Chapter Nine

Joe was glad that the army provided an escort, even if they did turn a blind eye to Nolan’s interpretation of a prisoner.  The sergeant made sure the captives got plenty of water, and later in the day gave them the choice of riding in the wagon or walking.  As far as Joe was concerned, he’d be in a place much too soon where he wouldn’t be able to see the outside world, so he chose to walk and see wide open spaces rather than the inside of a canvas bonnet.

When darkness fell, the sergeant stopped to give his men a few hours of sleep.  Joe drank his water and ate the same rations, then lay down where he had been sitting…on his stomach with his head lying on his arms to protect his back.  He was tired and managed to doze, but the pain of his hands and back made sleeping soundly impossible.

Most of the next day was just like the last.  The scenery never changed except for the color of nothing.  The mountains took on a purple hue in the distance.  Joe didn’t know if that was the color of the rock and dirt there or if it was the color of the haze.  It seemed to him that this was probably the most useless place on earth with its long vistas of dry dirt and rock and the occasional life that skittered away from him on the ground.  But even though it was hot and barren, he began to feel at peace with it.  It was unpretentious, quiet and simple in its landscape and life.

The nothingness of the desert changed to movement off in the distance.  Squinting to block the blinding brightness of the son, Joe’s mouth dropped open at the sight of what he assumed was the mine.  He saw a gaping hole high up on a rock face.    In front of the mine were a few makeshift buildings and a fenced structure with beams across it.  The only activity he saw was a handful of men loading ore into a smelter that belched thick black smoke high into the air.  Then he caught sight of a bucket slowly dropping from the mouth of the mine.

Nolan turned in his saddle toward the captives. “Take a good look at it boys.  Home sweet home,” he said, laughing.

The distance to the mine from where they were was another mile. When they arrived, the sergeant took the paperwork into one of the shacks and brought Nolan’s payment back.  “You need to stick around, Nolan.  We don’t need any more prisoners right now, but I’m sure if we lose more than a couple, the captain will send you back for more.  You and your men will be fed while you’re here.”

Nolan and his men moved the wagon next to the shacks and made camp in the shadows of the buildings.

The prisoners entered the building one by one while the sergeant recorded their names and the date they arrived in the record books along with the release date from their prison records.  When Joe gave the sergeant his name, the sergeant looked at the prison paperwork and sat back in his chair, studying Joe. He sighed and leaned back up.  “Says here your name is Talbot.  That’s good enough for me.”

Joe watched the sergeant check off Talbot’s name. Next to the release date, he wrote ‘life’.  Leaving the paperwork on the desk, the sergeant rose and stood by the door.  “Let’s go.”

Staring at the papers on the desk, Joe clenched his fists, wanting to yell at the man to tell him he knew it wasn’t true.  He forced his anger back, knowing he could still end up in a grave marked with the name Talbot.  If that happened his family would never find him…dead or alive.

Turning slowly, he followed the other prisoners as they walked to the fenced area where chains hanging from beams were attached to their ankle chains.  “You boys will rest this evening.  You’ll start work tomorrow.  You’ll be fed with the others when they come out of the mine.”

Joe sat watching the activity around him.  Every few minutes a bucket was lowered from the mouth of the mine, and men from the smelter went to collect the rocks in two huge canvas satchels that they carried on their backs to the smelter.  The only other motion was the guards posted on all sides of the yard patrolling back and forth, Joe assumed, watching for Indians.

He started counting the days he’d been gone.  Two nights on the trail…or was it three, one night at Aurora, and one night in the desert.  Five or six days, maybe.  Adam and Hoss would know by now and would’ve sent for Pa.  They would have known they might lose the trail if they waited.  It would be Adam who started trailing us. He’d be feeling guilty because he was the one who stayed home; because he was the one in charge, and I was his responsibility.   Hoss would wait for Pa.  Adam’s already on his way. All he could do was hope he knew his brothers that well.  He wasn’t ready to become hopeless.

When the men came out of the mine, they dutifully entered the fenced area and stood by their chains until a soldier came by and shackled them.  Their arms hung limp at their sides, their feet shuffled across the ground, and their eyes were…lifeless.  The evening meal was the same dried meat, stale bread and water, and when they had finished, the men laid down.  No one had spoken a word.

The soldier who had dressed Joe’s wounds came back and changed his bandages, speaking in a low voice after he looked around them.  “Your back isn’t bad.  If you do your work and keep your mouth shut, it’ll heal.”  Looking at Joe’s hands, he said, “There’s not much I can do here.  They don’t put shackles on your wrists unless you try to use your fists, so stay out of trouble, and they’ll heal.”  Without another word, he was gone.

Joe laid back and rolled onto his stomach, laying his head on his arms.  He closed his eyes and prayed that sleep would take him, at least for little while.