Pipe Springs

Clay nodded touched by Riley's words about Sam. "Riley if y'all got a mind to, you can count me as a friend too."

Riley grinned. "Reckon we can do that Clay." He coughed and looked away. "Nough of this foolishness, let's get some whiskey."

"Did you get the job?" Sam asked as Riley and Clay rode up to the trading post. Clay nodded. "Reckon I'll be goin on to St. George by myself," Sam complained with a smile.

Well, I've been here three months now, Clay thought. He was driving a small herd of twenty cattle toward the water and grazing near the fort. Reckon Mr. Winsor likes my work. It's a good thing cause I sorta like it here. I get to see Riley at least once a week and Sam comes through every month or so.

The week before Clay had made a trip with Sam in his wagon to the sawmill at Mount Trumbull. They were to bring back some lumber cut from the pines on the mountain. While he was there he took a half day side trip to see the Grand Canyon. Biggest hole in the ground I've ever seen, he told Sam when he returned.

Mr. Winsor greeted the wagon when they returned and examined the load. He asked Sam to put the wagon near one of the out buildings and had some of the men unload it. Clay helped to put the fresh lumber, stacked with a space between each layer, in a shed. It would stay there for a couple of months while it dried out.

"You have to let the wood dry out before you use it," Winsor explained to Clay. "If you don't it shrinks as it dries and leaves gaps and openings in whatever you've built. He glanced at his young hand and asked, "Did you get a chance to see the Canyon while you were there?"

"Yes sir. They had to take a day to finish the lumber for us so I took a ride over to the Canyon." Clay looked off to the south toward the Canyon. "It sure is somethin; it cuts this part of the country off from the rest. Now I understand what you meant about the Arizona Strip. Reckon we're sorta cut off up here, ain't we?"

"It certainly does make it difficult to get to this area from the south," Winsor replied. "The Canyon is over 250 miles long and there's only a few places you can cross it."

"Be tough to do on horseback," Clay remarked. "And I don't care much for walkin. Glad I'm on this side."

Clay's horse switched directions to push some cattle back into the herd before they could wander away. He was riding the mustang stallion he'd seen while talking to Mr. Winsor when he applied for a job. It had taken him almost a week to get the animal to trust him. He would sit on the top rail of the corral every evening after supper and talk to the horse. Clay also brought carrots, apples, or sometimes a piece of sugar to feed to the stallion. Soon the mustang would approach Clay for his nightly treat. After that he was another ten days before he could ride the spirited horse. Now the mustang was a well trained cow pony.

Winsor had watched Clay's progress with the mustang and with the other three he gentled at the same time in the same way. The ranch now had four horses ideally suited for working cattle in this almost arid mesa country. He was so pleased with the success of the training that he gave Clay the mustang stallion. Clay named the horse "Puuku".

Puuku wasn't impressive as horses go. He stood just over 14 hands at the shoulder. But he had a deep chest and very strong sturdy legs. The mustang was quicker from a dead stop than most of the other horses on the ranch and could change direction in an instant. Because of this Puuku was an extremely good horse for herding cattle and other stock.

The mustang's coloring was strange and he stood out because of it. He was basically a buckskin but had spots of dark brown across his withers. Must have some Appaloosa in him, Clay told Winsor.

"We suit each other just fine don't we Puuku?" Clay said as he patted the horse's neck. Puuku nodded his head as if he understood Clay.

Reckon we better bed down for the night, Clay thought. No need to ride off into a ravine or somethin in the dark. He saw a small box canyon off to his right and pushed the cattle toward it. It was more of a depression back into the sandstone bluff but it was big enough to hold the small herd overnight.

Clay finished his supper of beans and bacon and was leaning back against his saddle watching the fire. He heard a noise from behind him in the dark. Puuku was hobbled off to Clay's right and raised his head from grazing to stare into the night toward the noise.

Someone's out there, Clay thought. He slowly stood and walked over to Puuku, patting him on the neck and checked the hobble. Clay stepped behind the horse and walked into the darkness. He silently crept around his camp to the other side of the clearing. There was a small figure kneeling beside his bedroll looking through Clay's saddlebags. Pulling his Colt, Clay stepped closer to the intruder.

"Hold it right there," Clay said loudly. "I've got my pistol pointed at your head."

The figure stiffened at Clay's words and didn't move.

"Get your hands out of my saddlebags and spread them out to your side," Clay said. The figure obeyed dropping a cloth bag that held beef jerky. "Stand up and put your hands over your head," he ordered.

