Pipe Springs

"I'll be glad to get back to the fort and get something besides this to eat," Clay replied. "Been eatin nothin but beans, bacon, and beef jerky for the last three days."

After they finished eating, Rebecca used a clean cloth from the wagon to wipe the plates clean. Water was too scarce in this parched land to waste washing plates.

"The boys from the fort will be here by late afternoon and they'll have more food and water," Clay remarked as he watched her clean up. Suddenly Clay stood and looked to the south. Rebecca turned following his gaze.

"We got company comin. Get your rifle and get in the wagon Rebecca," Clay ordered.

"Who are they?"

"Don't rightly know just yet," he answered. "Could be a couple of drifters just passin through. But ifin I start shootin you do too."

Clay walked over to Eli, told him about the incoming riders and handed the injured man his Colt. "If they get past me don't let em get to the wagon sir."

Eli pulled himself up to lean against a wagon wheel and cocked the Colt.

Clay walked out a few yards and leaned against a boulder with his Winchester cradled in his arms at the ready. Two riders topped a small rise and came into sight.

Not Indians, Clay thought. Maybe drifters like I said. He watched the two men carefully as they rode closer.

The riders stop about sixty feet away. "Got trouble, do ya?" One of the men asked, pointing to the broken down wagon.

Clay nodded and examined the two men. The one that spoke looked older and was the bigger of the two. The other man was much smaller and looked shifty to Clay. Looks like a weasel from back home, he thought.

"Lost a wheel yesterday. But I got people comin from Winsor Castle to help. Should be here anytime now," Clay bluffed. He had a bad feelin about the two men.

"Name's Slayton, this here's Hollister. We could help you put a new wheel on your wagon if you like."

"Don't have an extra with us," Clay lied. "Started out a little under equipped this trip, we did. We'll just wait for the boys to get here. But thank you kindly."

"Looks like you got an injured man up there under the wagon," Hollister said. "Maybe we could help."

"You don't look like a doctor Mister. I reckon we can get by." Clay stood from his spot against the boulder. "Now is there anything else I can do for you boys? If not I'll get back to my camp."

"Mister, we're hungry and ran out of water a spell back," Slayton said. "Could you spare a little of either?"

Clay's feeling of unrest deepened. He saw that they each had a canteen tied to their saddles. They haven't missed many meals either, he thought. They want somethin more than food and water.

"None to spare boys, sorry. Got about enough to get back to the fort." Clay paused. "Fort's about a half a day's ride to the east. I'm sure they can help you."

"The hell with this," Hollister swore, pulled at the piston on his hip, and spurred his horse toward Clay. Slayton turned his horse toward the wagon and kicked him into a gallop.

Clay calmly brought his Winchester up to his shoulder and shot Hollister out of the saddle. He didn't watch him fall but turned to get a bead on the other man. Slayton was about forty feet from the wagon when the bark of Clay's Colt rang out followed closely by the sharper sound of a rifle.

Slayton rolled over the rump of his horse and was still.

Walking over, Clay turned Hollister with the toe of his boot. The dead man had a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Clay took the man's pistol and searched his pockets. He didn't find anything and walked to Slayton, who was also dead. There were two bullet holes in his chest. Clay searched the dead man and ended up just taking the man's weapon.

"Reckon the Sanders know how to shoot," Clay said softly. He gathered up Hollister's horse, mounted and caught Slayton's horse. Clay rode back and tied the animals off with a long lead to the back of the wagon.

"Good shootin folks," Clay told Eli and Rebecca. He took his Colt back from Sanders and reloaded.

"What will we do with them?" Eli asked.

"Not much to do," Clay answered. "See if they had anything worthwhile and let the varmints have em."

"Shouldn't we get a sheriff or marshal and report this?" Rebecca asked.

"Nearest law I know for sure is in St. George. That's better than 60 miles one way through hard country," Clay responded. "Don't aim to make that hard of a trip for the likes of them."

"We should at least bury them Mr. Boudreau," Rebecca said. "It's the Christian thing to do."

"They would have left you folks to rot if they'd got to you Miss Sanders," Clay replied with a hard tone. "But not before you entertained them. What is it the Good Book says? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you? Well we did to them what they would have done to us. They can rot in Hell for my part."

Clay turned and went to look at the horses. He'd once felt the same way Rebecca did. This land will surely change your mind about some things, he told himself. Clay was talking with Eli when Rebecca came out of the wagon with a pick and shovel. She walked out away from the camp and started to dig.

