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Copyright © Statement
No part of
this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including recording, photocopying, or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the
publisher. The author has applied for
and will receive a statement from the US Library of Congress certifying that
this work of Robert W. Hatting is original intellectual property.
Fiction Statement
This is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the
authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as
real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
PROLOGUE
During
the civil war many captured southern soldiers and officers were released to
serve in the Union Army as infantry soldiers and served only in the west to
help with the Indian hostilities. They
were referred to as Galvanized Yankees.
One such
man was captured former Colonel Willard Pyle, a former Texas Rangers who
enlisted in the Confederate Army. He was captured along with six of his men and
served a year in the POW prison in Rock Island, Illinois. During that year of incarceration, he planned
and orchestrated the only mass escape from the infamous Rock Island
prison. Pyle colluded with the escapees
and covered their escape. He was given a
choice — a firing squad or transfer his allegiance and become a Yankee
soldier. Pyle opted to become a
Galvanized Yankee and was assigned to a company in Arizona territory and later
to a command post in New Mexico Territory.
He was an able and courageous soldier and his superiors soon recognized
his leadership abilities. They advanced him — first to corporal, then to Sergeant,
and then to Master Sergeant. While
imprisoned in Rock Island, Pyle had arranged for some hot peppers to be
smuggled into the camp to fight scurvy. They called him Pepper and the moniker
stuck with him throughout his service to the Union army. Pepper served two
twenty-four month additional hitches and then disappeared a few months before
the termination of his third enlistment. He was presumed killed or captured at
the Lordsburg massacre. Since his body
was never found, the Union officers of the ‘Repudiated Command’ deemed him a
deserter and placed a bounty on his head.
Since he had been an Officer in the confederate army, the reward for his
capture was substantial.
Chapter 1.
It didn’t
take me long to size up the Lieutenant.
He was green as grass but thought he knew everything. Gad, I detested those clowns they sent from
the academy. His logic was like that of
a mule.
“Sergeant, load those
coolies that can’t walk into the supply wagon,” he ordered.
I pointed to the wagon. “Already accomplished,
Sir,” I replied. “Only six can’t walk.
Everyone else is fit to make the trek to the mines.”
He began walking toward me leading his horse. It was typical. He was supposed to lead, not mess with
details. That was my job.
“I don’t need the details,
Sergeant. Just do as you’re ordered,” He
barked as he approached me.
Since I only had three months left on my enlistment, I decided
to push back at the young officer.
“I understand my job,
Lieutenant. I’m not sure you know
yours. Just climb on that horse and lead
us outta here. My men and I can handle
the rest,” I shouted so my men could hear.
I knew he said something but I didn’t understand. A hail of gunfire and the shot that tore off
my left hand was all my ears heard before I slumped to the ground in extreme
pain. I witnessed many of my men die without
returning fire. We had been ambushed so
I scrambled for cover behind a boulder.
The Chinese scattered like quail and several of the elders and one
youngster crabbed toward the big rock. The Chinese youth picked up my hand, and
then wrapped her scarf around my wrist in tourniquet fashion.
I expected more gunfire but the only sound I heard was the pounding
of my heart. The little China girl was
still holding my hand and was attempting to attach it to my bleeding stob. Smashing the mutilated appendage into my
flesh was excruciating but I managed to push her away without hurting her or
exposing me to whomever had ambushed us.
“It won’t grow back,
throw it away,” I instructed through my gritted teeth.
An older China lady tried grabbing the youth to protect her –
the girl resisted and clung to my arm.
My mutilated left hand flew out of sight as the little one crawled
closer and pulled the scarf tighter. The girl and the Granny were shouting at
one another but I couldn’t
understand their gibberish. I held the
pain in contempt as I peered around the boulder to see who was shooting as
us. The little one held on tight and
tried to pull me back to the safety of the rocks. Once again, the older woman
reached for the child.
So far, there were only rifle shots and they were sporadic; like
only two or three people attacking. The
distinctive reports of the .30-.40 Krag, the infantry weapon issued to my men,
were silent. No one in my squad was
firing back. Then I heard the same sound that had blown off my hand — the
distinctive report of a buffalo gun — a big caliber -- Sharps .50.
“There must be a white
man shooting at us,” I mumbled to no one in general.
“I know,” said the
young Chinese girl. “I saw him when we
were helping my grandfather into the wagon,” she reported in perfect English.
I was shocked. This small
Chinese youth was speaking like a refined lady.
That impression faded when the report from the buffalo rifle sounded
again. The young woman screeched but
held my tourniquet tight. She witnessed
her grandmother bleeding out from the large wound in her chest. She sobbed and held my arm. “My only people are now gone,” she sobbed.
I wasn’t
sure we would survive. We hugged the
boulder as the heat of the afternoon bore upon our parched bodies. No other shots were fired and it appeared as
though our attackers had left. As the
shadows of late afternoon lengthened, I gambled a peek around the boulder and
only saw the bloating bodies of my squad, the coolies we were escorting, and
low flying circle of vultures anticipating a feast.
I was able to stand with the assistance of the girl and the
boulder. I propped myself against the
boulder and took stock of the situation.
My left arm was throbbing but the tourniquet kept me from bleeding out. The girl loosened it as we both inspected the
damage. I was surprised the teenage girl
didn’t
approach her grandmother or her grandfather who was slumped over the sideboard
of the wagon. She glanced toward the
body her grandmother a couple of times but seemed to be more intent on my
wound. I nodded toward the body of the
old woman.
“She is gone and we
are alive. I am sad but I had promised
not to grieve for the old ones. What do
we do now?” She asked as she wrapped part of my neckerchief around the wound.
I pondered her question as I took mental inventory of my squad
and the coolies we had been charged to escort.
My squad was dead, their bodies stripped of weapons and some
clothing. Since we were infantry, only
five horses had been stolen; the Lieutenant’s mount and the wagon team.
I scanned the hills for any evidence of our enemy before I took several
steps toward the Lieutenant. Since there
was no mutilation of the bodies, I assumed the attackers had been Comancheros;
renegades from various tribes plus Mexican bandits that had banned together
with a rogue white man. Comancheros
dealt in captives; mostly women and children that captured by the tribes,
traded to the Comancheros, and ultimately sold to rich Mexican overlords south
of the border. Being captured by the
Comancheros and sold as slaves was worse than death at the hand of the Apaches.
The young Chinese girl finally stood in front of me, waiting for
an answer. Her facial expression brought me out of my reverie. I was about to
answer when movement near the dry wash caught my eye. I reached for my pistol but it remained holstered
as the girl placed her hand on the leather flap. Two Chinese women and a man emerged from the
wash and began walking our way. The four
Chinese began jabbering in their language.
I didn’t understand a word. The
older man walked directly toward me and held out his hand; pointing to my
wound. “Hin Lo is a healer.
He wants to help you with your wound,” the young woman explained.
I nodded at the old man and turned back to the girl. The two women, who had approached in a timid
manner, were carrying a rifle and a canteen; evidently scrounged from the
bodies of my men.
“What is your name?” I
asked the girl?
“My name is Mai Li,”
she answered. “My family is from the
region of Seschaean in southern China. I
am seventeen years old and a Christian,” she added.
I was shocked because she looked like a twelve year old Apache
kid.
“We need to find water
and shelter and get away from this place,” I advised. “Those Comancheros may
come back. We need to be in the
foothills of those mountains, yonder.”
Chapter 2
I’m
not partial to bragging, but I must have walked fifteen miles in the dark,
guided by the North Star, before I finally gave up and let the women assist me
down the ridge and into the gully with the small seep. My legs were wobbly and my left arm was
swollen and throbbing. Once we reached
the water and my Chinese companions had their drink, I was made over like
royalty. I must have dozed off because
when I woke up it was early morning, the sun was out, my stob had been
stitched, and Mai Li was placing a new dressing on me; part of a
petticoat.
“Your fever is
gone. We made a good camp; can we stay
here a few days? Hin Lo says you need to
get your strength back,”
I looked at our location and considered our vulnerability down
in the gully. I pointed to the ridge
above. “We need to take turns standing guard on the ridge. If those Comancheros track us here, the guy
with the buffalo gun can kill us all in a matter of minutes.”
“Why would they follow
us?” Mai Li asked.
“I don’t know why they
attacked us to begin with,” I replied. “If they were on a raid to take
hostages, they wouldn’t have killed everyone.
It just doesn’t make sense,” I stated.
Mai Li looked at the ridge and then back to me. “Maybe just today — we rest.
Then we go.”
“That jasper with the
buffalo gun… you said you saw him? What
did he look like?”
Mai Li leaned back,
closed her eyes and
began describing the white man with
words like big, hairy, old, dirty, and wicked.
“Would you recognize
him if you saw him again?” I gently asked.
Mai Li nodded her head. “I will not forget the
man who killed my grandparents,” she responded with a break in her voice.
I knew if I was to track the guy down, she would have to come
along. Suddenly that became my quest. To
avenge those two old folks, the thirteen other Chinese coolies, my squad and
even the no-nothing, do nothing lieutenant.
I looked at my left forearm. Yep,
and revenge for blowing off my hand, too.
****
Our trip to the mountains surrounding Silver City took almost
two weeks. The destination I chose as our final camp was from a scouting
expedition that had taken place years prior — back when I was an expendable
Galvie. We had had some scary moments back then, dealing with the relatives of
old Mangus Colorado, but the Colonel who was leading the expedition, showed
some common sense. He guessed that
Cochise was a powerhouse Injun, just like his pop, the legendary Mangus
Colorado, often called Red Sleeves, and he backed off the war department’s normal position and
elected peace over extermination.
I recalled the old Apache stronghold as being one of the nicest
settings in the southwest; an abundance of game because of the good grass and
water, tall timber, and a perfect defensible location. Since those earlier
times, the Apaches had been moved to a reservation and the mountains near the
old cliff dwellings had been explored by prospectors — not much gold or silver
had been found, so it was a good place for us to hide out and for me to heal.
Hin Lo was a wily older Chinaman. He seldom spoke but he knew his way around
the west. He gathered roots and bark
from various plants to keep my stob healing without infection. Mai Li told me
he had worked as a seaman when he was young and was sold into slavery when he
was sent ashore in San Francisco. It seemed like a windy story to me. He didn’t look to be a day over forty
but the history she related made him out to be sixty years, plus. However,
considering my poor record at judging the age of Chinese, perhaps it was all
true.
The other two women in our group were as opposite as night and
day. They were both young — in their
twenties and both relatively attractive if you like the looks of China
girls. Neither had the bearing or beauty
of Mai Li but they seemed amiable and trustworthy. Dao was quiet, Pink was chatty. They assumed all the burdens of all our camps
plus took turns attending to my wound when Mai Li was away, mostly hunting
small game and herbs of the desert.
We posted lookouts every night and I often took a peek down our
back trail. I could see no sign of the
Comancheros. What worried me was the white man who had obviously aligned
himself with the bandits. If he had
split off, we would never see any sign of him until it was too late. I assumed he was a renegade mountain man or
buffalo hunter. That assumption was easy, because of the weapon he had used. What I couldn’t figure was why he and his gang set out to annihilate a
squad of Union soldiers and eighteen Chinese coolies who were merely being
relocated.
Once we reached our
destination life became easier. We were
settled but still wary.
I inspected the stob on my left hand as Hin Lo removed the
bandage. The infection was gone but the
flesh was still red and tender to the touch. I was anxious for it to heal so I
could fashion some kind of apparatus to hold a rifle. I had a pistol but it was worthless in my
hand. I had never been a good pistol
shot. However, with a long gun, I was
deadly.
