#10 Story from the past

New Year's Day 1884.  Here in Mojave, California celebrations are every where.  I am not in such a joyful mood.  Nineteen years old.  Down to just a few dollars in my pocket, and no prospects. Just arrive here a few days ago, money goes fast.  As I walk around town there's not much going on.  I find myself down by the rail yard.  I see some men unloading two huge wagons, which contain a white powdery cargo.  I ask a fellow what was going on?  That's borax from Death Valley.  Having grown up in Ohio I had no idea what borax was.  He gave me a little history lesson on the subject and some of the things it was used for.  How do they get the wagons here I asked?  They use a team of twenty mules to pull the wagons he replied.  As I was about to find out more a fellow called to him and they went off to salon.  I approached a man who seemed to be the boss of the operation.  I said I was looking for work.  He paused looked me up and down.  Now I am about five foot ten inches, weigh about one eighty.  He said what kind of work?  I 'am not choosey I replied.  He chewed on his tobacco spit at a lizard, looked at me out of the squinted corner of his eyes.  Well my swampier quit on me this morning.  Can you handle mules?  Good as the next man I replied.  We will be heading out at first light tomorrow, go over to that office over there and sign up.  Get your things and come to the wagon yard by two o'clock today.  We have to load up on supplies for the return trip.  What is the destination of this return trip?  The Harmony Borax mine in Death Valley, he replied.

So began my adventure with Death Valley.
Pappy1