"Becky, what are you doing?" Eli asked.

She stood and faced her father and Clay. "Just because these men were pigs doesn't mean I should get down and wallow in the mud with them. I'm going to bury them and say a prayer for them."

Clay could see the tears in the corner of her eyes. "I don't know if Rebecca is crying because she mad at me or sad because she had to kill a man," he said aloud.

"Believe me Clay if she was mad at you there'd be no doubt in your mind," Eli said with a grin.

"Well...either way she's got a strong belief in what she sees as right," Clay replied. "Got to admire her for that." He watched Rebecca for a minute and said, "Reckon I'll go give her a hand; this ground sure is hard."

Rebecca looked up as Clay joined her. He grabbed the pick axe and started breaking the hard packed earth. She looked at Clay and smiled. Nodding her head she used the shovel to scoop up the loose soil. It took them close to an hour to dig two graves, roll the bodies into the holes, and cover the men. Rebecca bowed her head and quietly said a prayer. Clay looked off in the distance until she finished.

As they walked back toward the wagon Rebecca said, "That was the Christian thing to do for those men Clay. God bless you."

Clay stopped and turned to Rebecca, who halted when he did. "I didn't do it for them Rebecca, I did it for you. It seemed to mean a lot to you so I thought I'd give you a hand." He grinned wickedly and added, "As far as God goes, he could've had those two pass us by. No blessing there."

Back at the wagon Clay looked over the horses and rethought his plan. He'd hoped to put the new wheel on the wagon, hitch the horses up and go to meet the men coming from the fort. But the horses were saddle stock and in poor condition. But one will do to go see about the cattle, he said to himself.

He watered both animals and picked the strongest to go check on the cattle. The horse seemed to perk up after getting water and Clay rode off at a fast trot. He smiled as he came to the box canyon. Some of the more adventurous steers had begun to nose and push at the brush he had used to block the entrance to the canyon.

Clay drug the brush away from the entrance and started the cattle toward the Sanders' wagon. He knew the good grass at the foot of the butte near the wagon would hold the cattle for a spell. At least until the boys from the fort get here, he told himself.

He watched the small herd for about an hour after driving them to the grazing. None of them wanted to explore, they all stayed close. Clay rode back to the wagon, dismounted, and sat near Eli.

"Won't the cattle get away?" Eli asked.

"Nope. Don't think so," Clay said. "There's good grass yonder and most cattle would rather eat than walk around. I think they'll stay put."

"When do you expect your friends?"

"Reckon just about any time," Clay replied. "Shouldn't have taken more than an hour to get on the trail once Jacob got there. Course if most of the hands were out workin the herd it might take a mite longer."

Clay rigged a pair of hobbles out of rope from the wagon and put the horses to graze on the good grass. Nothin to do now but wait, he thought.

"If you don't mind the tellin what brought you folks through Pipe Springs Eli?" Clay asked.

"Well, we're from Abilene Kansas originally," Eli answered. "I'm a blacksmith so I made a decent livin but the town had become a cow town with lots cowboys lettin off steam after the drives; place turned into a shooting gallery. My wife, Molly, had been sickly for quite a spell and died. After two more years of dodging bullets and drunken cow hands we decided to pick up stakes and move

Eli stopped as Rebecca sat down next to him. He coughed and cleared his throat. "After Molly passed our place didn't leave much besides bad memories so we decided to head west." Eli had been staring at the ground as he talked but now he looked up at Clay. "Get a new start in a new land."

Clay nodded his understanding because he'd been through something similar.

"That was a bit more than two years ago," Eli continued. "Tried Colorado Springs for a spell; didn't much care for it. Moved down to Pueblo for a few months. Then a fellar I knew back in Abilene came into the smithy one day. We got to talkin and he told some tales about a little town called Visalia in the San Joaquin Valley California. I thought, why not and here we are."

"Why the San Joaquin Valley?"

"That's cattle country and there's always work for a blacksmith in cattle or farming areas," Eli answered. "Figured we'd give it a try and if we don't like it we can move on." He looked off in the distance for a few seconds. "Be nice if it worked out this time; I'm gettin tired of movin around."

Rebecca had been listening to Clay and her father. She looked off to the east. "Rider's coming," she said pointing to a dust cloud. You could see a rider's dust for miles on the flat plateau.

