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118 11. Co√ee on the Porch of the Bar Cross Ranch I step through the heavy steel bars of the gate and into the main yard of the Bar Cross Ranch. Ben and Jane Cain’s two scru√y ranch dogs charge at me from the shade of the long, low adobe ranch house. I stop to scratch the ears of the light-colored one while the other barks one last time and then disappears back into the shade of the porch. I’m setting out in the late afternoon in order to hike a few miles south across the open Jornada. The Cains are gone for a few days visiting relatives on the far side of the Jornada. They were kind enough to let me use their ranch yard as a base camp. Once inside the gate, I walk across the open yard between the lowslung house and a large metal shed. Inside the shed are a tractor and several pieces of large equipment. The Bar Cross Ranch headquarters lies a dozen miles south of the vineyards on Pedro Armendaris’s land grant. It is located at an original campsite of the Camino Real. Travelers from the earliest times have stopped here in hopes of finding water. The Spanish called this place La Cruz de Alemán, the Cross of the German, after a fugitive who died here. In 1880 the Apache Victorio and his people rested at Aleman just hours after an intense battle against Bu√alo Soldiers. Six miles south of here, the small dog with muddy feet led Oñate’s 1598 expedition to water. I cross the yard and step through the rear gate. A few small, irregular clouds dart in front of the sun and soften its light. Just west of the ranch buildings Ben’s new well and pump house stands at the spot where the first well on the Jornada was dug in the mid-nineteenth century. Behind his pump house, a stout, working windmill remains motionless in the still air. Beyond the windmill a clump of skinny Lombardy poplars flare like green flames against the desert sky. Co√ee on the Porch of the Bar Cross Ranch 119 I walk down the steep bank of an arroyo, following an ancient road cut. The descent is so steep that I’m instantly shut o√ from the expansive view of the Jornada and am confined by the embankments. Late last night a brief rain fell, and parts of the surface of Aleman Draw are still damp. I cross the draw and climb up a low place on the opposite bank until I face an open plain that is peppered with tarbush and an occasional rabbit bush. I check my compass and head due south. I make my way across the hard-packed pale-pink sand that typifies this part of the Jornada. I hike along the edge of the sparse vegetation, occasionally weaving my way around shrubs. After nearly two hours I am several miles south of the ranch. I look back and find the green of the poplars standing above the plain. I squint until I make out the windmill and, finally, the adobe ranch buildings. I’m just about to start back to the ranch when I notice a bulky shape just beyond a nearby mesquite tree. I walk toward it. Amid gray clumps of dry weeds are the recently decomposed remains of a cow. A rotting blanket of dark hide clings to an arch of bones. Leg bones stretch out from the carcass as if this specter cow had only moments before lain down to sleep. In 1670, near where Ben and Jane’s home now stands, a party of travelers making their way across the Jornada came upon a dead horse still tethered to a mesquite. Nearby they found scraps of clothing. They searched the area and soon found bits of human hair, and ‘‘in very widely separated places, the skull, three ribs and two long bones.’’ These were the remains of a man named Bernard Gruber. He had been a trader in the area. One night, in a drunken stupor, Gruber told anyone who would listen that he could cast spells. When the authorities tried to arrest him for witchcraft he escaped and fled south. About a month later, in mid-July, the travelers found his bones. They buried the remains and marked the spot with a cross. Gruber was the Alemán, the German...

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