The month of June had arrived, and with it came the intensified summer
heat, now almost unbearable in the shadeless glare, and as the time
approached for Gully's departure, it was finally decided that the wheat
fields of the north would be the easiest of access for his journey in
search of work. The question of water for domestic use being the most
difficult to solve, it was decided to build a cistern sufficiently large
to hold enough to last until his return, and for the next few weeks the
time was devoted to this work. It was while thus engaged that the family
received its first ray of hopes for the ultimate consummation of their
dream, and the hope to which their minds would frequently revert during
the long fall and winter months that were to follow.
After the cistern had been dug and Gully, with painstaking care, was
trying to cement the interior, patiently replacing each trovel of wet
cement as it rolled from the sides, as the sand gave way and allowing it
to fall repeatedly to the bottom, each time being taken up and carefully
replaced, gradually setting, inch by inch, until the task was
accomplished; his wife on the surface, mixing the sand and cement in
small quantities and handing it down to him, as required; doing her part
to conquer the wilderness as valiantly as any man; when there was a
hurried scampering of little feet, and the children came breathlessly
up, calling to their parent that "Wagons were coming, lots of them."
This announcement to the uninitiated would seem but small cause for
comment, but to those who live for weeks and months without the advent
of a stranger within miles of their habitation, the approach of an
unknown horseman or vehicle is hailed with excitement and wonder.
Gully hastily emerged from his work beneath the surface and looked
inquiringly in the direction indicated by the excited youngsters, where
a few miles to the west a dense cloud of dust could be seen. An
occasional horseman, driving loose stock, or a covered wagon or
buckboard, could be distinguished through the dense pall of dust that
hung with maddening persistence over the approaching caravan.
Speculation was rife among the now excited family, and many were the
theories advanced as to the cause of this unusual sight. It being
definitely determined that the approaching wagon train was wending its
weary way along the road that terminated at their humble abode, hurried
arrangements were made to greet the strangers, the children were
assembled at the kitchen door, and their faces washed to remove, if
possible, a small portion of the desert grime; their sunburned locks,
that the wind had whipped into wild confusion, were hastily untangled,
and arranged into semblence of order. When this task was completed and
each little bronzed cheek shone with the too strenuous application of
common laundry soap, that only resulted in bringing out in bold relief
the myriads of copper colored freckles with which they were covered
with generous profusion, they were admonished by their mother to "keep
clean," and were allowed to scurry away, to watch in wide eyed wonder
the approach of the strangers. The mother, with purely feminine
instinct, removed all evidence of the white splashes of cement from her
hands and shoes, changed her dress, and after these pitiful efforts at
making herself presentable, joined with the waiting children.
Many of my readers have, no doubt, waited with feverish expectancy the
ringing up of the curtain on some notable drama, or looked forward with
a mingling of joyous anticipation and dread to the arrival of a relative
or friend whom they had not seen for years. But few indeed are left who
can describe or define the sensation of commingled joy, dread and
uncertainty that fills the heart of the lonely homesteader on an
occasion like this. Hours seemed to pass during the interval between the
discovery of their approach and the arrival of the strangers, the
hundreds of questions that rushed, unbidden, to the minds of the
isolated desert dwellers. Who were they, and what was their motive for
coming? Were they transient visitors on an idle tour, or some wandering
band of nomads, drifting derelicts, who had strayed from the beaten
paths to evade if possible, contact with civil authorities; or better
yet, were they new neighbors coming to cast their lot with them, to
assist in the reclamation, the conquest of the desert? Such were the
multitude of questions recurring to the minds of the anxious watchers,
each, in its turn, being cast aside to be replaced by others, in
bewildering succession.
Travis Gully, who, owing to the narrowness of his self constituted
domain and the wild desert environments, had allowed himself to drift
backward, and contact with conditions with which he was unfamiliar had
awakened in him the spirit of alert defensiveness of primitive man. He
felt the sting of resentment at the approach of the strangers, and it
was with a forced smile, and hesitating handshake that he greeted the
foremost of the party, who had at last ridden within the front dooryard.
Glancing over his shoulder, he assured himself of the safety of his
family. The wife and three eldest children had remained standing near
the door, while two little towheads, that protruded from behind the
building, showed where the two youngest had taken refuge.
Gully invited the stranger to dismount, but the latter, thanking him
curtly, remained mounted until the entire party, consisting of some
twenty-five or thirty men, equipped with a complete field outfit, wagons
loaded with tents and provisions, abundance of stock, both draft and
pack animals, had arrived within hailing distance. Turning in his
saddle, the chief, or man in charge, raised his gauntleted hand with a
commanding jesture, and with brakeblocks grinding against glistening and
heated tires, rattle of chains and shouts from the teamsters, the
procession came to a stop. Dismounting, he gave a few instructions to
his men, who remained on their wagons; then returning to the waiting
homesteader, asked as to the conditions for making permanent camp in the
neighborhood. On being assured that there was no water for the stock
nearer than three miles, the windmill overtopping the well at that point
being in full view, was pointed out to him, and minute directions for
finding the road that ran tortuously through the miles of sagebrush to
this oasis, was given. With a courteous bow, the chief mounted, gave
orders to his men to follow, and moved off in the direction of the well.
As the last sound of the departing cavalcade was stifled in the muffling
sand, Mrs. Gully came to where her husband was standing, gazing absently
in the direction the strangers had gone. Who were they and what were
they here for, was the absorbing and unanswered question; who was this
clean, trim man, dressed in his khaki suit and neat leather leggings,
who had such absolute authority over this thoroughly equipped
expedition; not a homesteader, this was evident by his professional
appearance; not a fugitive, because his manner was too gentle. Who was
he, and what was his business?