X - High Lonesome
Bridges’ son loads the last of the full buckets into the wagon. Patting the horse on the neck, he leads it to the trail which continues beyond the footbridge. Tate Bridges motions for the posse to follow him.
The pathway continues down a gentle slope, clusters of pine trees shading the trail on either side. From a nearby branch, a yellow breasted kingbird chatters its high pitched song.
“My family, and a bunch of others, we traveled up here on a wagon train. The train was the idea of a fella that was once in the Army, name of Lawrence Murphy. He told everyone that he’d scouted the Capitan Pass. That if we took a wagon train up through it, it was a fast route into the Arizona Territory, then California. We’d all heard the stories about California. Rich land that was free for the taking. Wild steer waiting to be caught. Gold. Ghost rock. Seemed like an easy path to a better life.”
He looks back at the riders following him, shaking his head in regret. ”We shouldn’t have gone. Not a one of us. Those promises of an easy life...they were just talk. Every one of us let Murphy talk us into leaving something that was better behind. Most of us had homes, farms down there in the valley. We had something real. Or at least the beginning of something. It would’ve taken work. Always does, but...it would’ve led to a good life. Sometimes, I guess it’s just real easy to lose sight of what you already have.”
“Mr. Murphy...he was after something up here. Something...bad. I’ve had a lot of years to think about it and I recall seeing Murphy struggle to get up on his horse. How he walked like a fella twice his age. He’d been hurt real bad. Maybe in the war, or some other time. I’ve wondered if he thought this darkness that lived up here could make him whole again.”
He pauses, reaching out to pat his son’s shoulder. ”Whatever it was, he was willing to give us up to it to get what he was after. All of us.”
“When we drew close to High Lonesome, Murphy said he was going to ride ahead a piece. Told us there was tricky country up ahead. When we caught up to him, we found him standin’ in the middle of an old burial ground. The sort where Indian folk bury their kin. The graves, they were up on poles, and Murphy was cutting down some of things that were tied to them. Beads and such. And he’d smeared blood all over the place. He was singing...or chanting. I don’t really know what you’d call it. But it’s plain to me now that he was waking the darkness up.”
“All of a sudden, it was like nighttime. And all these things came for us. Out of the dark.”
“I tried to turn my wagon around. Thought maybe I could outrun it all. But the horses spooked and the wagon slid into a ditch. All I could do was pull my wife and my boy to me and...just wait.”
The trail winds around a group of ancient boulders, each one turned almost white by the elements and the passage of time. Past the massive stones, the pathway levels and the riders find themselves gazing at a wide clearing. Much of it is covered in knee high grana grass, but here and there, ruts have formed in the earth where feet and animals have frequently trod. Scattered throughout the plain are homes, more than a dozen, most having been built from raw timbers, giving them the appearance of large trapper’s cabins. Smoke rises from the chimneys of a few of them. The group can also spot a few stables and barns paired with several of the houses. Here and there, rectangular sections of land have been plowed and cultivated, and various vegetables and fruit grow there.
The homes form a very rough circle. At its center is an area that appears to be an approximation of a town square. Several cut logs have been placed for seating and flowers grow in neatly planted circles. A short distance from the square, a lone structure stands, built from adobe. Unlike the homes that are its neighbors, the square building is clearly very old, its walls and timbers deeply weathered.
”I closed my eyes tight, and then there came a noise, like a windstorm,” Bridges says, ”When I opened them again, I was here. Along with my family, and a lot of the others we traveled with. Of course, most of this wasn’t here yet.” He points to the adobe hut. ”Except for her home.”