Sagebrush Read online

  “Where was the wagon train going?” Pat asked.

  Sage said, “We were going to Santa Fe.”

  “Why were you going to Santa Fe?” Joe asked.

  Sage explained: “My father owned a shipbuilding business in Virginia. It was his custom to take his ships for a shakedown cruise before he turned them over to the people he had built them for. While returning from his last cruise, he found a man floating on debris in the Gulf of Mexico. The man was a survivor of a raid by privateers on a richly laden ship. The ship was en route from Spain to Mexico. Father brought the sick man home and tried to nurse him back to health. In spite of all he or Mother could do, the old gentleman’s health continued to deteriorate. When it became certain that he was dying, Señor Diego divulged his story.

  “His name was Antonio Fernando Hidalgo Diego. He was a man of wealth and political influence in Spain. He was the descendant of people who were part of the aristocracy of Spain. The old man’s grandfather had been a personal friend of the king, and the king bestowed a land grant to Antonio Diego’s grandfather. The tract of land is in New Mexico, near the town of Santa Fe. It has been in the Diego family for five generations. Antonio Diego inherited the land from his father; and then he passed it on to his son, who, with his wife, was killed by Apache while on a journey from Santa Fe to Mexico City. So the land then passed on to Don Diego’s granddaughter.

  “When Señor Diego was called to Spain, his granddaughter was too young to manage the affairs of such a large ranch. So he left it in the care of her uncle. While he was in Spain, he received news that his granddaughter was in danger of losing the land. The Don sent a messenger telling her that he would be sending someone to help her.

  “When Don Diego realized he was dying, he begged my father to go in his stead, and save his granddaughter’s land. Father was reluctant and told Don Diego he had a shipbuilding business to run and a son to raise. Antonio Diego explained that after he had saved the land for his granddaughter, he could return to his shipbuilding business by going down the Rio Grande to Matamoras, and there, he could board a ship back to Virginia.

  “As an inducement to get my father to undertake the responsibility, Don Diego drew up a paper assigning half ownership of the land to my father. Of course, the ownership was valid only if his granddaughter had not lost the land.

  “After much consideration, Dad decided to grant the dying man’s wish. He felt this would be an opportunity to continue my training, and enable us to learn about the new land that President Thomas Jefferson had purchased. Father decided to leave the shipbuilding business in the care of my grandfather until he returned. Father drew up a will leaving the business to me should anything happen to him and my mother while we were on the trip.

  “Dad grew up on his father’s land in the Appalachian Mountains. Appalachia was still unsettled then, so he had a good knowledge of how to survive in the wilderness. When he got time away from his shipbuilding business, he and I would visit Grandfather. Dad took me into the mountains and taught me how to live off the land. He taught me how to hunt and fish, how to kill animals, and prepare the meat so it wouldn’t spoil. We skinned the animals, tanned their hides, and made clothes. As part of my training, Father also took me on some of his shakedown cruises.

  “He taught me to use the sextant to locate our position on the globe. I learned to tell time by the sun during the day and by the stars at night. That training helped me to survive here.

  “Dad taught me to stand alone, never depend upon other men. He told me to trust all men until they prove themselves untrustworthy, and then never trust them again. He said, ‘If they do you wrong once, they’ll do it again, if you give them a chance.’”

  Pat Connors and Joe Martin were mountain men, and they realized what a remarkable thing this young man had done. After Michael finished telling his story, they then told their story. The older man spoke first.

  “I came west when I was just a boy,” Pat said. “My family lived on a farm on the Ohio River. Mother and Father got sick one winter and died. I tried to run the farm, but it was too much for me. A group of men traveling down the river came by. They were going west to trap beaver. I gave them food and asked if I could go along as one of their party. I had a horse and a gun, and I could provide for myself, so they let me tag along. There were no trails; we just followed the rivers. We went into the Colorado Mountains, where we trapped beaver and sold their pelts to fur traders in Taos. Most of the Indians were friendly in those days. We gave them knives and blankets for pelts; then we sold the pelts to the traders in Santa Fe or Taos.

