Gila River Camp

This story is one I wrote after listening to many different stories and legends about the town of Silver City, New Mexico in the southwestern part of the state. All the places mentioned in the story actually do exist. The characters I made up as well as the story. If you want more information on Silver City here are two good sites to visit.   http://www.silvercity.org/ and
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_City,_New_Mexico
I wrote this story from a first person point of view, and it takes place in the late 1890's. It is the story of a young woman on her honeymoon which is a camping trip along the Gila River. It does include a bit of the supernatural as well as romance and adventure.
I hope you enjoy it.

 

 

 

 

 

                                             Gila River Camp

                                                           

 

                                                           

 

                                                              

            I looked over the edge of the cliff, and gave a small gasp. Hundreds of feet down

below me I saw a silver ribbon of water.

            “That’s the Gila River, Kitty. That’s were we’re goin’.” Wade Norton, my husband, pointed to a small section of the river miles from where he and I stood. When I had first come to Silver City, New Mexico two years ago I had learned that the river might be spelled G I L A but was pronounced with the G sounding like an H. It was an Indian name but spelled like a Spanish word since the Conquistadores had come through this part of New Mexico many years before the white man did.

 I looked as far as I could but I could only see mountain after mountain, each covered with acres and acres of pine and spruce trees, with here and there a light green patch of a small grove of aspen trees. Many of the mountains had rock ledges and at various places a jutting rockface or large tumbled boulders.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, “and frightening.” I turned to Wade and he put his arms around me.

“Don’t be frightened, Honey. There’s nothin’ out there can harm you. Not if you know and understand the mountains. I know ‘em and I’ll teach you.”

He gave me confidence and made me want to see and learn about this Gila country he had talked so much about. It was beautiful and I had seen nothing that looked harmful so far.

                                                                                      

Wade helped me back into the saddle of the bay mare he had given me. He had said her name was Wild Rose, but she wasn’t wild at all. Rose was nice and gentle. She was on the small side and agile as a mountain goat.

Wade mounted his black gelding, Skipper. He gathered the lead ropes to the two packhorses, and we went down the steep trail leading to the river.

Ten days before I had married Wade Norton. I had met Wade two years before when I had moved with by family to Silver City, New Mexico. My mother, Clara, had consumption and the doctors in San Antonio, Texas had told my father,  John, that the climate in Grant County, New Mexico was the best there was for her. There was even a small sanitarium for people with tuberculosis. So my dad and I, against Mother’s wishes, packed up and moved our family to Silver City. Since Silver City is still somewhat of a mining boomtown, and since Dad and I had operated a small store in San Antonio, we decided Silver City could support another. Our general store had done well.

Mother had quickly adjusted, when she realized that there were not any wild Indians still raiding the countryside, and of course she did feel much better in the warm, dry climate. As always, she made friends rapidly, joining the church, garden club, and women’s auxiliary club.

Against my wishes, I was made to attend the Territorial Normal School with my younger sisters, Wilma and Loren, and my little brother, Sam. I was sixteen, having been born in 1880. My sister Wilma was twelve, Loren was ten and my little brother, Sam, was nine.

With Dad, I took care of my family since, Mother wasn’t well. Not only did I do the cooking and cleaning with help from Wilma and Loren, but I worked in the store along side of my dad. I didn’t mind helping most people make purchases, and stocking shelves, and even helped with the books. But some of the miners and cowboys could be a bit hard to handle when they had been to the saloons to drink before coming to the store to buy what they needed.

Wade had been one of our first customers in the store and one of the most gentlemanly of the cowboys that came to shop. He was always polite, not only to me but my parents and sisters and Sam took an instant liking to him. Wade was nice enough not to get mad at all the questions Sam asked and to let him sit on his horse while he led him up and down the back alley behind the store. Sam was thrilled to ride the horse. It didn’t take long before Wade had asked me to a box social and dance at the school. One thing had lead to another, and a year later we were engaged. My parents convinced us to wait to be married until I had graduated. I found myself planning a wedding for June 1, only a week after I graduated from Normal School.

                                                                                         

             I chose a pattern for a long, frilly, ivory colored dress made of silk with lots of lace that Mother slaved over for several weeks. I tried to help her but my stitches weren’t as small and neat as the ones she made. Mother had always had a knack for sewing and her health was so much better here in Silver City that she was doing a little sewing for some of her friends and their daughters. It seemed to make her feel better to sew and think she was helping the family. She did a wonderful job on my dress and made a matching veil and gloves to go with it. Mother and I, with some help from my sisters, and Betsy made a three-layer cake covered with white frosting. Somewhere Mother or dad had found a china figurine of a bride and groom to sit on top of the cake. I was thrilled until I noticed the groom had on a suit and I thought that Wade didn’t have one. At least that is what I thought. But on the day of our wedding he had one on. I think my dad might have had something to do with that.  

            The wedding was small, just my family and a few close friends, exactly as I wanted it to be. I had a bouquet of white roses, and daisies that were blooming in Betsy Fordham’s garden. Betsy was my best friend and my bride’s maid. She had added mint and lavender to the bouquet for a bit of color. Then she caught the bouquet when I tossed it to her so many she and her boyfriend, Tom Cooper, would be next to get married.

            Wade didn’t have any family in Silver City or even in New Mexico. He said his family were all in Oklahoma and couldn’t come. He did ask his friend Dodger to be his best man. Surprisingly Dodger had a suit on, too. Again I am sure it was my dad’s doing. I guess he didn’t want it to look like his daughter was marring a cowboy even though I was.

            We were married in the Methodist church by Reverend Williams. It was a short ceremony followed by lots of good food and the wedding cake and wedding gifts from some of our friends.

But the first night wasn’t anything like what I had expected. Some of Wade’s cowboy friends decided we needed a shiveree. I suspect Wade knew of what was planned all along, but he pretended he was as surprised as I was. A friend had given us the use of his cabin for our first week of wedded bliss, as he would be out of town, but the first night was anything but blissful, as a dozen or so cowhands rode their cowponies round and round the cabin yelling and shooting off their six-shooters, as they passed a couple of bottles of whiskey between them. They insisted Wade drink part of it with them and then insisted I make and serve some coffee. Of course it was all in fun, so I joined in and found I enjoyed the party as much as the rest of the merrymakers. Although Wade had to start our marriage with a slight hangover.

After that first week we caught the stage to the nearby town of Pinos Altos where we spent the night at the beautiful Palmer House. Pinos Altos had been the first boomtown in the area and was originally the County Seat for Grant County, but later the county seat had been changed to Silver City. Now Pinos Altos had shrunk to less than half the size of Silver City.

Wade had our horses, supplies, and gear waiting at a nearby stable, so we were able to leave the next day to begin our summer prospecting for gold in President McKinley’s newly proclaimed Gila River Forest Reserve.

Now, I found myself here, trailing down to the Gila River, a new bride going into the mountains for a summer of gold prospecting with by husband. At this moment of my life everything seemed perfect.

                                   ***********                                                                   

 We followed the trail around the edge of the rim. The sky was bright blue, dotted here and there with a few fluffy white clouds. The trees seemed to be an exceptional shade of dark green, while the tall grass waived in the slight breeze. Wild flowers were sprinkled at random, bright and cheerful. Blue lupine, white ox-eye daisies, wild geraniums in red, alpine strawberries, violets, and bluebells caught my eye. There were even a few calypso orchids by a spring that leapt straight out of a hillside. I took a deep breath of the clear air, sucking in the rich sent of pine, and damp earth.

My mare, Rose, had been moving steadily along. Now I realized she had slowed and then came to a halt, behind Wade and the pack animals. Wade turned in his saddle and smiled at me. “Time to go down,” he said.

We were again right on the edge of a steep canyon, only now the trail went along a tiny ledge, descending down into the canyon. “This is called Screaming Point,” said Wade.

I looked along the switchback trail. “I can see why,” I said.

“Not afraid are you?” asked Wade.

Again I looked at the trail. I was sure it wasn’t wide enough for a small rabbit, let alone four big horses. I swallowed a lump that seemed to have found its way to my throat. “Of course not. Will we reach the bottom before dark?” It was mid afternoon and I figured by the time we finished this section of our ride I would be more than ready to camp for the night.

“Should,” said Wade, “with time for a hot bath.”

“A hot bath?” I questioned.

“Sure, see the steam rising through the trees down there? That’s a hot spring.”

  I remembered Wade had told me of hot springs scattered all along the Gila River. The idea of a hot bath and a good nights rest made the trail down look a little better, but only a little.

“I’ll go first,” said Wade, “with Bessie and Cornbread. Let Rose set her own pace. You’ll be all right.” He turned and touched Skipper with his heels. The black horse started down and when the lead rope pulled tight on the two packhorses, they pulled back, resisting, at first, but then followed after Skipper.

I picked up the reins, and clucked to Rose. She blew softly, then set out, hooves sure and true on the narrow path.

Once a rock rolled under Skipper’s hoof, starting a miniature landslide, but the horses never hesitated. The ride down seemed to last for ever, but couldn’t have been more than a half an hour or so. By the time the trail widened out along the grassy, level streambed, I was gripping the saddlehorn so hard my fingers were cramping as was my jaws from clinching by teeth. I had found a long time before that I didn’t get along to well with heights, and a narrow pathway didn’t help, but I knew I wouldn’t have missed the thrill of the ride for anything.

While I got the kinks out of my legs by gathering firewood, Wade unsaddled the horses, watered, and hobbled them where they could graze and then set up our small tent.

In just our first few days in the mountains I had learned to start a cookfire, make coffee, and a quick meal of tinned food or fried meat and panbread. This evening before eating we made our way to the hotsprings and slipping off our clothes, splashed and played in the extremely warm water of a natural pool. I had brought along some scented soap, as well as towels and clean clothes.

                       **********           

                                                                                                                                                                           It felt wonderful to rid ourselves of the dirt and grim that had accumulated over the past few days. Wade helped me wash my hair, and I scrubbed his back. He ducked under the water to rinse off but didn’t reappear. Just as I was beginning to worry, I felt hands on my legs and was jerked under, only to be met with an underwater kiss. We rose to the surface, Wade holding me tightly, letting the kiss go on for some time.