I left the bandage off, thinking the sunlight would be good for
my healing. It was a pleasant
afternoon. Our cave as I called it would
be cooling, now that it was in the shade.
The ancient Indians that built these cliff type dwellings knew a lot
about architecture and weather patterns.
We were shaded from the hot sun in the afternoon, greeted by the sun
rising from the east, and protected from the storms that hammered these high
elevations from the North. When it was
sunny, we mostly hung out around the ‘southern park’ as I called it because it was close to the
little creek that provided our water and also near the game trails that
converged at the beaver pond. Except for
the fear of the Comancheros on our back-trail, I could have been content to
settle in and begin a new life in the hanging valley. Unfortunately, I knew the army was going to
be upset with me for not reporting what happened back at the railroad
spur. We had traveled a long way and I
had passed many opportunities for me to telegraph my superiors. It was a mental condition. I was afraid of the jasper that was following
us but also finished with that life.
When my hand went flying into the dust, something else went flying,
too. My loyalty to a country I had
fought against and then joined in pushing Indians off their lands and rounding
up the rebels… yep I think of them as rebs.
Confederate comrades in buckskin and feathers, rebeling and fighting to
stay in or near their homeland.
The sun was waning and shadows became long. I was all alone in my usual spot among the
dead-falls at the edge of the meadow.
Mai Li was nowhere to be seen.
Pink was above me close to the cliff-side, stretching and scraping
deer-hides. Dao and Hin Lo had gone off
in search of cattail roots; our main source of vegetables. Sometimes watercress but mostly tulle roots
as we called them back in Texas. I
became concerned for Mai Li. I had not
even talked to her since the night before; then only to relieve her of her sentry
duty. Hin Lo relieved me at four. I had crawled under the skins and was dead
asleep until first light. Come to think
of it — she wasn’t
outside by the creek as usual. I finally got off my lazy butt and walked up the
hill toward Pink. She grinned as I
approached. “Where is Mai Li?” I asked
very slowly so she could understand.
She pointed to the part of the high mountain valley where the
creek disappeared for about two-hundred yards and then re-appeared over the
cliff trail that led down to Piños Altos, a small miner’s camp, and eventually
the high mountain desert and Silver City.
I tried to get the reason for her disappearance but received
mostly smiles and shaking of the head.
Pink was a good woman, but had not tried very hard to learn my
language. Dao, on the other hand spent
many hours with Mai Li practicing her English words and phrases. She was still shy with me but I admired her
for her effort.
I turned and pointed to the direction she told me Mai Li had
gone. Pink handed me a piece of deer
jerky and finally nodded her understanding.
Chapter 3
Darkness was almost upon our camp by the time I returned to the
cliff dwelling. I had spent the late
afternoon looking for Mai Li and hadn’t seen any signs of her passing. Needless to say, I was disturbed. I could see
a feint light behind the deerskin curtain that served to keep out the wind and
cold. The flickering fire was a beaconing call because it also meant food. My stomach was rumbling from lack of nutrition
and over exertion.
“It’s Pepper, I’m
back,” I announced just before pulling aside our makeshift door.
My greeting was the barrel of a Sharps fifty and an old mountain
man controlling the trigger.
“Where’s that china
gurl?” he demanded as he shoved the rifle toward my face.
I was staring at the rifle bore; the one that had shot off my
hand and killed my men; not to mention the grandparents of Mai Li and all the
other coolies we had been escorting.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light produced by the dwindling
flames, I could see Hin Lo, Pink, and Dao trussed up like hogs for
slaughter. This nasty old man and his
big ass rifle fired my anger. I leapt at
him by jumping right through the fire.
The rifle went off but missed me because I had startled him with my
crazy behavior. I clubbed him with my
left arm and then punched him in the face.
Then I went crazy and kicked the life out of him — finally stabbing him
several times with his own Bowie knife.
By this time, the cave had become totally dark. I drug the old man to the remaining coals and
shoved his arm into the heat. His greasy
buckskin smoldered and finally burst into a small flame. It was enough light to locate the woodpile. I threw some kindling on the fire and then
took the knife toward the back of the dwelling and began cutting the trusses of
my friends. I could still hear the boom of the gunshot in my ears as I helped
Hin Lo to his feet. Pink was already
standing, helping Dao.
Hin Lo pointed at the old man lying in the fire. He was moving. I quickly pulled his arm out of the fire and
picked up the rifle. Hin Lo put more
kindling on the fire and I looked more closely at our assailant. I set the rifle aside and looked for other
weapons. I found a smaller knife - akin
to a green river skinning knife in his possibles sack along with several dozen
fifty caliber cartridges. I used the
razor sharp knife to cut the strap and appropriate his pouch. I then sliced away part of his filthy shirt
to expose the wounds I had made with the bowie knife. Hin Lo inspected the wound over the old man’s heart. It shot a
stream of blood each time the heart beat.
Hin Lo shook his head in the negative and I agreed. Just as I was about
to drag his dying body outside, the old man opened his eyes and looked me full
in the face. “You kilt me,” he said.
“Why did you kill my
men and all those coolies,” I asked.
“To get the gurl. I
was paid to get the china gurl,” the dying man slurred.
“Who paid you? How much did you get?” I demanded as I began
to steam again.
“Them missionaries
paid me a huntert dollars in gold.”
“You and them
Comancheros killed all my men and them coolies for a hundred dollars? I should kill you again!” I shouted as Mai Li
came through the doeskin curtain.
I must have been quite a sight — I had my bloody stump pressed
against that old jaspers windpipe and his bowie in my right hand poised to stab
him again.
“Sergeant Pepper! What are you doing?”
Before I could answer, Pink and Dao began explaining in their
own language. I lowered the knife and
looked at the old mountain man. He was
gasping for air because my stob was still pressed hard against his throat. He
passed out.
I released the pressure on his windpipe, shoved the bowie knife
under my belt, and proceeded to drag the old killer out of our dwelling. Hin Lo splashed a dipper of water on his
smoldering buckskin sleeve and then assisted me in my efforts.
Once I had the killer propped against a log, I took out the
knife again and waved it under his nose. “Where’s your horse?” I asked in a gentler manner. Are you alone?”
The light from the fire in the cliff dwelling shrouded the old
man in a dim light. It was eerie to
witness.
Hin Lo pressed his ear to the killer’s chest and then
shook his head in a negative manner.
I got off my knees and turned toward the door to our
dwelling. Silhouetted in the firelight
was Mai Li.
“I’ve been worried
about you. Where did you spend the day?”
I gently inquired.
Mai Li held out her hand and took a step forward. I took her hand and she pulled me back into
our cave; Hin Lo followed.
As I calmed, the pain came — it came like thunder. My stob was bleeding and throbbed like never
before. Hin Lo pulled up my sleeve and
exposed a gash; evidently caused by the bullet fired at me. Mai Li pulled several rabbit skins from her
possibles bag and held them toward the light.
“I
have been trapping rabbits for their fur and meat. I placed snares in several places. One set is down by the hiding stream.”
“You should have told
me. I was worried.”
“It was a
surprise. I wanted to make a cover for
your wrist…a soft cover to keep it from hurting.
I wanted to cry from the pain as Hin Lo treated my bullet graze
and my stob. I was pleased Mai Li was
okay and looking after me but I needed the truth. Why would some missionaries hire a killer to
come for her — killing all those people for a teenage Chinese girl? I finally asked.
“That jasper outside
is the same guy that killed my men and your grandparents. He admitted he was hired to find you. Hired by some missionaries,” I stated in a
stern manner.
Mai Li began to cry. Not
just a weep, but a flood of wailing. She
ran outside. I was tempted to follow her
but decided I needed to rethink our situation and take steps to let the
military know what had happened and why.
“Hin Lo, there has to
be a horse around here somewhere. Maybe
two. Can you go find it?” Then I turned
to the women.
“Pink and Dao, go wrap that body in some
skins. We’ll take it to Piños Altos in
the morning.”
Mai Li had heard my commands and returned to the cave with the
dressed rabbits. She was still whimpering from her cry but was
functioning. She and the other women spitted
the carcasses on green tree limbs and then took two deerskins out to wrap the
old killer.
I hoped I was thinking clearly through all my pain. I had not contacted the army and was probably
presumed dead. The mess down by
Lordsburg was probably listed as an Indian massacre and some tribe was being
punished for what that old hired killer had done.
I decided to sit on my pallet and rethink my plans. My arm and wrist stob was still painful — I
wanted to sleep, but the smell of the roasting rabbit kept my tiredness at
bay. Mai Li came through the opening and
walked directly to me. She squatted in
front of me. “After we eat I will
tell you the truth, Pepper.”
I was surprised and pleased.
She smiled and gave me a sensual touch on my good arm. I was about to respond to her when Hin Lo
pulled back the curtain. “Horses — outside,” he
said in broken English. Then he spoke
five or six sentences to Mai Li.
“Three horses. One stallion with saddle. One mare for pack. And a baby sucking.”
What went through my mind at that moment was horse ranch in this
hanging valley. But the dream drifted as
I considered our reality.
“Bring in the
packs. I want to see what we have.”
Chapter 4
Distracted by the treasures we acquired from the killer, Mai Li
didn’t
get a chance to tell me her story. I
admit I fell asleep while all the camping equipment was admired and
stored. Early morning was decision time
for me. My head was clear and my pain
had subsided. Even the stob was faring
better after placing the rabbit skin glove over the tender scar tissue. Killer had willed us a coffee pot and even a
small doeskin pouch of roasted coffee beans. I showed the women how to smash
the beans and add them to boiling water.
I sipped coffee and took my time explaining our immediate future.
“I’m taking the body
of the killer to Piños Altos and I’m taking Mai Li with me. We’ll take one
horse. By the way, Hin Lo, the male
horse is not a stallion, it’s a gelding; a stallion that has been
castrated.” Mai Li translated for me but
I’m sure he understood before she explained.
“How long are we going
to be gone?” Mai Li asked.
“I’m not sure. A few days — perhaps a week. It depends if I get to see some authority in
Piños Altos. If we have to go on to
Silver City, it may be two weeks.
Hin lo asked a question of Mai Li for her to ask me.
“He wants to know how
we are going to take the body if we only have one horse.”
“Mai Li and I will walk and pack the body over the saddle. The body will only go as far as Piños
Altos. Even If there is no authority
there, I just want an opportunity to have witnesses about to explain what
happened. Once the body is gone we will
ride double,”
I explained.
Hin Lo nodded his understanding.
Mai Li didn’t
need to translate.
“Since we found
seventy dollars in killer’s possible sack, I’m going to buy supplies so we can
survive the winter. I’m sure it’s what’s
left of the blood money. I have about forty dollars. We’ll have a grubstake and
should be fine if we continue to hunt and dry our meat,” I estimated.
Pink served Mai Li and I rabbit for breakfast. While we ate, Hin Lo saddled the gelding. I
helped him load the body of the killer.
The horse was skittish at first but settled down after I let him take a
few steps. I was packing the killer’s old Sharps fifty
and Mai Li had a small sack of provisions for us and the canteen we’d used to
trek all the way from Lordsburg. We were ready and yet we weren’t. Mai Li had set some snares on her trap line
and wanted to show Dao where they were located.
We spent an hour running the snare line.
Dao walked back to the cliff dwelling with four more rabbits and we started
our walk to Piños Altos and we also began our talk.
