From Hide and Horn (A Floating Outfit Book Number 5) (18 page)

Excitement, anticipation and a little concern
filled the trail crew when they learned that the South Concho lay
only a day’s drive ahead. For several days the pace had been
slackened and the cattle encouraged to graze on the lush, rich,
fattening buffalo grass. In the manner of their kind, the steers
took advantage of the good feeding and blossomed into top
condition. Which was just what the rancher wanted in view of what
lay ahead.

‘
We could push straight on across,
sir,’ Dusty suggested as they watched the herd go by and start
spreading on the bed-ground appointed for the night. ‘At dawn, I
mean.’

‘
No,’ Goodnight replied. ‘They need a
rest up to let them take on all the food and water they can. We’ll
stop here for four days.’

‘
The longer we’re here,
the more time the crew’ll have to think about how tough the
crossing’s going to be,’ Dusty warned.
‘There’ll not be much work to
keep them occupied while we’re in camp.’

‘
A good rest won’t do them
any harm any more than it will the steers,’ Goodnight replied and
grinned at his nephew. ‘I reckon
you
can find something to keep them
occupied.’

‘
I’ll have to,’ Dusty answered. ‘If
only to keep them from thinking about the Staked Plains—or about
Miss Barbe.’

‘
Here’s what I’ll do,
Dustine,’ the rancher decided. ‘I’ll take Swede Ahlen, Sherman and
one from each of the other Mineral Wells spreads along with me and
the Kid on a scout. That’ll leave you short-handed enough to keep
the rest of
’em busy.’

‘
Sure,’ Dusty agreed. ‘Best take Austin
along. That’ll be one of the rivals out of my hair.’

‘
I could
take them all—’

‘
That’d
make it too obvious, sir. Anyways, it’d be best to take men who’ll
learn something from what they see. I can manage Vern, Jacko and
Willock. Austin as well, comes to that.’

‘
I’ll take Austin,’ Goodnight smiled.
‘You do what you have to for the rest.’

With the herd bedded down close
to the South Concho, the trail hands gathered for the evening meal.
On being told that they would accompany the rancher on his scouting
mission, all but Austin agreed that it was a wise precaution. The
Swinging G hand saw that his rivals would be left a clear—or
reduced— field for Barbe’
s favors, but reluctantly concluded that he must
obey orders.

‘
Sooner them than me!’
grinned Vern, heel-squatting by the fire. ‘All we’ve got to do
here’s ride round nice
’n’ easy and watch them ole steers getting
fatter.’

‘
I sure wish I’d your faith,’ Dawn told
him, darting a glance at Dusty. ‘Is that all we’ve got to
do?’

That,’ Dusty replied and saw
relief creep on to various faces. ‘And a few other
li
’l
things.’

Listening to Dusty listing all
the work he wanted doing, the cowhands lost their relieved
expressions. Yet they knew that
he was not inventing tasks out of ornery
cussedness. Every chore he mentioned needed doing and would
increase their chances of safely crossing the Staked Plains.
Naturally none of Dusty’s audience intended to let their feelings
show.

‘
Would
that be all, Cap’n Fog, sir?’ Billy Jack asked mildly. ‘You ain’t
forgot something now, have you?’

‘
If he says “yes”,’ Dawn hissed in the
lanky cowhand’s ear, ‘I’m going to make all them bad things you’re
expecting come true.’

‘
They
will anyways,’ Billy Jack replied, after Dusty had admitted that
for the moment he could not think of further tasks. ‘You see if
they don’t.’

‘
Anyways,’ Dawn said. ‘We can sleep in
real late comes morning. Why, Cap’n Dusty says we don’t need to
roll out until full dawn.’

‘
I’m riding the last watch on night
herd,’ Billy Jack informed her, steadfastly refusing to accept that
life held any bright side for him.

Next morning the majority of the trail crew
enjoyed their extended spell in bed. Goodnight’s party left while
the rest ate a leisurely breakfast. Before the men could depart on
the tasks assigned to them by Dusty the previous night, Barbe left
her wagon. She wore a dainty black Stetson, frilly-fronted white
blouse and an Eastern-style riding-skirt. Followed by her brother
and Heenan, she crossed to the fire and flashed a dazzling smile at
Dusty.