  “Sometimes we spent the winters in Taos or Santa Fe, and sometimes we spent them with the Indians. That’s how I learned to speak five Indian languages. Being able to speak their language sure helps. I took a partner, and we did some mining for a time. My partner married a Mexican woman, who runs a cantina in Santa Fe. He was killed in a mineshaft cave-in, and I went back to trapping furs.

  “I lived part of the time with the Cheyenne, and part of the time with the Arapaho. I married a beautiful Arapaho woman, and she bore me two sons. While I was away selling my furs, a band of Blackfoot Indians raided the village and killed my family. I searched for the ones who had killed them. I became a recluse and lived only for the purpose of killing Blackfoot. One day, the Blackfoot had me trapped in a canyon and were closing in on me, when a young man came to my rescue. That’s where I met Joe. Together we fought them off. We’ve been trapping partners ever since.”

  Sage looked at Joe Martin and said, “Now, may I know who you are?”

  Joe replied: “Well, there really isn’t much to tell, and most of it I would like to forget. My family went to Texas when Steven Austin was recruiting people to settle in Texas. The Mexican government gave land to settlers who would live on the land and become Mexican citizens. My family moved to Texas only to find that the right of ownership to the land was in question. The Comanche thought the land belonged to them; Mexican settlers thought the land belonged to them. Anyone who wanted to keep the land had to fight for it. Being good with a gun was a requirement. I found I had a talent with a gun. My reputation spread, and other gunmen came to challenge me. I was forced to kill several of the men, and my reputation spread.

  “I could find no peace, so I ran away into the mountains, hoping my reputation would die, and someday, somewhere, I would be able to return to society and live a normal life. While I was in the mountains, I came upon this mountain man who was in conflict with a band of very determined Indians. I had little to lose, so I joined the fight. You know the rest, all except how we happened to be on top of your cave.

  “Pat and I decided to sell our pelts in St. Louis. After we sold them, we went down the Mississippi to spend some of our money in New Orleans. After a few weeks of drinking, dining, and dancing, we decided to go back to the mountains. We were following the Canadian River, since its headwaters is in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains near Santa Fe. We followed the Red River to the Washita, and then we were following the Washita to join the Canadian when we were jumped by a hornet’s nest of angry Indians. We had no idea what they were so mad about, but they were sure stirred up. You came just in time and showed us a way out. Thank you very much. Say, Sage, since you want to go to Santa Fe, and that’s where we’re going, why don’t you join us?”

  “The Indians who attacked your wagon train and killed your family are Comanche,” Pat said. “They’re the most hostile of all the tribes. You’re either very lucky, or very skilled, to have survived this long in this part of the West.”

  Pat had to remove the arrowhead buried in Joe’s shoulder. He boiled water and sterilized some old clothes that Sage had saved to use as bandages to wrap the wound. Sage watched carefully, so he could learn how to remove arrowheads.

  The mountain men needed food.

  “You men wait here,” Sage said, “and I’ll get us some prairie chickens for dinner.”

  “How are you going to do that?” Pat asked.

  “I know
where they roost. I’ll just pick up one for each of us,” Sage replied.

  “I’m beginning to understand how you’ve survived this long,” Pat murmured.

  Sage disappeared through the opening, and in a short time returned with three prairie chickens, cleaned and ready to be roasted.

  “Now, I’m insisting that Sage comes along with us,” Pat smiled. “Joe, he’ll be a handy man to have along.”

  “The first thing we’ve got to do is get our horses back,” Joe remarked.

  “No, the first thing we’ve got to do is to get your shoulder healed,” Pat corrected, “and then we’ll get our horses. We couldn’t ask for a better place to hole up and get you well enough to travel.”

  Sage added to the conversation. “I have enough food to last all of us for quite a while, and I have a horse.”

  “You have a horse!” they both exclaimed in surprise.

  “It’s one of my father’s horses that the Indians stole when they attacked the wagon train. I took it back when I killed the last of the Comanche. It’s a good horse. I call him ‘Midnight,’ and I have him penned in a blind canyon only a short walk from here.”

  “Well, let’s go get him!” Pat said excitedly.

