The Fugitive Son (29 page)

Isaac stretched and yawned. “Too much rest can make a body weak,” he said. “I think it’s time I got this one in motion again. And the sooner I get back together with the Condits, the safer I’ll be from bounty hunters.”

Although they had gotten plenty of rest, the two had not wasted their time by the river. Plentiful fish, now smoked and packed, would provide food for the rest of their travels.

Andy hated to leave the safe haven behind. He realized Isaac was the only friend he had in the entire world. The former slave was a man with whom he could share his hopes and dreams, and his doubts. True, Major Crawford had proven to be a good friend and confidante, but their time together had been limited, unlike the leisurely conversations he and Isaac enjoyed.

Having learned so much about the Condits from Isaac, he felt almost like a member of the family. He hoped that when he finally met them in Santa Fe, they would be as special as Isaac had portrayed them. Satan began sending arrows of doubt into his mind. What if they wouldn’t accept him, knowing that he had been a Mormon? What if he were persecuted for what other Mormons had done? Dozens of “what ifs” assaulted him.

In his uncanny habit of seeming to read Andy’s mind, Isaac reassured his friend. “Don’t worry! The Condits will welcome you as a brother in the Lord. They’re that kind of people. Before long, you’ll be one of the family, just as I am. And if I know Elsie, she just might take a fancy to you!”

Andy blushed. “I doubt that. If she’s as pretty and fine as you say she is, she’ll probably have her choice of suitors. What would she want with a rough trail hand like me? And besides, Anne Marie was the love of my life.”

Changing the subject, Andy pulled out the crude map Konosh had sketched for him and laid it on the ground. “I figure we’re here,” he said, pointing to the X Konosh had drawn to mark the river campsite. “That means we’re close to the Old Spanish Trail the Indians have used for centuries to travel to their trading sites. It goes all the way from Los Angeles to Santa Fe, so it should lead us right where we need to go.”

“But didn’t he warn you to avoid the trails?” Isaac asked.

“He said to stay away from the traveled trails. The Old Spanish Trail is rarely used these days and is grown up in weeds. Only an occasional traveler attempts to go this way. The new Spanish Trail that cuts across southern Utah Territory to California is much easier, so all the wagon trains use it. We should be safe following the old trail. We might run into an old muleskinner, but it’s not likely.”

After hours of riding through endless wastelands where steep jagged peaks rose above red cliffs, the duo stopped once more by the churning river to water their horses and take a break from the saddle. To the southwest, they saw rock arches that resembled giant bridges and many sharp pinnacles that looked like magnificent statues stretching toward the sky in splendor.

Isaac drew in his breath. “How can anybody deny the Creator?” He shook his head in wonder.

Andy agreed. He had always believed in a creator, but he hadn’t thought about him all that much. Now, experiencing the vastness and majesty before him, he found it hard to accept his earlier teaching that God, the Creator of earth, had once been just an ordinary man like himself. Whoever designed all this had to be so much bigger, so much more intelligent, and so much more powerful than any mere man could even imagine.

In the awesome silence, the two men worshipped the Creator in their own way. Isaac broke out in a hymn of praise, while Andy wept silently, worshiping almighty God in the deep recesses of his soul.

Remounting, they continued down the trail, noticing how the landscape was changing. In the far eastern distance, clouds shrouded snow-covered peaks. Endless seas of grass stretched before them.

“I’m certain I crossed the Colorado River way back there, before I met up with you,” Andy observed, gesturing over his shoulder. “So this stream we’re following must be Dove Creek or some other smaller tributary. Looks like we’re going to have to cross it before we get to Santa Fe, so what say we try it here before it gets any wider or deeper?”

Isaac shrugged. “Doesn’t look too deep here,” he said. “And the sunshine is warm enough to dry our clothes. Let’s do it.”

