The Old Spanish Trail by Ralph Compton

Author:Ralph Compton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 1998-11-06T16:00:00+00:00

Northwestern Arizona Territory. June 7, 1862.

“I’ll ride ahead and see how much farther we can follow this river without losing the Old Spanish Trail,” Don said. “Keep your rifles handy and watch the back-trail. We don’t know how soon some of those Paiutes will find their horses.”

Once the herd was moving, Don rode downriver. The map indicated that the river flowed into the Colorado somewhere to the south. Far from that confluence, however, they must again travel west, if they were to follow the old trail. Don rode what he believed was fifteen miles, as far as the herd could travel in a day, before riding west in the hope of again finding the trail that would lead them to Los Angeles. After riding at least a dozen miles westward, he came upon a stream that was on the map but was unnamed. The map indicated that the old trail followed the stream for a distance into southeastern Nevada. It was enough for the time being, for they were assured of water for two days. Don rested his horse, watered the animal, and then rode eastward until he reached the river the drive was following. He then rode north until he met the herd. He waved his hat, pointing south, a signal that they were to continue. He rode ahead of them, and when he reached the place where they must turn west to return to the trail, he signaled a halt. The riders headed the longhorns, bunching them along the river. After supper, before time for the first watch, Don told them what he had discovered.

“From here, it’s maybe a dozen miles west, where we’ll pick up the old trail again. As the map seems to indicate, the trail follows an unnamed river a ways into Nevada, where we’ll be crossing its southern tip into California.”

“We’re not that far from California then,” said Rose.

“No, we aren’t,” Don agreed, “but it’s a long hard ride from there to Los Angeles, and our map don’t show a stream anywhere between western Nevada and Los Angeles. But it does show the Mojave Desert.”

“Si,” said Roberto. “Desierto. Malo.”

“Do you and Dominique know where there’s water in the desert?” Don asked.

“Si,” said Roberto. “Rio abajo desierto.”

“River under the desert,” Bob said.

“Si,” Dominique agreed.

“You can find it then,” said Don.

“Si,” Dominique said.

“Per’ap,” said Roberto.

Don looked uncertainly from one of the Mexicans to the other. Dominique and Roberto conversed for a moment in rapid Spanish. Finally both of them nodded to Don.

“You can find it, then,” Don said.

“Si,” said the pair in a single voice.

“I hope they know what they’re talking about,” said Sarah.

“So far, they’ve been more dependable than the map,” Bob said. “If there’s water under ground, there’s likely just a few places where it will surface. Even then, the water may be poisoned with alkalai and undrinkable.”

“How do you know if it’s poisoned?” Sarah asked.

“By tasting it,” said Bob. “Trouble is, if the cattle are thirsty, they’ll stampede toward the nearest water, and we won’t be able to hold them.

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