Clay could see the person shaking when they stood. Gettin ready to run, Clay thought. "Don't try it. I'm a better than average shot and I can't miss at this distance. Just hold still."

Slowly Clay stepped into the light and circled the standing figure until he could see the face. "I'll be damned," Clay said in surprise. "You're just a youngin. How old are you son?"

"Thir...thirteen sir," the boy answered with a quiver in his voice.

"Put your hands down," Clay said as he holstered his Colt. "What are you doin at my camp? For that matter what are you doin out here all alone?"

"I'm not alone. My Pa and sister are just down the trail a bit," he answered.

"What's your name boy?"

"Jacob Sanders sir."

"And what are you doin in my camp instead of being with your family?"

Jacob hung his head and didn't answer. Finally he looked up at Clay. "We heard the cattle and then saw your fire. I was gonna take some food and water. We haven't had anything to eat for a couple of days and our waters almost gone." He hesitated. "I'm sorry Mister. Can I go now?"

"Your father send you to steal from me?"

"Oh no sir. Pa would tan my hide if he knew I was here. But he was asleep when I left our wagon," Jacob said. "He's hurt and sleeps a lot. Rebecca's asleep too or she wouldn't have let me come either."

"Rebecca?"

"She's my sister." Jacob shook his head and added, "Acts like my Ma most of the time."

Clay hid a smile. He took the bag of jerky and tossed it to the boy. "Tear into a piece of that jerky while I saddle my horse. Then we'll go see to your Pa and your sister."

"Thank you Mister," Jacob said around a mouthful of jerky. Clay tossed him a canteen and the boy took a big drink.

"Take it easy youngster," Clay suggested. "Too much at once and you'll just bring it back up. Little sips work best."

Jacob nodded, took a smaller sip of water, and bit off another piece of jerky. Clay finished saddling Puuku and led him over near the fire.

He mounted and held his hand down to Jacob. "Climb on up and let's go find your camp," Clay said.

Clay walked Puuku in the direction the boy pointed. "You said your Pa was hurt. What happened?"

"We broke a wagon wheel and Pa tried to fix it," Jacob answered. "He was able to get some rocks under the rear axle so the wheel was up off the ground. When he was puttin on the new wheel, the wagon fell off the rocks onto his leg." Jacob shook himself. "I'm pretty sure it's broke. Then our horses got away night before last so's Rebecca or me couldn't ride to find help."

"Was probably Navajo or Paiute got your horses. Sounds like you've got a peck of trouble Jacob. "

"Yes sir. That's why I was tryin to take some stuff from you. Think it was Indians took our horses?" Jacob asked. Then he extended his arm past Clay's shoulder and said, "Over that way about a mile."

"Reckon it was Indians. Not much trouble around here lately but they still like to steal a horse once in a while." He grinned and added, "Just so they don't forget how."

Clay could see the light from a fire and reined Puuku toward it. As they neared the camp, the clouds drifted away and let the light of the full moon shine down. From thirty yards away Clay was able to see a man lying close to a tilted wagon. A woman sat on the ground next to him.

The woman heard the horse and stood, cradling a Winchester in her arms. "Who are you Mister and what do you want?" She challenged Clay.

Clay turned his horse to the side and the woman saw Jacob.

"It's okay Becky," Jacob said. "This man's gonna help us."

Rebecca didn't lower the rifle. "Jacob get down and come here." She ordered.

Clay slowly raised his hands to shoulder height. "Boy's right Ma'am. I brought a little food and a canteen for y'all."

"I told you to get down Jacob," Rebecca repeated.

Jacob slid off the horse's rump to the ground and went to his sister. He carried a large canteen and the bag of jerky. Jacob dropped to his knees and held the canteen to his father's lips. The man was almost unconscious but took a little water.

"Thanks for the water," Rebecca said. "You can be on your way now."

Clay used his knees to guide Puuku closer to the woman, never lowering his hands. He was twenty feet away when he realized that Rebecca was a young woman of about 22. Right nice lookin too, Clay couldn't help but think.

Rebecca Sanders was slim but looked strong. Her mane of strawberry blond hair hung down her back almost to her waist. It was tied back with a piece of rawhide. She was staring at Clay with big brown eyes.

Those eyes could right through you, Clay thought. He cleared his throat.