Halfway across, and too late to turn back, the men realized they hadn’t read the river very well. The churning water swirled faster and faster, and soon they were caught in a foaming current bent on dragging them downstream. They held on furiously. Isaac seemed to have control over his mount, but Andy wasn’t as fortunate. As his horse tried to swim against the current, Andy fell into the swirling undertow, fighting for his life against the fast-moving water threatening to pull him into its depths. Gulping for breath, he kicked his legs as the current pulled him under for the third time. Giving one last desperate lunge upward, he felt a strong grip under his arms.

“Stop fighting it,” Isaac urged. “Just relax and let me pull you to the other bank.”

Coughing and choking up river water on the shore, Andy managed to ask, “How did you do that? I couldn’t get out of that undertow no matter how hard I tried.”

Isaac laughed. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I am a bit bigger and stronger than you! And I learned how to swim in the Ohio River. I was afraid if Mr. Condit ever let me go, I might have to swim it to escape a mean slaveholder, so I built up my swimming muscles!”

“Now we’re even,” Andy remarked. “I saved your life, and this time you’ve saved mine. That should make us brothers for life.”

“I think the good Lord saved us both,” Isaac said quietly. “Must be he has a pretty big job for us to do.”

“I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day. Let’s make camp here and rest for the night,” Andy suggested, as he began to collect wood for a fire. Once again, the two sojourners marveled at the grandeur of God’s handiwork and thanked him for protecting them on their perilous journey.

Later, enjoying a meal of fresh mountain trout cooked over an open fire, Andy poked at the embers, deep in thought. “This Elsie you talk about so much. What’s she really like?” he asked casually.

Isaac grinned. “Interested, huh? Well, she’s the prettiest girl you’ll ever meet. Long, shiny hair the color of chestnuts, eyes as blue as the sky, and about this tall.” He held his arm out to indicate her height. “She’s a little mite, but powerful. A spitfire, when she’s crossed. Ned and Peter say she’s spoiled rotten, but I don’t see it. In fact, on the trip out here, she took charge like a professional freighter, the way she ordered all the stuff for her mercantile, got a freight company to deliver them. She’s a wonder, she really is.”

Andy listened as his friend waxed eloquently about his childhood friend. “Sounds too good to be true. Are you sure you’re not just a bit prejudiced in her favor?”

“Could be. As I told you, she’s like a sister to me. But she really is beautiful, and kind, and a hard worker, and intelligent, and…”

Andy interrupted Isaac’s litany. “Okay, I get it! You don’t have to convince me. I think I realized all that when you first told me of her courage in coming across the country. I really am looking forward to meeting her.”

“You’ll like her,” Isaac said with an air of confidence. “Everybody does. Seriously, I think you two would be good together. You both trust in Jesus, treat others with kindness, and enjoy life to the fullest. Sounds like a match made in heaven!”

Andy grinned. “So now you’re the heavenly matchmaker!” he kidded. “Anne Marie was my first love, but obviously that wasn’t meant to be. Maybe God does have someone else for me. I’ll just have to wait and see. I suppose you’ve got somebody in mind for yourself, as well?”

“Like you, I’m waiting to see whom God brings my way,” Isaac said with a grin. “Elsie teased me about marrying a lovely senorita – promised she’d find me somebody special. I don’t suppose there are very many black girls out this way.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Andy spoke up. “I remember hearing that the Spaniards brought slaves to the New World with them. And there are Creoles from New Orleans and, of course, Indians. From what I’ve heard, Santa Fe is a blend of many different races, and folks don’t care too much about someone’s heritage.”

“I just know the Good Book says it’s not good for man to be alone,” Isaac replied. “So I trust that God has the perfect lady for each of us – we've just got to be patient, is all.”

The next day’s travel proved much harder as they began climbing the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. “If these are foothills, I’d hate to climb the rest of the leg!” Isaac joked as the trail grew steeper. “It seems like we’re just going around in circles up these mountains. Take a look behind you at those switchbacks!”

They stopped often to rest their horses as the old trail became more treacherous. “I think we should have ridden sure-footed mules,” Andy observed, looking down at the steep drop-offs alongside the trail.

