Copyrighted 1987 Rhea M. Coleman
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©11/1997 The Miner's Shack
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This day, March 16, 1824, he punched holes in the hides before using the strength in his permanently stained hands to pull the thongs through to lace the leather into place. Because his head was bent over his work, the sparkle in his wide-awake, brown eyes was hidden by his long blond hair.
The sparkle and the hushed breath were not caused by interest in his work, but by the conversation between Jeb Malonie, the newly arrived mule skinner, and Mr. Barnes, owner of the saddle shop where fourteen-year-old Gosi was indentured. He was meant to serve five more years at the grand wage of room and board and twelve cents a month.
Whenever a traveling man came into the shop, Gosi always eavesdropped. Jeb's stories, told in his inimitable drawl, were the best of any he had heard. Gosi was careful to not make any disturbance that would interrupt the smooth flow of conversation.
Jeb told of driving forty of the finest mules up and down the Santa Fe Trail, carrying freight one way and gold ore the other. He told of the new tools he would take to Cerrillos to help the miners in their search for precious metals. He mentioned the fine silks and muslins he carried for the wealthy women, wives or friends of the miners who had already found their strikes. He told of the good wages received by everyone in the area. His excitement at being a part of this newest gold rush was contagious, exciting each person who heard him.
Gosi could see himself as part of the returning freight train, riding at the side of Jeb, helping drive the train that carried the cargo to the mines of Cerrillos. The idea of adventure beyond the confines of this unrewarding job led him to speculation--his favorite activity, a mental game of "What If."
Why, he thought, if he were with Jeb, he might even see the famed Indian chief, El Dorado, who, legend said, was so rich that each morning his tribesmen painted him with gold and each evening washed it away. Gosi imagined how it would be if he, Gosi, could have the right to empty the bath water--just once.
With just one tub of gold-filled water he could pay off old Barnes and be free. One thing for sure, when he was free, he would be like Jeb, running a mule freight train, trading, swapping exciting tales, and learning about the entire western part of his country.
Gosi leaned forward a little too far in his eagerness to hear better and knocked over a stack of leather. As Gosi's luck would have it, this stack was next to a rickety table with an oil wick lamp resting on its dusty surface. The oil spilled, splattering several pieces of finished leather, staining them.
Confusion reigned. Leather slid every which way, and the odor of the tanning solution, combined with dye, rose from the dislodged stack and permeated the air.
Old Barnes yelled, "It's that clumsy, worthless Gosi. This piece of business will get him fifteen lashes."
Gosi shuddered. His back ached from yesterday's whipping and the one from the day before. He was sure old Barnes would have to aim very carefully in order to put fifteen more lashes on his back without repeating a spot.
Like a frightened pup, he fled out the back door, past the barn where he slept, deep into the forest. He ran and ran and ran for hours, his thudding feet sounding, to his ears, like an elephant herd in the otherwise quiet woods. He was much deeper in the forest than he had ever been. He came upon a small stream. Gasping for breath, he fell to the ground and drank deeply of the cool, refreshing water.
He rested, listening for sounds of people or galloping horses. His belly told him his breakfast had not been enough to satisfy his longing for lunch, too. The position of the sun in the sky told him it was nearer to supper time. Looking around, he saw some berries on the banks of the stream. Eagerly he picked handfuls for his supper. He decided it was time to stop and think about this latest problem.
No doubt about it, if old Barnes caught him, not only would he lose his skimpy bowls of soup for supper for months, but his wages also. He would be whipped many more times than the usual fifteen lashes. Old Barnes always declared piously that it was his responsibility to train the boys to make good saddles and to help them learn their true place in life.
Gosi knew that his term of indenture would be extended. Old Barnes said the law gave the master that right. He said the boys were just beginning to earn their keep when their seven years were finished, and Gosi knew he would use this latest episode to add months--or years.
The more Gosi remembered his past, the more determined he was to change his future. The stories of good wages at the gold mines gave him courage. It was obvious to Gosi that his solution lay in the freight train, in following it to the work near the mines in Cerrillos.
He was sure he could live on very little money and save the rest to buy his contract from old Barnes. This was important because his drunken father had agreed that if Gosi failed, his younger brother, Herman, would fulfill the contract with the saddler.
