THE HIDDEN SPRING 1

the man on the sorrel, rangey horse was slowley circling the rim of the basin in the top of the mountain range. this mountain was a rock pile of the worse kind. it was studded with sahuaro cactus, ocatillo and cholla. between all that palo verde trees grew. in the bottom of the basin the man was circling was a warm spring. a left over from some long ago earth quake. the man rode slowley so as not to make anyu more noise than possible. one trail led down into the water hole. the other acsess had been walled up with rocks over the years. it was a long ways back to a corral, and this was the only water in ten square miles. it was the hangout of truely wild cattle. but the man knew if he caught some cattle here he could brand a few. the man on the horse was stocky , dark haired. he was sun burnt and deeply tanned. his out fit was scared and patched. his horse was long haired and rough looking. this man a hard desert occupant. he stopped his horse next to a palo verde tree. when he dismounted it was evedent he was crippled from a long ago injury. his dark hair was shot with specks of gray. he was no youngster. if a person looked close you would see a man of 40 plus years, scared and worn like his cloths and outfit. this man lived in the most remote area available, by choice. he sat quietly watching the trail that led down into the basin and hot spring. as quiet and silent as the man was the horse was the same. he was a veteren of many of these trips.the cowboy dug into his shirt pocket and produced a can of copenhagen snuff. he put a pinch in his lip and closed the can with one dexterous hand he didnt smoke. the smell of tobacco smoke would alert any wild animal of his presence. the sun was setting in the west when he stepped back on the rangy horse and turned him down hill. it was a good three hours to his house. . but it didnt matter to him. he had nothing else to do . when they hit the base of the rocky ridge he picked up a well used trail going down country. the sorrel marched on, the bridle reins swinging in rythem to the cadence of the horses fast walk. the sun was behind the western mountains and dark was fast setting in. but this rider didnt seem to pay any attention to things about him. later without a moon or very many stars he rode into his ranch yard. he rode to the three sided adobe building that served as a saddle room.there he unsaddled and then put his horse through a gate into a corral with a water trough. he had a skimpy stack of hay and threw the sorrell a flake from a bale. he then started to his little adobe house with a brush arbor out over the front of the door. the ground was swept clean and bare, inside he struck a match and lit a kerosene lamp. he had a propane powered refridgerater. he opened it and took out a peice of left over roast. sliceing it he made a sandwich it was theen he saw the envelope on his table. he picked it up. a note was scibbled on the back. " this came yesterday thought you might wanted it. " it was signed janet. he grunted when he turned it over and saw it was from the department of veterens affairs and addressd to him, latigo burnes.. he dropped the envelope and takeing his sandwich went to his bedroom. sitting on the edge of the bed he finished the sandwich then rolled over into the oderous blankets and bedding. tomorrow he would deal with the letter.