Later, stepping from the warm water to the cool mountain air chilled us quickly. We rubbed each other dry and dressed rapidly, returning to the fire and our camp. I brushed my hair dry, while Wade opened and heated several tins of food. Our enjoyment of being with each other and camping in the wild made even the simple fair of beans, stewed tomatoes and coffee delicious.

It wasn’t long before we crawled between the blankets I had laid out in the tent and fell asleep to the soothing sound of chirping crickets. As I was dozing off, I faintly heard the soft thud of drumbeats and singing. I wondered where it came from but was to tired and fell asleep quickly.

 

Wade and I decided to spend the next couple of days at the hot spring. Actually the one we were at was a warm spring, or at least compared to the one we found farther down the stream. That one was too hot to get in, and the sulfur smell was almost overpowering. We decided the warm spring was much nicer.

While we were at the warm springs, Wade checked over the horses and our gear, replacing a shoe on one of the packhorses and repaired a bridle. The horses liked it there as much as we did, and were more than willing to stay close by, eating huge amounts of the rich mountain grasses in the small glade we had our camp in. The clearing was surrounded by spruce trees that seemed to shelter us. It was as if we were the only people in the world that had ever been to this wonderful place. I knew it wasn’t true, but I liked to think it was anyway.

 I took additional advantage of the warm water and washed our dirty clothes.

Shedding my shirt, divided skirt, boots and stockings, so that I was wearing only my underwear; a chemise and some longhandled winter underwear that I had cut off and hemmed so they only came to my knees. I waded out into the middle of the stream and dropped my bundle of clothes on a rock. Sitting on the rock, I soaped each piece, then rinsed them, wringing them out and wrapping all in a clean, wet towel.

            Continuing to sit there, I soaked up the sun, while lessening to the music of the water tumbling over the rocks. Music, I thought, remembering I had heard music or singing as I had gone to sleep the other night. Music out here in the wilderness? Maybe I had been dreaming. But a nice dream.

            Suddenly there was a loud buzzing noise and a bright jewel appeared to hang in front of my eyes. Then the tiny bird turned and landed on a twig of a willow that was hanging over the edge of the creek bank. I was careful not to move so the little thing would stay. It rearranged some of its sparkling green feathers with its long bill and then went to a small rock beside a ‘tiny’ waterfall. First a careful sip of water, then it made several dashes under the slight trickle of water. At last it returned to the willow twig and shook off the droplets of water and fixed its feathers again.

            I hadn’t moved, just sat there totally enchanted by the small creature. Then it was gone so quickly I wondered for a moment if I had imagined it.

            “You’re going to be red as a beat,” Wade’s words caused me to jump completely up, almost loosing my balance and knocking several of his shirts into the creek. He laughed as he caught me so I didn’t fall in with them.

               I frowned at him causing him to laugh again. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.” I laughed with him. I rinsed the soaked shirts and wrung them out for the second time.

            “What were you watching so intently?” he asked as he gave me his hand to help me from the stream.

            “A hummingbird,” I replied. “I’ve seen them in town on the flowers in our garden but that was the first time I ever watched one take a bath. The mountains are so wonderful. The birds and the flowers; the sound of the stream; the deer; even that mischievous raccoon that tried to tear up our camp that first night.”

            “Why, Kitty, you were so mad at that raccoon and now you call her mischievous.” He put his arm around my waist, pulled me to him, wet clothes and all and gave me a hearty smack on the lips. “The mountains are beautiful, but the prettiest’ thing I’ve found in ‘em is this cute, little women runnin’ ‘round in just her underwear.” Wade swatted her almost bare bottom.

            “Here,” I shoved the clean, wet clothes into his arms. “I can remedy that, since you don’t seem to care for almost naked women running ‘round.”

            Wade was struggling not to drop the wet bundle. “Wait,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean that. I do like you that way. And - and - and any other way, too.”

            I had pulled on my shirt, divided skirt, socks, and boots. “There, is that better?” I asked and turned in a little circle in front of him.

            “No,” he said. “Well, it will keep you from sunburning, which I wouldn’t want happening, but I do think I liked you better the other way.”

I slipped my hand through his arm and we started back for camp. “Well, maybe if you’re real good and sweet, I’ll do it again for you, sometime.” I joked.

            “Promises, promises,” said Wade, grinning his cute, little, lopsided grin down at me. He stood a head taller than me and always seemed to be looking down while I always had to look up. I loved everything about Wade Norton. His lopsided grin, his dark brown hair, curling slightly around his ears, shorter now since he had had it cut for the wedding, but it would grow back. His green eyes that never missed anything. He was tall, and muscular, never seeming to tire, with all the hard work he did. Yes, I loved Wade Norton. He said he loved me and I hoped it was true, but sometimes I didn’t feel as pretty as he said I was. How could I when I had brown hair, and hazel eyes and was – well – plumper, but not by much, than Betsy was. Plus she had blue eyes and blond hair. To me, Betsy was what pretty was.

            “Hello, the camp,” called a loud voice, making us both jump.

            I found the load of wet clothes back in my arms, and saw Wades hand streak down and pat the Colt revolver he always wore at his waist. His eyes changed from sparkling green, almost like the hummingbird, to hard and weary and I had a sudden glimpse of a man I didn’t even know. He stepped in front of me putting a tree between us, and our camp, and who ever had called out. Then he relaxed slightly and went on in but still kept his hand on the gun butt.

            “Bear Moore,” Wade called out, “Howdy.”

            “Wade Norton, I though those were your horses,” said the voice. I still hadn’t seen the man, yet.

            “Come on, Kitty. Bear is a friend.”

            “Bear?” I repeated the strange name of the man I could now see standing in our camp. Wade stepped up and shook his hand. I stopped and almost didn’t go on. Bear Moore was the ugliest man I had ever seen, and I now had a suspicion as to how he had

  come by his name. There were horrid scars all over his face. Bear Moore looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He kept his head tipped down, so his hat would hide his face, not wanting me to see his scars.

            “Bear,” said Wade, turning to me and drawing me into the circle of his arm again. “I want you to meet my wife, Kitty.” Pride was written all over his face at being able to introduce me to his friend. “Kitty, this is my friend, Bear Moore.”

            Bear Moore and I both became embarrassed. The man touched his floppy, dirty, old hat. “Ma’am.”

            “Mr. Moore,” I said almost in a whisper.

            Wade and Bear drank coffee and talked, while I fixed supper. I couldn’t help but try to get a better look at Bear’s scars, although the man stayed to the shadows and kept his face turned away from me. I quickly realized how shy he was and that he was still very conscious of how awful his face looked even though the injury most have happened a long time ago and was now well healed. When I did get a quick look at his face, I could see not only the scars, but the haunted look in his dark eyes.

            Since we had company, I tried to make a more fancy meal than I had been for just Wade and myself. I had soaked some pinto beans overnight, and cooked them at a slow simmer for several hours that morning. I fried several steaks and a couple of potatoes to go with the beans. While they cooked, I peeled some apples, layering them in a cast iron pot with a flour, sugar, and cinnamon topping. I set the Dutch oven pot down into the hot coals, knowing the cobbler would be ready when the meal was over. I could tell Bear was already anticipating the treat.

                                                                                              

            The two men discussed the new Gila River Forest Reserve. Bear mentioned a man named Smith who was the Forest Ranger for the district. Smith apparently was having trouble rounding up an Indian that was hunting deer out of season. His wife and children were being a nuisance begging from Reserve visitors.

            “I know Joe Lone Deer. He’s harmless. Just trying to feed his family,” said Wade.

            “Yeah, I know,” added Bear, “but Joe’s a lazy son-of-gun. He don’t never work for a meal. Just for a bottle of firewater once in a while.”

            I dished up the cobbler and poured more coffee. Bear tasted his and a big smile split his face making it more ugly than ever.

            “Thank you ma’am,” he mumbled around a mouth full of pie. “Sure taste good.” He finished that helping and had another before he resumed his conversation with Wade.

“Don’t mean to worry you none, but Wade, you an’ the Missus, need to keep an eye out. Joe Lone Deer ain’t the only problem ‘round here. Smith was tellin’ me ‘bout three-four men robbed a bunch of a easterners, was camped over on the Sapio, last month.”

            Wade glanced at me. “I’m not worried. We’re goin’ clear up by the Cliff Dwellings. That’s a hard ride and there ain’t nothin’ there to attract those kind a men. We’ll be fine.”

            “The Cliff Dwellin’s,” Bear shook his head. “You’re sure right. There ain’t nothin’ up there.”

            Wade looked at me again. “Sure there is. Lots of mountains, and trees, and purty flowers and maybe a little gold in the river.”

“Gold? So that’s what you’re after. Ain’t heard of nobody findin’ more than a few flakes in a long while. But I wish you luck. And don’t go tellin’ just ever body ‘bout that gold huntin’ yur doin’. Ya hear. It ain’t wise.” Bear stood up in one easy motion. “’Bout time fer some shut-eye. You don’t mind, I’ll bed down over there in that stand a trees.” He touched a finger to his old hat. “Night, Ma’am, and thanks again fer that tasty meal.”

            The next morning, Bear Moore ate more flapjacks than I had ever imagined anyone could eat. After eating he saddled his horse, said goodbye was gone.

            Again Wade and I were alone in the Gila Mountains. Or almost alone, at least there were no other human beings nearby, but we always had the horses.

            Since Bear had eaten most of our breakfast, I fixed another batch of flapjacks and then fried some more bacon. I fixed several extra to give to the horses. They had become used to me giving them left over bits of our meal. Wade said I was spoiling them, but I had seen him do the same thing, when he thought I wasn’t looking. Besides, expectation of little treats now and then kept them closer to camp and easier to catch, even though Wade always hobbled them. The packhorse named Cornbread especially was prone to wondering off.

