all, and it was he who spoke.
“It’s hard arguing with that, Port. If Brandt had remained in charge, we wouldn’t even be going to Fort Griffin. I’ll go along with sharing responsibility. Red, ride out tomorrow and see what you can find.”
Everybody sighed with relief, especially Trinity McCoy, and while Mac was on watch, she made it a point to spend some time with him.
“Port Guthrie’s a valuable man, isn’t he?”
“Sometimes,” Mac agreed.
“I’m referring specifically to tonight,” said Trinity.
“That’s what I thought,” Mac replied. “If Red, Buck, and Haze don’t like the way I’ve been bossin’ the outfit, why didn’t they say so before?”
“Perhaps because they expected you to . . . to—”
“Raise hell,” Mac finished.
“I didn’t intend to use those words,” said Trinity, “but yes, that’s exactly what I mean. I didn’t know this Watson Brandt, but I get the idea he wouldn’t have been much of a wagon boss.”
Mac laughed. “I haven’t told you about him. Maybe I ought to, so you can appreciate even more the point Guthrie made.”
He proceeded to tell her of Watson Brandt’s attempt to steal the wagons loaded with Winchesters, Colts, and ammunition.
“So that’s why you believe there are some within the military who would steal these wagons loaded with weapons and ammunition,” said Trinity. “Because of this Jernigan, at Fort Dodge.”
“Yes,” Mac said. “Jernigan was a former Reb.”
“For a Texan, aren’t you being a little hard on the ex-Confederates? These weapons and ammunition must be worth thousands of dollars. I’m sure there are men motivated by nothing more than greed.”
“I reckon you’re right,” said Mac grudgingly.
“I know I am,” Trinity said, “and I’m feeling much better about you.”
“Because I’ve admitted to being wrong twice in one day?”
“Yes,” said Trinity. “A strong man isn’t afraid to be wrong. Weaklings and cowards have the need to prove themselves every day.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Mac said. “I’ve always heard you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
“You can, if the old dog’s willing to learn,” said Trinity.
The next morning when the wagons again took the trail, Red McLean rode out to look for water and learn what lay ahead. Not surprisingly, Hattie rode with him.
“Is it true you’ve never been in this part of Texas?” Hattie asked.
“Yes,” said Red. “We’ve all been north with trail drives, but up the Chisholm Trail. Mac, Haze, Buck, and me are all from around San Antone. This is about the biggest thing we’ve ever done, outriding for these wagons into Austin.”
“The freight line didn’t ask about your experience?”
“No,” Red replied. “Yeager was looking for men well-mounted, who could use a gun. That’s all he asked for, and we didn’t volunteer anything more. Among the four of us, we didn’t have the price of a meal, and we needed money to get back to Texas.”
“After we reach Fort Griffin, are you sure you know the way to Austin?”
Red laughed. “The Colorado River runs right through it. Austin’s maybe a couple of axe handles north of San Antone. Once we’re shut of these wagons, we can all be home by sundown.”
“When you say ‘home,’ do you mean your own place?”
“I was referrin’ to San Antone,” said Red. “The only home any of us has got is with our kin. After the war, Texas was picked clean. We’re just now startin’ to get back on our feet, thanks to the cows and the railroad buildin’ west. I ain’t sure any one of the four of us will live enough years to have a place of our own.”
“You don’t look that old to me,” Hattie said innocently.
“How old do you reckon I am?”
“Eighteen,” said Hattie.
“Close,” Red replied. “Actually, I’m a hundred and eighteen.”
“You’re too old for me, then,” said Hattie.
“Let me say that a mite different,” Red said. “I feel like I’m a hundred and eighteen. Actually, I won’t be twenty-four until next April. Buck’s twenty-five, and the oldest. Mac and Haze are a year younger than me.”
“I’m twenty-four,” said Hattie, “and I dare not tell you the ages of Trinity, Elizabeth, and Rachel. I can only say they’re not as old as me.”
“I reckon, after we’re finished in Austin, it’ll be time for Mac, Haze, Buck, and me to start thinkin’ about what we aim to do. Give it another year and sodbusters will be goin’ west, claiming the open range, and the trail drives will be done.”
“What is there to do in Texas? Could you start your own
freight line?”
“I doubt it,” said Red. “There’s already talk about railroads into Texas, and that’ll be the end of freighting by wagons. That leaves nothin’ but ranching or farming.”
“Somehow I can’t see you as a farmer.”
“Neither can I,” Red said. “Mac, Haze, Buck, and me all learned cow together, and we don’t really know anything else.”
“Suppose all of you joined in together and started your own ranch?”
“When we reach Austin and get the rest of our pay,” said Red, “we’ll have no more than seven hundred dollars among us. That won’t go far.”
The conversation ended on a somber note. They were riding southwest, and to their surprise, came upon a creek.*
“I reckon this is proof enough that we can’t rely too much on maps,” Red observed. “This creek ain’t even ten miles from last night’s arroyo.”
“But suppose we ride beyond this,” said Hattie, “and it’s too far to the next water to reach it today?”
“We’ll stay here tonight,” Red said. “Now that we know we’ll have water for tonight’s camp, we’ll ride a few more miles beyond this. If we can stay two days ahead on water, we can breathe a little easier.”
“I like that,” said Hattie.
“We’ll ride on another ten miles or so,” Red said. “We didn’t know this creek was here, so maybe there’s another.”
While they didn’t find another stream, there was a spring sufficient for their needs.
“Maybe a dozen miles beyond the creek,” said Red. “The wagons can make it in a day’s drive. After that, we can’t be too far from the Brazos.”
Hattie laughed. “We’ll have some exciting news, won’t we? We’re assured of water for the next two days, and perhaps it won’t be too far to water for a third day.”
As Red and Hattie approached the oncoming wagons, Mac rode to meet them. Red explained what they had discovered.
“Well, by God,” Mac said, “that’s good news. You sure you haven’t been through this part of Texas before?”
“It’s all new to me,” said Red, “but with all the twists and turns of the Brazos, there has to be some streams feeding into it. After we leave the spring, why don’t we travel due south?”
The Winchester Run Page 18