“Okay, Mai Li, explain
to me why some missionaries would hire that old killer to exterminate my men
and all of the coolies we were escorting in order to capture you?”
She didn’t
pause. Evidently she’d rehearsed what
she was going to admit.
“I was borne on the
ship that brought us to your shores. My parents brought my father’s parents
with them to our new life in your country. Just before we reached California,
most everyone on the ship became ill, including the crew. My parents died but my grandparents and I
survived the plague. According to my
grandparents, we were not allowed off the ship for several weeks. Then a religious group took us to their farm
outside of the city,” Mai Li related.
I was becoming bored with her story because it didn’t explain why the
killer attacked us. “Can you skip some of the details? Why are they after you?”
“I was just explaining
my background. My grandparents were
given jobs on the big farm owned by the missionary group. It was like an orphanage. I was raised there, went to school there and
had a job as a housemaid in the main house.”
The story dragged on. I
couldn’t
seem to get her to understand that I needed to know. To understand why I lost my left hand, why my
men and the coolies we were escorting were murdered. She didn’t understand my impatience.
The walk down the creek-bed was the most dangerous part of the
trail. We had to walk single file, so we were limited in our talk. Once we reached the saddle that overlooked
the Mogollon river basin, the timber changed from alpine cedar, fir and fern to
Ponderosa pine intermixed with cactus. We stood on the banks of the small creek
as it fell over a small embankment and again disappeared underground. I chose
that spot to make camp for the night. “We may as well camp
here. Help me unload the corpse.”
Unlike the hanging valley we had been living in for over a
month, the ridge on which we camped had a longer dusk and became cooler with
the updrafts from the Mogollon river basin.
Mai Li moved her pallet next to mine after we ate. “When I was nine years old, everything changed at the
orphanage farm. It was bought by two
brothers who claimed they were the sons of god.
Pendegrast was their family name.
They sent my grandparents away along with all the other workers on the
farm. They replaced our teachers and
finally some of the older orphans. All
the boys were sent off right after the bad brothers took over.”
Mai Li leaned against my wounded arm as the dusk turned to
dark. Our small fire seemed to light the
world as the breeze blew our coals alive.
My arm was beginning to heal. It itched like my stob did when it
was scarring over. I rolled up my sleeve to scratch the scab. Mai Li became very attentive and cleansed the
scabbing wound with water from our canteen. “Dao says you were very brave when you killed the old
man. You were unarmed and he was
pointing the rifle at you,” Mai Li stated while she rolled down my shirt
sleeve.
“I just went crazy is
all – not brave. We’re half way to Piños
Altos and you still haven’t explained why the missionaries sent a killer after
you,” I reminded her.
Mai Li snuggled a little closer.
“The
bad brothers were not missionaries. They
were just the opposite. For the first
nine years I had a good life. So did all
the other orphans and workers. When
William Prendergast purchased the orphanage farm, that all changed. I lost
contact with my grandparents for over a year.
One of the cook’s helpers, an older Mexican woman, found them and would
sneak messages back and forth.”
I was getting sleepy. I
was also impatient. “Tell me why they are
looking for you?”
“I know where all the
bodies are buried and I ran away to tell the authorities,” she stated with a
sob.
Mai Li finally got my attention.
“Which
bodies?
“All the boys and all
the girls who wouldn’t give their virginity to the bad brothers. Also every girl that got pregnant just
disappeared,” she explained. “Every
orphan girl who had their first menses was at risk. Once their bodies became womanish, they were
used by the brothers and then sent to the city to brothels owned by the Prendergast
family.”
I had to ask. Something
in me caused a pain in my heart for this girl.
I had known a lot of tainted women but I also had seen many young girls
in the brothels, too. I’d always wondered why
they had succumbed to prostitution. Now
I was getting an insight.
“Did the brothers use
you and send you to a brothel?” I asked as gently as I could.
“Mai Li put her head
on my shoulder and sighed. “I have
always looked young, I was slow to mature.
Since I was the maid in the main house, they just looked at me like
furniture. My menses came when I was fourteen. I was able to hide my womanhood for another
year. Then the younger brother, Bobby,
tied me up and used me hard for two months.
Then I was passed to William. Finally, after being a sex slave to both
brothers, I escaped and went to the find my grandparents.”
Now I knew. Drowsiness
was winning. I leaned back on the saddle
and closed my eyes. “Let me guess. You went to some Sheriff and he wouldn’t take
your statement because you are Chinese.
So you joined a work detail in order to escape.”
“Yes, Pepper. That’s what happened. I had no idea they would send a killer to
find me and kill all of those innocent people.
Just because of me,” she sobbed.
I should have responded but I was just too worn out. I slightly recall Mai Li covering me with doeskin
and then laying beside me.
Chapter 5
I woke up with my hat over my eyes but the sun on my face. I hadn’t slept that sound or this long since before my arm had
been blown off. Once the cobwebs of
sleep left me, I understood why. I was
warm. Mia Li was snuggled up beside me
and both our sleeping robes covered us.
We were sharing body heat and double doeskin. She was looking at me as I became aware of
our surroundings.
“You took off my
boots,” I mumbled.
“Yes Pepper. I pulled your hat down, loosened your belt,
and removed your boots. I would have done more to make you comfortable but you
were sleeping too hard,” she stated with a mischievous and slightly sensuous
grin.
It took a moment for that remark to sink in. She was out of character and I certainly
liked her personality change. “I
need to water the bushes. Can you roll
our beds? We need to continue our trip.”
Standing in the timber doing my morning business, my mind was
replaying the story I’d
heard form Mai Li the evening before. She
had been through a lot and was still being loyal to me; actually acting
seductive. Then it dawned on me. Old killer wanted her. Not me but her. My reaction was to salve my situation by
taking the body to the authorities and reporting to the army; leading whomever
right to the girl. I felt really foolish
and a bit ashamed. Up until killer had
breached our hideout, I had always assumed the massacre outside Lordsburg had
been about me, not a seventeen year old Chinese girl.
“Mai Li, make a fire
and cook some of the grub we brought.
I’m going to discuss a new plan with you,” I hollered from the creek.
Once I explained the reason I had changed my mind, Mai Li was
reasonable and actually pleased at my decision.
Perhaps the body of the old killer we were burying by caving in a dry
wash over his stinking corpse was a reminder of how dangerous it would be to be
observed or seen by anyone who might report her whereabouts to the Prendergast
brothers.
“You can wait here or
we can ride double back to our hide-out, I suggested. I’m just going to Piños
Altos, to buy supplies — nowhere else.
Now that we have the killer buried, we really don’t need to hurry.”
Mai Li washed her hands in the cool creek water. She gathered
needles from ground that had fallen from the pines. She handed them to me. My puzzled look made her giggle. “Brush me off,
Pepper. I’m filthy!”
I took the pine needles and did the deed. She returned the favor because we were both
dusty and dirty from burying the killer.
“Just take me back to
the waterfall. I’ll walk back from
there,” she offered.
I was skeptical but finally agreed to her suggestion that we
ride back up the disappearing creek toward our hanging valley. She suggested
this plan so I could take my time and perhaps carry more supplies to help
survive through the winter.
I wanted to ride the gelding for a few yards before I let Mai Li
come aboard. The horse and I were
strangers. The saddle was worn but in
good repair. I swung aboard and turned
the horse around a few times. Since the killer and I were about the same size,
I didn’t need to adjust the stirrups.
The gelding stepped right out and seemed gentle. I reached out for the old Sharps being handed
to me by Mai Li. We walked a few more
yards up the trail and then stopped. Mai
Li held out her hand and I was able to swing her up behind me from the off
side. She circled my waist and then
reached around with her possibles pouch.
I hung it over the old Mexican style wooden horn. She squeezed me tighter as I reined the horse
toward the disappearing creek.
It took only an hour to reach the hidden creek waterfall. The trail was treacherous for man and
horse. We dismounted and began climbing
the ghost trail that avoided the small cliff. Mai Li was leading the horse up
the switchback and I was scouting a better way up the cliff-side. I looked closely at the waterfall. Something seemed out of place — not
natural. Stones had been placed in such
a manner to provide steps. I decided to
investigate. “Tie the horse to a
tree and come with me.”
I looked over my shoulder and witnessed Mai Li loosening the
cinch on our horse. That observance
impressed me.
As we walked on the stones toward the edge of the waterfall, I
took her hand and tried to step in each one in the direction the stones
pointed. The stones steps were small but
had large spaces in between; two steps for me — three for Mai Li. The coded
trail seemed to take us away from the waterfall and then veered under — into a
declivity. I looked back at Mai Li. A big grin graced her youthful face. I glanced over her shoulder at the pattern of
the rocks. From my angle it was a
definite stepping pattern. The declivity was dark. We inched along, our backs against the cliff
to prevent getting soaked by the falling water.
The mist and spray was actually refreshing on this summer day.
I felt it before I saw it.
Two boulders formed the declivity.
There was a crack in between. I
was just barely able to squeeze through and pull Mai Li in with me. It was dark
but not bottom of a well dark -- light seemed to be coming from somewhere. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, it
became obvious we were in a cave behind two huge boulders I finally found a
match and struck it on the side of the boulder. I looked down to avoid getting the
flame in my eyes. I was standing near a
rock ring used to contain a campfire.
Inside the rock ring were three stones that had obviously been placed
there to support a pot of some kind. I
noticed Mai Li move just as the flame went out.
“Light another. I have tinder,” she said.
I lit another match and when she placed an old bird’s nest in the flame,
the small cave brightened to the point we could see details of another
civilization.
“Look back there,
another opening!” she exclaimed as she bent to place the tinder and a few twigs
into the fire-pit.
Close to the fire pit was a matate and a mano; ancient
implements for grinding seeds to flour.
When the flame became steady, I looked at the small cave in which we
were standing. It was obvious that it
had been used as a kitchen. Clay pot
sherds were everywhere; the corduroy pattern was prevalent. I watched the
smoke; it rose directly overhead. A small opening high in the ceiling where the
two boulders formed to make the cliff was the outlet for the smoke to escape.
Mai Li had a couple of twigs aflame to make a torch. She stepped toward the other opening, I
followed.
“Where did you find
the tinder and the twigs?” asked. “This
cave is barren of wood.”
Mai Li giggled as she placed the min-torch into the opening of
the back cave. “I carry this in my
bag all the time. I’m the one who usually starts the fires if you recall.”
The back cave was a bit smaller than the kitchen cave with a
much lower ceiling. It was barely high
enough for my six foot frame. My hat
brushed the ceiling several times.
Evidently this cave had been used as the residence; stones had been
stacked along three sides of the cave.
One looked like a granary and the other two were obviously sleeping
pallets. No one had been in this place for several hundred years. Most of the pottery was intact and some were
painted with scenes from their ancient culture.
I noticed a couple of painted plates that were bawdy in nature. I’d read about them.
This was an ancient Mimbres home-site.
“That lower cave of
the cliff dwelling we use as hide-out in the hanging valley was inhabited by
the Anazasi ancients. This is a Mimbres
homesite and probably predates the Anazasi by two hundred years,” I stated just
as the torch burned out. A sliver of light from the small fire in the fire-pit
showed us the way out. We held hands to
negotiate toward the light. “I love this
place,” Mai Li stated with a giggle. “I
love you,” I inadvertently blurted.
I had no idea where that proclamation came from. I was fond of her, relied on her, worried
about her — very true, but that statement was way out of line. I couldn’t take it back or even explain the feeling, so I just
remained mute.
Mai Li squeezed my hand and pulled me to a stop. She circled my waist with her arms and pulled
herself close. I responded by hugging
her in return — around her shoulders.