Clay looked over his shoulder. "It's the boys from the fort. They're still an hour or so away." Turning back to Eli he said, "Sounds like a good idea to get a new start sir. We'll get you and your wagon fixed up and y'all can continue your journey as soon as you're fit." He stood, caught up a horse, and mounted.

"Reckon I'll go out and meet the boys," Clay said. "I'll have em come in from the south so they don't spook the cattle."

Two men on horseback from Pipe Springs led the way, following by two figures in a wagon. The two riders were cow hands that came to drive the cattle back to the ranch. John Williams, a jack of all trades for the fort, rode in the wagon pulled by four horses with two more on short leads trailing behind the wagon. He'd come to repair the broken wagon if possible. The figure sitting next to him surprised Clay but it shouldn't have. It was Jacob Sanders returning to his family.

"Howdy boys, Mr. Williams," Clay greeted the men. "It's good to see y'all. He rode to the right side of the wagon. "Didn't expect you to be with them Jacob."

"I couldn't leave Pa and Rebecca out here," the boy replied. Clay nodded his understanding.

Tom, one of the two hands, rode up to Clay as they rode into the Sander's camp. "Leave it to you to find a good lookin woman out here in the middle of nowhere," he said with a big grin. He turned toward Rebecca, touched the brim of his hat and said, "Howdy Miss."

Rebecca blushed and nodded returning Tom's greeting. "Thank you helping us. Thank you Mr. Williams," she added to the older man.

The other cowboy, Jim, said, "We can't let Clay here have all the fun. Might as well be out here as workin our tails off back to the fort. We'll get y'all back safe and sound Miss."

"Ifin we can get the wheel on that wagon we'll do her," Williams said. "If not we'll load their things into this wagon and head back. Either way we need to get on the trail."

"Why in such a hurry Mr. Williams?" Clay asked.

"There's been a couple of raids since you been gone Clay. I don't hanker to get caught out here away from the fort." William took off his hat and ran a hand through a great mane of dark, gray streaked hair. "I aim to keep my hair right where it is."

The two wranglers, Williams, and Clay used the long wagon tongue as a lever to get the axle high enough to put the new wheel on the Sanders' wagon. Four of the horses were hitched to the fully loaded, repaired wagon and with Clay driving they headed back to Pipe Springs. The two cowboys rounded up the cattle and pushed them toward the fort. Eli was resting on a pallet in the back of the wagon complaining that he could drive.

Rebecca shushed her father and rode next to Clay on the seat. Jacob decided to ride with John Williams; he found the big man stories about the Indians very interesting.

"You're not from around here are you Clay?" Rebecca asked.

"No ma'am. Born and raised in Louisiana. Lived near Santa Fe before I got here."

"How'd you end up here? Oh sorry, I'm being nosey and it's none of my business." Rebecca blushed a little at her forwardness.

"No, I don't mind talkin about my travels," Clay answered smiling at Rebecca's embarrassment. "My Pa and me had a small place in Alexandria ........ For the next hour Clay told the young woman the story of his travels. How he left Louisiana and why, the people he met and worked for in Texas, and how he thought he'd found a home working in Santa Fe.

"I was just gettin away from the carpetbaggers when I left Louisiana and I was headed for California when I left Santa Fe. Sorta fell into this job at Pipe Springs. Been a long and sometimes real interesting journey so far," Clay finished.

How long have you worked at Pipe Springs?" Rebecca was intrigued by this young cowboy. She'd seen his bravery dealing with the bandits and his gentleness in his actions with Jacob.

"Been there going on six months or so. Mr. Winsor took a chance gave me a job so I reckon I'll stick around for a spell." Softly, too low for Rebecca to hear, he added, "Got no place else to go."

"I guess you get along with the others at the ranch from the way these men greeted you," Rebecca said pointing at the two wranglers and Williams in the other wagon.

Clay nodded and smiled. "They can get ornery sometimes but they're good men. Yep, we get along just fine." Pointing to the other wagon he said, "Now Mr. Williams there is a different color horse." Clay laughed and shook his head. "He's just plain ornery all the time. Always complainin about how much work he has and how the younger men don't respect their elders, and how much he wishes he was back in Texas.

"Truth be told he's one of the hardest working men I've ever met. Always willing to help with your work if need be: course he complains the whole time. But you if asked someone else before him, he'd be upset. John just about runs the operation around the fort. Mr. Butler is the ramrod and Mr. Winsor is the boss but you'd never know it if you heard John yelling orders."

