Lady Luck Chapter Nine: Mustang Roundup
The morning sun warmed them as Mano, Buck, and Roy saddled up and rode out, leaving their new and now empty corrals for the high country where Buck had last seen the mustangs. It only took a couple of hours to track down the horses, but with just three men to drive thirty young and wild horses back to the ranch, they were stumped.
"Buck, that little box canyon we used last time is up here, no?"
"Yeah, Mano, that's right! We could drive 'em into that - but then whut?"
"Yes, what would we do to get them back to the rancho? Hmm, we need to consider carefully how we will do this."
"Mano, I got an idea," Roy said.
"Yes, Roy?"
"Well, if we can close off this canyon so they're penned up pretty good and cain't run out, and one of us can keep 'em closed in, we could get 'em all back to the ranch easy in two days."
"Huh? How you figger that Roy?" Buck asked, frowning.
"Well, there's no water up here, is there?" Roy asked.
"Nope, nary a drop," Buck affirmed.
"If we can keep them penned up for two days and nights, they'll be real thirsty, won't they?"
"Seguro que sí! But so will we, hombre."
"Not if we take turns. If we get something to close off the canyon, make like a gate so they're in a kind of corral and we each take a turn watching them, we could bring plenty of water for ourselves and just make sure they don't manage to get out," Roy explained.
"Okay, I kin see we could do that, but then whut? As soon as we would open the gate they'd be off running like crazy fer the nearest water," Buck mused.
"Not if we was the nearest water," said Roy.
"HUH?!" Buck's forehead crinkled.
"Well, if we bring a lot of canteens, and some of the old oilcloth tarp, we could make some sorta water troughs. We let 'em out slow, one or two at a time and let them get a little drink and then take the water away from 'em. Once they get the idea that we've got water, they'll follow us and if we stop every so often and let them have a little bit and keep leading 'em down, we'll get all of them without a whole lotta effort except for the waitin' part."
"Roy, bueno! I have heard of this from the Apache," Mano exclaimed. "It is an old trick, but it could work. If we flank them as one of us leads them down, we should be able to stop any from straying. Since they are young, they will naturally want to band together. Roy, you are going to be so much help, hombre!"
Mano's white teeth gleamed. Deep dimples framed his smile. He clapped Roy on the back. Roy shrugged his shoulders, embarrassed. He wasn't used to getting praise for thinking.
Buck could not believe this crazy idea was what they were set on doing, but if Mano said the A-patch done it, that was good enough, cause the A-patch knew horses.
They returned to the ranch, collected fence wire, leftover planks, and as many containers for water that they could find, fill, and carry—including five canteens and two old stone jars. They wound rope around the lips of the jars to secure them to their saddles. They cut the waxed oilcloth tarp into sections and folded these. They brought sturdy mesquite sticks to use to construct small tripods, planning to secure sections of tarp to these to form waterproof cloth buckets. They would be tight enough when filled with water, the tarp pieces a bit like kerchiefs secured at the end. Good thing the equipment wasn't too difficult to carry or manage, thought Buck, or else this job'd be over before it started.
Once near the canyon they scouted the best way to drive the herd and found a place that could be easily blocked with the planks crossed to make their gate.
"Roy, you get up there behind them horses an' don't cause a ruckus. Just gentle 'em down towards the canyon. Try not to let 'em break into a full run," Buck instructed. Roy nodded and rode around back of the herd.
Buck and Mano readied the gate and Mano let loose a piercing whistle.
"H-yaw!" Roy exclaimed from the rear of the herd, edging them into a trot which soon became a gallop through the arroyo straight into canyon and into the trap neatly set for them. It was the work of a moment to secure the gate. Mano, Buck, and Roy stood exhausted. Now all they had to do was wait out the thirsty horses.
"I'll take the first coupla hours watch," Buck volunteered. "Y'all rest up and one of you can spell me later." And so it was.
