Where Trails Run Out

By Anna Prince Redd

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Chapter 7

Synopsis: A company of twenty-four young men and two families — James L. Davis, his wife, Mary, and their four children; Henry H. Harriman, his wife Elizabeth, and their five children — are called to explore a route from Cedar City, in Southern Utah, to San Juan County. The two families are to remain in San Juan and, at a point where the Montezuma Creek comes into the San Juan River, are to establish an outpost and prepare for the coming of the main company of settlers, members of the San Juan Mission. The twenty-four scouts are to return to tneir homes and report their findings. The purpose of the mission is to cultivate and maintain peaceful and friendly relations with the Indians, who are almost the sole occupants of the large isolated country.

While driving her team at night across a sultry, menacing desert, Elizabeth has a frightening experience with a mysterious Indian. She feels that she will see the Indian again and that he will know if she needs help. The company travels over rough and dangerous country and after much suffering, finally reaches Moenkopi, an Indian outpost and a supply point for traders and pioneers. The Davis family remains at Moenkopi and the others go on toward the San Juan. Little water is to be found in the desert country and many times their lives are endangered by thirst. Peogament, the Indian chief, continually opposes the company and causes trouble and delay. Finally, the travelers reach the San Juan, but Elizabeth is bitterly disappointed when she sees the swirling, muddy river. In this chapter, the narrative returns to the Davis family in Moenkopi.

Moenkopi was a dry, unfavored spot. There was always a wind, always sand in the air, in the beds, and in the food. And there was poverty everywhere. The Indians, unable to cope with their own situation, and not equal to the mode of living imposed by the white man, were an improvident lot, subsisting on corn and the money they got from their meager clip of wool. Their herds were small and poorly tended.

James L. Davis, genial, fair to the Indians, and a favorite with the white settlers, soon became accustomed to his surroundings. Being a stone mason by trade, he was given work by John W. Young on the buildings that would house the woolen mills. Edward, his fourteen-year-old son, found employment herding the settlers’ sheep. With surprising ease, he learned the Indian language and could talk fluently with any of the tribes. For both father and son, the time passed quickly. But for Mary, waiting out the days, counting them by hours, the time seemed interminably long since the company of scouts had gone on to San Juan.

James loved music. He had brought his small organ with him from Cedar City, and he played and sang through the long evenings. Mrs. Young was a good musician and, together, they organized a choir, and the settlers came twice a week to the Davis tent to practice singing.

Mary missed Elizabeth. As the days became weeks and there was no word from the scouting company, she began to fear that they had all been killed by the Indians. Word filtered into the settlement that the Indians of the interior strongholds were growing more and more resentful of the white man’s intrusion, and that a renegade Ute, named Pearcon, was following the scouts, gathering outlaws to himself for an attack. Suspected of being implicated in the murder of a number of white men, an outcast from his own tribe, Pearcon was vindictive and vicious. Any petty excuse was enough to set him on the warpath.

Mary listened to the talk and began to fear that she would never see Elizabeth again. Almost two months had passed and there had been no official word from the company. if they had reached San Juan, the return scouts who were to come back to help bring up the stock, should be back in Moenkopi before many days more. Every unusual sound sent Mary’s blood to her temples in anxiety. Every new rumor confirmed her fears.

July the first came, and with it a sickening wave of heat.

“I’m prompted to round up the stock and be all ready to go, Mary,” James said that night. “As soon as morning comes, Ted and I will get the wagons ready.”

Mary shook her head dubiously. “I hope you are right, James. You usually are. But we’ve waited so long I have almost lost hope of ever getting out of this miserable place.”

“Pa, listen!” Ted Davis, alert to the conversation, had gone to the door of the tent and was staring into the darkness.

“What is it, my boy Ted?” James asked, following him to the door and listening intently. “Do you hear something?”

“Strangers are coming, Pa.”

“I don’t hear anything at all, Ted.”

“That’s why I know someone is coming who doesn’t live here. It’s early in the evening. Plenty of Indians are still wandering about. A sudden silence is their way of warning each other.”

