Devil's Canyon (36 page)

“I've thought of that, myself,” said Collins, “but our original plans called for us to be here for at least a year, and we would have needed the extra supplies.”

“But when we joined your outfit,” Dallas added, “you had eight men to work the claim, and that cuts the time in half. But we'll need grub for the return to Santa Fe, so at least some of our wagon space will be needed for that. Why don't we go ahead and build sideboards for all the wagons, but count on using one of them as a supply wagon?”

“That's a practical solution,” said Collins. “What do the rest of you think?”

“It makes sense to me,” Faro said. “From what we've already learned, there's no way we can take as much of this ore as we'd like, even if we were able to use all five wagons. The best we can do is load four of them as heavily as we safely can, and like Felix has suggested, add more wagons when we return.”

Quickly they all agreed to the proposal, and finished unloading the wagons. Early the next morning, Faro told them how he believed their plan should proceed.

“Four of us will take two of the wagons and begin cutting timber for the uprights. I think I've figured pretty close to how many we'll need. A couple of days and we should have all we'll need. Shanghai, Isaac, and Josh will go with me today. Tomorrow, the rest of you will finish the job.”

“I like that arrangement,” said Collins. “Those of us remaining in camp can continue to work the claim.”

“So do I,” Josh said.

The others quickly agreed. Faro and Isaac took one wagon while Shanghai and Josh took the second, and they set out to begin cutting the necessary timber.

*   *   *

Cutting, hauling, shaping the timber, and shoring up the wagons took them a week, and then they began working the claim in earnest. So that Felix might work with the rest of the outfit, Mamie took over cooking for them all.

“Tarnation,” said Dallas, one night during supper, “at the rate we're goin', we'll have these wagons loaded and ready to go, long before April.”

“Yes,” Collins said, “but the deadliest part of winter will probably be during January, February, and March. We could be laid up on the trail for days at a time, because of snow and the mud that follows with the thaw.”

“We won't have any shelter on the trail,” said Shanghai. “We used most of the shelter canvas to help shore up the wagon beds. I favor stayin' right here until April. God knows, we have plenty of grub and supplies. If we start back too soon, we'll need more than one wagon for supplies.”

“Normally I wouldn't agree with such a delay,” Faro said. “A teamster can't allow the winter to delay him, but this time, I reckon we ought to make an exception. I won't be surprised if we have snowdrifts by Christmas that may still be there three months later.”

“I believe that's a wise decision,” said Collins. “On the return trip, we'll be better able to plan what we should do.”

They all understood and quickly agreed.

Southwestern Utah, on the Sevier River
.
December 25, 1870
.

“Today,” Dallas Weaver said, “I don't aim to do a blessed thing but eat and sleep.”

“Go ahead,” said Faro. “It's about all the Christmas a teamster ever gets.”

The entire outfit enjoyed a day of leisure, except for Felix and Mamie, who did all the cooking.

“I feel a mite guilty,” Shanghai said, “layin' here doin' nothin', while Felix and Mamie do all the work.”

“If it will ease your guilt,” said Felix wryly, “you can always pitch in and help.”

“I don't feel
that
guilty,” Shanghai said. “Besides, my cookin' would spoil Christmas for the rest of you, and I just ain't that mean.”

“If there ain't nothin' else,” said Tarno, “we can always give thanks for this shelter. I look for snow sometime tonight.”

Tarno's prediction proved all too true, and by midnight there was a howling blizzard in progress. Several extra fires were built, and the horses and mules huddled gratefully under the protective overhang of the riverbank.

“Ain't often a bunch of teamsterin' mules gets this kind of shelter,” Dallas said.

“Teamsters neither,” said Shanghai.

*   *   *

The new year arrived just hours before another storm, piling snow atop drifts that had not only not melted, but were frozen solid. The temperature fell below zero and remained there for days. Two weeks passed before
they again saw the sun, and the cold continued. While there was plenty of food, warm fires, and shelter, the camp wasn't wolf-proof, and one frigid day after the worst of the storms had blown itself out, the silence was broken by the fearful howling of wolves.

“We can manage with our normal watch,” Faro said, “but we'll all have to be ready for them. We'll keep our Winchesters ready. Thanks to the overhang of these riverbanks, I'd say they'll have to come after us along the riverbed.”

“We can build up a roaring fire at each end of the camp, durin' the night,” said Dallas, “and that should help.”

“It will,” Faro said, “but with everything frozen solid and the scent of fresh mule, they won't be waitin' for night.”

The predators came, a dozen strong, but as Faro had predicted, they ignored the high riverbanks. Instead, they came from two directions, skulking along the riverbed. Collins, Felix, Dallas, and Josh were standing watch on one side of the camp, while Faro, Isaac, Tarno, and Shanghai watched the other side. As though by prearrangement, the wolves came at them from both directions. Winchesters roared, while horses nickered and mules brayed, but the wolves were quickly gunned down.

“We'll have to rope the varmints and drag them far enough that they don't spook the mules and horses,” said Faro. “A little more, and we'll have a stampede on our hands.”

*   *   *

Time passed slowly, for the sun seldom shone, and it was difficult to tell when one day ended and another began. Dallas Weaver tied a knot in a leather thong, marking the dreary passing of each day.

“Accordin' to my count, it's the first day of March,” Dallas announced.

“We already have enough ore to load all the wagons,” said Felix. “Looks like we'll have plenty of time to rest before we leave for Santa Fe.”

“I think we'll see what March brings,” Faro said. “If there's a break in the weather, we may not wait for April.”

