Chapter 23

Unknown to Sam, his brother Saul was already on the trail up from Nogales lathering up some “borrowed” horses to make up time on the way north. He had a sixth sense about such things and it seemed to him that his brother was getting in hot water up there with the criminal element coming in with the cattle drives each and every week and that he really needed the support of someone he could trust with certainty like a blood relation brother to cover his back.

Besides, it was time for him to get out of Nogales because an irate father was toting a shotgun and searching for him each time he walked outside the rusty metal gate in front of his secluded villa with the pair of nasty guard dogs just inside. Outside, he was exposed to anyone with a reason to blow him out of his boots right in the muddy street and the chance of any law interfering was practically nil.

He knew that the young daughter was one of his early conquests in the sleepy town but he also knew that she was one of those bright-eyed Senoritas that had a different boyfriend every night and that he was probably Johnny come lately when it came to plowing her baby-making furrow with fertile seeds of creation. The risk that he was probably not the true father was enough to make him right skittish about standing up at the altar and saying,

“I do!”

It was time for him to be hitting the back trail and getting shut of all the drama of being a papa and posing for one of those new-fangled photos that were all the rage back east.

He had his handguns, his Henry rifle and a pair of boots just itching to get back on the road and away from domestic difficulties.

Saul got a rowdy cowboy in a conversation and discovered that the rumor going around was pointing out to his brother’s quiet little valley as the ideal location for having a fine time with the ladies and getting booze at bargain prices without much interference from the law that was always out chasing down renegade Indians that had jumped the reservation with evil intentions toward the wagon trains heading west and the stagecoaches filled with passengers heading out west to make their fortunes.

It was beginning to look like he had made the right move to head back to Sam’s side in this time of great danger even if the law was still looking for him for the shooting that his brother could claim as his but the law had pinned to him with his wanted poster up on the wall of every law office from the border to the town.

He didn’t hold it against his brother because over the years they had each been blamed for the others mistakes more often than not and the fun of looking like twins was a curse for getting in trouble.

He was out of provisions already and had no coffee or beef jerky the next morning making him downright ornery about everything from the hole in his sock to the fact that his horse was starting to develop a slight limp in his left front forefoot and he had no liniment to take away the pain. Suddenly, he realized that being alone was great for privacy but a real risky proposition if he got stranded with no horse and no idea how far it was to the next water hole.

From the sad look in the horse’s eyes, he got the impression the dumb animal was fully aware of his situation and was just as anxious as him to find a place to rest up and get some grub and water for their internal systems and hopefully find some of those plants that the Indians had taught Sam and him to use when their horse came up lame and just walk until the leg healed up. It was going to slow him down considerable but sometimes folks didn’t have complete control over their own fate and you just had to go with the flow until things looked up.

“Well, old fella, it sort of looks like you and me are screwed three ways from Sunday and we got to make the best of things until we come up with water and some of that sweet grass in the foothills.”

Saul knew talking to a horse was not a sign of general overall good mental health but he had done it a lot lately ever since he and his brother Sam got split up due to circumstances.

Sure enough, the next bend in the trail showed a trace of blue not too distant and he figured it was the Gila River extension that ran east to west and not north to south like most of the rivers west of the Mississippi.

He saw the faint hint of a campfire inside the tree line on the other side of the open wasteland and figured it might be some settlers down on their luck or broken down and unable to move. The chance of meeting up with some water or grub was enough of an inducement for him to walk a bit faster and even the horse sensed the importance of finding sustenance as quickly as possible. His limp grew a bit less defined but Saul was loath to ride knowing his weight might be just enough to cause him to lose his mount real permanent like.

He could hear the chatter of females but still could not see their camp.

Then, he saw the Conestoga wagon right in front of him with the damaged wheel sitting forlornly off to the side like some sort of symbol about the dangers of not maintaining a wagon in the wilderness. All he saw was a bunch of females ranging from an old woman in a silly rocking chair to a frayed and worn-out motherly type wearing her dress tied up high for comfort and her shapely white legs right out in the open and not acceptable at all in decent society. It might be fine for little ones not yet past the puberty line but nubile females were supposed to be all covered up from the ankles to the neck according to the Good Book and the norm of proper behavior.

Of course, it made a difference if the female was not a God-fearing person but the type that sold her body for financial gain living off the sins of any gent with some coins in his pocket and a whole lot of yearning for the taste of soft female flesh and the scent of gosh-darned womanhood on their long-deprived pecker.

To round out the picture was the pair of young females watering down the oxen that had been pulling the wagon on the far side of the campfire that had a pot of what looked like real coffee just waiting for his arrival.

He looked in all directions real careful but there were no men to be seen and he suspected the leader of this bunch was flat on his back in the wagon unable to oversee their actions and give directions like men tend to do in such circumstances.

The old lady saw him first and she shouted out loud and clear.

“Bobby Joe, we got us a visitor although he doesn’t look all that promising.”

The frazzled white lady turned around with a long gun in her hands and he made certain she saw that he had both hands far away from his handguns and presented no danger to her party.

The two young girls stopped chattering and he saw that they both were a lot older than he first thought. It was really their actions that made him think they were children and not full grown adults because the need for play was uppermost on their mind even in this desperate situation isolated in almost complete abandonment.

“No need to be uncomfortable, ladies, Blackie and me, we are just on the road and poor Blackie has got a temporary limp that forces me to walk on the two feet given for that purpose.”

The old lady chuckled and rocked a little faster and that was when he noticed the old Navy colt sitting quietly on her lap right on top of her folded shawl that looked like the best way of wrapping up when the chills hit aging bones.