Learn more about Rio Pecos Compound: Book Six of The Clint Mason Series
Copyright William F. Martin. All Rights Reserved.
Chapter 17.
Don Perea had heard of a place just east of Santa Fe, New Mexico, that could solve a major life and death problem for him. The sheep rancher he had worked for over the past 20 years had been killed by bandits. The raid had also killed his wife, one of his sons, a brother and his three children. His one son, a brother and sister-in-law were all that were left of the family. A major portion of the sheep herd had been scattered or stolen. Perea’s life savings had been tied to that herd. He had developed a ten percent ownership over the years, plus his house was also destroyed along with the owner’s ranch house and barns. Although he did not know the bandits, it was rumored that they were Texans supported by a major cattle firm that wanted to move into the area.
What was left of his meager belongings, along with his family, had been hiding out in the foothills through the winter. But now the cottonwoods along the river beds were turning green and yellow. Though it had frosted three or four times over the past two weeks, the main winter weather was over. Their supplies were running out and he had been able to obtain only a few food basics from wagons down on the old trail leading into Santa Fe. It was during one of these trading trips that a cousin of his had shared with him the rumor of a safe place. His cousin was working for another major sheep rancher further north. That rancher had fortified his ranch holdings and hired some Mexican ex-soldiers to protect them. However, some raids had reduced his flocks and the cost of hiring protection was causing some real concern. At the moment, Perea’s cousin, along with another 20 men, several wagons and armed guards were taking meat and wool to Santa Fe to sell and trade for supplies.
His cousin’s last trip to Santa Fe, about six months ago, had also turned up the rumor about a compound on the Pecos River that gave protection to hard-working families if they agreed to join and participate in ranching for the owner.
He had also overheard a discussion between two hard cases, apparent thieves, outside a saloon. They were relating a story about a gang that had raided one of the sheep herds near this compound. The eight rustlers had lost nine men before they could get out of the valley without a single head of sheep. Then, within a week, two of the remaining four bandits had been assassinated with no clue as to who was protecting these herds and the people.
The word was also out that one of the most vicious gangs in the territory had robbed a supply train going to this Rio Pecos Compound. The gang leader disappeared about a week later. His gun belt was left hanging on the trail entrance to the compound. Then, over the next few days, several of the gang members were also mysteriously killed without anyone taking credit. The balance of the gang left Santa Fe without a trace.
And one more story was about a young woman from the compound. She had been harassed and beaten during a shopping trip into Santa Fe. Several of the supply train workers that had accompanied her had also beaten and robbed. Apparently the local law was not very protective of the herd’s people.
Bands of ex-soldiers, gunmen, rustlers and unemployed miners roamed the streets of Santa Fe at will, taking what they wanted. The meanest and toughest got the goods, and everyone else just bowed their heads and tried not to get involved. The three roughnecks that had harassed the compound people had made no secret of that fact, even bragging of how easy it was to fleece a herder and their women. Soon all three men were found with their throats cut, the loot missing, and their gun belts hanging on a trail post east of Santa Fe.
Thus, the word was out far and wide to leave the Rio Pecos Compound people alone. The ruthless deaths of gunmen that had violated these compound people’s rights had developed into a real deterrent for would-be troublemakers. Actually, the secret killing of the toughest of the outlaws was the most unnerving.
Don Perea was at his wits’ end, so why not take the risk to seek out the Rio Pecos hiding place? At this point, he had little to lose. The winter had left them broke and without food. They might starve to death in the makeshift shelter up against the cliffs. Besides, with spring in the air, the bandit raids might start again. Don Perea had only one brother, one son and a widowed sister-in-law for family. Only four of his herdsmen had survived and the meager flock they had rounded up was kept scattered in the hills. It would only be a matter of time before the bandits found this small herd and its keepers.
His cousin was not sure of the exact Rio Pecos Compound location. The most likely location was due east of Santa Fe through the Gloriata Pass to the Pecos River. He would guess that a northerly path following the river should bring you to the area. Don Perea’s current location was well north and on the Canadian River Basin. If he could take the Santa Fe Trail south, cross over the divide between the Canadian and Pecos Rivers, then follow the Pecos River south, his path should lead him across the lands of the rumored safe compound.
If the people guarding this compound were as ruthless as his cousin believed, then he might be killed on site. However, staying put was almost certain death. At least a searching trip, no matter how dangerous, would be doing something. He asked his brother, his son, and two herdsmen to stay with his sister-in-law. Don would take two herders and a very small herd of sheep south to find the new place. Their cover would be simple sheep herders moving their sheep further south to warmer range, typical for sheep ranching. The small number and the rag-tag look of sheep and herders would not make it worth the trouble for bandits. The real risk would be roaming gunmen, unemployed miners and gangs of thugs that could harass them for pure meanness at little risk of harm to themselves.
