“Damn it,” Wallace Flagg said, “as long as the wind’s blowing that rain out of the west, this bunch of critters ain’t of a mind to go with us.”
“But somehow we got to turn ’em around,” said Tuck Carlyle. “If we don’t, they’ll just drift with the storm, taking them farther and farther away.”
“There’s maybe three hundred in that bunch,” Enos Chadman said. “Let’s get ahead of them and start firing our rifles. We got to make them more afraid of us than they are of the storm.”
When the dozen men began firing their rifles, the cattle bawled in confusion. Finally, they turned and, facing the storm, galloped west.
“She’s clearin’ up back yonder to the west,” said Cyrus Baldwin. “Give it another hour or so, and the rain will be done.”
Baldwin’s prediction proved accurate, and before noon the wind had died to a whisper and the rain had ceased entirely.
“No way we’ll round up the rest of ’em today,” Tuck said.
“We couldn’t move out tomorrow, even if we had ’em all rounded up,” said Wallace Flagg. “After all this rain, our supply wagon would soon be hub-deep in mud. While we gather the herd, the sun may dry the ground enough for us to start the day after tomorrow.”
The riders continued their gather until almost sundown.
“Let’s run a tally,” Tuck Carlyle suggested. “I’d like to know how many more we got to find.”
“Go to it,” said Flagg. “Elmer, you and Cyrus run tallies too, and we’ll take whatever is the low count.”
Tuck had the low count of seven hundred head. “Not bad, considerin’ the storm,” Enos Chadman said. “That’s almost a third of ’em. I expect we’ll get the rest tomorrow.”
It was too late to ride after another bunch of cows, and supper would soon be ready. The riders unsaddled their horses, rubbed them down, and turned them loose to graze. The sun had been shining since noon, and much of the standing water had begun to dry up. As the riders settled down to supper, Katrina made it a point to sit next to Tuck Carlyle. For all the good it did her, she might as well not have existed.
“Tuck,” Katrina said softly, “I’m sorry for the . . . things I said.”
“Don’t be,” said Tuck. “I say what I think, and you have the same right.”
The conversation immediately stopped, for Katrina feared she would drive him even further away if she said anything more. Because of Barney Dumont’s wound, he soon had a fever, and Danielle was moved to the first watch. As they circled the gathered herd, it was only a matter of time before Danielle found Katrina riding beside her.
“Tuck’s angry with me,” said Katrina. “Has he said anything . . . about me?”
“Not to me,” Danielle said. “I think he’s the kind to settle his own problems. Maybe you should talk to him.”
“He won’t talk to me,” said Katrina miserably. “I was scared silly when the shooting started, and everybody was watching me. I’m a disgrace.”
“It’s a good time to be scared, when the lead starts flying,” Danielle said. “Besides, you’re just a girl, and it’s not your place to be gunning down rustlers.”
“That’s the trouble,” said Katrina. “Everybody sees me as a foolish girl who can’t do much of anything, and I’ve proven them right. In case you haven’t heard what the other men are saying, I wear cast-iron underpants.”
Danielle laughed. “Do you?”
“Hell, no,” Katrina said. “There’s nothing under my Levi’s but my own hide. They call me names because I won’t go into the hayloft with any two-legged critter that asks me.”
“It’s a woman’s right to refuse,” said Danielle.
“You sure don’t talk like the rest of the men around here,” Katrina said. “I thought Tuck was different, but I’m changing my mind. I like you better than I do him. You’re good with a gun, but there’s a gentle side to you. Something only a woman would notice.”
Danielle’s heart beat fast, for she was treading on dangerous ground. All she needed was for poor confused Katrina to develop a romantic interest in her, if only to make Tuck jealous.
Weighing her words carefully, Danielle spoke. “Why don’t you just leave Tuck Carlyle alone for a while? He’s still young, and so are you. Besides Tuck’s sister, Carrie, you’re the only unattached female on this drive. Leave Tuck be, and it’ll worry the hell out of him.”
Katrina laughed. “Thanks. I’ll do that, and if you don’t mind, perhaps I’ll build a fire under him by talking to you.”
“That might work,” said Danielle, “but don’t push him too far.” Katrina walked away grinning.
Danielle felt sick to her stomach. She saw herself as a hypocrite, telling Katrina how to win Tucker Carlyle while she—Danielle—was interested in Tuck herself. But Katrina had an edge. She would be there long after Danielle had ridden away in search of her father’s killers. Danielle bit her lower lip and said some words under her breath that would have shocked her mother beyond recovery. Danielle didn’t know Tuck was nearby, until he spoke to her from the darkness.
“Well, amigo, did you get the key to the cast-iron underpants?”
“Tuck,” Danielle said, “it’s cruel of you to keep repeating that. She needs a friend.”
“And now she has one,” said Tuck. “You.”
“Only if you play the part of a damn fool and drive her away,” Danielle said. “But I’ll be riding on, once we reach Abilene. I can’t afford to have Katrina interested in me, for a number of reasons.”
“We still may run into that bunch of outlaws,” said Tuck, changing the subject.
“I’m doubting it more and more,” Danielle said. “There’s too many of us, and we’re all armed. The bunch I’m lookin’ for is the kind who would kill and rob one man, like they did my pa. If the odds aren’t favoring them, they’ll back off.”
Indian Territory. August 26, 1870.
The next morning the outfit set out downriver, seeking the rest of their herd. Their women would stand watch over the seven hundred cattle they had gathered the day before. When the sun had been up an hour, both riders and horses were sweating. The cattle, when they began finding them, were scattered. Single cows grazed alone.
“We got our work cut out for us,” Enos Chadman said. “It’ll be one damn cow at a time. We’ll be lucky if we find the rest of ’em in two or three days.”
The riders split up, each going after one or two cows. Danielle watched Katrina as she went after the wandering cattle. Danielle felt some envy. While Katrina had been frightened during the gunfire, she was adept at gathering the strays. With doubled lariat, she swatted the behinds of troublesome steers and cows, bending them to her will. She would make some proud rancher a worthy wife, Danielle thought gloomily.
“Time for another tally, before we herd these in with what we got yesterday,” Wallace Flagg said.
Enos Chadman had the low count of six hundred and twenty-five.
“Just barely half of them,” said Cyrus Baldwin. “Two more days, if the rest are all over hell, like those we found today.”
“We’re just almighty lucky they stopped shy of crossin’ the Red,” Enos Chadman said. “Otherwise, and we might have been trailing them all the way to their home range, starting this drive from the very beginning.”
“We might have been deeper into Indian Territory at the time of the stampede,” said Tuck. “I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s hell, tracking stampeded cattle. The deeper you are into the Territory, the more danger.”
“I’ve ridden across it,” Danielle said, “and parts of it are wilderness. A cow—or a man—could hide there forever without being found.”