"Would it be alright if I lowered my hands Miss?" Rebecca nodded. "My name's Clayton Boudreau, Clay to most folks. As far as me headin on, I can't rightly leave y'all here. That canteen and jerky won't last for very long and it don't look like you're goin anyplace soon," Clay said pointing at the broken wagon and her injured father.

He dismounted still holding his hands away from his body. "Can I take a look at your father? Maybe I can help."

Rebecca sort of slumped, nodded and moved a few steps away; she still held the Winchester in her arms. Mr. Sanders' pants leg had been slit open and a heavy wet cloth had been put on his leg below the knee. Clay bent down and looked at the injured leg. It was discolored with bruises and swollen some. Clay felt along the lower leg until he felt a bump.

"Leg's broke for sure Miss Sanders," Clay said to Rebecca. "But it feels like a clean break." He looked the young woman in the eye. "If you let me I think I can set his leg." Rebecca hesitated and Clay said, "Needs to be done. If it's not, your father will probably lose it."

"Have you done this before Mr. Boudreau?" Rebecca asked.

"Yes' em, down in Texas," Clay answered. "One of the hands broke his leg when he got knocked off his horse by a steer." Clay smiled. "It was him that told me what to do."

"I suppose we don't have much choice."

"Well the Fort's about a half a day's hard ride," Clay said. "I could go for help but it'll be at least a day and a half, maybe two days, before we can get back here with a wagon." He looked down for a moment and then back at Rebecca. "I don't know if your father's leg will be okay that long."

Rebecca nodded, stepped closer to her father and knelt down next to him. "Daddy can you hear me?"

Mr. Sanders opened his eyes and smiled at his daughter. Rebecca motioned Clay over to them.

"You leg's broke bad Daddy. This is Mr. Boudreau and he's going to help us."

Clay laid his hand on Mr. Sander's shoulder. "Sir, I can set your leg but it's gonna hurt. If we don't set it you could lose your leg or you could end a cripple."

Sanders raised himself onto his elbows and looked down at his leg. Turning to Clay he said, "Do it."

Clay explained what he was going to do. "Jacob get two of those spokes off the broken wheel please." The boy brought the spokes and laid them next to his father.

"Rebecca, Jacob take hold under his arms and hold tight" Clay ordered. "I'll pull slowly on his leg until the bone lines up again and then we'll use those spokes and put a splint on it."

Clay got up and went to his horse. Searching in the saddle bags he found the piece of rawhide he wanted. Walking back he knelt down and handed the rawhide to Sanders.

"You might want to bite down on this Mr. Sanders," Clay told him. "When I pull on your leg it's gonna hurt bad but it's the only way."

Sanders nodded, his children took hold of him under his arms. Clay held onto the man's ankle and slowly pulled on the leg. He didn't stop when he heard Sanders groan. Finally Clay felt the bone slip back into place and he stopped pulling. He looked up and saw that Sanders had passed out. Can't blame him, Clay thought. He put a wagon spoke on each side of the leg and used rope from the wagon to tie them snug against the leg in several places.

"There ain't a lot of trees on this plateau," Clay explained. "And the Mesquite and Palo Verde round here don't grow straight limbs. That's why I used wagon wheel spokes for the splint. That ought to hold your father until we can get him back to the fort."

Clay walked to his horse and mounted. "I'm goin back to my camp and get the rest of my gear. Be back in an hour or so. There's another canteen and somethin more to eat than jerky."

Back at his camp he cut some of the sagebrush and creosote. Clay drug the brushes across the mouth of the box canyon where the cattle were bedded down. Maybe that'll keep em from strayin too far, he thought. He packed his gear, including the pot of beans and bacon that he had cooked earlier, and rode back to the Sanders' wagon.

"Jacob come take this for me," Clay said and handed the pot down to the boy. "There's about enough left to feed you two," he explained. "We cook somethin up for your father when he wakes up. Probably be in the mornin."

By the time he unsaddled Puuku and spread his bedroll close to where Mr. Sanders was, Rebecca had gotten plates and forks from the wagon. She had divided the beans and bacon into three portions. Then she handed a plate to each of them.

Clay smiled and gave Rebecca and Jacob what was on his plate. "I had mine," he said. "Y'all go ahead."

As the group settled down for the night Clay offered to sit with Mr. Sanders. "You've got to be wore out Miss Rebecca, you too Jacob. Get some sleep I'll watch for a bit and if I get sleepy I'll wake one of you."

As the moon started to set Clay heard Mr. Sanders moving around. He went to the man and put his hand on Sanders' shoulder.