‘
As we are to be here for a time, I
would like to go riding. Could you give me an escort, please,
Captain Fog?’

‘
I’
ll—!’ said at least three eager male voices.

‘
Dawn’ll do it,’ Dusty
interrupted.

‘
Shouldn’t a man go along,
Dusty?’ de Martin inquired.
‘Not that I don’t trust Dawn,
but—’

‘
It’ll be safe enough,’ Dusty replied.
‘Don’t take Miss de Martin more than a mile from the camp, Dawn.
And take along a rifle in case you get a chance to shoot some
camp-meat.’

‘
Yo!’ Dawn answered. ‘Come on, gal.
I’ll pick you a hoss from the remuda.’

‘
Thank you, but Mr. Heenan says I may
use his,’ Barbe replied, a touch coldly. ‘It is saddled and
waiting.’

‘
Come on, it’s time some
of you started working!’ Dusty growled. ‘Half the day’s gone and
nothing done. Cousin Red,
you’re segundo on the herd. Take your crew
and let the night herders come in afore Billy Jack starves to
death.’

‘
Vern, Jacko, Burle, Spat. Let’s
go.’

Watching Red’s section leave, Dusty wondered
if he had made the right decision sending the first three out
together. Yet they would be safer away from the camp than
continually thrown into close contact with Barbe in each other’s
company. Red and Spat would act as restraining influences while
they handled the comparatively easy work of holding the herd on the
eastern banks of the river.

Although understanding why Dusty had given
her the task, Dawn did not care for it. A friendly-natured girl,
she had tried to be sociable with Barbe on several occasions and
been, if not completely snubbed, shown that the other girl had no
desire for her company. Coming from two entirely different
environments, they had nothing in common that might have drawn them
closer. So, while willing to carry out her orders, Dawn made little
attempt at conversation as they rode away from the camp.
Concentrating on keeping her seat, Barbe spoke little and Dawn
concentrated upon watching for signs of deer, elk or pronghorn
antelope.

Evidently the presence of the herd had
temporarily driven away the wild animals, for Dawn and Barbe
circled the area and approached where the herd was held without the
western girl seeing anything suitable to shoot for camp-meat. Dawn
made as if to turn away, but Barbe asked if they could go closer
and see the cattle. Not wishing to appear obstructive, Dawn agreed.
As they rode nearer, Burle Willock saw them and headed in their
direction. Removing his hat with a flourish, the cowhand bowed over
his saddlehorn.

‘
Howdy, Miss Barbe,’ he
greeted.
‘It’s sure pleasing to see you out here.’

‘
My! What a tremendous lot of cattle!’
Barbe replied, looking around. ‘There seem to be so many more when
you see them like this. What do you do if one of them tries to run
away?’

‘
Turn him back. I can right easy show
you.’

Before Willock could make good his promise,
Vern came galloping up from the opposite direction and Jacko rode
their way.

‘
Hey, Miss Barbe!’ Vern said, bringing
his horse to a sliding stop.

‘
Ain’t you supposed to be up that ways,
watching them draws?’ Willock demanded coldly.

‘
So?’ Vern challenged.
‘You’re reckoned to be out on that rim
, comes to that.’

Moving his horse forward,
Willock halted it alongside Vern’s mount and thrust his face
forward grimly. ‘You get back to what you should be doing,
boy
!’

‘
Don’t you go giving me no orders!’
Vern spat back.

‘
Quit it, the pair of
you!’ Dawn snapped. ‘Red’s coming
—’

‘
Now you back
off,
sonny,’
Willock snarled, drowning the girl’s warning. ‘This time
you don’t have Dusty Fog on hand to take your pa—’

Even as Dawn opened her mouth to repeat the
warning, Vern flung himself at Willock. Locked together, they slid
sideways from the horse and lit down fighting. Leaping from her
saddle, Dawn darted towards the struggling pair.