            Later that day I asked Wade what had really happened to Bear Moore’s face.

            “From what I heard, he got to close to some bear cubs, and the mama bear didn’t like it. She ripped up his face and chest but some how Moore survived.”

            I shivered at the thought of a bear attack, and couldn’t help taking a quick look around. “Are - are there lots of bear in the Gila?”

            “Now, don’t you be worrin’ none, Kitty,” said Wade. “Course there’s bears ‘round here, but most times they’re more afraid of you than you are of them. Just make sure to stay away from any baby bears. Old she-bears are awful protective of their youngin’s.”

               “I’ll certainly try.” All of a sudden our idyllic summer camping trip didn’t seem so perfect. In fact it seemed down right dangerous.

             Wade must have seen the fear on my face. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any bears or anything else that might threaten my beautiful wife.”

            The next day found us back on the trail by first light, and Wade didn’t linger anywhere, pushing ourselves and our mounts. It was close to dark when we camped. I was only too glad to roll up with Wade in our blankets, even without the tent.

            Wade took it a little easier the following day, stopping several places to examine the creek and the rocks. Once he pulled out the large tin plate he used for panning gold. Earlier in our trip he had showed me how this was done, but so far we hadn’t found any gold. Wade hadn’t expected to until we got way back into the mountains. He had explained that we might have found more ‘paydirt’ or gold in the desert country to the south of Silver City, in the Burro Mountains, near the large copper mine there, but he said it wasn’t near as pretty and a whole lot hotter in the summer. Wade had even mentioned a couple of miners he knew who were working a mine called the Elks Tooth and finding a fair amount of gold, along with some silver and turquoise. Of course Silver City had earned its name because it had been a big silver boomtown, but gold, copper and turquoise mines were everywhere, also.

            I watched Wade panning by the stream. H would scoop up a hand full of sand and gravel from the streambed, put it in the pan and add some water. Then he would swirl it around, allowing small amounts of water and sand to slip out of the pan until nothing was left.

            I had become bored and was walking away to explore elsewhere when Wade let out a whoop of delight. “Kitty. Look. --- Look.” He pointed at the pan.

             I looked, but didn’t see anything.

            “There,” he commanded. “Right there. Gold.”

            I looked harder and saw a tiny yellow glint in the tin plate. Was this pinpoint speck what all the excitement was about. I didn’t want Wade to know how disappointed I was. I gave a little squeal. “I see it, Wade. I see it.”

            “Yeah, I know. It don’t look like much, and it ain’t, but we’ll find a lot more where we’re goin’. ‘Course it won’t be enough to make us rich or anything, but it should be enough so we can maybe buy a couple of acres, with a cabin and a few head of cows so’s we can start us a small ranch. It won’t be much but it’ll be a start.”

            Not much, I thought. A cabin and a couple of acres sounded huge to me, after growing up in a few crowded rooms behind a small general store. I had always shared a small room with my two sisters and a lot of times with the overflow from the storeroom.

I sincerely hoped that Wade and I would be able to find enough gold to buy a small place of our own, but I did, also, hope we could find it in more abundant quantities than the little flake of gold Wade carefully picked out of the tin pan and dropped into an small, empty, glass jar and then pushed a cork tightly into the top.

            That afternoon we crossed a large open meadow and then began crossing and re-crossing the Gila River as we made our way up a canyon. At first it didn’t seem like much of a canyon, being fairly wide, but gradually I began to notice the high cliff walls seemed to becoming closer and closer in on us.

             Dusk and then dark seemed to close in on us faster than normal, since we were in the canyon and I asked Wade if we shouldn’t find a place to camp but he replied we were

 almost there. Where? Where, I wondered was my husband taking me to in this desolate wilderness so far from town, family and friends. Apparently he did have a destination in mind, although, he had never elaborated to me, seemingly wanting it to be a surprise.

            We traveled on, there being an almost non-existent trail that Wade was following in the dark. I sagged in my saddle and dozed, knowing Rose would follow Skipper without my guidance. I woke, briefly startled, when Rose stopped next to Wade and Skipper.

            “Here we are,” said Wade.

            “I can’t see a thing.” The complaint came out in my voice even though I tried not to let it.

            “I know.” Wade sounded as tired as I felt. “We’ll just make a quick fire and sleep without the tent tonight. I’ll fix a proper camp in the morning.”

            At that point I didn’t care. Wade saw to the horses while I opened another can of beans for our supper. I didn’t even make any coffee. We just ate and fell into our blankets. Again as I was dozing off I thought I heard the soft sound of singing and drum beats. I looked up at one of the nearby cliffs and was surprised to see a glow of light like you might see from a small fire, but then it was gone and I was asleep.

 

            I awoke at the crack of dawn, but didn’t open my eyes. I could feel Wade’s warmth pressed against my back, and I could hear birds singing in the trees, directly over head, but I had the distinct impression I was being watched. I lay there pretending to sleep, remembering last nights glimpse of a fire on the cliff top. Could someone from there have sneaked into our camp? Whoever it was, was very quiet. Could it be Bear Moore? Or was it my imagination.

            I could hear no alarming noise. Wade’s even breathing, the water music of the river, chirping of birds and even the stomp of one of the horses, then the sound of grass being torn and chewed by its big blunt teeth. Everything seemed peaceful enough. Then there was the sound of a tin can being turned over.

            Well, I couldn’t lay still like this any longer. I cracked open one eye and then the other. Two big bulging, brown eyes stared back at me. I couldn’t help giggling at the sight of a fluffy tailed squirrel feeling around inside last nights bean can, while watching to see if we would wake up. At my first sound he was gone.

            I sat up and looked around me. Tall cliff walls surrounded the small glade we had spent the night in. Ponderosa pine and some spruce were scattered about with a few stands of aspen. Wild flowers were everywhere while the Gila River followed its meandering path mostly to the middle of the meadow. Dew sparkled on the grass almost as bright as the hummingbird that hovered over a red flower. Jays screeched, while robins hunted bugs and worms. An eagle, or so I assumed, circled overhead, and the inquisitive squirrel chattered from a nearby tree.

            “Mornin’, Sunshine.” Wade’s greeting bright me back to reality, causing the fairy-like fantasy world to become the Gila Forest again. “Hey, if you don’t like this place there’s others we can try.”

            “Oh, no Wade, we have to stay here. It’s beautiful. I love it.”

              “Well, the way you looked, I thought maybe you didn’t like it.”

             “I most certainly do, but the squirrel startled me.”

            As we got up and built a fire I told him of how I could feel the squirrel watching me while it had searched for crumbs.

            Wade and I set up a permanent camp to be our home, away from home. One tent was for our supplies and cooking in bad weather and another for sleeping. Wade split several logs and made a worktable and a bench to sit on. He fixed a metal tripod over the fire for hanging the coffee pot and other cook pots, and moved a large slab granite of rock near the fire for placing hot pans on.

            He rigged a pulley on a tall dead tree, a hundred yards or so from the tents, so we could raise canvas bags with any food that might attract unwanted visitors like bears, mountain lions, or coyotes. It scared me at first to think of large predators getting into our supplies, especially when I would think of Bear Moore, but Wade assured me he had never been unduly bothered by them. More annoying were the squirrels and chipmunks and birds. They were always ready for a handout and would get it themselves, if allowed. Getting into a skillet of bacon grease or unwrapping a cloth from a loaf of bread, and nibbling on the corner.

Although, Wade spent part of each day panning for gold, and he had found a little, it was hardly enough to mention. I wasn’t worried by the few flakes he had found, the gold did not mean that much to me. The only thing that was meaningful was being with Wade. I did look forward to the long walks Wade took with me as we explored the area. I still couldn’t get over how beautiful and peaceful the Gila forest was.

                                                 **********                                                                                                                              We were camped on the West fork of the Gila River, a few miles northwest of where the West and Middle Forks come together. To me, the cliff walls to the west of camp looked to be hundreds of feet tall. Wade guessed them at not more than three hundred feet, at the most. Some of the cliffs were sheer, with no scratch, or mark to mar their surface, giving them a polished look. In other places the walls were dotted with small holes and crevices jutted from them. Some only inches wide, and some making ledges several feet wide, where trees and plants tried to find enough soil to continue their dwarfed existence.

Through the cliffs to the west a small stream meandered down to meet the river. In most places it was only inches deep, if that much. It was here that Wade had found the most sign of gold, and it was here that I felt totally fascinated. I felt pulled to continue my exploration of the small creek, to find where it came from. Wade said that was where the cliff dwellings were, and I was compelled to see them.

Several days after we had been at our Gila camp, Bear Moore came to visit, and he brought a friend, who quickly became mine and Wade’s friend, also. Marvin was a scientist. He said he was an archeologist. Although he had gone to school somewhere back east, Marvin was from the west and an outdoorsman. He wore typical cowboy type clothes, shirt, jeans, boots and wide-brimmed felt hat, like Wade and Bear. It was easy to tell he was well educated, and that he was used to being around educated people, but he was, also, used to us more common folks, as he quickly put Wade and myself at ease.

Marvin had been to the Gila before, and now he had come back to see the cliff dwellings again. His bright blue eyes sparkled as he talked of his adventures in the Gila Forest Reserve.  Unconsciously he ran his fingers through his dark blond hair as he told us of his previous experiences. He stood and paced around the fire, his tall form throwing strange shadows, as he kept is audience of three entertained. He told of his first trip with a man named Duncan and his wife. The Duncan’s had made a party of it. I laughed at his stories, of how they had had a cook and hired help to do all the camp work for them.

Marvin, (I never learned if it was his first or last name), and Bear were here again, not only to see the easily reached part of the dwellings, but to try and reach a cave no one had ever been in. Marvin seemed to be obsessed with trying to reach it.

The four of us left early. We carried backpacks with enough food and gear to spend the night. We walked along the creek for about a mile. There were many stone overhangs along the way that showed they had been used as camping places in the past. There were stones left around fire pits and the smoke had blackened the walls.