"It's all right sir. You're doin fine." Clay said to reassure Sanders. He held the canteen so the injured man could drink.

"Who....Oh yes," Sanders said. "You set my leg."

"Yes sir. I'm Clayton Boudreau but most folks call me Clay. Come daylight we'll go for help from the fort Mr. Sanders. We'll have you on the way back by late afternoon I'd say."

"My given name is Eli," Sanders said with a weak grin.

"Get some rest Eli," Clay suggested. "You and your family are goin to be all right. I promise."

Sanders lowered his head and went back to sleep. Clay returned to his spot next to the wagon.

Just before first light Clay was leaning against a wagon wheel not quite dozing. He heard someone walking toward him and quickly drew his pistol.

"It's just me," Rebecca said from out of the darkness. "I thought you were going to wake one of us to take our turn on watch." She handed him a cup of coffee. "We didn't have the water to spare to make coffee before. Taste's pretty good.

"I figured you and Jacob had a hard go the last few days and could use the rest," Clay responded as he took the offered cup. "Come daylight, I'll ride for the fort and get help. We'll bring a wagon and some horses back."

"Jacob told me that you said Indians took our horses," Rebecca said in a worried tone. "Do you think we'll be safe until you get back?"

"Don't think they'll bother you anymore," Clay answered. "They're probably on their way back across the Colorado with your horses by now."

The sun came up as Clay was saddling Puuku. He'd changed his mind about heading for the fort.

He talked to his horse as he saddled him. Clay pulled his Winchester out of its scabbard. "Puuku I don't think the Indians are still around but you can't tell about them. Sometimes they do things one way and do it different the next time. I'm gonna have you take the boy to the fort."

The horse leaned into his human and nodded his head as Clay scratched his ears.

"Jacob, come here," Clay called. When the boy joined him Clay said, "I'm gonna send you to the fort on Puuku here. He's a good horse and knows his way home. Point his head east, nudge him in the flanks and give him his head. He'll get you there."

"Yes sir," Jacob replied. He was excited to be doing more than just sitting around camp. "Why did you name him Puuku?"

"Puuku is Comanche for horse." Clay answered. "I admire the way the Comanche has with horses." He was adjusting the stirrups to fit the boy. "A white man can ride a horse until it keels over and won't move. A Comanche can come along, get the horse back on its feet, and ride for another day."

"Really?" Jacob asked not quite sure if Clay was funnin him or not.

"Really, I saw em do it down in Texas." Clay finished with the stirrups and motioned for Jacob to mount.

"I don't reckon the Indians are still here, but..." Clay caught the boy's eye. "If they come at you kick Puuku into a gallop and ride hard." He could see a little worry on the boy's face. "Don't be scared. Ain't an Indian pony in the territory that can ketch Puuku. Just hang on and he'll get you to the fort."

"Yes sir."

"Here strap this around your waist," Clay ordered and handed Jacob a spare gun belt with his Remington in the holster; he'd taken to carrying the Colt from the man at the trading post while keeping his old Remington in his saddlebag. "You probably won't need it but if the Indians ride toward you fire off a round or two to discourage them and then ride like the dickens. Understand? "

Jacob nodded and Clay helped him mount up. Once the boy was in the saddle Clay led Puuku and pointed him east. "Take the boy home Puuku," he said and slapped the horse on the rear. The mustang was at a fast lope in three or four strides. Jacob leaned over in the saddle and just hung on.

Rebecca walked over and asked, "Where's Jacob going?"

"Sent him to the fort. Got to thinkin about those Indians and figured I better hang around just in case they decide they want more than your horses."

"But what about Jacob? Won't the Indians go after him?"

"Don't believe so," Clay replied smiling to calm Rebecca. "Your horses were led west by two riders. I found the trail at first light." He put his hand on Rebecca's shoulder. "I talked to Eli before I sent the boy. He'll be fine Miss Rebecca."

Rebecca gave him a small smile, placed her hand on his arm and nodded. "Can't help but worry about him. Our mother died two years ago and I've been looking out for him and Pa ever since."

Clay looked away from her, embarrassed at the sudden feelings for her. "Eli's awake, let's go see how he feels this mornin and get some breakfast."

Eli was feeling much better, although his leg was throbbing. Clay built up the fire and cooked another big pot of beans and bacon.

Rebecca giggled as she ate the food. "We don't normally eat beans and bacon for breakfast but it sure does taste good," she said as she scooped up another spoon full.