Chapter 6
Mai Li held my hand until we reached the gelding. We had not spoken of my inadvertent
proclamation. We were silent with our
thoughts. I untied the bay and cinched him tight again. I felt Mai Li pull down on my jacket
sleeve. I looked down and knew it was
time to kiss her. We were clumsy but
finally embraced. “Be careful, my dear
Pepper. Look for me here when you
return. I’m going to fix up this place
for us.”
I was surprised at the term of endearment but also her statement
about the Mimbres home-site and us. Us,
we, our; foreign words to my ears and mind.
“Why? Why the
waterfall cave?” I asked as I swung aboard the gelding.
“My dear Pepper, it’s
our place — our special place. No one
has been in that home for over twelve-hundred years according to your knowledge
of history. AND, that’s where you told
me you loved me. It’s ours!” she said as
she handed me the Sharps.
I didn’t
argue. “I should be back in a day or
two. “I’ll check here on my way back but
I really think you need to check on the others back in the valley.”
“I’m going there,
now. Be careful, Pepper!”
Mai Li turned and began walking up the trail to our hidden
valley camp. I turned the bay down the
trail toward our previous campsite. My
mind was ablaze with emotions, plans, fears, and suddenly an odor. I had just wiped some water off my face and
took a whiff of the military jacket I was wearing. It dawned on me I had no other clothes.
Visiting Piños Altos in a Yankee uniform was not bright. I put the gaddayup to the gelding and soon
we were near our campsite from the previous evening.
I tied the gelding near where we had buried the killer. I began digging him out. Once I had him out of the sand and gravel, I
stripped his stinking old body and replaced his clothes with mine. I kept my boots, skivvies and hat but was
able to fit into his buckskins. I
immediately went to the creek and immersed myself, fully dressed, and began to
scrub with the sand from the bottom of an eddy.
Most of the blood and grease washed away. The ratty condition remained and some of the
odor — odors from campfires past. I
pulled myself out of the water and let the sun dry me for a bit. Then I built a fire and placed a lot of green
wood on the flames. The smoke became
black as the flames licked at the green ponderosa pine limbs. I moved around the fire so I could get full
effect of the smoke. I alternated — dry wood for flames and green wood for
smoke. I kept moving so the buckskin
didn’t
get stiff. I went into several coughing
fits during this phase of my ‘cleansing’.
After an hour of this, I felt better about the odor. I was relatively dry so I placed the wide
belt of the killer around his long buckskin jerkin. The belt had the scabbard
for the Bowie knife I’d
taken from the killer during our fight.
Now it was properly sheathed. I took my matches, cash, and clasp knife
and began looking for pockets. In a
breast pocket, I found six gold pieces — twenty dollar denominations. I laughed out loud. I had been in such a hurry to get him wrapped
and into the hands of the authorities; no one had gone through his
pockets. Mai Li and I had buried
one-hundred-twenty dollars; enough cash to provision our group for the entire
winter. I began to take stock. I had the seventy dollars I’d found in
killer’s possible sack, now the one-hundred-twenty, and my own measly forty-two
dollars; two-hundred-thirty-two dollars for provisions.
As a hunch, I looked in the two other pockets of the
jerkin. They were empty. The buckskin leggings had no pockets or
folds. I inspected the rawhide belt again before I circled my waist. It appeared there was something sewn in the
middle but I chose to ignore it. Out in
the wilderness I needed the belt more than extra cash. I knew I had enough.
The gelding had a mile eating fast walk. He was strong, smooth and gentle. Not puppy dog gentle but seasoned, trained,
and intelligent. According to his teeth,
he was coming seven. The bay color was
like camouflage in the ponderosa forest.
His black hooves and legs indicated he’d been sired by a mustang. I knew he was a keeper. I’d not looked closely at the mare and filly.
But from what I had learned so far, the old killer had good taste in his gear
and horseflesh. Everything except the
Sharps fifty. It was an old fashioned
buffalo gun, a single shot with a set trigger and heavy as hell. For his profession it was perfect but for me
with only one hand it was not practical.
Keeping it balanced with my stob was a difficult task. I suspected I’d trade it off the next chance
I got. The 30-40 krag we’d packed all
the way from the Lordsburg massacre was being used by Hin Lo. He was a fair shot at close range. My pistol and holster were in the possession
of Dao. I’d taught her how to shoot
properly but soon learned that she was no better than me — both of us major wasters
of ammunition.
My mind wandered to many subjects as that mile-eating gait took
us closer to Piños Altos. I thought
about my relationship with Mai Li, her problems in the past, making a home in
that hanging valley, collecting my back wages and mustering out bonus from the
army and setting things right, and lastly — why didn’t I rebury the
killer?
I’d left him in my uniform, laying at the edge of the dry wash. I should have put him back in his shallow
grave and knocked some dirt over him. I
vowed to remedy that oversight on my return trip.
It was full dark by the time I topped the ridge overlooking
placer creek. I could see the lights of
some miner camps. I skirted the small
tent community in favor of reaching Piños Altos further up the opposite ridge.
Years ago when I had been in the area with the military, looking for Mangus
Colorado, I spent four days in the local hotel being treated for a broken arm
by the military medic. I’d liked the
town; it was a nice community that served the miners and Indian
reservations.
The first place I needed to visit was the livery stable. My horse needed care. It was late but not bad
for a mining town. Since the front door
to the barn was open, one had to assume the hostler was up. I dismounted and hollered hallo. A voice from inner shack answered me. “Be out in a shake,” he said with a southern accent.
I recognized his voice from somewhere in my past. It was
distinctive. My mind dug way back in my history to make the connection to a
face — a young confederate corporal starved and sick who needed urging to crawl
out of the tunnel being dug at Rock Island prison.
An Indian woman stepped out of the inner hut with a
lantern. She pointed to the stalls. “You take any,” she said in broken English. “My man there soon.”
I nodded and walked the gelding to the first available
stall. I was removing the saddle when
the hostler spoke. “I suppose you’re here
fer them saddle bags y’all left for safe keepin’,” said the hostler.
I set the saddle and blanket on the rack built into the stall
divider and then turned to face the hostler.
I recognized him instantly.
“Fuzzy,
you have me confused with some other jasper.
How are you? It’s been a long
time — a lifetime ago,” I stated.
“C’c’colnel Pyle? Is that you Pepper? I thought you was that Digger fella,” Fuzzy
stated.
My gelding was munching on hay in the manger and the Sharps was
leaning against the nearest post. Gordon
Coffee looked at the horse and then the buffalo rifle. “You got his horse and rifle, Pepper. I wouldn’t forget them details -- His
clothes, too.”
We shook hands and I showed him my stob. “He shot this off a few months ago and then tried to kill me
three days ago. I suppose I’m entitled —
spoils of war, I guess. Tell me about yourself, Fuzzy. I heard only you and Davey Blake made it
out. Everyone else from them forty-two
prisoners who went through the tunnel was captured or killed.”
Fuzzy looked at my stob when I pulled off the rabbit skin
sock. He took a step back and a sadness
came over his demeanor. “Sorry, Colonel. You is a helluva good man. I don’t know why Digger was after you but I’m
glad you survived. Old man Tanner was hell on wheels. Shit, half the towns-folks had trouble with
that mean tooth jasper! Especially my partner.”
I issued the bay a can of cracked corn and forked him more
hay. Fuzzy was rubbing him down. We didn’t speak for a few moments and then ex-corporal Coffee made
an offer. “Let’s go inside, Pepper. I’ll
have my woman fix you some grub and we can talk.”
Chapter 7
Fuzzy’s
wife was Apache. Her tribe was the
Mescalero Apaches being settled on a reservation near Fort Stanton. She fixed me a steak while Fuzzy and I drank
a pot of coffee.
“Pepper, I’d offer
sumptin stronger but I went dry. My
partner, Will, put the rule down. ‘Stop
drinkin or pull out’ he said. I had the
notion he meant it so I ain’t pulled a cork for nigh on to four years.”
I nodded and dug into the elk steak. We didn’t talk until I
devoured everything but the bone and leaned back in my chair to finish another
cup of coffee.
“I really needed
that. Thanks for cuttin’ it up for me,”
I said. “Eating one handed still ain’t
natural for me. Do you have a smitty in
town? I need a hook.”
“Will and me own a blacksmith
shop, but our smitty left town to work for the mines in Silver City.”
“If I can borrow the
shop, I’ll build it myself. I ain’t
goin’ to Silver City,” I proclaimed.
Fuzzy nodded and then explained how he and his partner came
about. Will Palmer was working as a
clerk in the mercantile in Piños Altos.
He was Davey Blake’s
first cousin. It’s where they had come
to hide out after escaping Rock Island Prison.
“We started jest
workin’ odd jobs and now we own half the town. Davey died of snakebite up by
Reserve while visitin’ his wife’s relatives.
Now its jest me ‘n Will. I’ll
take you to meet him in the mornin’”
“Can I bunk in one of
the stalls?” I asked.
“Take the loft. Outhouse is out back. Breakfast is at first light. Milly has hens, so we eat good — jest like
proper southerners,” Fuzzy chuckled as he went into a back room and came out
with a set of saddlebags.
“These are yourn” he
said. “Might as well have all the truck
of that damn ole Digger. Maybe tomorrow
you can tell me yore plans. My helper will be here after breakfast and then we
can go see Will.”
I took the saddlebags and draped them over my injured arm. They were heavy — not gold heavy, but
something substantial. I carried them up
to the loft and then went back for my bedding.
I was thinking of Mai Li a lot and decided to buy her some apache
buckskin clothing like Milly was wearing.
Maybe some for Pink and Dao, too.
Hin Lo was another story. I
decided not to decide about him.
Finding an old friend in this town was fortuitous. I had not
told Fuzzy about Mai Li or her troubles.
I just told of the massacre and the Chinese folks that helped me
out. I told him very little; taking
responsibility for the killer, Digger who must have had a grudge against
me.
It was dark in the loft of that barn. I decided to check out the contents of the
saddlebags in the morning.
Clucking chickens, roosters crowing, and the slam of the
outhouse door brought me from a deep sleep.
I had slept warm because of the straw pile I chose plus the buckskin
clothing was a lot more practical than the Army uniform. The military boots
were uncomfortable with the buckskins. I
decided to buy myself some new moccasins — apache style and maybe some new
buckskins.
After visiting the outhouse, I sat near the upper window and
added several items to my list. The
saddle bags were on my lap. Enough
light filtered through the window to allow for a preliminary inspection of the
contents; extra horseshoes, horseshoe nails, a small hammer, frog cutter and
hoof pick — useful ferrier supplies for a traveling man. There was liniment,
extra cartridges for the big fifty and some .45 long colt cartridges. I puzzled over them for a moment and then
opened the other side of the saddle bags. On top was a derringer; obviously .45
long colt. Below that was a Colt
revolver, also .45 caliber. I loaded the
derringer and placed it in a pocket of the buckskin shirt — down low where I
could reach it if necessary. I checked the loads in the Colt and then shoved it
under the belt; for a cross draw.
The remaining items in the saddle bag were a puzzler; a
crucible, a gold/silver scale and four molds.
The molds were for unmarked coins.
I puzzled over them for a few minutes and then began putting everything
away. Fuzzy hollered as I was coming
down the ladder.
Breakfast was a short affair because Fuzzy was anxious to get me
to the mercantile before it opened.
Evidently he had sent his helper to the store to explain my presence and
early visit before opening hours.