Twilight rushed over them as suddenly as if someone had blown out the lanterns, and darkness soon surrounded them. “Not too smart, I reckon,” Andy said. “Getting caught on this trail in the dark. But it’s so steep and narrow; I didn’t see any place to camp.”

“We’d just better stop here and try to get some shuteye on the upside of the trail,” Isaac suggested. “Not likely that anybody will come along this time of night.”

As an afterthought, Isaac pointed at the steep drop-off to their left. “Don’t walk in your sleep, do you?”

“Sure hope not!” Andy chuckled. “Probably not a good idea to try to build a fire. Can you make it till morning with nothing more to eat?”

As they staked the horses in a patch of grass, Isaac rummaged in his saddlebag. He tossed Andy a left-over biscuit from breakfast. “Here, satisfy your growling gut with this,” he offered. “I saved a couple of them this morning when we were rushing to get back on the road.”

Lying in the gathering darkness, Isaac murmured, “Don’t think I’ve ever seen it so dark. Feels so thick we could just about cut it with a knife!”

Andy roused up, leaning on his elbow. “But look, way over there to the right. Are those stars?”

Isaac gazed off to the southeastern sky. “Don’t think so. See, they’re more in a cluster, hanging in one area.”

The dim lights, far down below, twinkled in the gloom. But they didn’t glow bright like stars. At times, they seemed to fade away completely. As they watched the scene below, Andy suddenly shouted, “Those aren’t stars! They’re the lights of Santa Fe! We’re almost there!”

One by one, the lights went dark as the inhabitants of the town below finished their evening activities and went to bed. After an hour or so, only one or two very dim specks of light could be seen. “Let’s try to get some sleep,” Andy said, crawling under an animal skin for warmth. “Distances out here can be deceiving. I expect we’re still a full day’s ride out, but just knowing Santa Fe is close makes me so excited I probably won’t get much rest tonight!”

New Mexico Territory

Elsie and Trip left Las Vegas early the next morning, eager to finish the last leg of their journey into Santa Fe. As usual, Trip outlined the day’s travel for her. “We’ll cross the Pecos River and pass the campsite where most travelers stay the night. Then we’ll travel through Apache Canyon and on to Glorietta Pass before heading down into Santa Fe.”

Elsie was nearly tingling with excitement. Only one more day and she would see her brothers and start her new life as the proprietor of her own mercantile!

“Is it okay with you if we keep driving today, just stopping long enough at the Pecos to water the stock?” Trip asked.

“Oh, yes! I just want to get there as soon as we can.”

Trip looked meaningfully at Elsie’s sore hands. “Better grease them up good with that salve you bought, and be sure to keep your gloves on. It’s going to be a long day.”

Mile after lurching mile passed slowly as time seemed to stand still for Elsie. Would they never reach the end of the trail? For the first time in her long overland journey, she complained to herself about the jolting, jostling wagon, feeling every rut in the trail, every bounce of the wagon springs. Why hadn’t she noticed them before, she wondered. Was it simply because they were almost there and she was getting impatient? She scolded herself for her attitude and tried to keep her mind on something other than the continual discomfort of the wagon bench and the burning of her stinging hands.

Turning her attention to the passing scenery, she shuddered as they entered the dark depths of Apache Canyon, its steep rock walls hemming the trail in on both sides. Were Apaches still hiding out behind the rocks? She sighed in relief as they pulled out of the tunnel-like darkness into the bright light of the plateau.

Glorietta Pass, on the other hand, was a scenic wonder that captured her imagination. It truly deserved its name. She amused herself daydreaming of the house she could build on one of the knolls overlooking the view. It was easy to imagine the house, several children, some horses, but she couldn’t get a male figure to come into view in her imaginings. Who would he be? What would he look like?

As she was scanning the hilltops for possible building sites, a real house came into view. Someone actually lived out here! Soon she passed another ranch house, then another. They had emerged from the passes of the Sangre de Cristos and were entering the town of Santa Fe!