The Vaquero

Helen sat crossed legged in the shade of a mesquite bush waiting out the heat of the day. She didn’t know if they were still trailing her. Inspecting the hem of her red velvet dress covered in grey dust, she scooped dirt and covered the entire gown. Her hat was lost a few days ago at the edge of a spring she had bent over to drink and smear mud on her face and chest. Her only possession, a satchel containing the cash she was planning to use to buy out and a jar of tallow moisturizer. She appreciated the tallow. Fear prevented  sleep.  She closed her eyes and listened. She liked having this desert to herself. Miles, distance were safety. She would be patient, smart–move at night and rest in the day. Without water this was the only way to survive. People tended to be afraid of the desert at night. Not Helen. She knew the creatures there didn’t want to be bothered same as her. She waited for the sunset to move. The desert came alive with sounds, insects, owls, coyotes. She felt energized by the night air and safe, hidden. She had the advantage on foot. A rider couldn’t sneak up on her and she could hide in the dark. She had learned a way of becoming invisible by covering herself in the loose sandy earth. A regular told her about it. He liked to talk about warfare, especially tactics he learned from Indian warriors. She tucked some of those ideas away in case it was true you couldn’t buy out–moving at night, using mud as sunscreen were some of the things she remembered. The sound of hooves beating sand crescendoed.  Heart racing Helen hid behind a bush. Her breathing was too loud. They could hear her, she thought. A velvet nose nudged her from behind. Helen screamed. She realized the horse had no rider or gear. She looked over at the other horses. Wild mustangs. She put her hand on his cheek, shocked he let her touch him. After her heart stopped pounding she continued on. She needed more distance. The herd moved with her a ways off. She thought about something she read in the paper about claiming a homestead. What had it said?

He or she must be a citizen of the United States.

The settlement begins by erecting or purchasing a dwelling house.

The claim is maintained by improving the land.

She’d have to go into the Land Office, give her name. A widow was respectable, treated kindly. What name would she use? She was a Helen, couldn’t let go of that. Helen was the last outward identity of her own she had left. Her heart, her soul…they hadn’t taken, they hadn’t broken her. Baker had a nice ring to it she thought, the kind of name people felt an affection for. Who didn’t like a Baker? A name from a family history of people who baked bread. Helen hadn’t eaten in almost a week. She didn’t ask herself how much farther. She knew those thoughts only invited weakness, little cracks in the armour that could end her right here in the desert. No, she was going to be one of the ones who made it. Helen Baker it was, she didn’t need to think about it again. The shadow of a mountain range loomed in the distance. Helen looked for a place to hide for the day as the sun rose. She could hear the rush of water. She was thirsty, but she would wait. Watering holes, the banks of streams and rivers, those were places you were exposed, vulnerable. She had learned that too. This stream or river was loud, another disadvantage. She might not hear if someone was coming. She’d wait. In the dark, she’d have the upper hand. In the distance she saw two men on horseback. She took a broken branch from the bush she was against and placed it in front of her. She didn’t think she could be seen. The men neared. They looked like vaqueros.

“The river is still high. I don’t think any cattle crossed.”

“Boss asked us ta check. We can double back round the mountain.”

She didn’t know how close to a settlement she might be. She planned to go straight into the Land Office in Winnemucca, find a spot on the map, and stake her claim. She’d have to find a way to clean up. When it got dark she went to the river and drank. It was wide and rushing pretty good. She wondered what he meant about doubling back around the mountain. Was there a way around the river? It must start way up in that mountain. A velvet nose touched her shoulder. Helen jumped, but she didn’t scream this time. She saw the herd too. Flowing water had drowned out their approach. The herd went into the river. The horse who nudged her, she couldn’t see what color he was, stayed beside her. What were the limits of her bravery? Her spirit felt larger than the night sky. Nothing could stop her.  Helen grabbed his mane and swung her body up and onto his back. She expected to have been thrown off, but the horse walked into the water, Helen hanging on. After they crossed, she stayed on his back. They moved through the night making more ground than she would have on foot. The lights of a town flicked in the distance. That should be Winnemucca. Helen dismounted and thought. She didn’t want to be seen on the streets like this. She walked into the town, careful not to be seen, looking at the shops. One caught her eye–Millinery and Dress Making Shop, Viola Harney. It looked like the proprietor lived on the premises. She squatted in a bush thinking. She would have to trust someone. She didn’t feel so brave now. Patience and smarts wouldn’t help, she needed a little luck. She closed her eyes and waited for the light. At first light she knocked on the dress maker’s door. There was no one in the street. A woman answered.