Will was expecting us and had coffee ready on the pot belly
stove. Their store seemed to contain a
little of everything; like most trading posts. Items on shelves behind the
counter were the most expensive — the guns.
Once the introductions were made and the story of how Fuzzy and
I spent time in Rock Island, Fuzzy suggest I tell Will about the Lordsburg
massacre.
We spent the better part of an hour swapping stories and
retelling history. Finally Will came to
the point. “What are your plans,
Pepper? Are you staying in the area?”
“I’d like to file a
homestead on that upper valley where I’m living. Maybe turn it into a horse ranch,” I speculated.
Will and Fuzzy shared a look and then turned back to me. “You can file a mining claim on it today, right here in this
store. A clerk will be here in an hour —
you need to go to Silver City to file the homestead. Cattle would be more rewarding for you,
Pepper. Horses are cheap because of all
the Indians in the region,” Will advised.
I considered his recommendation.
He seemed to be a slick businessman; much more savvy than his partner,
Fuzzy Coffee.
The little man inside me wondered why Fuzzy and his partner Will
kept wondering about my plans. Perhaps it was just their way of being friendly.
I dismissed the thoughts.
“I noticed you didn’t
mention mining,” I said with a grin.
Will and Fuzzy laughed. Minin’ is kaput ‘round
here, Pepper. Just a few lode claims
still bein’ worked over by tent city,” Fuzzy explained.
“Not much is shipped
out of this region. Silver and copper is
being mined down near Silver City. I
hear rumors that silver ain’t gonna be much longer. Copper, however, is going strong,” Will
added.
Since Will was standing behind the counter, whenever I looked at
him I couldn’t
help but notice a Henry repeating rifle hanging on the wall above his
head. I imagined in my mind how to hold
the weapon and work the lever. I
suddenly realized how valuable the ‘big fifty’ was to me in my one-hand condition. I knew I could handle it somewhat expertly
once I had a hook on my wrist. The range
of the Sharps would be really advantageous for us during the winter.
“You’ve given me a lot
of things to think about. I’ll act on
the mining claim today. I need to research where to get cattle, but I need to
provision for the winter. Tell me again
about horses. I need a couple head,” I
queried.
“We have a corral full
out behind the stable. Take your pick
for twenty dollars a head,” Fuzzy offered.
“Right now I have
limited funds. Perhaps we can discuss
the cattle idea next year. Here’s my
provision list. If I’ve money left over,
I’ll look for a horse. Right now I need
to borrow your tools to make hook for this stob!”
Will looked at me and smiled.
“I
can get some cattle. You put them out to
pasture and we’ll split fifty-fifty. Take whatever horses you need. Pay us next year. Not many takers now days and we’ll just have
to feed them come winter,” Will offered.”
“Thanks, I may do
that. Take me to your blacksmith shop,
Fuzzy,” I said.
“Pepper, I noticed
you’re packing a Sharps ‘big fifty’. Not
many around these days. My meat hunter
needs something like that for this fall and winter. Would you consider a trade?” Will asked.
“I got the same
problem as your meat hunter. I need a
big bore to knock down the elk — our winter meat,” I stated. “I’ll think on it while I’m hammerin’ out my
hook.”
Chapter 8
Making a hook for my stob was easy. I found a hay hook hanging on the wall and
once the forge got hot, I was able to form a new base with a three position
ridge for adjusting the angle. Fuzzy ran
the forge bellows at first and then later he sent his young helper down to keep
the coals orange hot.
This was the first time operating one-handed. I knew my way around blacksmithing; my father
had been a smitty. When captured and
jailed as a POW in Rock Island, somehow the Yanks learned my family background and
worked me like a rented mule on short rations in their shop. I made a lot of
shackles. I had been worked hard but at least I had been warm and was able to
sneak an occasional tool to my men digging the escape tunnel.
I decided to make a fork hook, too. It would make feeding myself a lot
easier. Elk and mountain goat steaks
were on my winter menu. I filed the
three tines sharp and then heat treated both apparatuses. I was tempering the steel when an older short
man came bursting into the shop. “Smithy, I have an
emergency. Can you help me right now?”
I looked at the portly man and guessed him for what he was — a
drummer. “I’m
not the blacksmith. I just borrowed the
tools to make a hook for my bum wing,” I explained as I held up my stob.
The old gentleman looked at the apparatuses I’d just taken out of
the tempering sandbox. He looked at me
with genuine compassion. “Them two units
has to have a hardwood base and a set of straps before you can use them. If you can get my wagon horse shod, I’ll
whittle them bases and build the straps for you. I have everything I need in my
wagon.”
“Show me your horse,”
I requested. Then I looked at Fuzzy’s
helper. “Can you stay for awhile?”
The kid nodded as the old man led a big Percheron mare into the
shop. Soon, a young stud colt came
dashing in — missing his mama. He had some size but still wanted to nurse. “How old is your horse colt?” I asked.
“Six months… way too
old to be suckin’ the tit, but I move all the time so I ain't got no way to
wean the little bastard.”
I lifted all the legs on the mare. She was seasoned and didn’t try to jerk around
or crush me. I began pulling the three remaining shoes and was able to trim her
feet. Actually my stob was doing pretty
good. I sized her feet and began building
her shoes. I glanced up several times
and noticed the old gentleman working diligently on the wooden bases. “Now that the sand is cooled, could you make
an impression with your stob? I want to
get these bases hollowed to fit you perfectly.”
I took the time to make the impressions and then motioned my
helper to assist me in nailing the shoes on the mare.
The drummer handed me a wide leather strap. “Put this around your wrist to protect it. That’s saddle leather.”
He was correct. The
protection enabled me to cut and clinch the nails without help. We finished about the same time. He handed me the hook and the three tine
fork. I tried them on and was amazed at
my immediate increase in dexterity. I
decided to experiment and selected a piece of steel used for making wagon
rims. I knew it contained high carbon;
perfect for making a knife. My helper,
who I learned was named Jeff, seemed anxious to learn so I began explaining
what I was attempting.
The drummer watched for moment and then asked what he owed me.
“How much will you
take for that horse colt,” I asked as a response.
The drummer looked at me like I was crazy.
“I never considered
sellin’. I just assumed no one would
want the little pecker head. He ain’t
purebred Percheron.”
“What breed is his
daddy?’ I asked.
“I dunno fer
sure. I think she was with some wild
stallion up near Fort Laramie.
I had suspected that was the case because the colt was dunn
colored and had a black line down his back.
His hooves and legs were also black.
He showed mustang but was much larger because of his Percheron momma.
I continued forging the knife.
It wasn’t
large but it would be a good carver because the steel I had chosen would harden
easily and would hold an edge. I was
still waiting for an answer from the drummer when Fuzzy arrived. It appeared the intrusion bothered the
drummer. “Jest give me that knife you
made and I’ll let you have that peckerhead,” he announced in a whisper. “We’ll
call it square.”
I handed him the knife
and we shook hands. The drummer walked
out, so I ambled toward Fuzzy and held up the
hook. In my other hand I held the three
tine fork. “Now you don’t have to
cut my meat like a baby!
Fuzzy was about to speak when the drummer came back into the
shop with a halter. He haltered the
horse colt and tied him to one of the anvils.
Then he led the Percheron mare out of the building. The colt went crazy
— kicking, jumping, sulling back on the stout rope and finally squealing like a
pig being slaughtered.
“What the hell?” Fuzzy
exclaimed.
I walked to the stud colt and hooked my hook into his
halter. I pulled his face down so we
could look each other in the eye. “Settle down you big baby,” I said in a stern tone while I
rubbed his withers with my right hand. He flared his nostrils two times like a
tough guy and then let out a sigh.
“Can I put this unweaned
stud in your horse pen for a day? I’ll
see if I have any cash left after Will fills my order. I might buy a horse from
you. Also put a roll of that wagon tire
steel on my bill,” I stated.
“Jeffry, take dis colt
down to di pens and put him in the stud corral. Me ‘n Pepper are going to lunch and try out
that arm fork,” he said with a chuckle.
“I have one last task
in your shop. Give me a hand with the
bellows,” I requested as Jeff led the horse colt out of the shop.
I walked to the corner of the building where I’d left the big fifty.
I brought it back and leaned it against the anvil. I cut several pieces of the wagon tire stock
and began heating two and them. The
others I placed in my possible pouch. I pulled one piece out of the forge and
began wrapping it around the barrel of the Sharps. I fashioned a strap hanger complete with
slots so I could adjust the sling. I
heated it again so it would expand, tapped it gently in place, and then doused
it with water. It didn’t budge. I made a
second fastener for the stock to attach later. Once it was cool, I placed it in
my pocket, picked up the fork attachment, took off the hook, and strapped on
the tines. I placed the hook over my
belt, picked up the Sharps and motioned toward the door. “Lock up Fuzzy, it’s
time to fork my steak!” I said with a chuckle.
I wasn’t
surprised Will had joined us for lunch.
The cafe belonged to their company but I also knew they had been
discussing me and my plans while I was doing my blacksmithing. No one had ever been so concerned with my
future plan as these two new friends. Well, maybe Mai Li.
“Let me repeat this so
I totally understand,” Will stated. “You
made the hook you have in your belt, that fork you have jammed into the steak,
You shod a workhorse, forged a knife, made a sling bracket for your rifle all
before lunch? I believe I need to
rethink the offer I was about to make to you.”
I nodded, never looking up from my meal. The tines were fantastic, but the look on
both their faces when I put those devil tines in my mouth was priceless.
“If you go see the
Apache women behind the church, they will take your measurements and have your
buckskins and mocs ready by morning. The
squaw clothes are ready now,” Will advised. “They just delivered them to our
store.”
“Thanks, I’ll go past
there straight away. I’m anxious to get
out of these ragged clothes. What’s my bill? Including this meal, lodging, and
found for my horse? I’d like to pull out
in the morning.”
“Zero if you come back
and be our blacksmith. We’ll pay you
sixty dollars a month and provide a furnished house,” Will offered.
“I’m a one-armed
smithy. I wouldn’t be able to do all the
work to justify my salary. Here’s what
I’m willing to do, however. I’ll come
here every two weeks for two days. You stack
up the jobs, pay me twenty dollars for each day plus put me up in Fuzzy’s loft
and three meals a day — right in this here cafe. Assign that young man Jeff to
help. He’s eager to learn and I’m a pretty good teacher.”
Fuzzy and Will shared a look and each nodded. “Deal! Your bill is
seventy-four-dollars including that steel.
There’s no charge for meals or hay loft accommodations,” Will stated.
“Swell. I’ll go get measured and then choose one of
your horses. I’ll come to the store
after that to settle up. Is the clerk
available so I can file my mining claim?”
Will nodded in the affirmative and we all stood to leave. He pointed to my Sharps. “I’ll trade you that Henry you were looking at and throw in
two hundred rounds of ammo.”
“Look at me Will. I would need both hands to steady that Henry
— one to hold the forestock and another to lever the action. I’ll stick to the long shooter. We’ll need it for winter game.”
Chapter 9
I was in and out of the Apache clothing hut in nothing flat; the
women measured me with sticks and rawhide strings. One woman spoke broken
English. I communicated with her and in
kinda of a sign language I used with Dao and Pink.
I wandered down to the horse corrals and looked at my new
stud. Junior was still acting like a
baby. He was alone in the stallion
corral. I decided to let the other
horses teach him some manners, so I opened the gate that separated them and let
him mingle. He was kicked, bitten and
thoroughly mauled by a mare that would not stand for him trying to suck.
