Welcome To The Bullpen
Dusty Hills
Richard Douglas
As the aged rider crested the rise, he looked toward the next hill in the far distance. There was an unbroken view of nothing but sand and more of the same. He was beginning to doubt his choice of going by way of this route. The stage road had many safe stops and plenty of water. Here there was none. Not even a cactus or sage bush in sight. Just sand. He prodded his horse on toward that next hill.
As he reached the next rise, He heard a noise. Instinctively, he reined his horse and stiffly dismounted. The sound was clearer now. Indians. What were they doing out in this waste land? I’m looking for a short cut to Dustbin. There can’t be anything out here that they would want. Back in Lucy’s Spring, folks told me that if I went south west across the desert I could get to Dustbin in under three days instead of five on the stage road. They did warn me to pack plenty of water cause there ain’t none out here the whole way cross. What’re them injuns doin out there.?
Cautiously the old cowpoke peered over the crest of the hill and the sight there chilled his over heated bones. A single covered wagon with the bodies of at least five family members was scattered around it and at least twenty Indians of a tribe that he didn’t recognize were tearing through the contents of the wagon. They had already emptied the water barrels into their own water sacks and had taken the horses. Next, they took what clothing they might use and any food and trinkets and were now tearing the wagon itself apart. Finally they set the wagon on fire. With much hooping and hollering, they rode off over the next rise.
After the dust had settled, the old rider remounted and rode down to the scene. He carefully examined each of the bodies. There was a girl about twelve who had a head wound just above the hair line. When he turned her over, she moaned. Somehow, the girl had survived without the Indians realizing.
The rider took a little of his precious water and washed the wound and bandaged it the best he could. He then dug through the charred remains of the wagon and found an old singed quilt to protect the child from the harsh sun. With it and some boards from the wagon .that hadn’t burned, he built a sort of lean to. The burned out wagon provided little shade but as the sun set and the cool evening brought relief, the child began to move around a little. Quietly, he bedded down for the night.
The rider was up before the sun rose and he dug shallow graves in the loose ground. The child had slept the whole night and as the first rays of morning light appeared, she opened her eyes then screamed. It seemed like her screams lasted for hours but in reality only a couple of minutes as the rider pulled back her make shift shelter and lifted her up to calm her as best he could. It was hard to do as the girl was beating the rider around the face and chest. He just knelt there and took it as she slowly calmed.
As the girl finally became rational, she asked, "Who are you?"
"Me? Names Jessie Heller. Jes happined by. Sorry bout yer folks. Buried em. Ya feel up ta ridin? Injuns might be back."
"Mama’s dead, and Daddy, and Lucy and Billy too?"
"Yup. Sorry. Ready to ride?"
The girl burst into long sobs and the rider just stood there. Finally he said. "Better not waste no more tears. You’ll need the water to make it to Dustbin. That’s closest town. That’s whar I’m a headin." We got at least nother day, maybe more to git there. Nothin out here to keep us."
The girl wiped her face on her sleeve then Jes helped her to her feet. "Injuns didn leave much. You kin drape that quilt over yore head to keep the sun off. Injuns didn even leave you a bonnet."
Before they left, the rider fed and watered his horse and gave the girl some jerky and biscuits and as much water as he thought she should drink then took the same for himself. They then mounted the horse and headed south west toward Dustbin. As noon approached, they stopped near a sand dune to rest. They waited until late afternoon to start again because the sun was taking a toll on the horse. After a small water break, they started and rode into the cool of the evening. As the stars came out, they stopped to rest.
Jessie dismounted and helped the girl down. She was almost asleep. Jessie said, "I think we otter travel by night. If we rest fer a while, well, we otter make it to Dustbin by late mornin. Whatcha think?"
The girl yawned and said. "Ok. Just don’t let me fall off of the horse if I fall asleep. Please?"
Jessie grinned at that then stretched out on the sand and covered his face with his hat and went to sleep for an hour. When he woke up, the girl was sound asleep and he rose quietly and fed and watered his horse. He then gently woke the girl and gave her a drink of water and they got on their way.