“I’m very sorry I’m not open yet.” Her eyes widened comprehending what she was seeing. “Come in.” They stood looking at each other Viola in shock and Helen frozen with fear. “I’m Viola.” Her large dark eyes were kind. 

Helen found her voice. “I need a dress.” 

Viola got her tape measure and did some quick calculations. “I have a couple of dresses my clients didn’t pick up.” She went to the back and brought out a cotton dress, cream with brown and blue flowers. “This may fit, I’ll have to take it in a bit.” 

“No,” Helen said too quickly. She looked away embarrassed. 

“How about this,” Viola said, “I have a basin in the kitchen. I’ll start boiling some water and you can get cleaned up. Then you can try on the dress.” Helen started shaking. She couldn’t remember such kindness. She couldn’t get words out. 

“Take a seat here.” It was a wicker chair. She left to get the water boiling. Helen could hear noises in the kitchen. She smelled eggs, bacon, coffee and was overwhelmed with hunger. “While the water’s heating, let’s have a little breakfast shall we.” Viola handed Helen a plate with four eggs, four thick slices bacon, and a hunk of sourdough. She set butter, jam, cream, and coffee on the little folding tray painted black with bright florals. Helen tried to eat like a lady. She was eating too fast she knew. When she finished Viola asked if she’d like more.

Helen’s voice was stronger, “Yes, please.” Voila brought out a plate of the same and poured more coffee for the both of them.  After her coffee she went back in the kitchen to finish the bath.

“The water’s warm. There’s soap and a towel. I set the dress back there since you probably don’t want to get into a dirty one after a bath.”

“Thank you.” Helen thought she would cry. The bath felt wonderful. She wanted to linger, but was eager to get to the Land Office first thing and stake her claim. The dress fit a little loose, but looked nice–respectable. She came out into the sitting room and Viola smiled. “You look beautiful.”

“I can’t thank you enough. You can’t know how much this means. Please, how much do I owe?” 

Viola took Helen’s hands. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Please, I’d like to pay you. For the breakfast too.”

“Whatever it was happened to you, leave it behind. You step out this door and you never look back hear?” Helen nodded. She lost her voice again, turned and made her way to the Land Office. The man at the Land Office showed Helen the map where she could find an available homestead. 

“These ones here all along the creek here are taken, see. Now there’s some promising property up here. There’s water, some mountain, flatland too.” He lifted his visor and looked close with a magnifying glass. “Thees the coordinates. We’ll have to put that down. Widowed did you say?”

“Yes sir,” Helen nodded looking at the map.

“Desolate country up there .You got some help?”

“It’s just what I’m looking for. Can we take care of the paperwork now?”

“Yes ma’am we surely can.” He got the forms and filled in all the information required. “It’s recorded right here.” He showed her the log. “You’ll need to prove on it, got a year, or pay up. Course there’s taxes too can’t forget that.” Helen nodded. 

She thanked him and left for the lumber yard. She ordered enough lumber to build a house and asked about a contractor. The lumber man said Andrew, who would deliver the lumber, might be interested. Helen purchased a wagon and team and stopped at the mercantile to stock up on supplies including pants, a man’s shirt, belt, gloves, a rifle and ammunition. She left town headed for her property. The trip took two days. She fell in love with it when she saw it. Half the land was mountain, the other half flat, sagebrush and juniper dotted. She spent the day exploring it, cattle country she thought. She had enough to buy breeding stock.  She found a hot spring near the base of the mountain. This is where she’d have her house built. She’d use the wagon as shelter until then. 

