SAM AND DOE STAYED AT the Johnson house the rest of the week, closing the land deal and purchasing enough household supplies to last them for a few months at least. Finally, with a pack train of loaded mules and two packers Sam hired in tow, they headed for the ranch.
Doe had to restrain the General, who seemed to sense her excitement as they headed west.
Sam chuckled. “Do you remember the way?”
“I think so, but I will just be happy to be in the mountains again, even if we get lost.”
“We won’t get lost. We’ve got more payroll with these mules than I can afford to wander all over.”
The second day out, they left the erosion-gouged road and moved down a dim path that swept out between the long mesas through stands barrel cactus, prickly pear, and dry grass. A couple of longhorn cows and calves raised their heads, sniffed the air, and herded their calves nervously away from the strange train. They wore the ranch brand, an M—.
Riding down the long ridge, Sam pointed across the great chasm of live oak to the distant ridge. “See there!”
“It is a strong sign.” Doe turned back to look for the train.
“It’s a bear. Do you see him?”
She sounded annoyed. “Sam, he can understand what we say.”
“Hell, girl, that’s just an animal.”
“A bear is a powerful spirit. Leave him alone.”
The trail wound down from the top of the canyon, sending a few head of longhorns out of the seeping waterhole that seemed to start in a pool and spread over the rocks into another below that one.
Single-file, the train followed along the towering sedimentary bluffs, steeply down into the canyon. They rode through the sandy floor of a dry wash rife with signs of flash floods marring the narrow trail.
He kept an eye on the ridge above where the bear had been, half-amused at her attitude toward the bruin. Shadows were growing deep even in the early afternoon as another canyon came in from the right. A horse-wide trail led up to the east through the chest-high spiny, live oak.
Without hesitation, Doe took the General ahead, and they rode, gaining ground, until they reached a place where they could see the valley ahead.
There, in a valley watered by a spring running down the length and lined with willows, sat a red-roofed hacienda between the high-walled cliffs. The spring had once watered the small fields, and they still showed signs of once being irrigated, but neglect to the ditches had left them brown. The stately tamaracks even looked a little pale, but above the wall, they showed the house off.
When Miguel saw them, he leapt from his horse and ran to meet them. “Señor Sam! You have come with your Señora to live here?”
The yard was brown from lack of water, and dirt had sifted over the tile porch. As Doe held the timber post that supported the porch, she seemed hesitant to enter the open doorway. She swallowed as she inspected the open doorway ahead, half-filled with fear. With slow steps, she crossed the gritty porch.
Miguel apologized. “The house is very dirty, but if I only knew you would be coming, I would have forgotten the cows and cleaned it.”
She turned and hugged the old vaquero as tears streamed down her brown cheeks. Miguel cried, too, and held her close while Sam waited patiently for the sadness to pass. At last, he even wiped his own eyes, and then moved on past the pair.
Doe swallowed and released the man, then hurried to catch up.
The house did need repairs, but its elegance was there. Sam slipped his arm over her shoulder as they cautiously inspected their new home. The furniture, in particular was in desperate need of replacement, and the house appeared inhabited by a great population of pack rats. Each room hung deep in cobwebs and stale dust that proved ready to fly when the large plank doors were pushed in with an eerie squeak.
Doe laughed, whirling the skirt out and bowing like some debutante she saw one time in a book. “This will be a great place for you, Sam Brennen.”
“For us! This whole place is for us!”
“It is so great. Could we afford it?”
“Joe Sunday gave us this for a wedding present.”
“Oh.” She stopped, crestfallen and bowed her head.
“Hey.” He pried up her sad face and kissed her nose gently. “You and I will be married. Don’t listen to the law in Camp Verde. Here, we are the law!”
“I would rather tend the horses all my life than for you to be lost from me.”
“That we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
“Where is Miguel?”
“On the porch.”
“Then let’s go talk to him.”
Their new friend was waiting for them, hat in hand.
“This place needs lots of work, but we like it.” Sam hugged the resistant Doe under his arm.
Miguel nodded. “Señor, there are some cousins of mine in Casa Grande who would love to come back here where they were born when Señor Mendoza was here. They are good farmers and carpenters, and their families would help us fix this place up.”
