There was really nowhere to go, but Casey popped his reins and kicked like crazy. Ira had been sitting right next to him, and Casey knew he was going to get shot next if he didn’t move immediately. He ran his bay straight over Bill, knocking him flat on the ground. Poqito, Caverango and Ned scattered out of his way.
Casey turned and headed back towards the herd, hoping to find a gap now that the cows were moving. But there were not any gaps. The cattle were still pressed together, wiggling to get past each other and escape up the road. However, in their frenzy, they were locked up tight.
Casey heard Bill yell:
“Gone up the flume!”
A tuft of fabric popped up from Casey’s shoulder and blood flecked his face. He didn’t even feel it. Casey leaned over the saddle as low as he could. His horse Boot Sock whinnied, and both Dark Bay and Berry Picker whinnied back. The horses were trying to find a way out, too. Since they had nowhere to go either, Poqito and Caverango ran up and grabbed their reins.
Casey whirled around, taking it all in. No place to go. He edged his horse near the side of the road and looked down into the ravine. The slope was far too steep to get down — at least on a horse.
Everything felt so slow to Casey — his horse’s black mane, waving; the rasp of his own breathing; the jostling cattle and the swaying treetops. Like water in a well, Casey heard the hollow clop of hooves and hide shushing against hide.
Come on, Casey thought, come on!
His horse was stalled between the herd and the ravine.
Gritting his teeth, Casey slid off. He could feel Bill pointing a gun at his back, radiating like heat off a stove. He did not need to see it to know it.
Bark spattered apart, just past his head. Bill had missed and hit one of the tree trunks instead. There was still time, then. If he could just slide down the slope and get to the river, Casey knew he would be okay.
Looking down, he saw the sunlight flickering on the cold water.