Dashing Druid (Texas Druids) (19 page)

Tye opened his eyes and nodded, breathing hard. He tensed when Chic took the first stitch, but sat still as a rock, staring into the fire. Lil stayed by him even when Luis backed off.

Once he’d sewn up the worst claw tracks, Chic surveyed his work. “The rest oughta heal by
themselves
if I slather on some of my secret remedy.” He shook his head. “That cat
shor
did make a mess of yuh, though, boy.”

“Humph! He’s lucky
dat
devil ain’t
chompin
’ on his liver right now,
takin
’ after it
wid
jus’ his knife like he done,” Dewey remarked. Hunkered down by the fire, he observed Chic’s efforts along with the other drovers.

His comment made Lil’s head swim as she watched the cook spread a yellowish salve over Tye’s wounds. Pa gave a disgusted snort, drawing her gaze.

“Damn fool thing to do.
Should have just chased the
goldarn
cat off.”

Spitting out the rawhide strip, Tye rasped, “I tried, but he had other ideas. And I didn’t want to fire a gun, now did I?”

“Don’t get salty with me, boy. I know you couldn’t shoot him, but you could have got help driving him off. Shape you’re in now, I’ll have to find another rider ’fore we cross the river.”

Tye’s expression hardened as Lil helped Chic wind a bandage around his chest. “Ye needn’t replace me just yet,” he told her father. “I’ll be in the saddle at dawn as usual.”

“What!” Lil blurted. “You’ll never stay on a horse all day tomorrow, and you sure can’t
wrangle
steers across a wild river.”

His blue eyes blazed. “Don’t be telling me what I can’t do. I can ride just fine.
’Tisn’t my backside that’s torn up.”

She shot to her feet.
“You stubborn jackass!
Fall out of your saddle and drown. See if I care!” Leaving Chic to finish the bandaging, she wheeled and stomped to her horse, hearing her father laugh. Blast him
and
that durned Irishman!

“You’re real cocky now, Devlin, but we’ll see how you feel about it tomorrow,”
Del
scoffed.

Lil didn’t catch Tye’s reply as she climbed on her horse and galloped away. Not that she gave a darn what he said!

* * *

Before morning was half over, Tye began to doubt he’d last the day. Every move he made, every step his horse took brought fresh agony. Lightheaded from it, he thought about admitting defeat but refused to give Del Crawford a chance to gloat.

Lil, on the other hand, had a right to throw his cutting words in his face. She’d shown true concern for him last night; he should have felt grand about that. He
had
at first, but she’d stung his pride, agreeing with her father that he couldn’t sit a horse because of a few scratches. Well, more than a few. Sure’n she was right about that too.

He would apologize to her at noon.
If he lasted that long.

His turn to eat finally came, but Lil wasn’t in camp. Trying to sound casual, he inquired about her while Chic loaded his plate with chuck wagon chicken – fried bacon – and the usual beans.

The cook gave him a sly grin. “She ate with the first bunch.
Said she didn’t wanta set eyes on a certain ornery coyote.”

Tye glared at him and shifted his shoulders as streaks of pain stabbed him.

Chic cackled gleefully. “Yuh ready to give in and keep me ’n Jubal
comp’ny
fer
a spell?” he prodded, spooning out a helping of pooch – canned tomatoes stewed with bread and sugar. He topped it all off with a couple of biscuits.

“I’d rather keep company with another panther,” Tye retorted.

The old goat laughed harder, and the other hands joined in. Glancing at
Del
, seated beneath a large hackberry tree, Tye even saw
his
mouth twitch. Swinging on his heel, he stalked off to eat by himself, ignoring the painful shock waves his angry stride produced.

Stubbornness got him through the day, but as he rode in for supper, he wondered how he’d last out another double night-herd shift. Slowly dismounting, he shut his eyes and leaned against Patch. His head was in a spin; his legs felt rubbery.