“Yes. I hear the soft thud of horses walking in the sand,” James acknowledged.

“They are tired, pa. Hear ’em? The thuds are uneven. They almost stop, and then they come on!”

“It’s the scouts!” James cried. “I’ve known all day that something was going to happen!” He ran out into the dooryard, giving a long, clear halloo. There was an answering ail, and five weary and ragged men came riding into the patch of light visible through the tent door.

“Mary, my darlin’,” James cried. “It’s the scouts!”

“Take it easy, Ma,” Ted said, seeing the excitement in his mother’s face. “You knew they’d come sometime, didn’t you?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t, Ted. I’m all shaken up.”

“I know, Ma. Waitin’ has been awfully hard for you. But we’ll be off for San Juan before you know it.”

“And for that I give thanks,” Mary murmured, and cried for joy.

****

The five scouts – Kumen Jones, Seth Tanner, Robert Bullock, Zacariah B. decker, and a son of Silas S. Smith – had but little to report. The company had reached San Juan, but had been near death many times. Some liked the country and some did not. Many of the scouts were only waiting for the stock to be brought up so they could sell their share and go back home.

It was a discouraging report. But neither James nor Mary faltered. They had been called to stay in San Juan, and for them there was no alternative.

“Are there green trees there?” Mary asked, thinking how Elizabeth had missed the cottonwoods on the journey.

“Yes,” Kumen Jones told her, “there are trees, and good fishing. The soil is good, and it is cool by the river. I’m going to bring my wife and come back to stay.”

Mary smiled gratefully. “I want to get there just as quick as ever I can.”

Kumen nodded, understanding the urgency. “We’ll get you through just as fast as horse flesh can make the trip,” he promised.

Mary and Ted gave the scouts a fine supper of corn, ripe fruits, and hot biscuits. And when they had finished, they rolled up in a single blanket each, and slept near the tent, in the sand.

“Mr. Young wants to buy our organ, Mary,” James informed her, as they prepared for bed. “We need a span of mules.”

“You need the organ, too, James. Music is food and drink to you. You’d be lost without the organ.”

“It will have to go,” James replied sadly. “It isn’t good to set such store of earthly things, I guess.”

“But the organ is all we have left of home,” Mary sighed. “I wish we could keep it.”

“We’ll need it for church in San Juan,” James said. “But first, we have to get there. Other things must be important only in that light.”

“I know, James. But I can’t think that mules are more important than music, even for pioneers.”

Three days of travel brought the Davis family, their two wagons, their children, and the five scouts with the cattle herd, to a small seep where they camped for noon.

“This is the place where the Piutes stole two of our horses, Brother Davis,” Robert Bullock reported. “We could hardly get on into Moenkopi without them. It was a brazen trick, and I think I know the renegade that did it. I’m going to ride up on that knoll and see if I can spot the camp of Indians that must have been skulking around.”

James looked the knoll over carefully, then turned to young Bullock. “That’s an open hill. An Indian could spot you a mile away. I suggest you forget about the stolen horses.”

“But, Brother Davis, if the Indians are still here, the horses will be, too.”

“What could you do if they are still here? We’ve got to exercise caution, if we avoid trouble.”

“I’m riding a good horse. I guess the halters and lead ropes will still be on the horses, for they are riveted on. The Indians would have to cut the straps to get them off, and I doubt if they would do that. The Indians know how valuable such halters are.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself or me?” James Davis asked impatiently. “What do halters have to do with it?”

“If I can spot the horses before the Indians see me, I can slip into their camp and lead the horses off before the Indians find out they are gone. They’ll not have time to get organized.”

“That’s boy talk.” James spoke impatiently. “What you propose to do is too risky.”

“One of those stolen horses is mine,” Bullock argued, “the best horse I ever owned. I’d like to get him back.”

“We are shy of good horses, Brother Davis,” Seth Tanner interposed. “While neither of the horses was mine, I don’t like the Indians to get off with such a trick. if they go free one time, they’ll try it again.”

James shook his head, looking to the other scouts for their opinions. If the Indians were still in the neighborhood there would probably be trouble enough, with9out the white men starting it off.