But there was no break, and the snow from previous storms had more piled on top of it. Each day they looked at the dreary gray skies, impatient to be on the trail to Santa Fe, yet knowing they dared not risk it. Not until the second day of April did the skies begin to clear. The temperature rose dramatically, and the west wind came in with a warmth they hadn't enjoyed for months.

“Soon as the snow melts and the mud's had a chance to dry, we'll pull out,” said Faro.

A week later, they set out for Santa Fe. Four of the wagons were loaded with all the ore the teams could pull, while the fifth wagon was overloaded with supplies. The warm weather continued, and the worst they had to contend with was rain and the sea of mud that followed.

“I'm surprised the Utes haven't bothered us,” Collins said.

“The kind of winter we've had,” said Faro, “I
wouldn't be surprised if they drifted to the south, where it's a mite warmer and there's game to be had.”

“We wiped out half that bunch that ambushed us,” Tarno said, “and that's enough to convince them we're
mala medicina
. Bad medicine.”

The Colorado River. April 25, 1871
.

“At least the bridge we built is still here,” said Collins. “I'm surprised the Utes didn't somehow destroy it.”

Tarno laughed. “Too much work. Indians avoid that, whenever they can. They might have set it afire, if the wood hadn't been green.”

“We'll still have to inspect it,” Faro said. “The ground's been frozen, and the stakes we used to anchor the stringers may have worked loose.”

But the bridge remained solid, and using blinkers to stay the fear of the mules, they led the teams across. Still they saw no Indians, and with each passing day, spring seemed a little closer.

“Looking back,” said Mamie, “it all seems unreal.”

“In a way it does,” Felix agreed.

They sat beneath starry skies, and a gentle wind whispered through fir trees. The first watch ended at midnight, and as they took to their blankets, Faro, Shanghai, Isaac, and Josh took over.

Southwestern Colorado. May 10, 1871
.

“Damn,” said Faro, as he viewed the sagging rear of the supply wagon.

“A busted axle ain't no fun,” Shanghai said, “but it
could be worse. It could have been one of the wagons loaded with ore. This one won't be half as heavy.”

“No,” said Dallas, “but it'll take just as long to chop down a tree, make a new axle, and replace the broken one.”

“Now that we're goin' to have money,” Tarno said, “let's make good use of some of it. Every wagon carries a spare wheel, so why not a spare rear axle?”

“I'll go along with that,” said Faro, “but that's no help to us now. Who wants to ride out and find a tree for a new axle, while I jack up the wagon?”

“I'll go,” Dallas said. “Just don't tell me all the axes are at the very bottom of all that load in the supply wagon.”

“They are,” said Tarno with a straight face. “Ever' damn one. I put 'em there myself.”

Just for a moment, Dallas took him seriously, and they all had a laugh at his expense.

“Just for that, Tarno,” Faro said, “you can go along and help him. While we haven't had any Indian trouble, nobody rides alone.”

An hour later, Dallas and Tarno returned, dragging the trunk of a fir of sufficient size to replace the broken axle. Faro had the rear of the wagon jacked up, and by the time the new axle had been fashioned and put in place, the sun was less than an hour high.

“There's water,” Faro said, “so we'll stay here for the night.”

“This stream will take us to the western foothills of the San Juan Mountains,” said Levi Collins. “We ought to reach Santa Fe by the first week in June.”

Felix and Mamie set about preparing supper, while
the rest of the outfit grained the horses and mules. While they were eating, talk turned to the nearness of Santa Fe.

“I hope we'll be there in a few days,” Mamie said. “I need clothes.”

“We'll have to be there a while,” Faro said. “It won't be easy finding more wagons and mules, and we must have some decent sideboards built for all these wagons to replace the makeshift ones.”

“Then we'll be there long enough for Mamie and me to find a preacher,” said Felix.

Josh laughed. “I thought you was plannin' to become a teamster, spendin' all your time on the trail, sleeping on the ground.”

“He may be sleeping on the ground,” Mamie said hotly, “but he won't be sleeping alone. What about you?”

Snyder was visibly embarrassed and finally he grinned. “I reckon I deserved that.”

“You did, for a fact,” said Felix. “Mamie can shoot and she can cook.”

“Amen,” Shanghai said, “and that's fifty percent better than most teamsters can claim.”

“That's true,” said Dallas. “You oughta try some of Shanghai's biscuits. I swear they could be used as cannon fodder.”

“All right,” Shanghai growled, “I admit I can't cook. Don't rub it in.”

*   *   *

With the dawn, they again took the trail, and ten days later they reached the western foothills of the San Juans.

“It's the first day of June,” Dallas announced, consulting the rawhide thong in which he had tied a knot for each passing day.

“Another week, at most,” said Collins.

They moved on, the elevation decreasing as they progressed.

Northwestern New Mexico. The Chama River.
June 8, 1871
.

“I remember this river flowing right into Santa Fe,” Mamie said, when they stopped to rest the teams.

“That it does,” said Collins. “Looks like my prediction for the first week in June will be shy, but we'll arrive within two or three more days.”

Santa Fe, New Mexico. June 12, 1871
.

The sun was noon-high when they reined up to rest the teams. Somewhere just ahead, a dog barked.

“I think some of us had better ride in and learn how we're to dispose of this ore,” said Faro. “Maybe we can get it off our hands without all of New Mexico knowing about it.”

“Come on then,” Collins said.

When Collins and Faro returned, the outfit rode triumphantly into Santa Fe.

“Now,” said Faro, “hadn't we better register our claim?”

“Faro and me already have,” Collins said, “and we know where to take the ore.”

“Thank God,” said Mamie. “I can't wait to sleep in a real bed.”

“Not until we find a preacher,” Felix said.