FifteenThey were no more than half a day on the return journey to Fort Bridger when Curly fell off the back of the mule.
Deep Water went to him first and his face, when he turned to Simms, spoke volumes.
They buried him amongst the scrub, hoping the coyotes wouldn't dig him up.
Brewster, sitting in the shade of a large boulder, rocked himself gently, holding his knees close to his chest.
“I knew we was stupid to try and make it out here,” he wailed, the tears cutting tiny rivulets through the grime clinging to his face.
Sighing, Simms walked over to his horse and fitted the spade back into its holder on the saddle and leaned against the animal, breathing hard. “It's too damned hot for any of this.”
“Or maybe it is your age,” added Deep Water, repositioning a few rocks on top of the b
