SANTA FE FREIGHT
By: Wayne Brown
Whippoorwill’s call breaks the silence of the night
The blazing sun’s last rays are just a dim horizon light
Campfire coffee slowly boils in a worn old tin pot
Side-meat jerky will have to do, it’s all that we’ve got
We wash our necks in the nearby cool-running stream
Saddle up our horses and harness up those teams
A new day on the trail movin’ freight by wagonload
Ridin’ shotgun escort to fight off robbers on the road
We’re three days out on a four day run to Santa Fe
On a trail that follows the sun in along a westerly way
Just one more night of skirting the wild Indian Nation
Before we arrive safely at the ol’ Santa Fe way-station
‘Gold Rush Johnny’ is drivin’ the lead wagon on this run
Ol’ Jack Sprinkles is riding beside with his trusty shotgun
I’m settin’ a saddle mare and closing up the dusty rear
Bound and determined to get the freight on out there
That ol’ sun soon begins to set like it always seems to do
We bed down for our last night and try to get a wink or two
We’re makin’ good time; by tomorrow’s sunset into Santa Fe
Sure don’t need no trouble in the miles yet along our way
Bedded down on my saddle roll lying flat on my back
I watch the yellow moon climb the sky along a starry track
This is a dangerous land but the night sky welcomes us all
I watch a shooting star go by then into a light sleep I fall
Morning comes with a light rain, clouds roll about the sky
Wind is out of the west, tumbleweeds rolling quickly by
The rain is a welcome sight to me; less dust ridin’ the rear
Time now to pack it all up and get this freight out of here
The robbers hit when least expected; just outside of Santa Fe
Rode right down on us out of the rocks in the bright light of day
Shouting and shooting, trying to everything to raise our fright
Thinking we would run rather than stand our ground and fight
Jack Sprinkles dropped the first as he rode toward the wagon
Shot-gunned him from the saddle and left him stirrup-draggin’
By now ol’ Jack Sprinkles had the lead wagon at all out full run
My mare runnin’ with her head as I had both hands full of gun
An outlaw bunch short on brains and even worse with a gun
They chased us on the fly as we whittled at them one by one
When I fired my Henry and sent the third of six to the ground
Three pulled up hard on the chase and headed off eastbound
Ridin’ into Santa Fe, I trotted the mare up front from the rear
Jack Sprinkles just grinned as I went by, his shotgun ready there
“You’re a mighty fine shot, Mr. Sprinkles, you saved our butt again”
“You ain’t so bad yourself,” He replied then gave me a quick grin
We hit the way-station in Santa Fe with all the freight in hand
Safe but tuckered plum out from the trek across the badland
A few days rest and we’ll pack it up; head back the other way
Headin’ on back to St Joe, with some freight from Santa Fe
©Copyright WBrown2012. All Rights Reserved.
17 October 2012