Marvin pointed out a few boulders where the Cliff Indians had drawn and carved pictures of birds and deer, lizards, and mountain sheep, stick people and rain clouds. I wished I could read the story I was sure the pictures told.

Finally the steep, narrow trail became steeper and we were forced to help each other up a rocky slope to the base of a large cave. We climbed a ladder made from poles lashed together with rawhide. Marvin said the rangers kept the trail and ladders repaired for the visitors usage.

Bear went up first, then Marvin. I followed with Wade behind me. I stepped from the ladder to the edge of the cave and looked around. I don’t know what I really expected but it wasn’t this. There was a lot of little room. Rooms made of small adobe type bricks, but with no roofs. The big entrance to the cave allowed for plenty of fresh air, but still it seemed musty, and close. No one spoke. We spread out and looked at the home of a people who had left here longer ago than I could imagine.

I gently touched the adobe wall and ran my finger tips along it. The wall wasn’t as tall as I was, so I peaked over. Again, I don’t know what I expected but all there was,---- was nothing. Or almost nothing. There was just a layer of about three inches of soft dust in the room.

Wade moved over beside me. “Kind a spooky, ain’t it?” he asked, in almost a whisper.

Bear didn’t say anything. He walked slowly around the big area of the cave in front of the small adobe rooms and then went back to the edge, near the ladder. Squatting on his heels he rolled a cigarette, lit it, and stared at the view across the canyon, as he smoked.

Marvin laid a hand lightly on my shoulder. “Wade, Kitty. Let me show you the rest of the dwellings.”  He made a good guide, talking of how the cliff dwelling had been most likely first discovered by miners or prospectors, or maybe cowboys and later by Adolph Bandelier and Lieutenant G.H. Sands in about 1885.

According to Marvin, most of the few artifacts had been carried away by previous “visitors” to the ruins. Not much had been found that anyone knew about. A few beads, and pieces of some dried out, half rotted leather sandals, and a few baskets, and pots, stone tools and arrowheads.

There were six caves in all, four of which had different rooms, totaling forty-two in all. One with round, strange, pit rooms that had well dried corn cobs, and a few pinto

 beans still in them. A couple of the rooms were just piles of rubble where the adobe walls had given way with time and fallen in. Several had strange T shaped doors. Although some cliff dwellings are reputed to be several stories high, this one couldn’t have been more than two at most due to the height of the cave. The cave ceiling was blackened in many places from long ago fires.

I followed Marvin and examined everything he showed me. I could understand why the Indians had wanted to build here. Not only could the caves be easily protected, but the views up and down the canyon and to the far side were wonderful. The only drawback I could see would have been to haul all their food, water, fire wood and other supplies up and down the steep trails. My problem with heights came back ever time we went to a different level or walked along a cave edge with a long drop off below us. Of course I wasn’t about to let Marvin know and so kept hold of Wade’s hand as much as possible, his big strong hand being the best safety line I could have had.

That afternoon we set up a small camp down by the creek planning to spend the night there

As we ate a quick lunch Marvin, Wade and Bear Moore kept circling the area, while looking up at a cave set midway in another high rock wall. This was the cave that had drawn Marvin back to the cliff dwellings. As far as he knew on one had ever gained access to this particular cave. I could see it was a long way up to the cave and, also, a long way down with a slight over hang from the top. 

The three men offered suggestions back and forth on how to get to the cave. It looked to be impossible to climb up since the face of the wall was incredibly smooth with no way to find toe or hand holds to go up. That left only one way - to come down to the cave from the top.

  My curiosity got the better of me. “Why do you want to get into that little cave?”

I asked Marvin.

            Marvin looked at me as if I had asked the most stupid question he had ever heard. “Why, to see if the Indians lived in that cave, too. There could be artifacts in it. It could be bigger that it looks. Could open up a lot behind the entrance.”

            Bear shook his head, disagreeing with Marvin. “If’n we can’t figure out how to get into that there cave, them Indians couldn’t have got in it, neither. Ain’t no way.”

            “Don’t be so sure, Bear,” said Wade. “I gotta go with Marvin’s idea of their makin’ a rope ladder and droppin’ down from the top.”

            Marvin spoke up again. “And if they could come down from the top, then they could have dropped another ladder from the cave to the canyon floor so they could climb up, and down. The cave would have been a perfect place for storing food and supplies or defending themselves from their enemies. But it is my thought that they may have used it for secret ceremonies.” Marvin took a breath and a swallow of coffee. “Or the possibility has crossed my mind that maybe it was a place to bury their dead.”

            I couldn’t help but grimace at the thought.

            “Bury,” said Wade. “Don’t see how you could bury anyone in a cave.”

            “Well, maybe ‘bury’ wasn’t the right word. I guess ‘dispose of’ might be better. See very few cliff dweller remains or skeletons have ever been found. In fact, there has been quite a bit of disagreement amongst the archaeologists and scientists as to how cliff

 dwelling Indians did bury, or dispose of, there dead. Oh, there have been a few bodies found. Mostly of infants or very young children.”

            Bear cut in. “Most likely they didn’t want anyone messin’ ‘round with their dead folks. Know that’s the way I’d feel ‘bout it.”

            “Me, too.” I agreed with Bear.

            Marvin didn’t seem to hear us. “The mummy of a child was found here in the Gila cliff dwellings a few years back and was on display in a store in Silver City. I wish I had seen it, but no one seems to know what has happened to it.”

            “Uck,” I shivered at the thought of the dead baby, taken from its resting place, to be examined and stared at by curiosity seekers. I hoped someone had had the decency to re-bury the poor thing.

            After a little more discussion it was decided that Marvin and Bear Moore would go back out to mine and Wade’s camp on the Gila River and then circle around to reach the top of the cliff, spend the night and tomorrow try to climb down into the cave. Wade and I would spend the night here in the canyon, so we could help direct Marvin’s descent  from below where we, hopefully, would be able to see him better than Bear who would be looking down from the top of overhanging rim.

            Camp that night was very sparse in comparison to the one on the river. We had a campfire and plenty of coffee, but there the niceties of life stopped. We dined on a cold supper of canned tomatoes, cheese, crackers and some dried beef jerky. I saved a can of peaches for breakfast.

 

             Wade cut an armload of tender pine boughs, laid them out, and made our bed of two blankets over them. We would be sleeping under the stars instead of in a tent.

            I sat on a log, watching a pair of nighthawks and several swallows swooping and diving to catch as many mosquitoes, gnats, and other bugs as they could before full dark. I pulled by coat closer around my shoulders, but enjoyed the tingle of cool air that whispered down the canyon. I heard a fish jump in the creek, over where Wade was trying to catch a trout to go with the peaches in the morning. The hoot of an owl floated over the breeze followed by the ghost of wings as the night bird glided into the top of a nearby pine.

            I realized I was also hearing the faint throb of drums and wail of a flute. I glanced up at the ancient homes above me and for just a second thought I saw a glint of firelight behind the adobe walls.

            I could hear footsteps. “Wade?”

            “Yeah, Kitty.”

            He sank down on the log beside me, and I caught the faint odor of fish.

            “Any luck?”

            “Got three, but one was too small. Threw it back.”

            “Um-m--. Wade, you see or hear anything?”

            “Uh - oh you mean of Marvin or Bear. Naw. Their too far away. Even if they did make it to the rim by dark.”

            “No - o. I mean at the cliff dwelling.”

Wade looked up at where the ruins should be in the dark. He took my hand and pulled me close to him, them whispered in my ear. “Hey, Kitty you been dreamin’ again. Come on. Lets do our dreamin’ under a blanket.”

            Later that night we both woke with a start at the sound of a women screaming, but Wade didn’t seem concerned. “Mountain lion,” he said as his arm tightened around my shaking body. “Don’t be scared. She won’t come close.”  He reached out and placed a few more pieces of wood on the fire, causing it to flare up.

             It was some time before I was able to get back to sleep, and then it wasn’t quite light when I awoke again with the vague feeling someone had been shaking me. The fire was down to glowing embers, so I eased out of the blankets trying not to wake Wade. I pulled my shirt over my camisole and pants over my bloomers. Then, leaning on a tree for support, I pulled on my socks and boots.

            Wade wiggled and muttered, “What’s wrong?”

            “Fires almost out and I need to pee,” I answered.

            I made my way to a thicket I had been using as a latrine and then back to camp, setting a few small, dry limbs on the fire. When they caught I added several larger chunks of wood and taking the coffeepot, went to the stream. I dumped out last nights grounds, rinsed the pot and filled it with the cold, clear water. A couple of sleepy birds twittered at me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched. While returning to the fire, I though of the lion that had screamed last night. I sure hoped Wade was right about them not coming close to a fire. I looked up at the cliff dwelling. They were still hard to make

 

                                                                                                  

out in the pre-dawn light, except for one room which seemed to have a sort of glow in the doorway. 

            Setting the coffee pot on a flat rock by the fire, I stood and stared up at the ruins. The light in the doorway seemed to brighten and then dimmed. I thought it was going to go out, but it had just softened to an indistinct glow. I began to make my way carefully up the steep hillside.

            I eased up the hill and the light became brighter, while my ears picked up the faint beat of drums. I hesitated beside a large rock. Was there really a fire in the room? If so who had built it? Wade and I were the only ones in the canyon. Did I really hear drums? Who was beating out such a wonderful rhythm? The thum-thum of the drums seemed to enter my whole being. My heart beat to the same rhythm, as did the blood in my veins. The throbbing became louder and faster. I felt dizzy but compelled to continue on to the ruins. Against my better wishes, I climbed the ladder, walked along the edge of the cave and stooped to enter the little door.

            And the light was gone as well as the drums.

            The faintness came over me again and I leaned against the wall to keep from falling, sank to my knees, and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath, then two more. I shook with fatigue or thought I did. It felt as if the whole wall shook and the cave floor under my feet. Gradually the shaking stopped and my breathing returned to normal.

