Part 28 (1/2)
”This hyar's th' Tom Boyd that slapped Armijo's kiyote face,” explained Hank. ”We hears th' Governor is lonesome fer his company.”
”Great Jehovah yes!” exclaimed Turley. ”Boyd, ye better jine that thar caravan from Bent's, meetin' up with it at th' Crossin'. Armijo combed these hyar mountings fer ye, an' watched my rancho fer nigh a week. He'd 'most give his right hand ter git a-holt o' you; an' if he does, you kin guess what'll happen ter you!” He peered curiously at the young American and shook his head. ”I'm bettin' ye _do_ leave on th' jump, if yer lucky enough ter leave at all. Ye'll need fresh hosses, another change o'
clothes an' a cache o' grub. Tell ye what,” he said, turning to Hank.
”Ye know that little mounting valley whar you an' me stopped fer two days, that time we war helpin' find th' hosses that war run off Bent's Vermajo rancho? Wall, I'll fix it so these hyar hosses will be waitin'
fer ye up thar. I got some men I kin trust as long as I'm playin' agin'
th' greasers. I'll cache ye some Dupont an' Galena, too,” he offered, referring to powder and lead. The latter came from Galena, Illinois, and took its name from that place.
”An' forty pounds o' jerked meat a man,” added Hank. ”We might have ter go clean up ter th' South Park afore we dast turn fer Bent's. Hang it on that thar dead ash we used afore, or clost by if th' tree's down. We better leave ye some more bullets as will fit our own weapons without no doubt. We kin run more in th' warehouse in Santer Fe if we need 'em.
Keep yer Galena, Turley, an' leave some patches, instid, along with our bullets.”
”But we'll still be four arter we leave hyar,” objected Jim.
”No, ye won't,” replied Turley. ”Ye'll show up in pairs, ye'll jine in pairs, ye'll ride an' 'sociate in pairs, an' thar'll be a dozen more mixin' up with ye. Wall, talk it over among ye while I gits busy afore it's light,” and the friendly rancher was swallowed up in the night.
A few minutes later Jacques, sleepy and grumbling, loomed up out of the darkness, collected the six horses and departed up the slope. Shortly after him came Turley with a miscellaneous collection of odds and ends of worn-out clothing and soon his friends had exchanged a garment or two with him. Tom and Hank parted with their buckskin s.h.i.+rts and now wore coa.r.s.e garments of Pueblo make; Zeb had a Comanche leather jerkin and Jim wore a blue cotton s.h.i.+rt patched with threadbare red flannel. They bound bands of beadwork or soft tanned skin around their foreheads, and Hank's hair proudly displayed two iridescent bronze feathers from the tail of a rooster. If Joe Cooper, himself, had come face to face with them he would have pa.s.sed by without a second glance.
Silently Zeb and Jim melted into the night, while Tom and Hank arose and went around to the wall of the still house, rolled up in their newly-acquired blankets against the base of the adobe wall and slept until discovered and awakened after dawn by one of Turley's mill hands, who paid them a timid and genuine respect.
They loafed around all day, watching the still house with eager eyes.
Their wordless pleading was in vain, however, for Turley, frankly scowling at their first appearance, totally ignored them thereafter.
Just before dusk two half-civilized Arapahoes from St. Vrain's South Platte trading post swung down the mountain side, cast avaricious eyes on some horses in the pasture, sniffed deeply at the still house, and asked for whiskey.
”I'll give ye whiskey,” said Turley after a moment's thought, a grin spreading over his face, ”but I won't give it ter ye hyar. If ye want likker I'll give ye a writin' ter my agent in Santer Fe, an' he'll give ye all yer porous skins kin hold, an' a jug ter take away with ye.”
”_Si, senor! Si, senor! Muchos gracias!_”
”Hold on thar! Hold yer hosses!” growled Turley. ”Ye don't reckon I'm makin' ye no present, do ye? Ye got ter earn that likker. If ye want it bad enough ter escort my _atejo_ ter th' city, it's yourn. I'm combin'
my hosses outer th' brush, an' I'm short-handed. By gos.h.!.+” he chuckled, smiling broadly.
”Thar's a couple more thirsty Injuns 'round hyar, some'rs; hey, Jacques!
Go find them watch dogs o' th' still house. They won't be fur away, you kin bet. These two an' them sh.o.r.e will scare th' thieves plumb ter death all th' way ter town. I kin feel _my_ ha'r move!”
Jacques returned shortly with Bent's thirsty hirelings, and after some negotiations and the promise of horses for them to ride, the Indians accepted his offer. They showed a little reluctance until he had given each of them a drink of his raw, new whiskey, which seemed to serve as fuel to feed a fire already flaming. The bargain struck, he ordered them fed and let them sleep on the softest bit of ground they could find around the rancho.
CHAPTER XVIII
SANTA FE
After an early breakfast the _atejo_ of nineteen mules besides the _mulera_, or bell mule, was brought out of the pasture and the _aparejos_, leather bags stuffed with hay, thrown on their backs and cinched fast with wide belts of woven sea-gra.s.s, which were drawn so cruelly tight that they seemed almost to cut the animals in two; this cruelty was a necessary one and saved them greater cruelties by holding the packs from slipping and chafing them to the bone. Groaning from the tightness of the cinches they stood trembling while the huge cruppers were put into place and breast straps tightened. Then the _carga_ was placed on them, the whiskey carriers loaded with a cask on each side, firmly bound with rawhide ropes; the meal carriers with nearly one hundred fifty pounds in sacks on each side. While the mules winced now, after they had become warmed up and the hay of the _aparejos_ packed to a better fit, they could travel longer and carry the heavy burdens with greater ease than if the cinches were slacked. The packing down and shaping of the _aparejo_ so loosened the cinch and ropes that frequently it was necessary to stop and tighten them all after a mile or so had been put behind.
The _atejo_ was in charge of a major-domo, five _arrieros_, or muleteers and a cook, or the _madre_, who usually went ahead and led the bell mule. All the men rode well-trained horses, and both men and horses from Turley's rancho were sleek, well fed and contented, for the proprietor was known throughout the valley, and beyond, for his kindness, honesty and generosity; and he was repaid in kind, for his employees were faithful, loyal, and courageous in standing up for his rights and in defending his property. Yet the time was to come some years hence when his sterling qualities would be forgotten and he would lose his life at the hands of the inhabitants of the valley.
The _atejo_ swiftly and dexterously packed, the two pairs of bloodthirsty looking Indian guards divided into advance and rear guard, the _madre_ led the bell mule down the slope and up the trail leading over the low mountainous divide toward Ferdinand de Taos, the grunting mules following in orderly file.
The trail wandered around gorges and bowlders and among pine, cedar, and dwarf oaks and through patches of service berries with their small, grapelike fruit, and crossed numerous small rivulets carrying off the water of the rainy season. Taos, as it was improperly called, lay twelve miles distant at the foot of the other side of the divide, and it was reached shortly after noon without a stop on the way. The ”noonings”
observed by the caravans were not allowed in an _atejo_, nor were the mules permitted to stop for even a moment while on the way, for if allowed a moment's rest they promptly would lie down, and in attempting to arise under their heavy loads were likely to strain their loins so badly as to render them forever unfit for work. To remove and replace the packs would take too much time. Because of the steady traveling the day's journey rarely exceeded five or six hours nor covered more than twelve to fifteen miles.