The man from the lumber yard came out a few days later. She showed him where she’d like the house built.

“Good spot to build. I’d ‘ave picked it myself”

“Please call me Helen.”

“Okay then. I’m Andrew. I’ll hire a few hands in town. We could have your home finished before the fall.”

Helen smiled. That summer she spent her days wandering the mountains while the men built her house. She liked the solitude, she felt safe. In the evenings she sat in the covered wagon and made plans for her ranch. Andrew and the workers camped under the trees not far away. In the fall when the finishing details were being completed, Andrew did a walk through with Helen. Stepping onto a wide covered porch the front door opened into a spacious living room with a stone fireplace. Off the living room there was  a kitchen with cupboards, wash basin, and fire wood stove. Two bedrooms were accessed off the main room. Advertised as leak and fire proof, the roof was metal. Helen smiled as she walked through the spaces. She could imagine a good life here. 

“I’ll return with your furniture order in a few weeks. I’ll let you get settled in.”

In the morning Andrew and the workers thanked Helen and headed for Winnemucca. Andrew would return with the furniture and then make another trip with more lumber for the barn. Helen wanted to fence in three acres around the house and barn, but that would need to wait until spring. Helen set up a cot in the living room, started a fire, and imagined her ranch. She’d start with 10 head. She’d need a couple of hired hands. The  cattle could roam the mountains in the summer and move down to the flatland in the winter. She’d keep the barn stocked with No 1 Hay. She had enough money to finish the barn and buy the cattle. She’d start small and build. She’d be smart, learn the ropes first. The sound of hooves beating the ground shook her out of her thoughts. She ran out to the porch and saw a herd of mustangs in the flatland. She didn’t know if it was the same herd she encountered in the desert.

Andrew rode up two weeks later with her furniture. She helped him unload it and carry it into the house–a bed, dresser, couch, side tables, lamps, rug, and blankets.

“There was a stranger in town asking around about a Helen. Couldn’t give a last name. Didn’t like the looks of him, said I couldn’t help. Do you know him?”

Helen shook her head. She was trembling. “What’d he look like?”

“Big black beard, bluest eyes I ever seen, thickly built.” Helen felt sick. 

She had come so far. She didn’t think it would occur to him to go to the Land Office. Maybe he would ask everyone, visit every business. If he didn’t give a last name maybe people would be suspicious like Andrew was. Whatever Helen’s last name was, she didn’t know it either. All of them had a first name only. She picked Helen. That was her name. Maybe it was foolish to have kept it after all. She wanted to ask Andrew to stay, but that was not possible. Andrew said he’d return in another two weeks with lumber. He’d bring the crew again and the barn would be finished before winter. After he left Helen loaded the rifle she bought, went outside and made a few practice shots. Nothing to it she thought, except when your nerves have you shaking. Could she stay in control? She trembled hearing his description. She’d do like she done in the desert, stay awake at night, sleep in the day. She would move up into the mountains on foot, find a good place to sleep. At night she’d watch out the window, lights off, with her rifle. It was nearing the day Andrew and the hired hands would return. Helen was feeling better, less on edge. In the dark she heard the snap of a branch. An animal probably. She was alert, watching. She was overcome with nausea when she saw the figure of a man. He was approaching the house, moving behind trees as he went. When he moved again she fired. He ducked behind a tree. He was laughing, insane, crazed, striking fear into her. He moved and again she fired. He was on the porch now. Should she stand her ground or slip out back. She tried to remember the tactics of the warriors. Which was better? She felt claustrophobic. She moved lightly, quietly out the kitchen door. She heard the awful laugh again and loaded her rifle. He reached out and grabbed it forcing it upward and punched her like a man.

“Bitch! No one steals from me!” He spat on her. Helen was knocked out.

A whinny broke above his insane laughter. He turned, hooves in his face, landing on his skull. He couldn’t see now, stomping. Hours later, Helen opened her eyes. There was a Mustang standing near. She took in his colors, buckskin with dark stockings–stripped at the knee.