The decision to go to the mines was perfect. According to Jeb, gold was first discovered on the Ortiz Mountains by a shepherd who had picked up a rock to throw at his sheep and realized it was heavier than others. He examined it closely and saw flakes of gold throughout the rock. Maybe he, Gosi, would be lucky and pick up a few rocks and buy his freedom. The future settled, Gosi turned to more immediate problems.
Most important was his lack of knowledge of which direction the freight train lay. The next consideration was clothing. He had only what he was wearing, and even if he found a place to buy more, he had no money. His one pair of handmade shoes were of good saddle leather scraps, but they would not last long on a rough and extended eight-hundred-mile hike over the Santa Fe Trail. Food could be found as he traveled along. He knew how to trap animals, and he knew he could walk or run as quickly as the mule train, especially one of forty mule's length. The question still remained as to where he could find the train.
He walked slowly along the stream, stretching his tired muscles and thinking. He found a small, unoccupied cave in the side of a hill near the river bank. He felt his luck was holding, he would be protected for the night; and, he was sure to find the train the next day.
The cave was warm. He really did not need a blanket--at least not yet. Gosi thought of the morning when it would be chilly; he decided he would run then to keep himself warm. Snuggling a little farther into the cave, Gosi was happy. Things were promising. He burrowed even farther in, pushing the dried, wind-blown leaves underneath himself as a makeshift mattress, which seemed no worse than the one he had left behind.
This was better than being back in the barn at old Barnes Saddle Shop. Maybe his dreams of riches would come true sooner than even he had hoped--certainly faster than he could manage if he remained a saddler, especially a mediocre one as old Barnes had told him he would be. With these reassuring thoughts, Gosi dropped off and slept through the rest of the afternoon and the entire night.
He was awakened by the chirping of birds, the chattering of squirrels, and the brightness of the morning sun as it sent its exploring rays into the small, warm cave. Gosi dreaded to step out into the chill and frost of the mid-March morning, but he needed to stretch and unkink his legs and back. He was also very hungry and thirsty. Gosi tried to decide if he were more hungry than thirsty or more thirsty than hungry. Listening to the chattering squirrels, he knew he had the answer to his hunger.
He untangled himself and went first to the stream for a drink of water. He lay prone on the ground and scooped water into his mouth until he was no longer thirsty, then he crept silently to where the squirrels were playing. Quickly, they scattered to their home. Gosi followed. At the roots of a huge hickory tree, he found one of their caches of nuts. He removed some as he talked to the fussing squirrels.
"Friends, if you'll share some of your food with me, I'd be obliged. Won't even hurt your babies, nor try to capture you, though if I had a pot, you'd make a good stew. Berries are fine, but not enough to fill my belly, so I'll thank you for your help."
He filled both pockets of his leather britches and carried away as many nuts as possible in his hands. He returned to his warm cave. Gosi divided the nuts into three piles: one for breakfast, another for noon, and the last one for supper.
He thought it might be wise to save some of the nuts, especially if he could find more berries for lunch. Meanwhile, he had the day's food. He felt so contented. He wanted to go back to sleep in the warm cave; however, he was on his own now, and the mule train would already be on its way. He wished he knew in which direction it was traveling.
He stood up to get more water and noticed the chirping of the birds had stopped; there was an odd stillness in the forest. He knelt and put his ear to the ground. He heard a soft rumble that had not been there when he had awakened. Gosi's heart picked up its beat. It could be horses with riders, searching for him, or, with luck it could be hoofbeats of forty mules and their drivers.
He ran to the tallest tree in the area. He was grateful for his shoes, which were like strong moccasins. Carefully, he climbed close to the trunk where the foliage would hide him and the limbs were placed like stairsteps. He climbed rapidly, stopping occasionally to look around the area.
He was sure he could hear the mulera's bell. Maybe it was only wishing, but he thought he heard Jeb's voice telling the cook to make the mulera, the bell mule, the leader, move along. Still hiding, he climbed out on a limb.
In the distance, to the east, back the way that Gosi had run the night before, he saw a long cloud of dust. Gosi was sure it was the freight train. He watched, making plans as to what he would do when it came alongside. He realized there were five or six extra horses and riders traveling with the train. Were they searching for him? He must be extra careful, because if he were caught now, it would do no good to appeal to Jeb to save him. It would be Jeb's duty to return him to old Barnes.
