Chapter 19

It was now late in the year, so bad weather was to be expected. Running Fox said that we were approaching the season of sand storms, and they could be very bad on occasion. I didn't doubt him, but I wasn't anxious to have him proven correct, either. I was really getting into this wagon master state of mind, and I hated anything that interfered with our progress toward Yuma.

The weather didn't seem to care that we were getting close to Tucson. We were hit with a major sandstorm a couple of days before we got to that community. What I really hated was that Joe and Running Fox were on a hunting expedition when the storm hit. Well, there was no way in hell that we could help them, so all we could do was to hope that Running Fox could get them through it. He certainly knew more about surviving sand storms than Joe did, but Joe was good at following Running Fox's orders.

Running Fox had seen the storm coming, but he knew that there was no way that they could get back to the wagon train before they were swallowed by the storm. They had enough food and water for two days, though the horses were going to get hungry. Running Fox had hoped to find a cave that they could take shelter in during the storm, but none were handy, so they settled for an arroyo that was deep enough to provide shelter even for the horses from the worst of the sand blasting wind.

They hobbled and hooded the horses so that they would not be tempted to wander away. Running Fox and Joe used their blankets and slickers to rig up a serviceable tent to hide under to escape the sand, but there was no way to keep some of the sand from slipping through, no matter what they did. It was a miserable, gritty experience. Running Fox kept Joe amused by telling him stories from Mescalero Apache and Navajo mythology. Most of the stuff from Navajo mythology was damned scary, but it did keep him from worrying about the storm.

The worst part of the storm in many ways was the fact that sand got into everything, including their pemmican and jerky. Teeth would wear down fast when much time was spent chewing on sand, so they had to spit out as much as they could of the sand before they started to chew. The meat in the pemmican was cut pretty fine, Alice saw to that, but the jerky was another story. Chewing on jerky during the storm was like chewing on sandpaper wrapped around hard leather. It wasn't any fun, but it did give Joe something else to think about.

The worst of the storm petered out on the second night, and was completely gone by the time Running Fox woke Joe to prepare to move. They had one kill, but there was no point in bothering with it. The carcass was so full of ingrained sand that it was inedible, so they just left it for any scavengers that could find a way to chew it. The horses were miserable, but they were able to carry the two hunters back to the wagon train.

Joe was glad of one thing: most of the digging out was finished by the time they arrived.

Alice was more worried than I was about Joe. I knew that Running Fox could weather the storm if anybody could. I tried to reassure her, but I think that Alice was just a natural worrier.

As we had done previously, we arranged the wagons in a very tight box with the animals inside the box. The horses were hooded, but the oxen did not need that. The humans all huddled inside the canvas covered wagons and sealed them up as best they could. With pemmican, jerky, water, and chamber pots at the ready, all we could do was wait it out. John took the storm somewhat better than Elizabeth did, she spent every moment she could in my lap. OK, I admit it. Elizabeth was becoming a "Daddy's Girl." She even held my hand while she used the chamber pot.

It was a relief when the storm was finally over, and it was a bigger relief when Joe and Running Fox showed up that afternoon. There was a lot of hugging and back slapping when they were greeted, but there was also a lot of kissing by Alice. Joe was embarrassed, but Running Fox appreciated the kiss Alice planted on his cheek and the heart-felt thank you for looking after Joe so well. We didn't move anywhere that day, there was too much to do recovering from the storm.

The next morning, Running Fox and Joe went out to scout and returned just before noon with a report that the road was in remarkably good shape. It looked like we would be able to stay on the normal route without having to worry about the drifted sand. The vagaries of the wind had kept the road swept clear in most places, and even where there was sand, it was not too deep for the oxen to cope.

By this time, Alice was very low on meat, so the two went out hunting again, but this time with a little more pressure on them to return with at least two antelope or one large elk. They headed north toward some low hills that had a few trees on and around them. This was an indication of water somewhere nearby, so there should be meat animals in the vicinity. The only difficulty was that they might have succumbed to the sandstorm.

Joe was using the binoculars to search for game, but Running Fox was looking for trouble. Both spotted something at the same time. Joe saw a herd of elk, but Running Fox saw a group of five Indians. They were too far away for him to identify them, but Joe passed him the binoculars, and Running Fox identified the Indians as Chiricahua Apache, even though they were on foot. They looked like a hunting party to Running Fox instead of a war party, so he was not as worried as he might normally have been.

They got a little closer and Running Fox saw that the party consisted of three old men and two very young boys, none of whom looked at all well fed. He noted, too, that all of the hunters were armed only with bows and arrows, so he quickly came up with a plan. The two rode as quickly as they could to a point where Joe could reliably shoot the elk with his Remington. Running Fox had him shoot four of the animals which they quickly rode to.

The picked up two of the dead elk and rode to where Running Fox had spotted the Indians. Being careful to stay out of bowshot range, they shouted to the Indians in Spanish that they were bringing a gift of meat. The two then dropped the elk where the Chiricahuas could see them and rode away. They went back to pick up the other elk which they delivered to Alice. Joe admitted that he would never had thought of helping the hunting party like that, but he felt good for doing it.

Joe told the story at the entertainment session that night. Some of the men cheered him for the gesture, but others could not understand why he would want to help any Indians. Joe's answer to that was to point toward Running Fox.

We pulled into Tucson two days later, and went through our usual routine of dropping off the freight we had and trying to find more to deliver to Yuma. One stop we made was to see the consortium that had ordered the salt. When we got there, we saw the salt wagon still sitting where we had left it, and it was still full of salt.

It seemed that the outfit that was bringing in the salt in competition with us had seen the wagon of salt and broken. They offered to cut their price to just under ours in order to keep the business. After some negotiation, and agreement was reached whereby the old supplier would undercut our price and guarantee to continue to deliver salt to Tucson. This was our perfect excuse to get out of the business of hauling salt, so we just said that we could not cut our freight price. We acted heartbroken over the loss of the contract, but Abe and I shook hands once we got out of sight of the customers. Overall, we did make a little money on the deal, so we considered ourselves lucky to be clear of a troublesome commitment. We did hope that the people in Yuma would see it our way.