            Knowing I wouldn’t see anything but a small, empty, long, long abandoned room of four walls with a short T-shaped entrance, I opened by eyes and gasped in surprise. An Indian women stood in front of me. At a quick glance I noticed she was about my age but

                                                                                             

 shorter. Her slim body was clothed in a soft leather dress with sandals of rawhide and rope on her feet. Her black hair was long and shiny surrounding an oval face Her dark eyes seemed huge and I could see fright and long suffering in them, but at the same time a joy for living. Her wide, thin lipped mouth made a straight slash across her face but then it turned up into a slight smile. She held out one hand and there appeared to be specks of blue in it.

            I’m not sure how long we stood there. A moment or two. It couldn’t have been much longer. A foggy mist floated in between us causing the Indian woman to shimmer and then disappear along with the mist.

            I blinked and shook my head. Could my imagination be playing tricks on me? Surely I hadn’t really seen anyone. I stood and walked the few steps to where I thought the Indian women had been. There was no one there but when I looked down at the floor I saw blue dots in the dust. I picked up four turquoise beads. More searching in the dirt and my fingers came in contact with a small arrowhead. I slipped them into by pants pocket.

            Not finding any other sign of anyone having been there with me I retreated back through the door. I had one foot on the ladder, ready to descend, when I changed my mind. First I would investigate the rest of the ruin. I pecked into several rooms but found nothing other than the tracks Wade, Milton and I had left the day before.

            Then I noticed something different about some of the tracks. Some had been smudged out of shape, and next to some of my previous tracks were the very distinct tracks

 

                                                                                                     

 of a very large cat. Or I assumed they were cat tracks, as they looked like tracks made by the cats we had at home, only much, much larger.

            Suddenly I felt the short hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I had that feeling of being watched again. Quickly turning around I saw a mountain lion crouched at the edge of the cave. It growled and I screamed.

            I never scream. I’m not a screaming type person, but with the combination of everything that had happened, the sight of the lion was the final straw. I had screamed, the lion had seemed to disappear into thin air and Wade, pistol in hand, was by my side demanding to know what was going on.

            “Kitty! Kitty, what happened. Why did you scream?”

            I couldn’t say anything. I just grabbed hold of Wade and didn’t let go. Just stood there shaking harder than ever as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. I hardly noticed he didn’t have his shirt on.

            “I don’t see anything, Kitty. What was it?’

            Finally I was able to answer. “A - a - cat. A - a - mountain lion. Right over there.” I pointed at the edge of the cave.

            With his pistol held at arms length in his right hand and his left arm still around my shoulders and me clutching his waist, Wade and I inched to the place where the wild animal had been. There was nothing to be seen except an area of scrapped sand with a few half formed tracks leading across the rock and brush studded hillside.

            “It’s gone,” said Wade striving to reassure me. “Most likely it was more scared of you than you were of it.”

                                                                                                

            “I hope so! I hope I scared that damn cat clear to the other end of the Gila River.”

Wade’s strength returned my own courage and with it I got mad. How dare

that lion threaten me. Realizing the danger was over, Wade chuckled at my rage, tightening his hold on me again and then giving me a long, deep kiss.

            He paused for breath. “Kitty, you don’t know how scared I got when I heard you scream. I could never stand to have something happen to you, honey. I love you something awful. I surely do.”

            I looked into my husband’s green eyes as he confessed his fears and his love. I was thrilled to hear Wade express his love for me, especially as I knew how hard it was for him to say such things, even though I knew he felt them, but I giggled. I giggled because of the way he was dressed or undressed.

            Wade frowned at me. “You think its funny. I was frightened for you. Is it funny that I ran up here to rescue you from who knew what kind of wild creature? You think it’s funny that I tell you I love you?”

            Still giggling I looked Wade up and down. “I - I’m sorry Wade. I didn’t mean to laugh at you and I am so glad that you love me and came to rescue me, but look at how you’re dressed.”

            Wade looked down at his attire. All he had on was a pair of long underwear bottoms. Not even his boots.

 I stopped laughing as I saw blood seeping from several cuts on his feet. Slowly we made our way back down to our camp by the creek, watching for cactus and other sharp objects.

                                                                                        

Wade soaked his feet in the cool water of the stream while I made the coffee and breakfast I had started what seemed like ages before, but couldn’t have been more than an hour or so at most. The sun was only now starting to shine down into the canyon with any brightness.

 

Wade dressed, we ate, and I explained about the Indian women and the mountain lion. Wade didn’t seem to doubt my story about the lion but seemed skeptical when it came to the Indian. He shrugged it off saying I had probably had a dream. With a cold tight feeling of dread I wished I hadn’t told him about the Indian women. I certainly didn’t want him thinking he had married a crazy person.

We were having a second cup of coffee just before mid-morning when a shout brought us to our feet.

“Hey, down there. Wade, Kitty. You awake?” It was Marvin.

Wade ran to a spot under the high up cave that no one had ever been in. Cupping his hands around his mouth he called back to the man on the overhang above the cave. “Marvin, is Bear with you?”

Another figure appeared. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Are you going to try climbing down?” asked Wade.

“We’re getting ready now,” answered Marvin.

Bear and Marvin disappeared from our sight. We waited several minutes and then Marvin was on hands and knees easing over the overhang. Sitting in a leather harness, he and Bear had made, Bear slowly lowered him on a very insubstantial looking rope. From my position on the ground the rope appeared on stronger than a piece of twine.

Marvin seemed to freeze about ten feet down from the tip.

 I jumped when Wade called out. “You look fine, Marv. Keep going.”

My heart beat faster and my mouth went dry as Marvin jolted down another six feet. “Not so fast,” he yelled.

After that Bear seemed to be in complete control of the rope, as Marvin came down at a slow, measured pace. I hoped they had the end tied to a solid tree or rock.

As Marvin came even with the cave he called out. “Slower, Bear, slower. I can see in now.”  Bear let out the rope a few more feet. “Hold it!” yelled Marvin.

“He’s there!” yelled Wade.

After a moment Bear appeared on the overhang. I guessed he had tied off the rope. “Can you see anything?” asked the man on the ledge. I knew Bear couldn’t see the cave but he might be able to see Marvin. I couldn’t tell for sure.

“Can’t see much. It’s sure is dark in there.”
            “Can you get into it?” asked Wade.

“……not sure.” Marvin’s voice seemed disjointed. “There’s something……”

I could see he was leaning in as much as he could and he was peering intently into the dark opening. Marvin was still a good fifteen or twenty feet out from the cave. The overhang wouldn’t allow him to get any closer. I clinched my hands into fists, my fingernails digging into my palms. My fear of heights was causing me to feel queasy just watching Marvin hanging fifty feet down and a hundred feet up at the end of a thin rope.

Marvin didn’t seem to notice. He leaned farther toward the hole in the cliff wall. He wiggled his legs and began to swing. He would swing in toward the cave and then out over the canyon again. Marvin did it over and over, but never came closer than about six feet. As he made one last swing inward the rope loosened and Marvin dropped downward a half dozen feet, then jerked to a stop.

“Hey…….” I heard his yell tumble down but thankfully Marvin didn’t. He sat very still in the slowly twisting harness.

There was complete silence for a long minute. At last I heard Marvin’s faint call.

“Bear, would you……please…se…..pull me up?”

“You all right, Marv?” Bear wanted to know.

Wade was pacing back and forth over a short space. I knew he was frustrated at not being able to help. “Marv? I think you outa go back up.”

“I’m more than ready.”

Bear disappeared. Gradually Marvin moved upward. I thought he would never reach the top. Finally he was able to crawl up to the comparative safety of the hard sandstone ledge.

“Who-o-o,” muttered Wade. “I thought he was a goner for sure.”

I couldn’t stand there looking up any longer. I almost ran to the creek where I squatted down, dipping up the cool water to splash on my face. I, along with Wade, Marvin, and Bear had had enough adventures for one day.

 

Wade and I had packed and left the site of the cliff dwellings, as soon as we had known Marvin was safe after his misadventure. We had arrived back at our camp on the Gila River in the early afternoon, allowing me more than enough time to have a large and hearty meal ready and waiting for our fellow explorers when they finally got to camp late

                                                                                          

 that evening. It wasn’t till then that we learned exactly what Marvin had been able to see in the cave he had tried to investigate.

Wade and I had speculated all afternoon on what he had found, our ideas ranging from long dead Indian skeletons with old pots and spears, to absolutely nothing, to a silly thought about Spanish treasure, but we had to wait until everyone had eaten, and we were having coffee while Marvin puffed on a cigar he had apparently been saving for this occasion. A small bottle of whiskey had even appeared and laced the coffee when the men had thought I wasn’t aware.

We sat around the campfire, Wade and I on one side holding hands. Bear nearby but almost hidden by the shadows and Marvin on the other side, eyes still aglow at the remembrance of his escapade. The fire crackled and snapped as it ate at the pile of wood Wade had placed on it to keep out the slight night chill. One last nighthawk swooped low and snatched an insect from the air. The moon was almost full with the its mans face gazing down at us. A coyote yipped from a ways downriver from us. It was time for the telling of tales.

“It was heck of a thrill being up that high and dropping down to hang like that, and look into that cave. I never been afraid of being up high like some people are, but now I can understand how they feel.”

I nodded my head that I understood and Wade put his arm around me, pulling me closer.

Marvin continued. “I came down just fine, but the cave was dark enough and far enough from me, I couldn’t see in real good, but it did look like I could see some old pots

                                                                                          

 and baskets back from the edge and something looked like it might have been an old drum. Up there the mice and rats and other animals couldn’t get in to destroy things like they can here on the ground. Except for birds. I saw a bunch of sticks laying near the front of the cave with a few white specks scattered around that looked like small animal bones. I though it might have been a hawk or even an eagle’s nest.”

Bear spoke up. “Not surprised ‘bout that. Them kinda birds like that kinda place to raise their young’uns.”

“How big was the cave?”

Marvin sipped his coffee and took another puff on his cigar as he considered Wade’ question. He wrinkled his forehead as he thought. “I’m not real sure. The opening was actually smaller than the cave, as we had thought. I’d say the entrance might have been at least fifteen feet high by twenty or twenty-five feet wide. Inside it looked some what larger but I couldn’t say for sure. I do know I couldn’t see all the way to the back. It was to dark.”