The gelding shifted and Tye opened his eyes to see
Del
walking toward him.
Begorra! Can’t he let me be?
With an effort, he looped his reins over the picket line.

Del
stopped a few feet away and scowled at him. “Now that you’ve showed everybody how tough you are, go on lie down before you fall down,” he said gruffly.

Tye frowned back. “I have bobtail guard, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I ain’t
forgot
. The herd can do without you tonight, but I need you on a horse tomorrow. We’re crossing the Red. Now do like I said. I’ll tell Chic to fix you a plate.”

 “Yes sir,” Tye replied, not knowing what to think. Then
Del
’s announcement sank in. Tomorrow they would cross the river.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Lil gave a shrill whistle to hurry Jefe and his compadres along. Opposite her, Neil yelled loudly. Behind her, the other men whooped and hollered above the thunder, horn-clash and bawling of the herd. The
Red River
lay minutes away; the cattle had to stay bunched or they might balk at the water’s edge. They also wanted to get across before the sun rose too high, or glare on the water might blind the critters and start them milling.

Ahead, Lil spotted her father riding back from the river. He’d escorted the wagons to Pegleg Dave’s ferry. Noting his wet duds as he rode up, she surmised he’d also helped Luis and Jubal take the remuda across.

“Chic made it all right, the horses too,” he shouted over the commotion.  “Pegleg’s fightin’ his way back now. Then he’ll haul the other wagon across. I’d feel better if you’d go with him.”

“Pa, I’m not some frilly pink pretty in corsets and lace,” she shouted back, slapping her rope against her saddle to keep the cattle moving. “I’ve never taken the raft across and I ain’t doing it now.”

He glowered at her. “Sometimes you’ve got too much spunk for your own good, girl. The river’s come down a lot, but she’s still boiling.”

“Yeah, and you’re gonna need every hand you’ve got to get these steers across. We both know that.”

The creases around his mouth deepened. She thought he’d argue, but he didn’t. Tugging on his hat, he snapped, “Missy, you watch out for yourself, you hear?”

“I will. Quit worrying.”

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled, kneeing his horse ahead.

Lil knew how he felt. She couldn’t stop worrying about Tye. Dang man! He was loony as a jay bird to take on the river all tore up like he was. She hoped he wouldn’t drown or be gored by a panicky longhorn.

He’d cornered her at the picket line a while ago and had apologized for the other night. One look at his pleading blue eyes, and she’d found it impossible to stay mad. Not that anything had really changed between them. She still needed him to leave her be. No matter how much she longed for him, she’d be loco to give herself to him. She had no future with him. He’d made that plain, hadn’t he?

Big Red’s ominous rumble drew her attention. A moment later the river came into view. It was lower all right, and the water was less choked with debris than the last time she’d seen it, but it was still moving plenty fast.

“I’ll take the lead,” Pa called from the bank.

“We’ll be right behind ye,” Neil replied for them both. He sent Lil a wry grin. “Time ta get wet, Lassie.”

“Oh well, I need a bath,” she joked, making a face.

He grinned but didn’t reply as they ran the lead steers down the cut toward the water. Her father rode his powerful sorrel into the flood and Jefe plunged in after him. The other leaders followed, prodded by the crowd behind them. Bellows of protest trumpeted over the water.

Neil urged his horse into the torrent. Having sent her boots, carbine and six-gun across in the hoodlum wagon, Lil tapped Major’s flanks with her stocking-footed heels. The chestnut splashed in, snorting, and Lil caught her breath as cold water engulfed her nearly to her armpits. Small geysers showered her throat and face.

“Good gravy, it’s cold enough to freeze your teeth!” she cried, clutching a handful of Major’s mane as he struck out from shore. He was a strong swimmer, or she might have needed to slide off and hang on to his girth strap to avoid weighing him down.

“Aye, and a few places farther down,” Neil called from the opposite side of the herd.