Gosi quickly reviewed his plan. He was sure he could follow the train without being discovered. One thing--he could travel at night and hide during the day. A train that long would leave a trail he could follow even in the dark, and he would catch up while they rested. He climbed down the tree as carefully as he had climbed up, he planned to return to his private cave. He picked up the hickory nuts. The pile for lunch he put back into his right-hand pocket and into the left pocket he put those saved for his supper. He scurried back to the stream and drank more water than he really wanted, in case the train stopped to rest across the stream, and he could not get a drink. His preparations completed he was content to watch and wait.
Gutsy was grateful for his good luck. Who else would have run away from disaster, accidentally picked the right direction, and, after food and a nice warm rest, sit and watch the train that would take him to the gold fields--and riches--and freedom as it passed.
Who were those other riders, though? They could spoil the whole thing. They could be after him. He decided he would have to trail closely and find out their business; but, not so closely they could find him. Maybe, because it was the first day out, they would not be as organized as later; maybe, just this one day, he could follow a little closer to discover what was happening. He would have time to think about that after the trained passed by.
Jeb looked back over this freight train--forty heavily laden mules, shuffling to the rhythm of the mulera's bell. Great, thought Jeb, they're as glad to be back on the trail as I am. Next, he checked his helpers.
Rocky Dun, the rear scout, and Petre Jamsheski, the front scout, were in their places. Cookie was riding the mulera, and the three ride alongers seemed content.
Flatnose Johnson, the ex-trapper, will be a good man, even in an Indian raid, thought Jeb, but Doc Lumpkin looks as if he needs a doctor. Bible Toting John had the look of a man whose solace might have been found more often in the bottle than in the Lord. As usual, thought Jeb, the louder a preacher preaches, the more he needs the preaching.
In Westport Jeb had heard Bible Toting John preaching and had seen him drinking. Jeb considered him mighty powerful at both tasks. Still, when the two Easterners had approached him to ride along, he had told them both that Cerrillos needed a little preaching and healing.
To himself, Jeb had thought that Doc might be a mite more successful with his healing than the preacher would be with his preaching. But times were changing in Cerrillos and women cottoned to preachers and Sunday services. Besides, it would be mighty handy to have a man of the cloth to say a few words over the slow draws and the misfits as they were laid to rest on Boot Hill. As it was now, only Whiskey Bill, the saloon keeper, could do it, and the women declared it was not fitting, since most the persons needing the words had first been his drinking customers.
Jeb squirmed and twisted in his saddle. Things seemed all right. But, if things were okay, why was he so itchy? Maybe that trouble at the saddler's was still stuck in his craw.
By gum, he would never buy another mule fitting from that ornery critter. The kid was only being curious. No reason for him to be so terrified, unless old Barnes was as mean as the men said. Jeb hoped the kid was safe. He noticed no one, 'cept old Barnes, hunted very hard. Looked as if they were afraid they might find the kid. People like old Barnes made Jeb glad to be a mule skinner.
"Come on, Cookie, move it! Wake old Bess up. Make her bell jangle. A good run will get those city cramps outta' all of us," shouted Jeb.
It was good to leave that city behind. No need now to be afraid to let out a good whoop. No need to be careful when he hopped on a mule. They were not city chairs that might break. Those old mules were used to yelling, cussing, clapping and prodding.
Why, this morning Jeb could hardly make those mules start for fear he would offend a city dandy. He could not imagine how one thousand people could be content, gathered together in one place with no elbow room for anybody. Gad! I feel sorry for them, thought Jeb.
"Shake it up, Cookie, put a little heat on that slow-moving critter. Let's make some time today. I got a hankering for air that somebody else ain't breathed before," said Jeb.
Cookie whacked old Bess. As her bell rang faster the mules of the train picked up the pace.
"Now, now, my good man," called Bible John, "we've lots of time and the Good Book says we must treat our animals as brothers."
"Glad to know that," hollered Jeb, "'cause now I know what to do to my brother is he ever acts as lazy as those good-for-nothing beasts."
"When will we be stopping?" asked Doc, gasping as he bounced along in his saddle.
"There's a special place up ahead where there's plenty of water and good long grass. If we keep up this pace we should make it early enough to set up camp during the daylight," Jeb answered.
"Oh," moaned Doc, as he grasped his saddle horn to keep himself steady. "I'm not accustomed to long rides. I'll admit I hoped for a slow first few days so I would have more time to adjust to the saddle."