We were all quiet for several minutes lost in our own thoughts of the day. The fire had began to burn down and Bear added a few more sticks to it. As he did he spoke.

“Saw a pretty sight today, comin’ back. We were comin’ cross a small meadow and there was a rock out croppin’ near one side. Was three cougar cubs playin’ on them rocks. Playin’ like regular kittens. Chasin’ each other round them rocks. Long tails a swishin’ and swayin’. That's one of the names the ol’ mountain men used to call cougars and mountain lions. Longtails.” Bear took time to poke tobacco into his pipe and lit it with a twig from

 

                                                                                                  

the fire. “Sure was cute, them cubs playin’. Recken they was born early this spring, still had spots on ‘em, so they wasn’t over a couple a months old, at most.”

“They were cute,” said Marvin, “but they sure did disappear in a hurry when their mama jumped up on that rock and growled at us.”

Bear picked up the story again. “Then they was all gone. Just like that. Lions is quick like that. Sure ain’t near as many ‘round as there used to be. I like to see ‘em.”

Everyone sat silent enjoying the stories and the night. Wade apparently hadn’t said anything about the lion I had seen or the Indian women. I had to tell my story, too.

“I saw a mountain lion this morning. At the cliff dwellings.”

“She did,” said Wade. “I saw its tracks. Guess it might have been the same one.”

Bear agreed. “Most likely was. Not too often to find two cats roaming that close together. Their solitary critters, ‘cept  for time for matin’ and raisin’ their cubs, and the mama does all the raisin’.” 

“I - a - I saw - .” I had started to tell about seeing the Indian but Wade interrupted and I realized he didn’t want me telling something that seemed foolish to him.

“Kitty found an arrowhead and some beads, too. Show Marv and Bear.”

I did as he requested, standing and digging in to my pocket, pulling out the required objects. Marvin came eagerly to see what I had. Taking them from me he examined them by the firelight.

“Nice turquoise beads,” he commented, “but this arrowhead. Strange. Its been made out of a fine piece of crystal and it has a hole in the base of it. Doesn’t look like it was meant for hunting. More likely it was for decoration. Maybe strung on a piece of leather with the beads.” He handed them back to me. “Good find. Can’t say for sure how old they are. Maybe we can go back and find some more.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

As we all began to go to our respective beds for the night, Marvin turned and spoke. “Know what was really strange up there, ----- and I know I was probably just seeing things, ---- but just as I did that sudden drop, I thought I saw a little old Indian sitting in that cave. Guess it was just a shadow.”

Wade and I looked at each, and I knew he was thinking of my Indian, as I was.

“Sure don’t know what caused you to drop, Marv. I thought for sure I’d tied that there rope good and tight,” said Bear, shaking his head in puzzlement. “I sure am sorry, like I said earlier.”

“I know,” said Marvin to his friend. “I’m sure you did. I don’t blame you, Bear, and I know it took both of us to untie it. It was tight.”

That night I woke slightly as the wind picked up and whistled through the trees bringing the sound of a distant, soft, sad drum beat.

 

Marvin and Bear went back to the cliff dwellings the next day. I wasn’t sure what they expected to do or find. By now I had realized that Marvin was totally obsessed by the Indian ruins. He was so sure he would find some really good artifacts or better yet, in Marvin’s opinion, a burial ground. I wished him luck but at the same time hoped no skeletons were found. Bear Moore went with Marvin as a friend and guide and because

 

                                                                                           

Marvin paid him, but he seemed to feel as I did about long dead Indians. I think Wade did, too, although he never said so.

Wade and I sat by the fire that evening, not talking, just enjoying being together.

“Kitty,” Wade removed his arm from my shoulders, and was on his feet in one lithe movement. “Where are those beads you found?” He disappeared into the supply tent and I heard him rummaging around.

            “Ah—h. I put them in a bottle over here,” I was talking to empty air as I ducked into the other tent and realized it was to dark to see anything. Wade had followed me in, holding our kerosene lantern. Now that I could see, I reached into the small canvas pack Wade kept the jars he had hoped to fill with gold. So far only one held a scattering of flakes and one had the turquoise beads and the arrowhead. I removed the cork stopper and poured them into my hand.

            Wade hung the lantern from a hook at the top of the center tent pole and began examining some leather strips he held. “This one should be just right,” he said as he selected one. It was about eighteen inches long and quite thin. He took one bead and threaded it onto the leather thong. Then another bead. Next he added the arrowhead, followed by the other two beads.

            “There,” he said in satisfaction. “You can wear them like a necklace.” He tied the string around my neck. The beads and crystal arrowhead were cool as they fell against my skin, but warmed quickly. I touched them with my finger tips, the beads smooth and round, the arrowhead sharp on its edges and tip.

 

                                                                                                  

            “Thank you,” I murmured to Wade, pleased he had thought of making the necklace. I had put the small trinkets away and not mentioned them after Wade had seemed so dubious of my story. I, too, was still bothered by the experience. Had it been real or all a dream.

            “They look nice,” said Wade, reaching to finger the beads with me, his fingers lacing with mine. “The arrowhead actually sparkles when the light hits it just right. Sure is pretty.” He dropped his head, seemingly embarrassed. “I had hoped to find a gold nugget, I could have put on a gold chain for you, but I haven’t so far.”

            “Wade, I don’t need a gold nugget. Only you.” I said as I stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Only you,” I whispered into his ear.

            “Well, anyway, since you had to go and find your own pretties I’ll at least get you a chain for them when we get back to town. I sure don’t expect you to have to use a leather string forever.” He kissed me back, and his hand searched for the buttons on my shirt. “Silver or gold?” he asked.

            “What?”

            “You want a silver or gold chain for the beads?” He raised the shield on the lantern and blew it out.

            “Silver.”

                                                    **********

            Wade and I would have really liked to have continued our honeymoon, alone. Alone, in our camp on the Gila River, but it was not to be. We seemed to have a series of visitors over the next few days.

                                                                                                      G

            First there was Wade’s cowboy friends. Shy and quiet at first and then laughing and teasing. It was good to see them and I took the time to write a short note to my family, which Wade’s friend, Dodger promised to deliver, along with a message to be sent to Wade’s parents.

            The next day’s visitors were Joe Lone Deer and his family. They rode in on two old wore out pintos, that were only fat because of the good grazing at this time of year. Joe rode one horse, with a boy about five or six hanging on behind him. Mrs. Lone Deer rode the other, and held a girl of about three in front of her. If my suspicions were correct there would be another small Lone Deer before winter came. The riders were surrounded by rolls of blankets and burlap bags of belonging, almost obscuring the horses.

            They didn’t come all the way into camp until Wade invited them, and, at first, were reluctant to dismount. The boy had on ragged pants and shirt, as did his father but no shoes, while Joe had on old boots, The girl had on some ones cast off shirt for a dress and the women a faded and patched calico shirt, with a velveteen skirt, and moccasins.

            I had made some apple turnovers and shortbread that morning which I passed out to our guests and soon had Mrs. Lone Deer and the children talking and giggling as we tried to make ourselves understood. I think Birdie, for that was her name, and I could have been friends. She admired a colorful piece of cloth I had been using for a scarf when it got windy, so I gave it to her, and in turn she gave me some dried, and powered roots she said was for my hair, along with something to keep my skin soft. When I tried them later they were wonderful. I just wish I knew what they were so I could get some more.

Joe Lone Deer talked at length with Wade, and when they went to leave Wade gave them a sack of sugar, coffee beans, and some tobacco. Joe and Birdie mounted, and Wade handed the girl up to her mother while the boy climbed up with Joe. As they started to leave Birdie reached into a bag and pulled out two hawk feathers tied with a piece of leather from which dangled three small bells made from a tin can lid. The tinkled as she handed them to me.

            In halting English she said, “These are to protect you from bad spirits. --- Bad spirits in old Indian place.” She gestured vaguely to the west.

            Unsure of how to respond, I simply said, “Thank you.” Birdie leaned down from the horse and touched my necklace of the beads and the arrowhead. She said something in her Indian language then Joe uttered a command and they rode off.

            Wade stood beside me, hands on his hips, as they rode off. A strange look on his face.

            “Wonder what she was talking about? Bad spirits?” I asked.

            Wade let out a sigh. “Not sure. Who knows what or how an Indian thinks. But I do know most of them are afraid of the old places, like the cliff dwellings.”

            The next day it was visitors again. This time it was the law. Ranger Smith, and Grant County Deputy Sheriff Curt Taylor. They quickly accepted Wade’s invitation to stay for lunch. At this rate we would run out of supplies before we were ready to go back to civilization. It seemed every one was coming to the Gila country.

            This time our company didn’t stay long. Just long enough to eat and leave us with a dire warning about four men who had robbed some tourists and cowboys. The outlaws

were taking not only money and valuables but also food and clothing, and the Hart Bar ranch was missing several head of horses.

            The sheriff tried to get us to agree to go back to Silver City, but Wade didn’t want to, explaining that we were way off the beaten path, or at least where people normally camped, and that Marvin and Bear Moore were still at the cliff dwellings.

            Knowing they couldn’t force us to leave the two lawmen rode on, warning us one more time that we should be careful and getting our assurance that we would.

            That afternoon Wade made sure to give me another shooting lesson. I knew how to load and shoot his Colt .45 revolver and could do the same with his Winchester rifle, but I did best with the smaller .22 rifle he used for hunting rabbits and birds. The .22 was smaller and lighter making it much easier to handle, but I certainly didn’t want to have to use it on anything, man or animal. A paper target was enough for me.

                                                                   *********

            “Now I’m sure why I married you.” Wade was finishing a breakfast of flapjacks, and strawberry jam and fried deer meat. He licked one finger that had a red smear of jam on it.

            “Why?” I asked. I was cooking the last of the batter into seven small flapjacks for the seven long faces staring at us at the edge of the camp. The horses were waiting for their share. Wade’s four horses along with the three horses Bear and Marvin had left with us.