  “You can look at him, but I don’t want him near this cave. He might expose its location, and the entrance to this cave must be guarded at all costs. When Joe is ready to travel, we’ll figure out a way to get more horses from the Comanche.”

  Joe agreed. “That sounds like a damn good plan to me. Let’s sleep on it. I am a little tuckered out.” He crawled into a pile of hides and was asleep in seconds.

  Sage looked at Pat. “Come, let’s check on the horse. I want to make sure he’s all right.”

  Sage coached Pat on how to leave no tracks as they left the cave. The walk required about half an hour and they found the horse in good condition. The hidden canyon had plenty of room for the horse to move about to evade a mountain lion, should one threaten him.

  “That’s a fine animal,” Pat said. “Your father was a good judge of horses.”

  “Yes, he believed in buying only the best. The Indians stole three more of equal quality when they raided the wagon train. They were yearlings when they were stolen. They’d be in their prime after six years. We could pen the other horses here when we get them, but only for a short time. The Indians will find them if we leave them here.”

  “Well, this horse is doing just fine. Let’s go back to the cave and get some sleep. This has been an eventful day for all of us, and we have a lot to do to get ready.”

  After rubbing the horse down, they returned to the cave and went to sleep.

  * * *

  They awoke early, bathed in the waterfall, and Sage prepared a good breakfast. While they ate, they discussed their plans for recovering the horses.

  “I have a pistol and a rifle,” Sage volunteered, “but I have no powder or shot.”

  “We have powder,” Joe replied, “but we’re running low on shot. Do you have lead? We have bullet molds but no lead. Our lead was in our saddlebags, but the Indians have them now.”

  “I don’t have lead here,” Sage replied, “but there was lead in the wagon. I had no molds and no powder, so it was of no value to me. Perhaps we can find it. I doubt the Indians would have taken it; they wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

  “Let’s see if we can find it,” Pat said. “Lead doesn’t spoil no matter how long it lays around, and we can make all the bullets we’ll need.”

  “Joe,” Sage asked, “can you hold the cave against invaders while we’re gone?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m feeling better this morning. There’s no fever in this wound, and I can hold off a whole tribe of Indians trying to crawl through that small opening. You guys do whatever you need to do; I’ll be just fine. Be careful crawling back in, though, I might mistake you for an Indian.”

  “Okay, let’s go, Pat,” Sage said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do to get ready.”

  They went to what was left of the wagon. Decaying boards and rusting iron was all that was left. The wagon was almost completely overgrown with grass. If you didn’t know it was there, you could walk right by it and never see it.

  Before beginning the search for the lead, Michael went to where he had buried his father. He had left no marker, but he remembered where he had buried him. He gathered white quartz rocks and formed a cross to mark his father’s grave. He removed his lion-skin cap, knelt beside the grave, and said a silent prayer. This might be the last time he would ever see his father’s grave. He then went to his mother’s grave, formed a cross, and placed wild flowers at the site. With a heavy heart, he and Pat returned to the wagon to search for the lead.

  Sage remembered where the toolbox was lying the last time he saw it six years ago. They probed the grass for quite a time before they found the remains of the old toolbox. They found other tools, but they were rusted beyond use. At last, they found two bars of lead. They each had a bar to carry.

  “The other two wagons may have lead, also,” Sage said.

  “This is more than we’ll need for now. Let’s get it back to the cave and get the bullets molded.”

  They gathered fresh persimmons on the way, and Sage killed a rabbit for lunch. Pat was astonished at the skill Sage displayed when he threw his knife to kill the rabbit.

  “One day you’re going to have to show us what you can do with those weapons. That was a remarkable throw you just made.”

  “I’ll be glad to,” Sage replied.

  Sage cleaned the rabbit and washed it in the stream. It was ready for cooking when they got to the cave.

  They had lunch, and Joe said, “Now, let’s see those guns of yours.”

  Sage went farther back into the cave and returned with the guns. He had kept them oiled and wrapped, so they were in perfect condition.

  “These are fine guns,” Joe remarked. “We’ll have to teach you to use them.”

  “He may not need them,” Pat said. “You should see him throw a knife.” He turned to Sage and asked, “How about showing us what you can do with your spear and ax?”

