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Updated: May 17, 2025
Reluctantly Roush told once more his tale. He spoke only under the pressure of imminent peril, for he knew that if this ever got back to the men in the chaparral they would kill him with no more compunction than they would a coyote. "Take this bird down to Billie Prince, Reb. Tell him I jumped Roush on the Ruidosa, an' he peached to save his hide.
He went to Live-Oaks an' was seen to take the trail to the Ruidosa. Why?" "You've been spyin' on me," charged Yankie. He was under a savage desire to draw his gun but he could not shake off in a moment the habit of subordination bred by years of service with this man. "To let his fellow thieves know that he meant to leave a bunch of beef steers on the berrendo practically unguarded. That's why.
From the cliff far above friends of his had been wont to heliograph signals during the late Washington County War. He read the light flashes and at once saddled a horse. A few minutes later he might have been seen on the breakneck trail that leads across the mountains to the Ruidosa. After a stiff climb he reached the summit and swung sharply along the ridge to the right. A voice hailed him.
From Live-Oaks a breakneck trail runs up the side of the mountain, drops down into the valley beyond, and twists among the hills and through cañons to the Ruidosa. In the darkness a man followed this precarious path. His horse climbed it like a cat, without the least uncertainty or doubt. Both mount and rider had covered this ground often during the Washington County War.
He knew exactly where he wanted to go, and he moved toward his destination in the line of greatest economy. Morning found him descending from a mountain pass to the Ruidosa. "Breakfast soon, you wall-faced old Piute," Jim told his mount. "You're sure a weary caballo, but we got to keep hitting the trail till we cross that hogback." A thin film of smoke rose from a little valley to the left.
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