            “Well, cause you’re such a good cook.”

            I flipped a flapjack. “Surely there were other reasons,” I teased.

“Can’t remember a one.” Wade groaned and rubbed his belly. “I’m going to get fat.”

            I giggled at the thought. “No you’re not, cause for me to cook you have to chop the wood for the fire.” I pointed at the wood pile, which was getting low.

            Wade jumped to his feet. “After while I’ll chop wood. First I’m going hunting. Thought I heard a turkey gobbling up the canyon when I got up this morning. Turkey would taste good for a change.”

            I lifted the flapjacks from the skillet, with the wooden spatula, and placed them on a tin plate to cool. Tapping my foot, I shook my finger at Wade and tried to act mad. “I thought you liked my cooking.”

            “Oh, I do, honest, Honey. But - ah - Kitty - turkey would be good. Don’t you agree.” Wade ran as I flipped a tea towel at him. He entered the tent and returned with the small rifle in one hand, as he stuffed a handful of shells into his pocket.

            “Ah - I’m going to take the .22. It’s better for hunting, but I’ll leave the pistol in the tent.” I knew he had laid the Colt on our bed, earlier that morning. I didn’t even think about it, as Wade kissed me briefly, resettled his hat on his head, and walked up the trail, leading north.

            He turned back, calling out, “If Bear and Marvin don’t come back today, we’ll go up to the cliff dwelling tomorrow.” He waved goodbye.

            “Fine with me.” I waved back.

            I watched Wade disappear up the canyon trail, then picked up the now cool flapjacks, and walked out to where the horses had returned to grazing. They probably had

 given up on the treat. I took time to pet and talk to each one while each ate its small snack. The mare, Rose, continued to snaffle at my hands, hoping for more.

            “No more,” I told her. “You’re the one getting fat. Not Wade. You and Skipper both need some exercise. Maybe I can persuade Wade to go for a ride this afternoon.” It would be good to get out and move around some. We had been in camp for days now, but I doubted if Wade would want to go riding. A few days before there had been a hard rain and he had been picking up a little bit more ‘color’ as he called it when he had been panning for gold. He was as determined to get enough gold to buy a ranch as Marvin was to get into the cave.

            As I picked a few leaves and burs from Rose’s mane, I thought about my life with Wade. Our trip to the Gila River had been the perfect honeymoon for both of us, even with the addition of all the visitors, and our adventures at the cliff dwelling. My hand strayed to the necklace that I still wore. In fact I hadn’t removed it since Wade had tired it around my neck. I thought of the Indian women I had seen. There hadn’t been any more sight of her or even the sounds of the drums at night. I really was beginning to think it had been my imagination or a dream.

            Rose nickered softly and looked down river to the south. Her small pointed ears came forward, almost touching at the tips, then she snorted and backed up a few steps. I noticed Skipper and the other horses were looking at the same clump of trees as Rose.

            First I heard the clop of hooves and then the riders emerged, slowly approaching the camp. More visitors, was my first thought, then I realized I didn’t know these men and I was immediately aware the they didn’t seem like normal cowboys or tourist to the Gila.

              They were grubby looking. Their cloths, while well made, were grimy with dirt. Their hair and beards were long and uncombed, even lank with grease. The horses were good animals, but their sides were scrapped raw by the spurs their riders wore. I noticed two of the animals were branded with a Hart Bar.

            Sheriff Taylor’s warning came back. Why hadn’t we paid more attention? I shivered as a cold wind seemed to come through camp. I held my head up high and stared back at the men looking at me. I wouldn’t let them know I was afraid.

            “Hey, missy, where are the others?” called out one man, in a rough, gravely voice. He was overweight and sat slouched like a sack of potatoes in his saddle, but his hand rested on his gun butt.

            “Hey, lady, I asked you a question?”

            My mouth was dry and I had to swallow before I could get a sound out. “My - my husband and - and his partners went hunting. They - ll be back real soon.”

            The other two men circled the camp, still on their horses. I couldn’t tell what they were looking for. Another man dismounted and did a quick search of both tents, reminding me of the pistol I knew was lying on my bed.  To late for it now. He came out of our sleeping tent, Wade’s pistol in his hand, and one of our canvas packs held in the other hand along with the small bottle with Wades gold.

            “Dillman, look here,” he shouted. “This here looks like gold.” He handed the bottle up to the fat man who seemed to be the leader. The one I assumed was named Dillman.

Dillman examined the bottle turning it in the early morning light, causing the glass to shine. “Sure does look like gold. This stuff gold, lady?” He looked back at me, then climbed down off the big chestnut horse, jerking cruelly at its mouth as he did, causing the animal to whinny in pain. He came at me and grabbed my arm and I knew the same fear and pain the horse had.

            “Don’t,” I yelled. “Let me go.” But he didn’t let go. His big hand held my arm tightly while I slapped futilely at it. He laughed in my face, his rancid breath almost causing me to gag.

            “Course its gold, Dillman,” said the man who had found the bottle, “and its mine. I found it. Give it back.” He tried unsuccessfully to take the bottle back from bandit leader who still held it in one hand while he held me with the other.

            “Shut up, Pete. This ain’t all, is it, Missy? Where’s the rest?” He shook me till my teeth rattled. There was no way I could answer. “Where’s the rest?” he yelled again.

            “That’s all!” I finally managed to yell back at him. I was still terribly afraid but he was making me mad, too.  

            “Your lyin’,” yelled the one called Pete. “There’s gotta be more.”

            The other two men rode back to where Dillman, Pete, and I stood. One spoke. “Take it easy Pete. Don’t scare the pretty lady so and she might be more willing to cooperate.”

            He leaned down toward me. Younger than Dillman and Pete, he wasn’t more than thirty, I guessed. He was tall and slim. He tipped back his dirty hat and I could see his face with its scraggly blond beard, matching hair and pale eyes the same color. Hair, beard and eyes all the same color. He reminded me of the mountain lion. I was suddenly more afraid of these men than I had been of the big cat.

            Dillman released my arm. I stepped back from him, and massaged my arm where I knew I would have a bruise.  

            “Well, you try then, Gordon. You seem to have all the luck with the women. You and your fancy ways. This gal’s got more gold hid out somewhere ‘round here, an’ I intend to have it.” Dillman turned his back to us and stamped around the camp. He began throwing things everywhere as he searched. Pete followed him, almost like a lost dog.

            The other two men dismounted. Gordon pointed at a log seat. “Sit. Over there.”

I sat.

            Where was Wade? I kept listening for Wade’s return, hoping he would come, yet hoping he would realize what was happening so he wouldn’t be captured as I had. I was afraid to look for him. Afraid they would know I was expecting someone at any time. It seemed he had been gone for hours but I knew it couldn’t have been but a short length of time since he had left.

            So I sat and I watched as the four outlaws ransacked my home. Yes, it was my home even if it was only a camp on the Gila River. I had considered it mine for several weeks how and had planned to be here for the rest of the summer, so it was my home. Now it was being destroyed. Not only did they tear up everything, they cooked and ate my food. Thank goodness they hadn’t asked me to do the cooking. I don’t think I could have managed and if I had I would have been tempted to throw it in their faces.

It was the fourth man who did the cooking. Short and dark skinned, as well as having black hair and eyes, I guessed him as mostly Indian or Mexican. So far he hadn’t said a word. Now all four desperadoes sat around drinking coffee and some whiskey Dillman had found. I realized they were all staring at me.

            Dillman began threatening me again. “Gal, you may as well make it easy on yourself and tell us where you got that there gold hid, cause we’re gonna find out one way or another. An’ I don’t much care which.”

            Pete smiled evilly at Dillman’s suggestion. “The hard way might be more fun.”

            “Now, now fellas. Let Mrs. --- what did you say your name was --- think about it.” Gordon said softly, making me shiver with fright at the way he spoke.  “What is your name?”

            “Norton, Kitty Norton.” I answered him, but wasn’t about to tell him anything else.

            “Maybe the senora don’t need to talk.” It was the Mexican. “She wear something at her neck.” My hand flew to my throat. “It is beads of turquoise, I think. They might be better than the gold.”

            Dillman cut in, “You’re crazy, man. Turquoise beads ain’t worth nothin’. You can get them everywhere.”

            “Ah - but these beads are very, very old, I think.”

            Gordon reached out and touched the beads at by throat. I refused to move a muscle.

            “Where did you get these,” he asked. I didn’t answer. Gordon settled back “Tell me more, Lucero.”

             “These beads, I bet they come from the very old Indian place. If they very old, they worth much deniro. Much money, paid by rich white people for old Indian things.” Lucero played with a long, slender knife he seemed to always have in his hand.

            “You could be right, Lucero. Where is this Indian place?” asked Gordon.

            “It is just west of here, a mile or so. You follow the stream over there.” He nodded toward the narrow creek that lead to the cliff dwelling.

            Pete giggled. “Bet that’s where they got the gold hid, too.”

            Dillman got to his feet. “We’re goin’ there. Now.” He splashed the rest of his coffee into the fire causing it to hiss and scatter sparks. “Bring her, too.”

                                                               **********

            My first trip to the cliff dwelling had been such a new and excitingly wonderful adventure. This time it was a nightmare.

            Lucero led the way. Pete followed. I came in the middle with Dillman and Gordon behind me. It was hot and humid. The sweat poured off of all of us. Gnats and mesquites pestered us constantly. 

            I watched for a chance to escape but one, if not all of the four men watched me at all times, and where would I have gone if I had escaped.

            “Damn bugs.” Pete swore. “ Won’t leave a body alone, at all.”

             Dillman cussed with Pete at the bugs, at having to walk, at the heat, and the packs they carried, and at anything else he could find to cuss at.

            “Shut up.” Gordon swore at Dillman and Pete. “Keep your eyes peeled for the girl’s husband and anyone else might be up here.”

               “She said they went hunting, not this way,” said Lucero.

            “Yeah, well she could have been lyin’. They might be up here findin’ our gold for us.”