“What do you think, Kumen?” James asked, turning to Kumen Jones for advice. “You are the official Indian interpreter for the company. You probably know how to judge their tempers better than I do. I admit I’m perplexed.”

“I see no reason for going out after trouble,” Kumen answered. “But, as Tanner says, if the Indians are on the poke, we’ll have trouble whether we want it or not. It might put a little fear into them to know that we are not afraid to repossess our own stock. Bullock’s plan is not unfeasible.”

“Ted, my boy,” James turned to his son confidently, “you know how to talk with the Indians, and you’ve made friends among them. What is your opinion?”

The scouts showed no surprise that he should turn to a fourteen-year-old boy for advice. Common sense is engendered early among pioneers.

“there might not be anyone in the Indians’ camp but their squaws, Pa,” Ted answered. “And if that’s so, we can be miles away before the bucks can do anything about it.”

“Well, since I’m not prompted one way or the other,” james decided, “you boys may do as you like.”

* * *

Bullock spotted the Indian camp as he had expected. The two stolen horses were tied to a tree stump in a draw, and unguarded. The Indians were eating their dinners and most of them were sleepily intent on their own affairs.

Bullock went on foot down the draw, keeping out of sight by crawling in the bottom of the gully. He untied the horses and led them quietly away, without even the dogs becoming aware of his presence.

“that was the easiest thing I ever did,” he laughed, coming triumphantly into camp. “they were so full of meat and cactus juice that they didn’t hear or see a thing!”

“If Pearcon is their leader,” James said, “I’d be inclined to doubt that. But my boy Ted says Pearcon went through Moenkopi the day we left, heading for the Colorado where he’s got friends.”

“Whoever is their leader, he was holding some sort of a meeting with three of the Indians,” Bullock added.

James let his fork fall to his plate, forgetting to close his mouth after the anticipated bite of food.

“What kind of talk?” he asked sharply. “Could you hear what they were saying?”

“I think they were planning some devilment that would take them a long way from here, for they kept pointing to the west.”

“They know we are here!” James cried. “let’s harness up and leave as quickly as we can!”

Bullock tied the recovered horses to his wagon wheel and deliberately sat down to eat. “I’m hungry,” he said. “And I’m not running off until I eat.”

“You might not run at all, then,” Kumen Jones interrupted impatiently. “What makes you think they were planning devilment?”

“The leader kept jumping up and showing a wound he had, and he drew a knife across his throat to show what he meant to do.”

“That’s Pearcon!” Ted Davis cried. “That’s his trick. He gets the young braves all stirred up by showing them how the white men have treated him. His tribesmen have told me so!”

“You fellows go ahead and pull out if you want to,” Bullock said, easily persuading himself that the others were wrong. “You are all acting on the theory of what might happen. I got the horses, didn’t I? And nothing happened. that’s enough for me to go by.”

“If I know anything about Pearcon,” Ted said, “he already knew you were there to get the horses. He’s not a dumb Ute.”

He turned to his father.”Pa, Pearcon said once, and I heard him say it, that what he stole, he stole to keep. Let’s get out of here with Ma and the children.”

Ted had hardly finished the sentence when there was a stir in camp near his mother’s wagon where the food was spread. It was Pearcon. He stood above the frightened white woman, menacing her with a heavy quirt.

Mary screamed, and Ted leaped at Pearcon. But the Indian only grinned, and, leaping aside, he grabbed the blanket that was being used as a table for the food, gave it a jerk and sent food, dishes, and cooking utensils rolling in the sand. A large butcher knife rolled against a rock and stopped, handle up, in the sand. Pearcon grabbed it playfully and ran after Mary, drawing the knife back and forth across his throat, pantomiming what he could do to her if he wanted to.

Mary clung to the wagon wheel in terror. Ted sprang in front of her, screaming defiance.

“Don’t do anything, Ted,” Mary pleaded. “Let your father handle Pearcon!”

