A Running Man

1 The Run Begins-1

1

The Run Begins

The man ran, the rough desert bushes catching at his clothing, scratching him, ran some more, stopped momentarily, and caught his breath, and then began running again. He was not used to running, not used to any continuous exercise of any kind. It was exciting though, and even if he had to stop frequently to catch breath, to allow his legs to rest a moment he was determined. He was heading north of Yuma, Arizona Territory, in the State of California, not the expected direction for a man to run who had escaped from the Yuma Territorial Prison. He decided, when he managed to get away, he would follow his father's advice and try to confound those who would eventually follow him by taking a direction they would not expect. It worked as it had been planned. The group of followers, the posse, was striking out toward the south looking for sign which might tell them the direction he had taken. The posse consisted of local law enforcement people, a couple of interested people of some wealth, and some trackers.

The trackers with the posse had no idea what they were looking for, because it was unknown if Jason had a horse or was on foot. It was also unknown whether, if he was on foot, he would be wearing boots or perhaps some native moccasins. Everyone in the posse, apart from Ross Hendershot and Ralph Forney, were convinced he would head south toward the Mexican border. Moreover, his father, Jeremy, had a ranch to the south of town. The location of his father's ranch loomed large in the mind of most of the followers, reinforcing their beliefs he would head south. Everyone in the posse, again apart from Ross and Ralph, thought the young man who was running might go to his father's place. It was a place to start the search. Neither of them were convinced Jason would go to his father's ranch, or for that matter to Mexico. They went along with the posse though as a starting place in the search for the young lad. Regardless of the failure of the posse, which both Ross and Ralph thought would occur, they would continue the hunt until they tracked the boy down.

The runner was Jason Grant. He was a native of Yuma, grew up there to the ripe old age of seventeen before he found himself taking up residence in the dreaded Yuma Territorial Prison. He killed a young woman, a girl, named Jenny Forney. She was Ralph Forney's daughter. Jason did not mean to kill her but she struggled a little too much when he was r****g her. He put his hand on her throat to calm her down, to keep her from screaming. She continued to fight and shortly she lay on the ground very still. It was a great surprise to him and a tragedy for Ralph. Jenny, after Ralph's wife Georgi died, became the center of his world. To him the sun rose and set on her. Everything he did in life was to take care of her, to make her life better. The escape of Jason made him furious but did not stop him from thinking. As the posse rode, stopping from time to time for the trackers to see if any sign of the passage of the young man existed, Ralph said to Ross, “This may be a futile exercise Ross. He may not have come this way at all.” Ross nodded but said nothing. There was no need. They would look to the south, look to Jeremy's ranch, and if their search there paid no dividends they would think about it, reorganize and look again elsewhere. Both were angry about Jason escaping the prison. Both wanted him returned to serve out his term of life in prison.

Jason had already been in prison for a year or so when he escaped. He was afraid he was going to die there. His family, meaning only his father, was a rancher who owned or controlled a lot of land near Yuma. His father arranged Jason's escape. It was a simple ruse which worked very well. The staff member of the prison who assisted Jason getting out left Yuma the same day and went deep into California where he would stay the rest of his life. The money Jason's father, named Jeremy Grant, paid the staff member would hardly last a lifetime, it being only five thousand dollars, but it would give him opportunity when he got to San Diego. He headed there immediately and was never seen in Yuma again.

When Jason ran out of the open gate of the prison he went directly to the Colorado River, swam across, a short swim in fact, and began to run. It was several hours before dawn when the escape occurred. By the time dawn broke on the horizon he was near to the small lake north of Yuma that in time would become known as Senator's Wash. The going was hard, it being a very dark night. He had to struggle through trees and sometimes through heavy brush. He was worried sick about snakes when he first began to run into the brush along the banks of the Colorado River. Being in the trees next to the river some of the time was courting danger with the snakes. They loved to seek the shade of the Tamarisk trees in the heat of the day, and sometimes made their dens in the spaces under the low hanging branches. He encountered one rattler just after first light but the snake was far enough away to make it easily avoidable. Though he thought about doing so for a moment, he didn't kill it. He hated the damn things, but he didn't want to leave any kind of indication he had been in that area and passed it by. He was trying to be careful about leaving tracks or sign of his passing through the terrain in which he was running. No man goes into the desert without leaving some sign of his passage, though. He was doing his best to avoid leaving signs, but his best was far from perfect.