Jeffery left the barn and came out to watch my selection. I slowly moved through the herd. All the horses were Indian ponies. I found two young mares that had the
confirmation I desired and maybe had some mustang breeding. They were calm but leery of me. They ignored
Junior when he approached.
“Them ain’t broke to
ride, Pepper,” Jeff offered.
I nodded and hazed them into the stud corral. Junior followed. I closed the gate and walked toward the
barn. “Do me a favor and feed those three some grain along with
hay this afternoon.”
When I arrived at the trading post, Will was waiting on a couple
of customers.
I attended to my mining claim straightaway. I filed on the section of the lost creek that
included the Mimbres waterfall site. I
filed another near the headwaters of the same creek, above the cliff
dwelling. The clerk set out to prepare
the papers and the sketches I’d
provided. I had some time so I decided
to look more closely at Will’s inventory. I picked out a coil of hemp rope, a
couple of horsehair halters, and a rawhide bozal. I was looking at the cloth
and ribbons when Will approached. “I
selected some of everything I got in inventory for your squaws. That way when you come back you’ll know their
favorites.”
I took what I’d
selected to the counter and asked for a small spade and a gold pan. “I selected two young mares; a dun and a
grulla; both unbroke. I’ll give you
thirty for the pair,” I offered.
Will screwed up his face and then stuck out his hand. “Deal! I’ll tally your bill.”
“Oh, sell me some
galena lead — about three pounds,” I added as an afterthought.
Fuzzy came through the door just as Will returned with my bill
and receipt. I began counting out the
exact change to settle up.
“What’s with the
bozal? Training a bronc?” Fuzzy asked.
“In a way. Junior will wear it upside down once I modify
it to give him some manners. He’ll lead
like a veteran by the time he’s living in the tall grass of my homestead,” I
speculated.
Since they were both present, I proposed another idea.
“Will — Fuzzy, years
ago I invented a special folding knife.
I will make one and bring it down in two or four weeks. If you like it, I expect you to buy them from
me and be the reseller. You won’t make
much money, but eventually what we make will be converted to cattle. I’ll pay one half of every cow our
partnership buys, you arrange delivery but you only get a third when we
sell. Think it over and give me an
answer when I return.”
“Sounds fair
enough. How many head?” Will asked.
“Let’s start with a
bull and two cows.” I said as a joke.
Fuzzy laughed, Will didn’t.
Once I received my papers on the mining claim, Fuzzy and I took
everything I’d purchased to a vacant stall in his barn. I used the remaining daylight to make six
light packs. Each horse would be packing
two sacks. Junior would pack a bit more
because I was winding rope strands around the coil of buggy wheel steel. Once finished, it would resemble a horse
collar; the weight would keep his head down. Tossing his head would be knocked
out of him by the lead weight I suspended from the bozal. The pain-relief
training had been proven successful in the cavalry — now it was being applied
to my own stock.
I thought about Mai Li a lot while I was braiding lead lines and
fashioning hobbles for the three acquired horses. I was setting ideas into motion that would
keep all five of us busy and perhaps prosperous. Since Mai Li was not able to go outside until
the Prendergast brothers were eliminated, I needed to get her involved in
building our estate.
Jeff came into the barn as I was loading the last homemade
panniers. He looked at what I had
accomplished with my one hand and complimented me.
“Pepper, I seen your
stob when you first come here. All it
had was some rabbit fur covering yore flesh.
Now, you do things like no one I ever seen.”
Nodding at his compliment, I took off my hook and attached the
tines. I took out the Bowie knife I’d used on Killer and fastened it to the tines with
twine. “Let’s go see how this works by
giving them horses a haircut.”
Since I was using rope to fasten the pannier sacks over the
backs of the horses, I needed something to use as a cushion between their
withers and the ropes. I had fashioned
three sets of breast collars and britchens out of rope, too.
Jeff and I trimmed manes and tails of all the horses in the
corrals. I stuffed the horsehair into
six small flour sacks and tied them off.
They looked like pillows. I
tossed one up in the loft to use that night. By grooming the horses, the stock
looked better and I had a dual purpose reason for harvesting the hair.
Fuzzy and Milly had invited me to take supper and breakfast with
them. I was washing up when Fuzzy arrived
with a strange woman — she was Apache but nobody I had seen before. She had a set of low cut moccasins in her
hand.
“Sunrise, here, wants
yore boots fer the nite. She and her sis
is makin’ them hitoppers fer ya.”
I shucked my boots and handed them to her. She motioned to a bench by the wash
basin. I sat down and she removed my
socks, washed my feet and slipped on the mocs.
They were lined with some kind of soft fur and were really comfortable.
Fuzzy’s
woman, Milly, had spent most of the day in the kitchen preparing our supper
plus some loaves of bread for me to take to our camp. It was a pleasant time
with good food. No one had to help me feed myself. My dexterity was improving by the
minute. I was almost two handed again.
Fuzzy told many stories
of the experiences he and Davey had encountered being on the run from Yankee
soldiers in the northern and western states.
I chronicled my time as a galvanized Yankee and my subsequent
re-enlistments. Fuzzy also related the
advantages of having a life partner like Milly.
I was certainly impressed. We had a mutual admiration for each other and
the beginning of a long friendship.
Chapter 10
Combine a circus with a rodeo and toss in a few crazy ideas is
the way to describe the morning of my departure. Fuzzy, Will, Jeffrey, Milly, the Apache women
who brought my high-tops, and even the old Apache woman who’d delivered my
buckskin clothes all were in attendance trying to help. Junior was the scamp, but it was my fault.
It had taken an inordinate amount of time and patience to get
the three unbroken horses loaded and tied three abreast; Junior in the middle
with a mare on each side. There were no
surprises; they fought, bucked, reared, and even bit Jeffery when he wasn’t looking. When my boots and high-tops were delivered I
chose to tie them on the back of Junior without packing them into the
panniers. I chose to wear the low-tops
because they were so danged comfortable. I had twine connecting each boot which
in turn was connected to each hightop moc. Evidently the soles of the boots
were stiff enough to gouge Junior when the two mares moved against him.
Junior went to bucking — the mares followed but with less
vigor. The bozal and lead weight kept
the colt in constant agitation. I finally took my Bowie and cut the rope that
held the footwear in place. I then took
my hook and grabbed the colt by the bozal and pulled his head down to look him
in the eye again. He rolled his eyes and
laid back his ears. I twisted the bozal
and rubbed his forehead. I saw the light
go on in his brain. “You’re going to
behave or be my meal tonight,” I threatened in a soothing tone.”
I knotted the twine and tossed the footwear over the gelding in
front of the saddle — something I should have done from the beginning.
I said my goodbyes and lined them out. My progress was erratic. I had to ride downhill toward Tent City which
put slack in my lead ropes. The trio in
training balked, sulled, and tried to run the gelding over. My gelding kicked Junior in the chops — he
began minding his manners.
As I approached the outskirts of Tent City, I chose a route to
avoid anyone’s
camp or claim. It was difficult with
three abreast because of the narrowness of the trail through the heavy timber. I had small difficulty on upward inclines but
downward was troublesome for Junior; he was kicked twice more by my gelding, so
he sulled when we dropped into a shallow creek-bed. The water spooked him and he reared to avoid
getting his hooves wet. Both mares
charged forward and Junior fell to one side with his antics; the result was
comical until two men charged out of the timber with shovels and shouts.
I pulled up to let the horses settle down. The bigger of the two miners raised his
shovel in a threat to hit my gelding.
“Woah, pard! What’s your problem?” I hollered.
“You messed up our
claim,” the younger of the two replied.
Since the smaller and younger man was leaning on his shovel, I
suspected I could reason with him. The
burly guy was still threatening my gelding with his assertive behavior. “Put the shovel down and be reasonable,” I said in a calm
voice. “I’m just making a crossing and I
have three green horses. Sorry if I
muddied your digs.”
The burly guy lowered his spade and took a step forward. Behind me the horses were settling down. Junior was still tossing his head being
bonked by the lead weight. “You owe us. Pay up or I’ll smash your horse’s leg,” he
threatened as he spat a stream of tobacco.
They were too confident.
I must have looked like a greenhorn.
I suspected there was another in the timber. They were hiwaymen, not prospectors.
Judging from the geldings ears, I guessed I was boxed. The shooter had to be in the trees – in
front, slightly to my left, the younger was to my right, and the burly guy was
left center, up close to my horse.
“Well, shit,” I
cursed. If it’s just money to let me
pass, I’ll pay. I got a squaw waitin’ to shuck my corn. C’mere,” I said to the burly guy with a
little tremor in my voice, like I was afraid.
I reached into my pocket to pretend I was reaching for coins and
palmed the belly gun. The burly guy lowered
the spade and approached my left side. I
reached out with my hook and snagged his shirtfront. I yanked him close and then drew the
derringer. A moment later, I had the
hook behind his head and the pistol barrel in his left eye. “Tell your guy in the woods to show himself!” I ordered the
younger man.
Nothing happened, so I dug the hook in deeper. The burly guy let out a blood curdling scream
and the man in the trees stepped out with one hand raised, a cap and ball
pistol in the other. “Drop the pistol. You, on my right, go stand beside your
shooter!” I barked.
Both men obeyed the order.
The antique pistol was on the ground and the young guy stood beside the
timber guy. The burly guy was stock
still. I undallied the lead ropes and
turned the three abreast loose. Then I
released the pressure with my hook.
Burly went to his knees and then rolled to his side. I dismounted and
looked at Burly. He was bleeding from
the back of his head.
“Come here and attend
to this dummy,” I yelled.
Both men walked down the rise and came to stand in front of me;
looking at Burly.
While they were walking, I’d pocketed the derringer and had drawn the Colt. I still had the Sharps on a sling across my
back. Once the would-be hiwaymen squatted near the guy on the ground, I pulled
back the hammer on the Colt and covered all three. “This rifle slung over my back is accurate up
to six-hundred yards. That’s about to
that hump in the trail back yonder. Pick
up this trash and get to that spot or I’ll kill all three of you right here!”
The woods guy and the younger got Burly to his feet. He was really unstable, but they got moving
down the trail. They waded the shallow
creek and I began rounding up the horses.
I discovered that the gelding ground tied. That was certainly a bonus. I finally
unscrambled the three green horses and tied them nose to tail; Junior in the
lead. Once remounted, I looked over my
shoulder. The three hiwaymen were on the
knob. I wanted to fire a round in their
direction but knew it would scare the bejeebers out of the young horses. I
picked up the two spades and the cap and ball pistol. It seemed to work but it hadn’t been cared
for. I put it in my possible sack – I would use it for decoration or trading stock.
I tied the spades to the back of the dunn mare.
The pack horses got much calmer once we began pulling the grade
to the spot where I planned to stop and rebury Digger. I knew the rocks and upward grade would tire
them to the point of exhaustion by the time we reached the crest of the ridge.
Mai Li filled my mind. I
had so much to tell her and so many plans to share, I felt giddy as we reached
the place where we’d
camped and she’s shared her story. My
wounds were so much better than when we shared our blankets for the first time
and she’d declared her intentions. I was
anxious to show her my left arm dexterity.
I’m sure I blushed at the thought.
When I reached the dry wash where I’d left the killer, I
discovered nothing but scattered bones.
All the clothing was gone. The
wolves, buzzards or coyotes were likely culprits for eating the flesh and
scattering the remains, but critters were not guilty of taking the Army
Uniform. I looked for tracks but saw
only prints of animals and birds. I
assumed Indians had taken the clothes.