‘
Quit it, you fools!’ she
yelled, trying to separate them as
they came to their feet. ‘Cut
i—’

With a surging heave Willock threw the girl
from his arm. She sprawled on to her rump in time to see Vern drive
a punch into the other cowhand’s face. Sent back a few paces,
Willock caught his balance and went into a half-crouch. When Vern
charged in recklessly, the more experienced Willock caught him by
his vest. Partially trapping the youngster’s arms, Willock jerked
him closer and butted him between the eyes. Shoving the dazed Vern,
Willock sent him reeling to tumble over his sister. Continuing to
roll, Vern got clear of Dawn and started to rise. With a grin at
Barbe, who sat watching with detached interest, Willock moved
forward meaning to hand Vern the beating of his life.

The chance did not come. Having seen the
girls’ arrival and movement by the cowhands in their direction, Red
Blaze wasted no time in making for them. His first intention had
been to chase the men back to their work, but the fight gave him a
more serious purpose. Maybe Red was a hothead who reveled in
fighting, but he never did so at the expense of his duties. So he
raced his horse towards the others, ready to end the fight.

Without a glance at Jacko, who
had already ridden up and dismounted clear of the combatants, Red
quit his running horse and relied on its trailing reins to halt it.
On landing, he
hurled forward and shoulder-charged Willock. The force of
the impact lifted the unsuspecting cowhand from his feet and flung
him aside. From doing so, Red pivoted fast to meet the approaching
Vern. Lashing around his right arm, Red delivered a backhand blow
which sent the youngster spinning. From dealing with Vern, Red
started to turn on Willock. What he saw made him put the cowhand
out of his thoughts for the moment.

While Jacko was a good cowhand,
he was not bright. Loyal to his friends, he regarded Red’s
treatment of Willock as unreasonable or part of a plot by the D4S
to gang up on the Double Two hand. So he rushed to
Willock’
s
defense and reached for his Colt. In addition to recognizing his
own danger, Red knew that a shot might spook the herd and would
certainly provoke a gunfight. So he did not hesitate. Leaping
forward as the other tried to clear the revolver from its poorly
designed holster, Red kicked him in the groin. Trained from his
earliest days to respect firearms and that he must never pull a gun
without the intention of using it, Red figured everybody should
follow the same rule. Acting on it, he stopped Jacko in a painful,
but most effective, manner. Letting out a croak of agony, the
cowhand folded over, forgot drawing his Colt and collapsed face
down on the grass.

‘
All right!’ Red barked, swinging to
face Willock once more. ‘If you want to fight, get up and try
me.’

Winded by the charge, Willock shook his head.
He knew enough about Red to figure taking him would be far harder
and much less certain than licking Vern. So, having no desire to
let Barbe see him beaten, Willock declined the offer.

‘
I—I ain’t got no fuss
with you, Red. It’s betw
—’

‘
Get your hoss and head back to camp!’
Red interrupted. ‘Tell Dusty to send me three men out
here.’

‘
Sure,’ Willock answered sullenly and
obeyed without offering to help the moaning Jacko.

‘
Whooee!’ Vern groaned,
standing up and rubbing his cheek.
‘Red, you hit near on as hard as my
pappy—’

‘
Go watch those draws
until somebody comes out to relieve you!’ Red snapped. ‘And if any
of the cattle’ve strayed down
’em, I’ll kick you ’round the camp when I
come in.’ With that he turned from the abashed youngster and went
to help Jacko rise. ‘Sorry, feller, but I had to stop you firing
off that gun.’

‘
G-Get your hands off!’
Jacko muttered, holding the in
jured area and shrugging himself away.
‘I’ll—’

‘
Take
your hoss and head back to camp,’ Red said. ‘See Rowdy and ask him
to give you something for your hurts.’

‘
I—I
won’
t
be forgetting—!’ Jacko began, then moaned and staggered to one side
and vomited. When he had finished, he stumbled to his horse,
dragged himself into the saddle and rode awkwardly after the
departing Willock.

Red frowned then gave his
attention to the girls. Standing up, Dawn went to the
waiting
bayo-tigre
and mounted.