LITMIR.BIZ

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in orange was one of the ones that didn't have a gate, so I had to clear some brush, and drop five strands of barbed wire in order to drive the wagon around the obstacle. After I had driven the team through the gap and just as I was hopping back off the wagon to rewire the fence, a big, orange Nevada Department of Transportation truck pulling a utility trailer stopped beside us and two men got out.

      I greeted them, with my fence pliers in hand as I went back toward the gate I had made.

      "Hold on," said the larger of the two men, "we can put the wire back for you, and save you some time. Where are you going?"

      I was relieved to be spared the labor of fixing the fence and went toward the men with my hand outstretched as I introduced myself and my wife and told them about our plans.

      Larry, the larger one, fumbling to button the buttons of his orange shirt over his belly asked a few questions as to our exact route and then gave us some bad news.

      "There are lots of cattle guards ahead of you," he said. "The next two you come to will be on either side of Beatty."

      I groaned and asked, "Do they have gates?"

      "I've never really noticed,” Larry answered and turned toward Wayne, his younger partner. "What do you think, Wayne?"

      Wayne smiled through a gap in his front teeth and suggested that they drive ahead and check for us after the fence was repaired.

      We thanked them and drove off at two miles an hour. It wasn't long before they came up behind us and passed, waving and honking the horn. By this time, our burros had heard many a horn being blasted in greeting, so they plodded unconcernedly ahead.

      An hour went by before we saw Larry and Wayne again. Larry leaned out of his window to report, "There are two gates and a quarter mile detour that we flagged with orange ribbon, to get you around the next cattle guard, and we'll have to cut you a gate on the second guard when you're ready to leave Beatty..."

      We set up a time to meet them at the third cattle guard on the following Monday and before they drove off they promised, "We'll keep an eye on you and help out all we can! We sure enjoy seeing you on the road!"

      Because of Larry and Wayne, we easily conquered the route around the second cattle guard and entered the friendly little town of Beatty, nestled alongside the Amargosa River and surrounded by small hills covered with inviting trails.

      It was late morning when we drove into town. I pulled the team over to the side of the road across from the Burro Inn and as Carol tied the leaders to a sign post and blocked the wagon wheels, I ran across the street to order six orders of toast for our burros and two steak and egg breakfasts for our lunch. I sure felt like celebrating for we had conquered the Amargosa Desert!

      While seeing about lunch to go, I told the folk in the Burro Inn about our team and how we planned to stay a few days in Beatty. After they had run across the street to visit with Carol the employees gave me the six orders of toast gratis, and set us up with a free hotel room to use during our stay.

      We spent most of the day parked at one spot after another along the length of the main road in Beatty while I got permission to keep the burros at the town corrals and do some old time photos on Main Street. We replenished our groceries and arranged to pick up water and feed.

      Our clientele that weekend turned out to be the natives of Beatty. They were sure excited to be able to dress up in old time clothing and stand next to a live burro to have their photographs taken. And, they were so pleased with the quality of the sepia colored 4X5 prints and the $8.00 price tag, which most families posed for more than one. Just between you and me it was putting on the costumes in front of my wagon: that was the most fun. You see they had strings on the backs to allowed for size adjustments along with extra-large boots people would laugh and teas as they looked at bare legs and cowboy boots peeking out from the backs of laced up costumes

      The Beatty folk came a 'runnin' because they knew that we were passing through and that this might be their only chance to participate while several cars full of tourists said they 'might' come back to have it done. They must have figured we were from Beatty. I didn't tell them any different.

      Larry and Wayne brought their families to meet us that weekend and then met us Monday morning at the third cattle guard as planned to cut a gate for us, and to say "good-bye.” It was the last time we talked with them.

      We urged our burros north through Oasis Valley toward the small settlement of Springdale.

      We hadn't been on the road long when a middle-age woman pulled up alongside. She was crying and she begged us to stop. I told her I would as soon as I came to a wide spot where we could get off the road. As we came to a stop Carol walked ahead to the woman's car. I waited, thinking it best to let my wife handle the situation.

      Carol returned to me after a few minutes and explained, "She's crying because the B.L.M. has taken all the wild burros away from Beatty and Springdale. She has fifty pounds of grain in her car that she wants to give us. She was feeding the wild ones but now has no use for the feed."

      We stopped at Bailey's Hot Springs that afternoon and got permission to use soap and really bathe in one of their private spring houses. All the while we were parked there a big black

      Burro stood on the top of a hill across the way quietly watching our burros and Bailey's horses.

      That evening as we sat on our wooden camp chairs behind the wagon watching our burros munch down their dinner, a middle-aged couple stopped and walked toward us. I got up to welcome them and when they saw me they said, "We didn't think anyone was here because we couldn't see a truck."

      I asked, "Why did you stop then?"

      They answered, "We wanted to make sure the animals were being cared for."

      The next morning more un-looked-for feed arrived. A young lady brought us about two pounds of sweet feed, (corn, and rolled oats with molasses) "for a donkey breakfast,” She said. The same lady showed up again the third morning with two flakes of alfalfa for the same reason!” We quizzed her about the route ahead of us and were assured that between Springdale and Scotty's Junction there was no water.

      God provided the water we needed. He sent John Gateman, a jeweler of Beatty, to us with 60 gallons of water while we traversed the stretch of highway between Springdale and Scotty's Junction.

      It was about the same time that I told Carol, "I don't want a 'following team,' I want a 'driving team,' please ride beside me or walk behind the wagon when you want to walk."

      She agreed and the burros didn't seem to mind the change. I had my driving team!

      The donkeys were behaving pretty well but, Carol became a problem. She'd ride for a while and then get tired of sitting and climb off the wagon to walk behind, but the spring wildflowers were blooming and she'd walk off into the desert with our camera to take photos of them, forgetting that I was still moving ahead with no rear-view mirrors.

      I wouldn't realize she was missing until she'd come running back, red-faced, hot, and thirsty and she'd declare through her tears, "You left me and I couldn't catch up!" That was the only time I ever saw that woman cry in all the time I knew her.

      It happened again and again. I'd apologize and tell her to let me know next time and I'd wait. But, I never could hear her tell me. So, off and on for the next two hundred miles I'd lose my wife and she'd get mad at me.

      Scotty's Junction at mile marker 94 proved to be a place of refreshment for us. John Wellborn, a prospector, and his daughter, Vicki, who owns the store there, lent us corral space for our burros and made us a barbecued chicken dinner.

      We weren't their only guests. That night, right after dinner two men and a boy rode in on horseback. They were riding on a seven hundred mile fund-raising trip for Lonesome Dove Ranch of Arizona, headed to the Reno Rodeo via Virginia City.

      All three were riding high-spirited Arabian horses and one of the men asked us, "Are those turbo-charged burros? We've been trying to catch up to you for four days. Folks back in Lathrup Wells told us you'd be easy to catch 'cause you move so slowly!"

      We

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