The travelers followed the stars southwest and once smelled smoke. They stopped and dismounted at a rise and Jessie again carefully looked over the rise and saw the group of Indians camped in a small depression in the sand. There was no sentry as they had no fear of detection here in the middle of what could be considered. nowhere.
They remounted and silently rode away, noting approximately where they had seen the group. Maybe they were a wanted bunch. As the first signs of dawn appeared, The girl began to stir. "Can we rest?" she asked.
Jessie reined his horse in and helped the girl down then stiffly dismounted himself. Dropping the reins, he got the oats bag and hung it for his horse. The girl was stiffly walking around to loosen up from the long ride. Jessie said, "Ya know missy, ya never told me yer name."
"Oh, It’s Samantha Jane. My family name is, Wakefield. We were heading for California. Daddy was gonna open a store out there." She frowned. "I guess I’m an orphan now."
"Maybe not. Yu must have kin some wheres. Where you frum?"
"We came from Virginia but that is so long ago and so far away. How would I get back to any family Back there?"
"Thars ways. Could telly graf if ya knows their names. Git ya on a stage coach maybe. What ya think?"
"Maybe. I have an aunt and uncle back in Dumfries. We could wire them." then with the whimsical ways of a child, said. "You know Mr Heller, you talk funny. What do you do?"
""Punch cows. All I ever done. Why I’m goin to Dustbin. Big cattle drive outa there. Guess I don’t talk to folks much. Jest cows. They don’t talk back."
Samantha Jane laughed at that and even Jessie got a grin on his face that exaggerated his sun baked wrinkles even more making his face a grotesque caricature of the old cow puncher. Finally Jessie said, "I think we rested nuff. Time to git to Dustbin."
The rest of the ride was without incident and the pair rode into Dustbin about ten thirty in the morning. After getting Samantha Jane settled in the hotel, Jessie reported the wagon incident to the town Marshal.
"We been after that bunch of savages for months." Marshal Hayes said. "You say they were only a days ride north east of here?"
"Yup. Mean lookin bunch. Don’t know what tribe though."
"All renegades." The Marshal said. "No tribe will claim them. They were all cast out of their own tribes and banded together and formed their own bunch. Real bad, worse than Comancheros. I’m getting a posse together right away. Care to join up? Pays a dollar a day."
"Yup. Jest soon as I kin git gal checked by doc. Ya got one?"
"Yes, of course. Doctor Wilson. Can’t miss it. His sign is on the door, a couple of doors down from the hotel."
"Caint read."
"Deputy, Show Mr Heller Doc Wilson’s office then gather a posse. This time, we’re going to get that bunch of savages."
Jessie took the doctor to the hotel and had Samantha Jane checked and after her wound was cleaned and re dressed and she was given a clean bill of health, Jessie returned to the Marshal’s office. By that time, the posse had time to gather and Jessie got a fresh horse from the livery stable and joined the group. They headed out of town in the direction Jessie and Samantha Jane had earlier rode in from.
After a four hour ride, the posse stopped to rest, eat, and have a little water. Before they could stiffen from too long out of the saddle, they were again on the trail of the renegade Indians. Two more hours and the Marshal signaled for every man to stay as quiet as possible. Soon, smoke was sighted ahead. They had found the tribe. It had moved closer to the town, possibly to prepare for a raid.
Dismounting, each man took his rifle and quietly worked his way around the band of renegades. At the first shot from the Marshal, they all opened fire. There was to be no mercy. This was total genocide. This was a bunch of killers who gave no quarter and they would get none. Their bodies were left for the buzzards. The posse rode back to Dustbin in silence, each man with his own thoughts of what had been done and knowing that it had to be done.
A few days later, Jessie saw Samantha Jane off on the stage on the first leg of her trip to join her new family back in Virginia. Then he headed toward the stock yards and a job with another big cattle drive. He didn’t think much of what he had done for the girl. It was instinct, a part of the un-written code. Take care of women and children.
Weeks later as Jessie rode behind a large herd of cattle and breathed in the pungent dust, he remembered the girl and smiled. Hope the youngun gits back to Virginny ok. He thought. Then he swung his horse out to chase after a stray.
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