"We met Mr. Winsor when we stopped for water and some supplies. He seems like a good man," Rebecca said. "Most of the people we had dealings with at the fort seemed to be nice people."

Clay nodded his head in agreement. "But like with any place you be, there's a few that can rankle you sometimes. You have to overlook them. Some of the Mormon ways are a little strange to a Louisiana boy but most are good people."

"Mormon's?" Rebecca paused and then added, "Well, Mr. Winsor and the others we met were kind people, whatever their beliefs," Rebecca said.

The two young people were quiet for several minutes. Rebecca seemed lost in her thoughts. For his part Clay was nursing a feeling he'd never had before. He was hoping that the Sanders, and particularly Rebecca, stayed at Pipe Springs for a spell.

Finally Clay broke the silence. "To my way of thinkin, it's how folks treat other folks that says what kind of people they are. No matter what their beliefs, ifin they treat others fair that's all that counts."

Rebecca smiled. "That's very Christian of you Clay."

"Never did much church goin after Ma died, but the one thing I remember is the Golden Rule." Clay turned his head and looked at Rebecca sitting on the wagon seat next to him. "That 'do unto others' stuff seems like a good way to live your life."

Tom and Jim pushed the cattle a little harder, whooping and yelling, as the top turret of the fort came into view. Clay shook his head with a smile.

"We talked all the way back," he said pointing with his chin toward the fort. "Ain't talked that much in a long time." Clay smiled at Rebecca. "Sure did make the trip go faster though."

Mr. Winsor was waiting at one set of the big gates that guarded the entrance to the main courtyard. "I didn't expect to see you again Mr. Sanders," he said by way of greeting. "But you and your family are most welcome." Turning back toward the interior of the fort he called, "Come help Mr. Sanders to a bedroom on the first level please. We'll have our doctor look at him."

After Eli was safely transferred into a room, the 'doctor' examined Eli's broken leg. The doctor wasn't a real medical man, he was the man that treated sick cattle and horses; sort of a veterinarian. He replaced the wagon wheel spokes that Clay had used to splint the leg with smaller thinner pieces of wood and wrapped them with a large piece of cowhide.

"Stay off your feet for a week or so," he told Eli. "After that take er easy for a spell." The 'doctor' patted Eli on the shoulder and laughed. "If you were a horse we'd a shot you. But I don't reckon your daughter would like that."

For the next month Eli did as he was told. The "doctor" brought him a crutch carved from a cedar tree. After a week staying inside the fort he started to walk short distances. His leg was healing and getting stronger so he increased the distances and the time that he walked. Eli was able to switch to a cane and it was easier for him to get around. Five weeks from the day he arrived back at the fort Eli went to see Mr. Winsor.

"I wanted to thank you and your people for taking care of me and my family Mr. Winsor," Eli said and shook the man's hand. "I'd like to do something to repay you for your help."

"We only did what was right Mr. Sanders. Wouldn't have felt good about myself if I hadn't extended our hospitality and assistance." Mr. Winsor gave Eli a slow grin. "Besides, Mr. Boudreau was quite adamant about helping you. Seems he's taken a shine to you and your family."

Eli grinned in return. "Yes sir, Clay pretty much saved our bacon when he found us out on the mesa. I know it's because he's a good lad but I think Rebecca might have something to do with his concern." Eli laughed a little and said, "It isn't the first time some young man has become interested in my daughter."

Mr. Winsor nodded. "Whatever his reasons, Clay was very forceful about helping you. He's a fine young man with a good head on his shoulders. I'm proud to have him with us here at the ranch."

"I might have figured out a way to repay you and your people a little Mr. Winsor," Eli said. "Who does your blacksmithing?"

"Mr. Thomas, from Fredonia, comes to us about every three weeks or so and does the repairs that we can't handle. Mr. Williams can shoe horses and does what repairs he can."

"That'd be John, who drove the wagon out to rescue us?" At Winsor's nod, Eli continued. "I'm a blacksmith by trade and I could do your repairs and such until I'm healed up. Right now I'd need a pair of hands and a strong back to help. Maybe John would be willing to give me a hand."

Winsor and Eli discussed the idea and decided that Eli would be the ranches' blacksmith for two months. That would allow Eli's leg to mend completely. At that point Eli could decide what he wanted to do.