The path south would be off the trail through fairly thick underbrush. This would hopefully discourage most of those lazy gangs that robbed rather than worked. The sheep were very accustomed to foraging the rough slopes and underbrush. In fact, the grazing along the riverbed was great for the sheep. They would probably put on several pounds during the trip.
Just before beginning the trip, his brother and sister-in-law suggested that Don take as many sheep as he could to reduce the chances that bandits would find the larger herd if left behind. So, the new plan was for him to take about 400 herd of sheep south. That would leave less than 50 sheep for his brother to manage. This much smaller number could be scattered out and hidden much easier.
The march south was slow, but not difficult. The mountain ridge between the Canadian and Pecos Rivers was little more than an elevated plateau. The grass was lush compared to their hiding place for the last two months. Moving across the open grass plain was risky, but the only path to the Rio Pecos headwaters. When they crossed the main trail to Santa Fe, they would be at their most critical exposure. The herd was spread out and taken across in small groups. And every one dragged brush behind themselves to reduce and mask the tracks as much as possible.
They were less than half a mile off the trail when a small band of riders came along the main trail. The riders milled around the crossing for a while. Don Perea could see that a discussion was going on among the riders. It included a lot of pointing first up the trail and then south toward Don’s path.
Apparently, the group decided it wasn’t worth further investigation because they continued the northern direction. Don was sure the decision to break the herd into small groups worked and had discouraged the riders. It didn’t appear worth their time and effort. They could see the heavy underbrush where the sheep trail was leading. Most horse riders tried to avoid these tangles of heavy growth. The brush on this semi-arid terrain was tough and thorny. It could tear a horse up rather quickly. Sheep on the other hand seemed to thrive in this cover. The brush provided shade for grass to grow under it and the sheep being small, wooly and agile could graze around and under the thorny growth. Even the bush itself was food, especially the new growth.
This Curry sheep strain that made up his herd was especially adapted to survival on rough range and limited food and water and they had the best tasting meat. These little long-haired, wooly creatures were the ugliest of the many sheep strains, but most suited to this New Mexico Territory terrain. Even though most sheep ranchers in Spain and the eastern part of America preferred the Murino sheep for its fine wool and plumper body, the Murino was no match for the Curry in this mountainous region with its limited rainfall and scarce vegetation. Besides, the Indian tribes up north had developed a good wool blanket trade using the long, coarse wool of the Curry. So the Churro produced a special type of wool for this region, and was valued for its wool, plus its high-quality mutton.
Don Perea and his herdsmen worked their way down the mostly dry bed of the Pecos River. There was enough river flow that pools of water were abundant. The hard river bed made traveling a lot easier than the thick brush along the river banks. Over a week had passed since they had crossed the old Santa Fe Trail. Their herd had grown in numbers as stray sheep joined the flock. It appeared that several herds had been scattered here over time, but many of the newcomers were in poor health due to cuts, sore hoofs, and even a few gunshots. Don’s crew was well experienced in tending sheep. All but two of the 30-some strays they collected were saved. Those two with gunshots were slaughtered for meat and wool.
The drive south was deliberately slow. Don did not want to seem aggressive or to have any particular destination in mind. If he could present himself as a lowly herder just following the grass south, he may pull this off. The major uncertainty surrounded his destination and the question, did this safe compound really exist or was it only a rumor? If they didn’t come on the Rio Pecos Compound soon, he must turn back or return to fetch the rest of the herd. This area was definitely better to winter the sheep than where they had been hiding out up north. The foliage was much better and the drop in elevation was increasing the temperature as well as reducing the wind exposure.
The discussion around the campfire that night resulted in a plan of action. They would continue for two more days on this southerly path. If they had not contacted any of the compound people by then, two of the herders would stay with the sheep and continue slowly moving south. Don and the youngest herders would head back north and bring the family and remaining herd south to join them. The two pack horses they had left with the widowed sister-in-law, one son, and his one surviving brother, would be brought down. If they ran into trouble, the horses would be abandoned and they would retreat south down the same path along the river bed.
Late the following day, as evening camp was being set up, one of the herdsmen reported hearing the tinkle of a bell. It could be the sound of a sheep bell that a lot of shepherds used to track their herds. Don climbed onto the highest point, trying to spot any signs of other campfires. Nothing could be seen, but again he heard the faint sound of a bell. As the sun was coming up, Don and one helper were well on their way, pushing south along the Pecos River toward that bell sound.
It was almost midmorning when they came upon the first small group of sheep grazing near the river bank. These sheep were well fed and one had a bell around its neck.
Don and his helper picked a small plateau to settle in for a patient wait. They did not want to walk into a camp and surprise anyone, knowing that kind of surprise could cost you your life. Several hours passed before they spotted what looked like two young women moving a few sheep toward the small herd down below them. It would be real trouble if they were spotted spying on these women. Don chose another tactic. He sent his helper back to help bring their flock toward these women and their sheep. If they moved their herd slowly along the river bed, grazing and making normal trail noises it should reduce the chances of alarming the women herders and their sheep. The plan worked. The two herds slowly merged and women’s voices could be heard as his men stood in a relaxed manner, two of them even squatting down to appear less threatening. Don could not make out the words, but the conversation was definitely in Spanish and sounded friendly. However, the accent may have been Navajo. This matched his experience with female herders. They were usually Navajo or Hopi Indians, while his Mexican herders were descendants of the Spanish Basque. In the old country, the young boys and old men were the shepherds.