I decided to continue to the waterfall area — the legal mining
claim I had on the Mimbres dwelling. I took a mental inventory of what I was
bringing back for all five of us and what I planned to leave at the
waterfall. I wondered if Mai Li had
followed through and returned to our secret place. A large part of me wanted to see her at the
waterfall. The sensible part of me
suspected that she’d
lost the notion.
Chapter 11
Not only was Junior foot-sore from walking the rocky trail, he
was dog tired from the short journey.
The extra weight around his neck that he was carrying may have
attributed to his weary gait, but I suspected it was all the energy he’d spent
being a baby and a dickhead. Junior no longer tossed his head. The bozal and lead weight had taught him a
lesson. He no longer kicked at the mare behind nor did he bite the gelding,
leading him. In two or three pack trips,
he would be well trained.
I rode past the waterfall to the small meadow above. I just tied Junior and the mares. I stripped
off the bridle of the gelding and let him graze while I walked back down the
trail. I was carrying one of the three
spades I now owned. One I had purchased
and two acquired as spoils of war from the hiwaymen. I was still packing the big fifty across my
back, and of course was armed with my derringer, the Colt, and the Bowie. I chuckled to myself. There had been a time in my Galvanized Yankee
life I wasn’t
allowed anything but the Army issue 30-40 krag; and then only during eminent
danger.
As I approached the steps, I noted small pebbles on each
one. I suspected Mai Li was giving me a
sign.
Once behind the waterfall I tapped the boulder with my
hook. I knew she was listening for my
boot steps, but I was in mocs. The
stealth they afforded was a bonus to their comfort.
“Mai Li, its
Pepper. Are you here?”
I heard her before I saw her.
Her squeal of delight echoed off the outer cave. Then I saw the light — a torch with enough
candlepower to light both rooms. Mai Li
ran to me dropped the torch into the fire pit and jumped to encircle my neck
with her arms. We kissed, and it was not
clumsy like the first time.
I finally lowered her to the ground and took her hand as she led
me to the back room. Suddenly she
stopped and ran back to get the torch.
The light illuminated the smaller cave.
The room was spotless. The bed
frames had been repaired with mud and rocks.
Pine boughs had been placed on each bed frame but several deer hides
were only on one. I looked closer. The bed had been expanded — to sleep
double. Mai Li looked at me in my ragged
but clean buckskins. “You took the clothes
of the killer. I knew it — Hin Lo was
wrong.”
I didn’t
understand. “Explain, please,” I
muttered as she lit a smaller torch that hung on the wall near the entry of the
smaller cave. She extinguished the large
torch by covering it with a small hide.
The dimmer light cast shadows in our bedroom.
“An Indian youth came
to our upper camp looking for work and he was wearing your army clothes. Hin Lo was sure you had been killed. I believed the Indian. He said he found the clothes. When I asked him where, he described where we
camped.”
“So what happened to
the Indian?” I asked.
“Hin Lo has him tied
up in the granary. Pink is guarding him
with your pistol.”
I laughed at her description of the Indian youth being held by Pink who was such
a sweet young woman. “You say he came
looking for work?”
“Enough about the
Apache boy. You are going to seduce me,
my dear Pepper,” she said as she approached and began removing my wide
belt. “I agree,” I said as I began
lifting her dress. “I’m starved for
you!”
****
It took us three trips to the horses in the upper pasture to
unload all I’d
purchased and carry it back to the Mimbres cave. Mai Li was astounded at all the extra horses
and supplies. We sat in the outer cavern
and sorted items for the upper camp or our private place. I was surprised at what Mai Li wanted for our
secret home. I’d only decided the gold
or silver coin tools to be relegated to the waterfall hideout. I was also going
to leave the spade and gold pan. But Mai Li chose a lot of staples for
emergency supplies; also candles.
Before the last trip to the Mimbres home-site, we hobbled all
four horses and turned them loose to graze.
I was hoping we didn’t
have another circus performance in the morning.
It took two tries but I finally pitched a rope over a high branch in
order to haul the saddle and the roll of buggy wheel steel into the top of a
tree. I placed stone markers around the
section I’d described in the claim drawing. Our lower claim was now legal. I had every intention of building a sluice
box and installing it below the waterfall; mostly for show because if there was
color in this stream, someone would have already claimed it.
Mai Li was roasting a haunch of venison that she’d brought from our
upper camp. Han Li had shot three deer
just before Mai Li had arrived. Most had
been jerked for winter food. The haunch
that was over our fire had been partially smoked to preserve it. I switched my hook for the fork apparatus and
Mai Li went into a fit of laughter watching me put it on. Her laugh was
infectious and soon we both had tears running down our noses. In my thirty-four
years, I couldn’t remember ever being this happy.
“What are your plans,
Pepper? I see things you bought or
traded for that makes no sense to me but I’m sure you have a reason,” Mia Li
asked.
“Get ready for a long
story, my dear. I was in college when
the war broke out. All of my classmates
joined to fight the Yanks. I wasn’t anxious to serve but I felt a duty to help
my home state of Texas. I finished my
first year and then dropped out and joined the Texas Rangers. I was with them less than a year when the
command I was under had been pulled back from fighting Comanches on the western
frontier, and assigned to guarding shipments of supplies for the army in East
Texas. Since I was involved in the war effort anyway, I spoke with a few high
ranking officers and was promised an officer ranking if I enlisted. I’d only had one year of college but it
qualified me for the rank of Lieutenant.
After a few skirmishes with the Yanks, I was promoted to Captain. By age twenty-two, I was a Colonel. By age
twenty-three I was captured and sent to the Rock Island Yankee prison camp in
Illinois. At the time of my confinement,
I was the highest ranking officer in that prison. I developed a plan for an escape tunnel. I organized the men, provided digging
implements and when it was finally used, created a diversion so some of the
prisoners could escape. The warden eventually figured out my involvement and
gave me the choice to be a galvanized Yankee or face a firing squad.”
“Yes, that is a very
interesting story, Pepper but you didn’t answer my question. “What are your
plans?”
“I’m getting to
that. Forty-two men escaped through that
tunnel. Only two got plumb away. Only one is alive today and he lives in Piños
Altos. I spent two days with him. He has
an Apache wife — they are a team. He has
a partner in the business — I’m not sure about him, but I admire what Fuzzy and
his wife, Milly has created. She’s his
true partner and I believe I have a woman who is just as good if not better.
We, my love, are going build an estate in which to be proud. We have the resources already — A chunk of
land, perfect for development, people we can trust; Hin Lo, Dao, Pink, Fuzzy in
town, and maybe this Indian kid.
Employees, partners, collaborators — all these are precious resources. I intend for us to help them help us.”
Mai Li was silent for a moment, digesting what her new life
partner was explaining. “I’m not sure I
totally understand. Give me an example.”
I didn’t
hesitate. I took one of the flour sacks filled with horsehair and handed it to
her. “Look inside.”
Mai Li untied the bag and pulled out some of the horsehair.
“What do you see?”
“I see horsehair
stuffing for a pillow. I think rabbit
skin or feathers would be better,” she surmised.
I took the sack from her and held a handful of the hair. “I see Pink or Dao using this hair to braid halters,
cinches, bridles, and reins. Whoever crafts something we can sell will receive
a small commission. Helping us help them.
Same with Hin Lo with some other handcraft products or excess game. Fuzzy and Will own the trading post — it
serves this entire area; even Tent City and part of the reservation. I’m going to make a special knife to
sell. That’s why I bought the carriage
wheel steel. Every dollar we make can go
into livestock.”
I went on to explain my part time job as a smithy and my
arrangement with Will about the cattle.
I intend to run two brands on this place; one with my minor partners and
then our own brand.” I held up my fork with the tines straight up
and then turned my wrist down. “Devil
Tine or Turkey track -- Which do you like?”
Mai Li began laughing again.
Chapter 12
Junior no longer needed the bozal. He was fitted with just his halter and a lead
rope. I put him in the second
position. The grulla mare seemed to have
the most sense, so I didn’t
attach her to a lead rope. She wore a
horsehair halter but was free to just follow along.
I noticed Mai Li inspect all the tack before we started the last
leg of our journey. She would build the first hair halter — I’d bet on it.
After we started up
the trail, Mai Li was full of questions.
Her concern was about the horse ranch side of our future, not raising
the cattle.
“If horses are cheap,
why do you want to raise them?” She
asked from behind as we rode double. “That would be labor and investment
without any profit?”
“Horses are cheap now
because there are so many of them. They
raise hundreds on the reservation out by Reserve. Cattle are just the opposite. Silver City is starved for beef. Most miners don’t use horses. If they buy one, it’s not the ‘Indian pony’
style.” Ranchers and cowboys want some horses with certain traits. People who drive buggies and spring wagons
want some size and strength. The army has high standards – the Indian ponies
won’t meet those requirements. We’re
going to have a breed of horse like none other. Our half-draft, back there will
sire some magnificent horses over the years.
The secret is eliminating the inbreeding and choosing the correct
mares. Horses are our long term future,
Mai Li. Cattle will be for the immediate
future.”
When we reached the headwaters of hidden creek, I staked the
claim as I had shown it on the sketch.
Now we had two legal mining claims. Baby steps to getting title to our
ranch. The meadows from the lower vista seemed endless. I was really glad to be
back. The love nest was special, but
this hanging valley defined magnificent.
Hin, Dao, and Pink were near the dead-falls when we rode up. A
pile of branches suggested they were laying in firewood. There was an ax in one
of Junior’s panniers. I knew life would
be much easier now that we had returned with supplies and basics. I was determined to turn our hide-out into a
home.
Our arrival was a festive affair. It seemed that the others sensed there was a
change in our relationship. Once I
entered the cliff dwelling I could see some recent construction. I also met their prisoner — a young Apache
man wearing my military blouse. I
motioned to Hin Lo. “Turn him loose… he’s
not guilty of killing me!” Mai Li didn’t need to translate. I handed my Bowie to Hin and he cut the
rawhide bonds off the grateful young man.
“Thank you!” he said in English.
“What is your name and
why did you come here? How do you know
this place?”
The young man rubbed his wrists to regain circulation. He looked me straight in the eye and didn’t blink. I could see some intelligence and courage in
the youth. “Brian Roscoe is my
name. I am eighteen. My father is the Methodist minister to the
reservation, my mother is Mescalero. I
am a half-breed who speaks three languages; Mescalero, English, and Spanish.”
I liked the fire this kid had in him. Proud but rebellious.
Mai Li nodded her concurrence as she and Dao went about
unloading the panniers.
“You didn’t answer the
last part of my question.”
“I belong to a society
who worships the gods of the ancients.
We know of all of the ancient sites,” Brian said. “I was at this place of the ancient once
before when I was very young. The time of the treaty signing.”
I did some mental math. “You were six years of
age. I was here, too — in the Army.”
The young man grinned and blushed as he looked at the soldier
blouse he was wearing. He noticed my
notice. “I was cold — I have the jacket, too. The animals had
started on the body. I just took the
soldier clothes.”
I shrugged my shoulders and turned toward the opening to
outside. “Where is the jacket, now?”
I asked in passing.
“I left it in the
ancient dwelling on the other side of the underground river.”
I wasn’t
aware of the place he’d described. “Will
you show me this place?” I asked.
He nodded in the
affirmative.
As I stepped into the sunshine, the first thing I noticed was
the mare and foal inherited from Digger who I’d left behind to graze, had come to visit the gelding I
named Bay. They had obviously buddied with my gelding that had yet to be
unsaddled.