The terrain through which Jason was running during the day was not as difficult as the trees and brush he had encountered earlier. Even several hundred feet from the banks of the river the sandy, loamy soil made his running rather easy. There were few rocks to stumble over or step on, and bruise his already sore feet. The soil was firm, not sugar sand, and did not seem to be disturbed by his passage. He could not see scuff marks in the sand as he ran. The tracks were not definitive, but could be seen by a practiced and knowing eye. It remained only for a tracker to look in the direction Jason was traveling. The desert trees along the area several hundred feet from the banks of the Colorado River, were sparse, but a few Mesquite and Palo Verde trees existed. There were no concentrations of “arrow weeds” as those were closer to the river, but there were small bushes which could hide spikes of cactus or exposed sharp edges of roots.

Jason's trek was not easy for him in large part because he was not in good physical condition. His time in prison had wasted away his muscles, had taken away his natural ability to run long distances. He had never been particularly athletic, was not a great bronc rider, could not do trick riding on his horse. His personal strength had never been nearly as evident among the cowboys with whom he worked on his father's ranch. After all, he was the “owner's son,” and was not expected to do some of the normal muscle producing chores necessary for a drover every day. Even before the end of the first day he was already getting sore muscles, already feeling the strain and the tension of running several miles.

He had a small hoard of food which was given to him by the staff member of the prison. There was water aplenty along his trail. He was told to stay close to the river. At some point as he headed north he would be met by a man with several horses, but it would be at least a day or two after the escape and many miles up the river. The staff member with whom Jason had discussed the escape was clear about the timing of meeting his father's hired hand. He needed to put as many miles between Yuma, and where he would be met as he could, by running as fast and far as he could.

Jason knew he could not and would not go back to Yuma for a long time if ever again. The first place he would be sought would be at his father's ranch. It was south and a little west of Yuma almost to Mexico. The posse went there right away. He was right about the direction the posse took. He would try to make it to La Paz, or Ehrenburg, two small towns about 90 miles north of Yuma. He might get on a steamer there, a river boat, and if he did he could go as far north as Needles, California on the boat. If he got to Needles, he could escape into northern California, and never be seen again under his current name. Who knew? Maybe he could get into the gold mining business. It was still flourishing in the area around Sacramento he had heard. He also heard from the staff member there was a new mining town out in the desert northeast of Ehrenberg/La Paz in which he would be likely to find work.

Jason was not well enough informed about his father's plan yet to know all the details of where he might go or how long he had to stay away. It was all guesswork for him when he escaped, but the man with the horses would have more information. The plan was created by his father. If he could just get to the man with the horses, whoever it might be, he would learn what his father wanted him to do next.

Jason was smart and experienced enough to know he could be spotted more easily from the river. He wanted to stay close by so he could drink plenty of water, but often small steamers headed to La Paz, or Ehrenburg, or even Needles went up the river. The steamers had to be wary of sandbars and always had lookouts. If Jason was careless he might be spotted by one of the lookouts. He had no idea what would happen then but he did know it was to be avoided if possible. His abundance of caution led him to go slowly to the river, listening, watching, making sure no one was there to see him.

Jason had heard years earlier there was some gold being found near La Paz. It was a kind of kicking off point for the town of Blythe, California, and Needles further up river. He was unaware that by 1890 La Paz was all but dead, a ghost town but for a very few die hard residents. He thought La Paz would be a good place to start looking for work. He hoped La Paz would be the place his father wanted him to go. Jason thought a man could get lost in one of the small western towns dotting the landscape of Arizona Territory. A familiar face, a man who went to work every day and bothered no one, could live a quiet and full life “out there.” La Paz was, as far as he knew, one of those places “out there.”

Jason also knew he had to drink plenty of water all the time. It was hot in the daylight hours and very hot in the afternoons. He stopped frequently the first day after his escape and hid out under mesquite trees or Palo Verde trees that hung low to the ground and the banks of the river. He watched carefully and listened. When he heard no sounds, and saw no boats he took water from the river. It was not wise to run in the heat. Without plenty of water he could die easily in the desert where it would be unlikely anyone would ever find his body. The river was close by though, and most of all he needed to get as far as he could.

Sounds carry well in the desert air because it is a quiet place in general. There is little in the desert which disturbs its quiet, causes noise which can be heard at a distance. Jason tried to be as quiet as he could as he ran. He tried to stay on solid ground rather than running in the sand along the river itself. The sand slowed him, and of course his tracks were more evident in the sand than on the hardpan of the desert. Since the hardpan was only a short distance from the river he chose to run along its edges. He learned as he went, seeking a better feel on his feet a little further away from the water. When he was too far out into the open desert he encountered stones, which hurt his feet a lot. He moved back toward the water until there were not as many rocks in the soil. There were more obstacles to avoid as he moved closer to the river, but it was not a problem for him to jump over small bushes, or veering away from trees.