This post is the second part of the story
Sierra de la Espuma. To read the first part of the story follow this link http://shortstoriesfromsaturday.blogspot.com/2013/06/sierra-de-la-espuma.html or you can find it in the Blog Archive on the right side of this page. Thanks for reading!
Ruby was able to provide us with the supplies on our list, so we headed
down the street to speak with the blacksmith. Before we started our expedition
into this rocky terrain we wanted to schedule a time to have the horses
re-shoed. The blacksmith’s shop was the only building in town not constructed
out of wood. Instead it was made of stucco; a logical material considering the
heat that was generated in the building. The shop was quiet and we could see
from the dust that had collected that the blacksmith was not able to remain
employed fulltime. We knocked on the door that hung wide open and a voice from
the back room told us to enter.
The blacksmith was a small man with thick black hair on his head, and
on his face. He sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. A short, thick
cigar smoldered between his lips. The smoke from the cigar filled the room and
clouded our vision.
He removed the cigar from his mouth and smiled. “You are the surveyors,
no?” The albino and I looked at each other and exchanged flustered expressions.
Word traveled fast in such a small town.
“We are the surveyors.” I said, “We wanted to ask you about shoeing our
horses.”
“I can do that, but I don’t work after 6:00.”
“6:00 pm?” I asked.
"No, 6:00 am” He replied. “It gets much too hot after that.”
“That’s not a problem. We can be here as early as you’d like.”
“Come back tomorrow at 4:00 am. I’ll take care of it then. You have
only the two horses?”
“For now, yes, but we may have a third tomorrow. A pack mule if we can
find one.”
“Go to the stables and ask for Donaldo. He will get you a burro.”
“Thank you” I replied. “We will do that.”
We turned to leave, and almost made it to the door, when we heard the
blacksmith call to us again.
“Are you sure you are not going looking for something else in these
mountains, amigos?”
Again the albino and I exchanged worried expressions. “What else would
we be looking for?” I tried to sound as casual as possible as my heart picked
up its pace.
“Gold,” he said in a deep and gutteral voice.
My response was calculated and planned. “We are geographers, as you
know, and to us these hills don’t appear to be the proper place for gold.”
“Oh, there’s gold to be had. But it’s not the gold you need worry
about. There will be plenty to worry about in those hills, even if gold is not
your intent.”
I shuddered at the slow and intimidating manner in which he spoke. “What is
there to worry about then?” I asked.
“Natives for one; the Apaches are a proud people and to them those
hills are sacred. You take them lightly and you’ll lose your head, literally.
Then there’s the other folks who come up from the valley, crazy enough to go
into those hills looking for gold. Those
men contract a fever, the fiebre de oro.
They grow thirsty enough for gold that they’d kill for it. Then there’s Mother
Nature herself. If the cougars or bears don’t kill you the ants will. But
before they do the heat will crush you and the canyons and crevices will gouge
your innards out. Then the buzzards will finish you off and nobody will ever
see you again.”
We shuddered at the expressive descriptions he used. It was hard not
visualize the dangers we would face. He sucked on his cigar and then exhaled a
long plume of smoke.
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll live
forever in legend; it’s just that nobody will remember your names. You’ll just
be those two surveyors who went up into the hills and never came back.”
I swallowed hard and tried to gain some composure. The description of
the Superstitions the blacksmith gave was frightening, but I was confident in
our abilities. I pulled back the leather vest that hung from my shoulders and
gave him a direct look at my colt 45.
“We’ll be well prepared for anything we might encounter” I said.
“Hope you’ve got a couple more of those” he laughed. “And maybe a
.30-06 and a 12 gauge as well.” He baulked as he let out a big roar of
laughter.
We turned and walked out the door. The albino gritted his sharp teeth
and growled. The hair on the back of his neck stood as tall as I had ever seen
it stand before. We had faced detractors before and shrugged them off, but this
was by far the biggest challenge we had faced together. We would need to gather
a lot of courage and focus to come out victorious.
From the blacksmith’s shop we hear him yell one last time, “Rattlesnakes
too. Don’t forget the snakes!”