Mai Li was attempting
to remove the rope wrapped coil of steel around Junior’s neck. As usual, the baby half-draft was being
difficult. Brian, who had followed me
outside, went to assist. He calmed the
stud in short order, removed the collar, and grabbed a handful of weeds and
grass and rubbed the horse colt down; even under his belly which should have
gotten him kicked. I observed as he
continued to work with the two green mares and then he began grooming the filly
and her momma.
I unsaddled the gelding, gave him his customary rubdown and let
him have a good roll. I turned back to
my inner group and pointed to the kid. “Any objection if I hire this boy?”
Mai Li translated and everyone’s face brightened - Hin Lo grinned.
“You are a good man,
Pepper Pyle,” she stated as she patted my knee.
“We are like a family
here in this valley. If everyone pitches in, we can all have a good life,” I
advised.
Mai Li again translated as I turned to return to the cliff
dwelling. We needed to revise the
structure a bit to allow for storage of our winter supplies. I made some suggestions to the women and then
picked up my big fifty, slung it over my shoulder, grabbed the old .30-.40 Krag
rifle, and walked outside. I motioned to
Hin Lo and Brian to join me.
“Brian is going to
show us a new area in this hanging valley.
We may as well hunt while we learn our territory,” I suggested as I
handed the military rifle to Hin Lo. I also gave him a handful of cartridges.
“Brian, lead us to
where you’ve been staying here in the valley.”
I heard something behind me as we set off across the
meadow. Junior was following us. I chuckled as the knothead passed Hin Lo and
me and tagged along behind Brian.
“Brian, how would you
like to be our wrangler? No pay to begin
with, just food and board, but when we get a ranch going you can receive pay
and maybe bonuses,” I asked politely.
Brian turned and looked at me.
“I
came here for a job. Yes I will work that
way.”
Hin looked at me. “What me?” he asked as
he raised the rifle over his head.
“Hunter and herdsman,”
I replied.
Hin grinned and waved the rifle again. He understood hunter. I’d have Mai Li explain the herdsman part.
“Mister Pepper, what
do you want me to do first?” Brian asked.
“Get settled in with
one of the cliff houses. We chose the
one on ground level initially. Pick any
other — fix it up, and then start breaking those mares to ride. I want all the horses on this place to be
able to ride, drive, and pack. Plus
teach everyone here how to ride.”
“Even this half
draft?”
‘Yes, especially,
Junior. You can wait for him to mature a
bit. He’s only six months. In between breaking and training, you can be
my helper, hunt with Hin Lo, and just make yourself useful.”
Our walk through the woods produced meat for the table and meat
for preservation. Two mule deer were
dressed and hanging in a short ponderosa pine to be picked up on our way
back.
Junior bolted into a full run when the first shot was fired. I assumed he would go back to our small horse
herd — that’s
the direction he had headed. I saw
several wild turkeys running through the timber. “Looks like I need to trade for a shotgun,” I
said to no one in general.
Brian stopped and turned back to me. “I can trap most any bird you want. The less shooting here -- in this valley, the
better. The ancients are at rest here.”
I respected his reverence to the ancients. As long as we were all fed and some
provisions were put aside for the winter, I was not concerned how the results
were achieved.
We broke through the timber into a natural clearing around four
hundred acres in size, rectangular shaped.
The meadow was dotted by ponderosa pines twice as big as the others in
the area. Grass was twice as tall as the
other meadows, suggesting natural sub irrigation. The clearing sloped away from the timber to a
small lake in the bottom left hand corner.
It was magnificent. My mind raced
to all the benefits of having this sub irrigated pasture for growing winter
feed; then to how to harvest and store the feed.
Brian pointed to the small grove of cottonwood trees near the
pond. “That’s another ancient home site — over that ridge.”
Chapter 13
My mind was planning all the while inspecting the roof portion
of the old Anazasi cliff dwelling. The
meadow stopped at a small seep that filled the pond. A hundred yards past the cottonwoods was a
cliff — built into the cliff was a small cliff dwelling. It had a short plateau
at the bottom level that appeared to be a ledge of an extremely sheer cliff
which dropped to a river below. Across
the river ravine was the foothills of a snow capped mountain range. The Anazasi
dwelling was almost intact. Unlike the
ruins back at the camp by the beaver pond, this relic was pristine. I took a
seat on some rocks at the edge of the pond.
They were different — like the ones in the fire pit at the waterfall
Mimbres love nest. I picked up a small
stone about the size of a goose egg. It
was heavy — almost gold or lead heavy. I
sat there inspecting the stone when Hin Lo approached. He pointed to the
sky. Then he pointed to each stone like
the one in my hand. His gestures
confirmed what I had suspected; these were meteorites. Some of the stones were
as large as a milk bucket. I counted a total of sixty. I knew there were probably more under the
soil. Perhaps this entire hanging basin
had been created by a meteor hitting the earth.
Imagining the uses for the stones enforced what I had been
considering. Maybe we should move our
camp to these ruins — not so ruined. The
meteorite stones would make an excellent forge and perhaps even an anvil.
I looked at the tree line above the sub-irrigated meadow. I would be easy to fence out the stock and
preserve our hay. Storage to keep it dry
was another problem that could be solved later.
I envisioned the enormous effort in moving, but then considered
the benefits. I had the help of friends
and now the horses. We had very little
money but I had a part time job that could fulfill our needs over time. We were also set for winter as long as the
wild game held out.
I decided to look at the ruins again and to explore to the base
of the units. I motioned Brian and Han
Li over to discuss further exploration.
I guessed there was probably a set of stairs from the top to the bottom
of the dwelling. The ancients would have
had a way to negotiate the various levels if they were under siege. We scouted the top floor, where Brian had
slept several nights and stored the military jacket. Hin Lo discovered a crawl
space to the dwelling next door. Brian
went through and announced he’d
found a set of steps.
It took us an hour to negotiate the labyrinth of stealthy
connections to the rooms and floors of the ruins.
I was standing near the
left side of the lower floor, scanning the cliff to the river below when I
heard water running; just a few drips. I
explored and found water coming from under several rocks inside the
building. I crawled outside, careful not
to fall over the rock shelf, and saw what I’d expected. The
ancients had built a quasi-aqueduct into the cliff dwelling. I was impressed. The Ancients had my
vote. No wonder they had a cult
following among the Mescalero.
I planned to discuss the new plan with Mai Li since we were life
partners, but, it was a done deal in my mind.
This would be a very practical ranch headquarters. She would have to give me a very strong
reason for not shifting to the Meteorite Ruins.
I went back to the spring that fed the pond. It looked adequate
for our needs even though it was summer. I drew a sketch in the dirt when I
decided to build a forge out of the meteorite stones. I arranged the outer shell size and then had
my guys begin bringing me the stones. It
was going to be double walled with the air draft hole in the side — lower to
the bottom, and the fire pit would be large enough for me to make a scythe or
two. Hin Lo grasped the concept and kept
giggling aloud as we stacked and fitted the stones. Soon, it was waist high and
large enough to accommodate anything we would need to create.
We walked to the pond and washed up before heading back to our
camp. I visualized our future fence, the
timber we could cut to build structures, and I visualized the ranch full of
cattle and horses. This was a defining day for the future of everyone in our
multi-cultural family.
Junior was grazing near the tree which held the deer
carcasses. Brian approached him and
brought him closer to the dead meat. The colt shied at first. Brian placed his hand in the carcass cavity
and then rubbed it on Junior’s
nose. Hin Lo and I watched patiently as
the young man loaded one carcass and then the other. They were balanced on the colts back with no
fastening and the colt was without a halter.
Brian stood for a moment and then walked toward the camp. Junior followed like a puppy.
“Young mister Roscoe
is an animal magician,” I whispered to Hin Lo.
I’m not sure he understood, but he nodded in agreement.
I was anxious to
explain my thoughts to Mai Li so we detached ourselves from the others and
walked to the beaver pond.
“I don’t see where it
would cause much of a problem. All we
have to really rebuild are the drying racks for making jerky,” Mai Li
stated. “Can you take me there later so
I can see? I want to be alone with you.”
She added.
I nodded affirmative. “We’ll ride over after supper with our bedrolls.”
Brian spent several
hours before our evening meal erecting and describing the various methods of
trapping birds in our high valley. He
built three cage-like structures out of willow branches and installed them over
holes he had previously dug with the spade. Each hole was about eighteen inched
deep with a ramp on one end. His cages
were a foot high and were anchored by driving forked stakes into the
ground. He then wove brush and limbs
into the cage to camouflage it and darken the interior. Once securely fastened to the ground, he
placed seeds from grasses he’d gathered into the bottom of the hole and made a
trail of the bait leading to the trap.
Brian explained that turkeys or quail would peck their way down the open
ramp but once in the bottom of the hole they would raise their heads and not be
able to find their way out; as the entry ramp was too low. I could taste the flavors of roasting
turkey. Brian also suggested that he
could build some fish traps in the river below the ancient ruins we had just
visited and I intended to make our new headquarters. I wasn’t idle during his
teachings, I had finalized the foot
bellows I was making out of deer hide just before supper. I knew the meteorites could handle any heat I
could create. My preference would have been coal but would have to settle for
charcoal. I looked at the timber in our
hanging valley; all softwoods. Not great
for making charcoal but it would have to suffice. I knew I needed to make
another set of bellows – a set for a helper to blow enough oxygen into the
firebox in order to forge weld. For just
bending and shaping, the single foot bellows I had constructed would work just
fine.
****
It took three tries before the forge I built out of the
meteorites became one hundred percent serviceable. Being without an anvil was my greatest
handicap. I was able to use a flat topped meteorite to shape knife blades. We made charcoal out of fallen limbs of
ponderosa pine for fuel since we had no access to coal. I hoped to remedy that in weeks to come. I was able to finish two sets of blades, the
component parts, and the handles. I
spent each evening filing, grinding, and assembling the locking folders. Since the knife and the sheath were an
integral system, I made one sheath as a pattern — Brian made two more which
were professional quality. Then Mai Li
made one which was a work of art.
Teamwork had created over three dozen articles for sale in Piños
Altos. I was scheduled to make the trip
in the following morning.
Brian was leaving on a mission for the ranch. He would ride part way with me and then we’d split at Digger’s
grave and he would ride on to the reservation to do some horse-trading. I’d
issued him thirty dollars. I told him I
would give him a dollar bonus for every young mare equal to or better than the
grulla he was riding.
The grulla was the horse I had chosen for Mai
Li to use. I expected the young mare would be perfect for my bride-to-be once
it had been ridden to the reservation at Reserve and back. Dao was already riding the buckskin mare I’d
purchased. Hin Lo rode the pack mare I’d
inherited from Digger. The filly had
been weaned when we moved the camp to our new headquarters. It only took three days to accomplish the
separation.
Mai Li and I had staked two more claims which I intended to file
on this trip. After putting in my two
days as a smitty, I was planning to travel to Silver City to file the homestead
papers which would take me away from the ranch for almost a week.
The move to our new
headquarters went quickly and smoothly.
Mai Li and I took one of the top rooms in the Anazasi ruins and had
settled in as husband and wife. Everyone
deferred to her status as my life partner.
Brian had
been instructed to do what was necessary to make up with his father, the
reverend and encourage him to make the journey to our ranch sometime before our
hay harvest. We wanted to be legally
married.
***** You have reached the end of the free read
for PEPPER PYLE. If you wish to read the remainder, please send me an e-mail:
bobhatting@gmail.com
Best regards,
Rob Hatting
