Ten

 

Marcel’s boasting on his hunting prowess had not been empty words. He came back with three fat rabbits, and even had some wild onions stuffed in his pockets. “They don’t be so good as red peppers, but they make them rabbits taste some better.” He winked at Morgan. “And I got some stuff from the restaurant for to make nice taste. Don’t be worry.”

“I’ll cook ’em if you want, Marcel,” Anna Lee offered.

“No, Anna Lee!” he said. “Nobody cook better than a Cajun outside in the country. You gimme your pots, and I fry this rabbits, then I bile them with them onions. It gonna be good, you damn betcha! And I tell you the truth, I don’t lie much.”

Morgan and Anna Lee settled back and let the boy go to work. He expertly and quickly gutted and skinned the animals, cut them up and browned them in Anna Lee’s iron skillet before putting them in a pot of boiling water with onions. He had some chili powders from the saloon and he used them to add more taste.

Once again, Marcel proved his brag had some substance to it. The rabbit meat in the stew was flavorful, tender, and delicious. The stock of the meal was thick without being greasy.

Morgan Barlow ate six helpings.

“Marcel,” Anna Lee said. “That’s the best rabbit I’ve ever ate. And that includes in restaurants too.”

“Aw!” Marcel said modestly. “You only say that ’cause it be true.”

After the meal the trio settled into drinking coffee, carrying on small talk, and staring into the fire. There were also periods of silence when no one said a thing. They were just enjoying the aftermath of a good meal outdoors and each other’s company. Later in the evening, as night settled in, Marcel and Anna Lee gave in to their fatigue. The Cajun kid, wrapped in Morgan’s extra blanket, slipped into a deep sleep that only growing boys can enjoy. Anna Lee, though not slumbering as deeply, slept well.

Morgan sat by the fire, sipping coffee and thinking. His own rest that night was no more than dozing, as he’d drift off then awake to ponder once more the next day’s activities. He wanted to kill Zach Medford and his men. Every fiber of his being cried out to attempt the deed, at least. But each time his eyes fell on Anna Lee, his feelings twisted and turned from violence to tenderness. He sensed something big here, even bigger than going to war, that could affect his life if he let it. His only problem was not knowing if he was able to succumb to the gentleness that danced through his emotions. The lust he had initially felt for the girl was fast giving way to love. Morgan had never loved a woman before, but there was no doubt about his deepening affections.

By the time dawn pinked the landscape, the boy and woman awoke to find the man ready to make his move.

“The first thing we do is get Marcel a horse,” Morgan stated flatly.

“And good morning to you too,” Anna Lee said sitting up in her blankets. “You wouldn’t mind giving us a tad more information, would you?”

“I worked out a plan,” Morgan said patiently. “And we got to get Marcel a horse.”

“That be a fine idea,” Marcel said getting up. He walked over to the fire and poked the coals back to life.

Anna Lee watched Marcel warm up what was left of the rabbit stew for breakfast. “Have you thought about what we talked about?”

“Yeah,” Morgan said. “We’re going after the herd and make our move to get it back. That’s all we’ll worry about now.”

Anna Lee smiled. “Oh, Morgan! I can’t tell you how happy that makes me feel.”

“We still got to get Marcel a horse,” he reminded her.

“Without one he ain’t gonna be able to help a lick. And he won’t come out alive neither.”

“How’re we gonna do that, Morgan?”

“Kill one o’ them sons of bitches that’s guarding them stolen herds,” Morgan replied matter-of-factly. “And take his horse.”

Anna Lee walked over to the fire to tend to the coffee. “It sounds like you got things figgered out pretty good. And you got more to say, don’t you?”

“I do that,” Morgan said.

“I gone help out, right?” Marcel asked. He had a little trouble following the rapid-fire English spoken between the man and woman. “I mean to get back your cows, Morgan.”

Morgan crooked a half smile. “That’s how come I want you to have a horse.”

Anna Lee settled back as the coffee heated up. “Let’s hear it all now. What’re we gonna do? And when?”

“There ain’t no way we’re gonna be able to ride into them rustlers and cut my herd out,” Morgan said. “And even if we did, we’d be lucky to get fifty yards with ’em.”

Anna Lee poured them all cups of coffee. “But it sounds like you’ve come up with a way to do just that.”

“The only chance we got of getting my herd is to get all them cattle out there moving,” Morgan said. “And the best way to do that, and also worry hell outta them rustlers, is a prairie fire.”