Mano and Roy lay on their bedrolls in the shade of an overhanging rock. In a few hours, Mano spelled Buck, and later Roy spelled Mano. It was tiresome work. Their saddle horses were tied up, bareback, under another convenient overhang. Roy made sure their own mounts got a few mouthfuls of water every so often. Neither man nor beast enjoyed this waiting game, but the mustangs were indeed thirsty by the end of two days.
The men saddled their own horses and led them to the gate.
"Aw right boys," Buck said. "Time to see how much these fellas wanna drink."
"Mano," said Roy, handing him a makeshift bucket filled with water, "if you hold this bucket and stay very still, here next to Macadoo, the boldest horses oughta come right out to you." Roy gave Buck a second bucket and kept another for himself. "Now, Buck, please just keep openin' that gate a bit more so that they can form a long line. Once they's about all through, bring Rebel and the water an' you can give 'em some, too."
"Aw right, Roy boy," Buck nodded.
Buck opened the gate a fraction, allowing the horses to move through one at a time. The first and boldest mustangs drank from the water held by Roy and Mano, following the men a short distance. When most of the herd had a swallow, Roy and Mano mounted their own horses. Buck came alongside to give water to the stragglers, those last out of the gate. Then Buck, too, mounted up.
"Chihuahua, this may be working, amigos," Mano said in a soft voice, more to himself than to the others.
The refilling of the water buckets from their canteens was an awkward task, but every few minutes the men did this, dismounting, letting the herd drink, remounting. On horseback or afoot, Roy stayed in the lead and Mano and Buck did double duty: not only offering the horses water but also coaxing any strays back into the main herd. Once the horses realized they could have more water if they followed the saddled horses, the journey to the ranch speeded up till the group crested the rise overlooking the C-Bar-M.
"I'll head on down an' open the gate an' set there so they cain't go nowhere but into the corral," Roy called to Buck and Mano. "They oughta head straight to the trough in there to drink." And so they did.
Buck had built a couple of extra troughs, and earlier the men had dragged these into the other corrals, which helped them split up the herd a little as they coaxed some into the outer pens.
"Best thing for 'em now is to let 'em drink an' cool down," Buck said. "Us too. We kin finish sortin' 'em out later. Sun's about goin' down." The horses were chewing the last few handfuls of hay thrown down for them as the men turned to the cabin.
Mano paused, glanced at the lake and down at his shirt, the rich gold cloth barely discernable through the mud, dirt, and sweat.. He stripped off the shirt as he walked to the edge of the lake where he placed it in the water, allowing it to soak before wringing it out.
"Well, hombre, it is not clean, but it is at least less dirty," he said to himself. Roy looked on and copied him. Buck rolled his eyes and turned toward the cabin, toward which all three dragged their tired bodies.
Mano stopped to draw water from the well. Inside the cabin, he poured the water into a large cast iron pot, hanging this on a hook over the stove fire which Roy had rushed in to light. Mano then retrieved a small towel, a bar of lye soap, and a straight edged razor from his bedroll. Once the water was heated, he poured some in an old bowl, carrying this outside to a small table on the porch. He splashed his face, using the soap to work up a thin lather. Then he scraped his face clean of whiskers with the razor and toweled off. Roy watched.
Hmm, thought Roy. If it's good enough for Mano, it's good enough for me. Roy slung out the dirty water, refilled the bowl from the pot, and cleaned up as well, using the towel Joe had given him.
"Ya ain't got many whiskers there, Roy boy," Buck observed as Roy used a knife to make quick work of a shave. Buck, who preferred to bathe by dunking himself in a trough or the lake, hemmed and hawed, muttering under his breath. But after Roy had finished, Buck, too, washed up and shaved in much the same manner although he did not wash his shirt.
With two shirts draped over a makeshift clothesline waving in the evening breeze, three somewhat cleaner vaqueros sat down to enjoy a cup of coffee, which Roy had made, and some spicy beef and bean stew that Mano had warmed on the stove.
Satisfied, they headed straight to bed. It had been a grueling few days, but with thirty head of young horses in the corral, Mano felt content. Sleep claimed him still smiling at the thought of all the money they would make in Tucson...and the other pleasant diversions they might find there.