Don gave the herders a chance to get settled before he drove a small number of sheep into the camp. His men had moved along with the other herd until they arrived at the women’s camp, which was made up of several huts of sticks and mud. Older women were working the wool with four or five children playing nearby. Don could tell that this was a secure, permanent camp used year after year and the people were definitely Navajo. It didn’t take long to learn that this group was part of the Rio Pecos Compound. These women appeared relaxed, which would mean that they had adequate protection, even if there was no visible sign of it. The women’s Spanish was very good, even with their Navajo accent. It only took a few hours of casual conversation to learn where the main compound was located.
It was agreed among everyone that one of the younger women would go ahead to the compound so that the guards would be alerted. The Navajos also informed Don that the owner was very strict about new breeds coming into his range.
The compound must be fairly close because four mounted rides arrived the next evening. This was the escort for Don and his men into the Rio Pecos Compound. The sheep herd would be left in the able hands of the Navajos. The women had been right; the message was to keep the new herd quarantined in this area until they could be inspected.
Although everything seemed on the up and up, Don’s fear for himself and his men was real. Being separated from the flock, plus being escorted by mounted armed men could be disastrous. He had mental pictures of their still bodies stretched out in the dry river bed with buzzards gathering overhead. He had taken the risk to save his family; could this be a tragic end?
The rest of the family was holing up in the cliffs of the Canadian River basin way up north. If he was to perish, what would become of his brother and sister-in-law? These thoughts were flashing through his mind; the rising fear level to the panic. The desperation was probably showing on his face when one of the escorts reassured him that the compound was just over the next rise. Good food and cool drinks were only a short distance away.
The compound was practically a village. The central open area or commons was surrounded by adobe buildings, corrals and fencing. Everything was neat and mostly new. But, there were two much older adobe buildings, low and spread out. They were taken toward the biggest and oldest adobe building with its wide covered front porch and hitching rail. Don could smell delicious foods. The aroma of chili, bread and coffee hung in the air. They wolfed down a great meal of home-cooked Mexican food. The bunkhouse they were led to following this meal was another large adobe building, fairly new, but roughly built. They were all assigned a bunk and space to put their things away.
The instructions were clear: Work with the other ranch hands, stay out of trouble, and wait for a meeting with the foreman or owner in a few days. The second day saw hard work repairing corral fences. Then, after the late meal with all hands at the big dining hall, he was summoned to the main ranch house. He was asked to take a seat at a large table with four men. The only question was what circumstances had brought him to the Rio Pecos Compound.
It did not take long for Don Perea’s story to be unfolded before the other men. The onlookers seemed interested and understanding, which helped Don to give the details of his family that he had left behind up north.
The leader of the questioners explained the group’s role. They would interview newcomers and make a recommendation to the owners as to the newcomers’ fitness to join the compound. With approval, an offer would be made to welcome the new members. Any prospective member was then given a complete explanation of the conditions of membership, the costs and benefits. If the visitor did not want to proceed into membership, there would be no hard feelings and the compound people would assist the visitor on with his journeys.
Don was very excited about the prospect of joining this safe place. It was almost like a dream. Now if he could only get the rest of his family here safely. A brief discussion was held in the other room among the four men, then the apparent leader or spokesman for this group returned with a proposal.
The ranch owner was away for a few days, but he had the authority to act when circumstances required speedy action. The protection of Don’s family was of most concern. If he was willing, the compound people would send with him an armed guard and wagons to fetch his family pronto. When everyone was safe and secure at Rio Pecos Compound, then Don and his family members could continue the discussion about their joining this collection of people.
Rising before dawn, it took less than an hour for Don to be on his way north. They were taking two wagons, extra horses and five armed guards. Don’s shepherds would drive the wagons, then herd the small band of sheep back. The sun was creeping over the eastern mountain range. Its golden rays were knocking a little of the chill off the air. By the time the sun cleared the mountaintop, they had a good two hours of trail behind them. With the fairly lightweight wagons and excellent horses, using the main trail north should cut their travel time by one-third.
They encountered only a few wagons and riders on the trail north. As was the custom, the passing groups would exchange information about the trail, the weather and even sometimes trade supplies. The last leg of the trip took less than a day after they saw the settlers and wagons off to Santa Fe. Don cautioned the guards that he and his shepherds should enter the hideout alone. This plan would allow Don’s brother to recognize him and prevent any accidental shootings.
On the trip, Don Perez had learned that a major sheep drive was underway from Rio Pecos to Abilene, Kansas. The drive had probably passed by just east of his hiding place a couple of months earlier.