Mildly shocked, Lil glanced over at him and laughed. Then she got down to business. Guiding Major against the strong current, she nudged a confused longhorn back into line.

Her father was almost halfway to the north bank, with the lead steers at his back. They were carried along by the current as the river rounded a bend and tumbled toward the far shore. That helpful bend in the current was the reason they crossed here year after year.

Shouts rang out behind Lil as the other hands drove more steers into the river. Alongside her, the swimming cattle formed a mass of heads and horns. Nothing else showed above water, but beneath the surface, their powerful legs churned. They could handle the rough water if they didn’t panic. It was up to her and the other drovers to make sure they didn’t.

The water grew shallower over a sandbar, allowing Major to touch bottom for a few feet. When the channel deepened again, he pushed off strongly. Several yards in the lead, Pa emerged aboard his dripping sorrel on the far bank. Jefe and the other lead steers clambered out behind him, and he shagged them up the low incline.

Major’s hooves struck solid ground moments later. Lil shivered as he climbed out, but she had no time to worry about wet clothes and chill breezes. Pa was already herding the lead steers away from the river. She and Neil chased the newcomers after him to make room for more, then headed back into the water.

By now, cattle poured into the river from the south bank in a broad stream. Rusty Grayson and Choctaw Jack were in the water, working to prevent trouble. Neil headed out to help Rusty on the far side of the herd, while Lil lent Jack a hand on her side. It was a fight for Major to swim out against the current, so when they reached shore again, Lil paused to rest him a moment. Up ahead, her father talked with Luis. The
vaquero
had moved the
remuda
out of the way, where the cantankerous longhorns wouldn’t spook the horses with their loud bawling.

Lil swung Major toward the river just as Jack came ashore with more steers. His darkly handsome face split into a grin framed by flowing black hair and a brown Stetson with an eagle feather in the concho hatband.

“Waiting for me, Miss Lil?” he asked.

Jack was a charmer – when he wasn’t silently brooding – and  Lil couldn’t help liking him. The fact that she was part Cherokee and he a full-blood Choctaw also gave them something in common, but she didn’t see him as more than a friend, maybe because she’d known him so long. And maybe because, God help her, she always longed for the wrong man – first David, now that footloose, bluebonnet-eyed Irishman.

“Now why would I be waiting for you?” she scoffed at Jack’s flirtatious question.

“Thought you might want to talk to me . . . or somethin’,” he drawled, kneeing his mustang up the bank.

“Is that right? Hate to disappoint you, but I’ve got work to do. So do you, as I recall.”

His black eyes glittered with humor. “That’s so, but sometimes a man thinks of other things.”

“Mmm. More like all the time,” she taunted, edging Major past him, back into the water.

“Naw. Only when there’s a likely woman around,” Jack called after her.

Lil smiled to herself, but didn’t reply.

After two more trips out and back, Major had grown tired from fighting the rough current. Nudging him up the bank, Lil waved to her father. He’d taken up a vantage point above the crossing to keep an eye on things, but now he rode down to meet her.

“You all right?” he asked, shooing a steer up the muddy path.

“I’m fine. So far, it’s gone pretty smooth even with the river running fast, but Major’s a might tuckered.” She patted the chestnut’s glistening neck. His sides heaved from exertion.

“You’d best change horses. Some of the boys already have.”

“Yeah, I was planning on it.”

He pursed his lips. “Say, come to think of it, somebody oughta keep an eye on the herd and see they don’t scatter. How about you –”

“Pa, those steers aren’t going anywhere. All they wanta do is graze. And quit treating me like a female,” she said sharply. “It’s way too late for that, don’t you think?”

Her father looked shocked. “Are you saying I done wrong by you?”

Amazed by her own resentful outburst, Lil shook her head. “I’m saying you raised me like a son, and that’s the way I wanted it.” She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “But now maybe I . . . I wish things had been different.”

Before Pa had time to reply, she wheeled Major and prodded him down the bank, deciding he had one more swim left in him.