  “Let’s go outside, and I’ll show you.” Sage hung the skin of the rabbit on the trunk of a tree and, from thirty paces, threw his spear, ax, and knife. It was done so fast that the sound was: clunk, clunk, clunk.

  All three weapons hit the skin in a pattern that could be covered with the palm of your hand. The men were astonished.

  Then Joe said, “I sure don’t want him for an enemy.”

  Pat said, “Joe is the best man with a gun I’ve ever seen. If he teaches you, you’ll have been taught by the very best, and with the talent we’ve just witnessed, I think you’re going to be good with those guns, very good indeed. Sage, I’m proud to have you as a friend. You have a good head on your shoulders, and you’ll be a great asset to the West. Let me shake your hand.” He turned to Joe and said, “Now, Joe, get busy and teach this young man the fine art of handling a gun, both pistol and rifle.”

  While Pat was making shot, Joe taught Sage to fire his guns.

  When Sage was out of earshot, Joe told Pat, “He’ll soon be as good as I am, and maybe better.”

  Pat joked, “Don’t tell him that, or you’ll give him a big head.”

  “I don’t think so,” Joe replied. “Not that young man.”

  “I think you like him,” Pat commented.

  “What’s not to like? He obviously has good bloodlines; he’s strong, agile, and he’s smart.”

  When Sage returned, Joe said, “I’ll be ready to travel in a couple of days. Let’s figure out how we’re going to get those horses from them damn Indians.”

  “I have an idea,” Sage suggested. “Pat and I can take the horse we have to carry the supplies, then go in at night and get your saddles and bridles. We’ll get the saddlebags, and whatever else they may have that belongs to you, and stash them on a ridge above a canyon I know of. The canyon is about an hour’s run west of their village. You and Pat can wait on the r
idge while I go to their village and stir them up. They’ll chase me on horseback, and I’ll lead them into that canyon, and you pick them off. While you’re keeping them busy, I’ll pick up the horses and meet you on the ridge. We’ll load up and be off to Santa Fe. They’d never catch us. And if they do, they’ll be sorry. With three of us to do them damage, I doubt that they’ll want to catch us. They may be savages, but they’re not stupid.”

  “Sounds pretty damn risky to me, but I think it might work,” Joe agreed. “Let’s give it some thought—it’ll take some planning.”

  “All right, Pat,” Sage said. “Tomorrow you and I will scout the area, then lay out our final plans.”

  “Okay, let’s take a look. We may as well get our saddlebags and as much of our other stuff as we can while we’re at it.”

  “I was thinking it would be good if we planned this so everything will work smoothly. We don’t want them to know that we’re there until we hit them. We could take them completely by surprise and do it all at once,” Sage said.

  “See,” Pat marveled, “I told you he has a good head on his shoulders.”

  Sage said, “I want to practice with the guns, and I want to develop proficiency with the bow and arrows. Also, I want to show you my trove of hidden treasure. It’s the stuff I recovered from the wagon. Most of it I’ll have to leave here—it’s too bulky to take with us.”

  He brought out his mother’s Bible, pictures, and the papers concerning the ownership of the ranch.

  “You’ll be a very rich young man. The Don Diego ranch is one of the largest and best ranches in the upper Rio Grande valley. I’ve heard they’re having trouble with rustlers. You’ve got your work cut out for you, if you’re going to straighten out that wild bunch,” advised Joe.

  “Can I count on you to help me?” Sage asked.

  “He saved our lives, and he wants to know if he can count on us to help? You’re damn right you can,” exclaimed Pat.

  Then Sage showed them the bag of gold coins. Again, they were astonished.

  “That’s a lot of money!” Joe said. “This is Spanish gold! It’s going to be heavy to carry, but it’s worth carrying. Your father must have been a wealthy man.”

  “He owned a shipbuilding business in Virginia. I guess I own it now, if I ever get back to Virginia to claim it.” Sage was just beginning to realize how great his inherited responsibilities were. Along with the responsibility of saving the ranch for Don Diego’s granddaughter, he had a shipbuilding business to run. He would have to deal with each problem one at a time, when and if he got an opportunity.