“How many would come?” Sam screwed up his face.
“There is Pedro and Marie, and they have children. José and Lena, and they have some children, and if you would let me also bring Juan, Margarita, and their family.... Señor, we would make this place look like it did when we were young.”
“How many children?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Too many?”
“How soon before your daughter is a teacher?”
The older man’s face lit up. “Next year.”
“We better plan on a school here.”
“Oh, that would be very nice.”
“How will that many people get here?” Doe asked.
“Pack train, I guess,” Sam said, a little undecided.
“There are some burros on Wild Horse Mesa that were once broke. And some horses on the Rio Salado.”
“Good, let’s get these packers sent home, and we’ll go try our luck at mustanging.” Sam stretched as he finished speaking. What a wonderful secret place they’d found.
In the morning, the packers shook his hand.
One said, “I’ll be glad to get home in my bed. This old place is sure something, but I’d rather keep my scalp.”
Sam nodded and hugged Doe beside him. “Fellows, be careful.”
“We will.” They waved and headed out. As they rode down the overgrown path, Sam and Doe went to find their own mounts. To their surprise, Miguel had the mare and General Crook already saddled.
They rode out what Miguel called the “back way” and climbed out of the canyon on a narrow trail only fit for the sure-footed or a mountain goat.
“There are two horse trails in and out, and two for the brave on foot,” Miguel explained as their horses topped out on the grassy greasewood hills. The occasional century plant stalk dotted the land, its life spent to flower once, a brown stiff stalk marked its death.
“Have you ever used the reata?” Miguel asked.
“No, but I can swing a rope. Is it harder?” Sam pointed to the hand-braided fine leather lasso of the vaquero.
Miguel handed it over. “You will never use the rope again.”
“Then a reata is what I shall use.” Sam deftly dropped the loop over a rock and dallied around the horn. The mare instinctively turned and tightened the rope. He laughed. “I think this lady has been used on cattle before.”
The burros Miguel had mentioned were scattered throughout a small ravine. They hardly lifted their heads at the approaching riders. Then they saw The General. Braying, at the top of their lungs, the suddenly they began to approach the larger mule.
Doe’s eyebrows rose and she giggled. The smile on her face was radiant. “I think they may have found a new leader.
“Get your rope ready.”
Sam roped the first fuzzy burro. He had the marks of a saddle on his back. Captured, the animal barely fought as Sam snubbed him up. Miguel’s roped another, and it tried to buck. Only his quick spur turned his big roan and he rode off just in time to avoid being kicked by two sharp hind feet. Whipping the burro over the butt with his quirt subdued the thick-maned donkey and reminded it of man’s power from its past.
Haltering the first two, they managed to catch two more easily, and the others moved off, acting more elusive.
His spurs jabbing the mare to make her go faster, Sam leaned in the saddle, the fine rawhide coil swishing over his head as the next burro in line flattened his ears and ducked his head. The loop fell true, and the burro, realizing he was captured, ran backwards. Sam gritted his teeth and wrapped the rope around the horn, snubbing the little mount up short.
Miguel roped another spooked one and was having to keep up with its wild antics. Darting behind his new Segundo’s roan caused the rope to goose it into a crow hop that made Doe laugh out loud.
“This burro hunting is sure fun.” Doe grinned, jumping off to halter Sam’s catch. She ducked a pair of flashing donkey teeth, joked about his age, and soon had him haltered.
Before noon, they had rounded up a dozen of the small beasts of burden and were headed back to the hacienda.
Doe’s face beamed with excitement.“I think we will have fun at this place.”
Sam laughed in agreement. “First day, and we have our own mule train.”
“You’ve roped before,” Miguel noted.
“Sure, but it was a long time ago.”
“You learn well.”
“Roping burros and roping Corrienté cows is a lot different.”
“We will see.”
Doe rode in close. “What do you think now?”
Oh, this is more than I ever imagined.” He clapped her on the leg. “And this, my dear, is just the beginning.”
“Do you promise?”
Sam winked and tipped his hat. “Always.”