The scouts had grouped themselves, with their guns ready, shielded by boulders and scrub cedars. “Don’t shoot, boys,” James cried. “In heaven’s name, don’t shoot! That’s what he wants us to do. That’s why he’s playing silly!”

“Davis is right, boys!” Seth Tanner lowered his gun. “All he wants is an excuse to murder us.”

James had gone quietly to where Mary and Ted stood, defying Pearcon.

Pearcon, as if tired of trying to frighten a woman and a boy, ran to one of the youngest of the scouts and grabbed him around the waist, pretending he wanted to wrestle. The boy, son of Silas S. Smith, jerked away angrily. His dog, seeing that his master was being manhandled, flew at the Indian and bit his leg. Pearcon threw Smith to the ground, then turned on the dog and struck him with a long handled shovel that stood nearby. And, before the other scouts could judge the seriousness of the tussle, young Smith had rolled to an axe that was near him. grasping it, he raised it over Pearcon’s head. But James caught his arm, deflecting a blow that would have split the Indian’s head wide open. Zacariah Decker jumped for the Indian. Kumen Jones and Seth Tanner threw themselves in front of Mary, and restraining Ted by force, they kept him out of the fight.

Ted was blind with fury. “He threatened my mother,” Ted Sobbed. “Let me go! I’ll cut him to pieces!”

Unobserved, several of pearcon’s friends had been watching what went on. Evidently deciding that the time was not ripe for a showdown fight, they pulled Pearcon away, telling the scouts they would come back and kill them all, as soon as it was dark.

Ted fought to get away. He wanted to go after Pearcon. But his father took him by the arms, and, by sheer force of will, he quieted the hysterical youth. “Ted, my boy, father needs you here,” he calmed him. ‘You would be torn to pieces if you so much as left this camp. We’ll get away, Ted. We’ll get your Ma to safety. Let go your anger, my boy Ted. pa needs you to get the teams hitched to the wagons. You hurry now. Pa’ll load the things in.”

Action was what Ted needed most. He raced for his teams.

In the camp were two cowboys who had stopped for dinner with the small white company. They had been ready to fight the Indians since their first sight of the malicious Pearcon. Seeing that the white men were not going to force the issue against the Indians, they began to argue angrily.

“Are we going to sit down and eat pearcon’s dirt?” the older of the two, Bill Worthen, cried. “What are you fellows made of?”

“You’ll see, when the time comes!” Seth Tanner answered quietly. “The Indians are sun worshippers. They’ll not attack while their sun-god can see us and tell the Great Spirit. if we can get far enough away before dark, we’ll have no need to fight.”

“If we don’t do something about it now, they’ll come back in force and kill us all,” Bill Worthen declared. “We ain’t got a chance!”

“Wait, Bill,” his partner said. “This outfit can’t get away far enough before dark to be safe. You’ve got plenty of ammunition. I say get the wagons together and fort up. Let the Indians come back if they want to. Pearcon’s not got many friends, and what he has got are shiftless, and scattered over the country. By the time he gets a sizable band together, I’ll be back from Moenkopi with reinforcements.”

“They’ll riddle you, kid,” Bill Worthen answered. “You better stay here and fight.”

“The boy’s idea is sound,” Seth Tanner said. “Pearcon is a coward at heart. He’ll wait to get enough renegades together to insure the safety of his own hide. let the boy go. He’ll get through and be back before our ammunition runs out.”

The young cowboy rode down the draw that led to the east, away from Moenkopi.

“He knows the layout of the country,” Bill Worthen reassured them. “He’ll swing back as soon as he’s out of sight. I feel like a dick to let him go alone.”

“You’re needed here,” James decided. “We’re grateful for you and your rifle.”

“Pa!” Ted raced up to his father. “Pa, they are comin’ back. Pearcon is bringin’ more of his men. He’s mad as a hornet!”

“Let him come, Ted. We’re ready for him.” James Davis put his gun into Ted’s hands. “go to your mother’s wagon, my boy Ted, and don’t you leave it till I give you leave. it’s you who’ll look after your Ma.”

Unarmed, James Davis went to meet Pearcon and his swaggering friends.

(To be continued)