            Keep talking, I thought, as I trudged along. Get louder. Yell and scream. I wanted to yell and scream, too. I knew Bear Moore and Marvin were up here somewhere. I wished I could figure out some way to warn them. If they heard us coming and realized the men were outlaws, maybe they could capture them and rescue me.

            But it was not to be. As we neared the cliff dwelling there was no sigh of either Marvin or Bear. I felt like crying with disappointment, but refused to give in to childish tears. It had been the thought of my two friends that had kept me on my feet and going forward. Otherwise I might have given up and collapsed on the trail. I would not give up now, either. Surely there was a way out of my predicament.

            We, the four thieves, and I climbed the ladder to the ruins. It didn’t look any different than it had before. The men dropped their packs on the dirt and rock floor.

            “Spread out an’ start lookin’,” commanded Dillman.

            “What we lookin’ for, ‘sides the gold,” complained Pete, as he looked around. “There ain’t nothin’ here. ‘Side’s it’s spooky in here.”

            Gordon didn’t seem to be intimidated by the old adobe homes. “She and her friends are bound to have found more gold than those few flakes. It may be hid up here. And look for Indian stuff, like them beads, and pots, and – and – stuff. Lucero’s right. It’s worth lots of money.”

Pete, Dillman and Gordon moved off in different directions. Would they just leave me here by myself. I hoped they had forgotten me.

            “What of the senora?” asked Lucero.

            Gordon made a motion with his hand toward me. “You watch her.”

            Lucero  pulled a small length of rope from the pack he had carried, and cut it into two pieces. “I no watch.”

            Before I realized what he intended to do he threw me roughly into a corner and bound my hands. Then he wrapped the second piece of rope around my ankles. I couldn’t budge an inch.

            He grinned at my helpless struggles. “You stay put. You try to leave, you find out how sharp my knife.” He held the blade inches from my face, as I tried to shrink farther back into my corner against the adobe wall.

            Lucero gave a soft laugh then was gone.

            I struggled some more but the ropes were tight. I could reach my ankles but with my hands bond, I couldn’t loosen the knots. I fought some more with the knots, until I was exhausted, and sweat poured down my face leaving dusty streaks. I hadn’t been allowed to get my hat when we left and now my hair was a tangled mess, falling around my shoulders, and in my eyes.  

 I tried to see across the canyon but was to far from the edge. I wiggled and squiggled across the dusty dirt floor until I could see out. I still had hopes of seeing Marvin or Bear, or better yet, Wade. There was nothing moving that I could see. No birds or any insects. It was too still. The stillness should have made me suspicious, but I was to tired and thirsty to think straight.        

            I could hear the outlaws as they wondered through the ruins searching for gold that didn’t exist. Finally they returned to stand and sit along the cliff edge, complaining of not finding anything. Pete drank from a canteen, then passed it to Dillman. Oh, how  I  wanted a drink. Gordon drank from another canteen, but no one offered me a drink.

            Dillman stomped over to stare down at me. “Alright, gal. This is your last chance. Where ya hidin’ that gold?”

            I stared back at him from my awkward position on the ground. “There isn’t any gold. That’s all we found.” 

            Lucero stood beside Dillman, his knife in his hand. A dejected looking Pete sat on a low adobe wall. Gordon appeared by Dillman, then squatted down and offered me a drink from his canteen. As I tried to drink the water spilled down my shirt front, chilling me after the heat of the day.

            “Now where is it? Last chance before I let these hooligans have some fun,” said Gordon.

            All I could do was shake my head in resignation. There was nothing more that I could the tell them.  His threats couldn’t make me tell about gold I didn’t have.

            Gordon sighed. “Let’s take her back to camp. We’ll wait for her husband and the others. They’ll tell us where the gold and Indian things are just to get her back.”

            Pete snarled an objection. “I want her to tell us. Now. She knows. She won’t be so stubborn, if’in you let me make her tell. I know lots a ways to make her tell.”

            “Not now,” said Dillman, much to my surprise. “We’ll try it Gordon’s way first.”

            Lucero slashed the ropes at my feet, and jerked me upright. I would have fallen if he hadn’t held on to me, as sharp pinpricks of feeling returned to my feet and legs.

            Gordon descended the ladder first, followed by Lucero. Dillman gave me a shove and I started down. It was awkward with my hands still tied. As I finally reached the ground and Dillman stepped off the edge of the cliff to the first rung of the ladder.

            “Hold it right there! Don’t anyone move!”

            Wade’s voice was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard, but Lucero didn’t obey his command. His left arm snaked around my waist and that long, thin knife blade was at my throat.

            The Mexicans voice wasn’t loud but it carried and echoed off the canyon walls. “You, senior, will come out with your hands up. My knife is sharp and the senora could die quickly.”

            Gordon had pulled a pistol from his belt. “Come on out where we can see you.”
            Wade appeared by a large rock and moved slowly into an open area near us, his Winchester held in one hand.

            “That’s far enough,” said Gordon. “Put the rifle down.”

            Wade bent and laid the gun on the ground, then stood, hands raised slightly.

            “Take it easy, fellas. No reason for anyone to get hurt. Just let Kitty go, and me and her will just go on our way and leave you guys to go yours”

Dillman was halfway down the ladder. “Hubby come to rescue the little women?” The outlaw laughed in his rough voice. “Well, you can’t have her back. Not ‘till we get the gold and the old Indian stuff you found up here.”

            Wade shook his head. “I didn’t find any Indian relics, and the only bit of gold I found is back at camp.”

            “Yeah, we found it. That little piddlin’ bit. You got more, cowboy. Where is it?”

            Lucero squeezed me tighter around the waist and I squealed.

            “Don’t hurt her!” yelled Wade, running forward.

            At the same time, Pete, still on the cliff dwelling shouted. “There’s Indians up here.” Then he screamed wordlessly as he stumbled backward and fell to the ground, landing a few feet from me and Lucero.

 Startled, Lucero loosened his grip and I jerked fee. I ran toward Wade but had to stop short, on seeing Wade’s fist connect with Gordon’s jaw.

I looked back when I heard Dillman scream the same way Pete had and a shot rang out. I was in time to see the mountain lion leap over Dillman, who was still on the ladder. The lion landed by Pete’s still form and disappeared the same as it had before.

Trying to shoot the lion had caused Dillman to over balance on the ladder. It waved out from the cliff, balanced on its two ends for a second then crashed down, taking the outlaw with it. Dillman landed on Pete who was trying to regain his feet.

Marvin had come running out of the brush to help Wade subdue Gordon. Lucero was whipping his knife at everyone and mumbling in Spanish as he gazed in awe at five Indians standing before us. The Indian women who had given me the beads was among them. One, an older man, shook a rattle in the air while repeating a phrase over and over in a loud voice. The others seemed to threaten us with long spears. Then, as we watched they disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

Marvin was covering Gordon with the thieves own weapon. Wade had recovered his rifle and fired a shot into the ground between Dillman and Pete, who were still sprawled on the ground.

“Sit!” commanded Wade. “Right where you are.” The two men obeyed.

Lucero turned to run and ran straight into Bear Moore’s waiting arms. The small Mexican squeaked in terror and seemed to shrink smaller as he stared into the scarred face of the big man.

                                                            **********

It was a long walk back to camp with the criminals in tow, hands tied and roped together, but not as long as the one going into the cliff dwelling had been when I had been the captive.

As we hiked, Wade explained how he had arrived back in camp in time to see me and my captures start out for the ruins. He had followed but saw no way to rescue me by himself. The noise the outlaws had made had alerted Bear and Marvin, who had been farther up the canyon. They had stayed hidden and watched to see what was happening and then had joined Wade, while the thieves were searching the cliff dwelling. They had decided to make their rescue attempt while some of the outlaws were still on the ladder.

As to the ‘help’ from the lion and the Indians, no one would venture a guess as to how the lion got into the cliff dwelling, or where the Indians had come from or gone to, or if they had even been real or just our imagination.

                                                                                         

It was with relief that we found Sheriff Taylor and Ranger Smith at our camp. They had decided to return after being told of four strangers headed this way. They were surprised we had captured them and agreed to take them off our hands and return them to town and a jail.  They asked Bear Moore to go with them to help and he agreed.

Marvin, thrilled at his farther adventures in helping to rescue me and capture real outlaws, jumped at the chance to go with them and play ‘lawman’.

Wade and I waved a final goodbye to our friends as they left, herding the four desperadoes between them.

With a sigh I turned to the job of cleaning up and repairing the almost destroyed camp. It would be a lot of work. I picked up a towel and a pan. Wade shook a blanket clean of dirt, leaves and grass. He folded it neatly, then tossed it into the tent. He took three quick steps and his hard muscled arms encircled me, pulling me against his chest.

“Forget this mess, Kitty. I just want to hold you and know you’re safe.” Our lips met and I could feel the pound of our hearts against each other. I melted against him and swore to stay there forever.

Several small tears ran down my checks, the only ones I had allowed myself during the whole horrible ordeal. Wade gently wiped them away.

“Ah, honey, don’t cry.”

“I’m not.”

“Ah, Kitty – ah, I was thinkin’, how a change of scenery might be nice. If you want. I know of a nice place over on Meadow Creek, or Signal Peak, or there’s a pretty place on the Hart Bar Ranch. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. Where ever you want.”

“Oh, Wade. Anywhere you want. As long as I can be with you. But, yes, I do think we have been here quite long enough.”

I still liked our camp on the Gila River but was glad Wade had suggested we find another. The next morning, as the sun came up, we mounted our horses to take the ride out. I turned for one last look. We really hadn’t been there that long but I would certainly never forget it. Not the good times or the bad. I had a sudden flash of intuition. Someday I would come back. The cliff dwellings would wait for me to come see them again. They had been there for a long time and would be there for many more years to come. They and the secrets they hold.

As we rode, the thud of the horses hooves echoed the faint rhythm of drum beats.

The End

             http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_City,_New_Mexico

http://www.silvercity.org/