“Which we’ll set,” Anna Lee said.

“Unless you want to wait around to chance a lightning strike,” Morgan said.

“I reckon we’d better do it ourselves,” Anna Lee said.

Marcel, missing the point of the subtle humor, looked at them. “Sure thing we make the fire. It don’t even got clouds up in the sky for to make thunder today.”

“I got to have a talk with you about the way folks speak English, first chance I get, Marcel,” Morgan said. “We don’t always mean exactly what we say when we want to be funny.”

“Or sarcastic,” Anna Lee added.

“I learn pretty quick, damn betcha!” Marcel said.

Morgan went back to the subject under discussion. “We’ll go upwind of the herds and keep an eye out for a chance to get a horse for Marcel. When we got him mounted and we’re in position, we’ll set the fire and help get the stampede going. When the time is right, we’ll cut my twenty-five head outta there and keep ’em rolling north. If we’re lucky, we’ll get away in all the confusion and hullabaloo.”

“Oh, we be lucky,” Marcel said confidently.

“You starting out with the right frame o’ mind,” Morgan said.

“Meanwhile, let’s eat so we can break camp and get moving,” Anna Lee said.

It took less than a half hour to accomplish those tasks. In that short time the three—fed, packed, and mounted—began a slow, deliberate ride out around to the huge meadow where several herds of stolen cattle grazed in bovine contentment under the care of the men who had killed and robbed to gain their possession.

Morgan, with Marcel behind him, and Anna Lee had made a half circumference around the area when Morgan pointed off to one side. “There’s Marcel’s horse and outfit.”

A rider, swaying a bit drunkenly in the saddle, had wandered off from the main scene of activity. Perhaps dozing with the previous night’s whiskey still in his belly, the outlaw and his horse rode up and then down the far side of a small hill. Within moments they were out of sight of the other cattle herding rustlers.

Morgan, not wanting to attract attention, slowly eased over in the direction the drunk had taken. Patiently and steadily, he closed the distance until they drew up alongside the outlaw.

The man woke up and glared bleary-eyed at them. His gaze whipped from Morgan and Marcel over to Anna Lee. He studied her, trying to figure out if she were male or female. Finally he gave his full attention to Morgan. “What’re you looking at?” he asked in a sullen tone of voice.

Morgan eased closer and whispered to Marcel, “Lean back a bit, boy.” He came up so close to the other’s horse that their knees bumped. In a flash, Morgan’s knife was out and struck deep and skillfully. The blade slid in under the ribs and he pointed it upward, making a violent twist.

“Oow!” The man jerked back from the hot pain and slid from the saddle, striking heavily onto the ground.

Moving with lightning speed, Morgan was on the ground and kneeling over his victim, slashing out the last chance of life with wicked cuts across the throat and neck. He stood up. “You got a horse, Marcel.”

“Goddamn! You be real quick, don’t you?” Marcel marveled. “Like the cottonmouth, you strike for to kill.” He wasted no time in jumping off Morgan’s horse and claiming the other for his own. “I wonder what this feller he got in them saddlebags.”

“You can find out later,” Morgan said remounting. “We got a fire to set.”

“Sometimes you are cold-blooded like a snake, darling,” Anna Lee said.

“Does that worry you?” Morgan asked.

She shook her head. “We’ve got something to do, and whatever it takes, we’ll do it.” She stood up in her stirrups. After wetting a finger she held it high. “Looks like we’ll have to get things burning on the east side.”

“Yeah,” Morgan said. “That means the cattle will run to the west. When we cut ’em out, I want a sharp turn north and all the speed we can get outta them longhorns.”

“I don’t know how to be no cowboy,” Marcel said. “I hope to be some help.”

“If you can ride a horse, you can help,” Morgan said. “Just keep on the outside o’ the herd and keep ’em moving in the direction we want.”

“We run ’em at Texas, right, Morgan?” Marcel asked.

“That’s right,” Morgan said.

“And Texas be that way,” Marcel said pointing north.

“Again you’re right, boy,” Morgan said. “Now let’s get to this job.”

They stayed out of sight of the herds until reaching the position where a fire would sweep down over the grazing area. Morgan checked out the situation by riding up on a knoll to make sure they were in position. He rode back to Anna Lee and Marcel. “Once the fire’s going and we’re in front of it, you gotta be careful,” he warned them. “If you fall, you’ll be as cooked as them rabbits that Marcel got us yesterday.” He dismounted and used his knife to hack away some dry manzanita brushes. When he’d gotten enough, he bundled them together with his lariat and tied the end to his saddle horn. “Anna Lee, set ’em on fire.”