…… …… ……
Our next stop was the Acampo
Lodge. The exterior of the building was dusty and uninviting, but inside we
found a clean and soothing atmosphere. The interior was not large; there were a
few small tables near the entrance and a small row of booths lined the right
side of the room and wrapped around to the back wall. To the left of the
entrance was a set of stairs that climbed to the second floor. I assume that was where the hotel portion of
the building was located. Under the stairs was a door that led into the
kitchen.
The room was practically empty with only one table occupied by a few
elderly women. We made our way to booth in the back of the room; trying to
distance ourselves as much as possible from anybody else who may join us in the
restaurant. One of the elderly women at the table rose and went into the
kitchen. She returned and brought us two glasses of ice water; her hands were
rugged and tight like leather. I’m not sure how they managed to have ice
available, but I was extremely grateful for the refreshment it provided. We
ordered chicken sandwiches and settled into the booth.
The albino reached into a small bag he had been carrying on his back
and removed the map that we had purchased from Ruby. We spread it across the
table and each of us leaned in from opposite sides. The map was fairly generic.
It showed the entire range of the Superstition Mountains; the city of Globe to
the east, Superior to the south, and the Salt River Valley to the west. This map would be useful, but not until we
had some time to tweak it.
Before we ever began our expedition to the desert we were given a gift
that would make the entire journey worth our efforts. An old prospector, who
claimed to have stopped in the Superstitions on his way to the California gold
rush, had told us about the legends of the Superstition’s riches. He also
claimed that he had received valuable information as to the whereabouts of the
lost golden ore deposits that many men had lost their lives looking for. This
information came as a set of clues delivered to him by a cavalry sergeant who
had led a search and rescue expedition into the Superstitions ten years prior.
On his death bed the cavalry sergeant had passed the clues he discovered during
his expedition to the old prospector. He claimed that he had always wanted to
return to dig up the gold deposit but was not relieved of his military duty or
able to go before he fell sick.
The old prospector had intended to go to the Superstitions and retrieve
the gold himself, but admitted to us that the dangers he had heard of had
scared him clear of these mountains. With the clues we received from the old
prospector, the map we purchased from Rudy, and some top of the line surveying
equipment we were confident that we would find the gold deposits and become
very wealthy.
The albino studied the map intently while I kept an eye out for any
locals who may want to speak with the two visitors to their small town. One of
the clues we had received was related to certain landmarks that could only be
seen simultaneously when standing on the entrance to the canyon that held the
gold ore deposit. With a small red pencil in one paw and a magnifying glass in
the other, the albino marked out on the map where he thought he could judge the
landmarks to be. These would be the first places we would visit over the next
few weeks. As we sought these locations
we would continue to plan more in depth our eventual journey into the
mountains.
As we mulled over the map the front door creaked slowly open and a beam
of light shown across the room. From the entrance of the restaurant three men
entered and sat at the booth farthest from us. They were perhaps the most
unfriendly looking group of men I had ever seen. I was not able to tell what their occupation
was, but based on their grizzled appearance and dusty clothes I was certain
they spent a lot of time outdoors. They didn’t say much, but the way they gazed
around the room made me uncomfortable. I hoped deep down that our path would
never cross with such a menacing looking group.
Soon after the men entered the room the elderly woman returned to our
table. The albino ignored her as he studied the map, but I looked up to see her
smiling at me.
“You’re the men from out of state, right?” she asked and I nodded in
response. “Well, certainly hope you don’t go running off too soon. We’ve got
our big end of summer celebration coming up.”
“Is that so?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. I’ve been here 40 years and I’ve never missed the
celebration. Its one week from this Friday. I’ll be baking pies and cakes, and
all of the people from the surrounding towns and ranches will come.
There will even be a number of people come up from the valley to sell
their goods. The last night there will be a big party with music and
dancing. All the pretty girls from the
area will be there.”
“Is that so?” I asked again. The albino looked up from his map visibly
annoyed by the woman’s presence and my interest in the celebration. “That just
happens to be the day before we leave, so we might just get to attend.”
She smiled, apparently satisfied with the results of the conversation. The
albino leaned back against the bench and crossed his white, furry arms. He
glared at me from across the table and I smiled back at him.
To be continued…