At least half the herd was across now, and most of the men were in the water, Tye included. Minutes ago, Lil had seen him driving cattle into the river. He was supposed to bring up the rear with Kirby, but he must have traded places with Dewey, because the black cowboy wasn’t in sight. She knew why Tye had done it; he wanted to keep an eye on her. She was certain of it because she’d caught him watching her with a worried look on his face.

He was as bad as her father. She wanted to shake him. All cut up like he was, he was the one who had no business in a raging river, not her.

She spotted him near the south bank. From the way he moved as he swatted a wayward longhorn into line, you’d think there wasn’t a thing wrong with him. The dumb galoot! Chic would likely have to stitch him up all over again. She shook her head in exasperation and turned her attention to the cattle. A moment later, she was nudging a steer back in the right direction when all hell broke loose.

“Lil, look out! Tree comin’!” Tye shouted.

Jerking her head around, Lil saw an uprooted stump headed straight for her. She gasped and kicked Major hard. He plunged forward just in time to avoid being rammed by the snag.

Several longhorns weren’t so lucky. The tree stump barreled into them with a sickening crunch of horn and bone. A few sank and were carried away along with the stump; others bawled in terror as they collided with their neighbors. Panicked animals milled in all directions. More went under, and some didn’t resurface.

It was move fast or lose dozens of cattle. Unmindful of danger, Lil headed Major into the tangle of bovine bodies. Neil, Jack, and the others did likewise, yelling and lashing out with their ropes as they fought to stop the mêlée. Luckily, they were over the sandbar; that made things a little easier. After several moments, all the steers were finally headed north again.

Lil glanced around for Tye. He’d swum the big roan he rode out to help. Bobbing in the water about twenty yards away, he met her gaze, and a relieved look spread across his face. She was just as relieved to see him safe. He smiled and waved, and she returned the gesture. Then she noticed how sluggishly Major was moving.

“Sorry, boy, I should’ve cut you loose to rest,” she said, patting his neck. “Let’s head for shore.”

They’d just left the sandbar behind when a wild-eyed sabina steer swerved out of line toward them. Lil tried to guide Major out of the way again, but he couldn’t react fast enough. The longhorn hooked him in the shoulder with a sharp horn. Screaming in pain, the chestnut pitched over sideways.

Lil cried out and heard Tye shout her name; then her head went under. Water filled her nose and throat. She kicked frantically, managing to break free of the thrashing horse and propel herself upward. She broke the surface coughing, fighting for air.

Major managed to right himself, and Lil grabbed for him. She missed as the tricky current carried him away. He kicked feebly; she was terrified neither of them would make it.

“Lil, I’m coming!” Tye cried, her terror slamming into him, doubling his fear for her as he forced his horse between two thrashing steers that blocked his way.

Lil twisted in the water to look at him. Then a wave slapped her in the face, dragging her under again. Tye held his breath the instant she did, experiencing her fear and desperate will to live as she fought her way upward amid the thrashing longhorns. She surfaced and he gulped air along with her, then silently cheered when she grabbed onto the horn of a passing steer. Its owner bellowed and tried to shake her off, but she clamped an arm around his thick neck and clung to him.

“Hang on, Lily!” Tye shouted, heart beating like a drum. Too winded to reply, she blinked water from her eyes as he lashed his mount toward her.

 A swift glance around told him none of the other men were close enough to help her. It was up to him, and by the saints, he would save her or die trying.

Her horned captive bawled and tried again to dislodge her. The struggle slowed him down, allowing other cattle to circle around them. Before Tye could reach her, she was fenced in by horns and heavy bodies.

He shared her dread of being gored or crushed, then felt a surge of pride – all his own – when she hauled herself onto the steer’s back and grasped both horns. The bovine’s head went under for a moment until he adjusted to her weight. That made him madder than ever. Fighting to unseat her, he nearly floundered.