Anna Lee rode over to the brush and struck a match. It took a couple of times to get the dried vegetation burning, but when it finally lit up, Morgan took off at a gallop dragging the flaming debris behind him. The girl and Cajun kid galloped along on the leeward side.

The prairie grass ignited instantly, the flames leaping up to be whipped westward by the prevailing winds. After he’d gone a hundred yards, Morgan released the burning brush and yelled, “Turn in and ride like hell toward my herd!”

The three rode hell-for-leather, topping a rise then sweeping downward toward the stolen herds.

“Fire!” Morgan bellowed. “Fire! Fire!”

Anna Lee added her own shrill contribution to the warning cry while Marcel, so excited he could hardly think, yelled, “Feu! Feu!” When he finally realized he was hollering in French, he went over to Spanish in his exhilaration. “Fuego! Fuego!” Once more noting his error, he finally got to his brand of English. “The fire! The fire!”

The outlaws, frightened out of their wits by the wall of flames roaring down on them, abandoned the cattle and rode wildly for their lives as the hot wind, cinders, and thick smoke descended over the tumultuous scene.

By the time Morgan, Anna Lee, and Marcel reached the twenty-five head of breeding longhorns, Marcel had finally settled down enough to become a drover almost instinctively as he swept over to keep the cattle between himself and Morgan.

Zach Medford’s men had already abandoned the herd in their panicky desire to get away from the horrible potential of a fiery death. Morgan swung to the south side of the longhorns, then expertly turned them north, urging them into a run. Marcel, having a hell of a good time, kept riding on the other side to hem them in and keep the cattle from turning farther. Anna Lee moved in on the rear, urging the breeders to greater speed.

By then the entire grazing ground had disintegrated into a crazy arena of bawling cattle and bellowing, frightened men who rode wildly away paying no attention to anything but their desire to get the hell out of there.

“Keep ’em moving!” Morgan yelled.

The breeders and their trio of herders headed due north. The fire seemed to be gaining on them in that direction for a few anxious moments, but the wind eased to the south a bit, opening up the way to Texas. In less than a quarter hour, Morgan and his two companions had broken loose from the confines of Junto and vicinity, pounding across the prairie on their own with no other company but the reclaimed longhorns.

“Let’s slow ’em down and turn ’em more to the west!” Morgan ordered. Marcel, on the east side, closed in on the front of the herd and they began a gradual move westward. Morgan took the big risk of getting in front of the excited cattle, but he managed to get them down to a fast trot before getting out of the way and letting them continue on toward Texas.

Another half hour passed, then the cattle decided their own pace as fatigue settled in on them. Most of the animals had already forgotten what had set them off into a wild run in the first place. But instinct kept the longhorns moving as fast as the three people who were urging them to continue the journey across the grassland.

Anna Lee took off her hat and waved it at Morgan. “We made it, Morgan! We got your cattle back!”

He felt a surge of happiness. “Our cattle!”

“Yes, dear!” Anna Lee shouted. “Our cattle!” Morgan’s cheerfulness quickly died away. He knew that Zach Medford still walked the earth and the thought of the man behind his brother’s death took away whatever joy he should have felt.

Marcel smiled at Anna Lee. “I keep want to say to you, Anna Lee. Without you wear your hat, you look most pretty.”

“Thank you, Marcel,” she replied with a slight blush. She looked Morgan’s way to see if he might add to the compliment, but the serious man gave the cattle all his attention.

A routine soon developed as the day went on. The longhorns wanted either to graze or to wander and it took the combined efforts of the three humans to keep the drive under some sort of control. A meandering cow would slowly break away from the group and one of the riders had to go after it, to move the stubborn animal back into the herd.

It was late afternoon when Morgan suddenly turned and announced, “We’re in Texas.”

“Are you sure, Morgan?” Anna Lee asked. “How can you tell?”

“A Texas man always knows when he’s home,” Morgan replied. He looked over at Marcel. “Ain’t that right?”

Marcel shrugged. “I don’t know that. But when I smell the swamp, I know I am home to Louisiana.

“Do you smell swamp now?” Morgan asked.

“No,” Marcel replied.

Morgan gave an uncharacteristic laugh. “Then we must be in Texas.”

Marcel shrugged. “I tell you something, Morgan. It not gonna be long before Zach Medford and his boys be here too.”