“Do you have any idea what kind of danger you put this outfit in when you brought her on?” Jake asked.
Matt had hoped that Jake would wait until he was fully recovered to give him a tongue-lashing. Instead he’d only waited until Matt was strong enough to walk on his own.
“I can’t see that I put anyone in danger at all,” Matt said evenly.
“She’s a girl!”
“Who pulls her weight.”
“She’s leaving the drive at the next town,” Jake said, punctuating each word with a jab of his finger in the air.
“We’re not that far from Sedalia. Let her stay.”
Jake began pacing. “The hardest part is ahead. Getting these cattle by angry Kansas ranchers.” He came to an abrupt halt. “How are you going to feel if she takes a bullet?”
As though the lead had torn into his own heart. Matt plowed his hands through his hair. These cattle were his family’s legacy, a chance to rebuild after the war. He had to put them first. But he couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing Sam. “Go ahead and pay her the full salary at the next town.”
“If I do that, then every man in this outfit will expect the same treatment and they’ll head out. Why face the dangers if the trail boss is willing to hand out money early? Then who will drive the cattle to market?” Jake asked.
“There has to be a way—”
“She never should have joined up! And as long as I’m the trail boss, as long as I run the outfit, women can sit at home and wait for us to return to them. At the next town, Matt, she’s parting company with us, one way or another. She goes or I do.”
Matt didn’t have the experience to run the outfit. If only the hardest part were behind them, he thought he could manage it. But Jake was right: they’d come so far, but they still had a ways to go, and they needed a man leading them who knew not only the terrain, but cattle and men.
He slowly nodded his acceptance of the wisdom of Jake’s words.
Now Jake poked his finger against Matt’s chest. “And you not only get to break the news to her, but make arrangements for her to go home. And that little expense can come out of your pocket.”
Matt watched him storm away. He should have known it would be impossible to reason with Jake. The stampede had cost them close to two hundred head, and Matt’s injury had put them further behind schedule.
With a heavy heart, he limped gingerly across the camp to where Sam stood beside her horse.
“He said I have to go,” she blurted out.
“Yeah. At the next town.”
She nodded jerkily. He could see her chin quivering.
“He’s just repeating what you’ve been saying ever since you found out I was a girl,” she said.
“It’s for the best, Sam.”
“Is it, Matt?” she asked. Her gaze dipped to his leg. “Maybe it is, at that.”
She mounted her horse. “Now that everyone knows I’m a girl, I don’t see that you have to shadow my moves anymore. I’ll be fine until we get to Baxter Springs.”
He watched her horse canter toward the herd, taking a piece of his heart with her.
They were making camp for the night about twenty miles from Baxter Springs. Matt stood at the edge of the camp, near the supply wagon. The mood among the men was somber.
They all knew what he’d be doing tomorrow. Taking Sam to town and making arrangements for her to get back to Texas with some sort of escort.
It came as no surprise to him that his chore didn’t sit well with most of the men. It didn’t sit well with him, either.
During the war, he’d followed orders even when he didn’t agree with them. He’d marched into battle when he knew the odds were against them winning.
He’d had no say in how they fought or when they fought or where they fought. He’d lost everyone who’d ever mattered to him. Lost everyone of importance, until he’d stopped letting anyone matter.
He’d built a wall of ice around his heart, a cold shell behind which he could retreat. It was easier to dig graves for those he barely knew, easier to listen to the cries of men whose names he didn’t recognize.
He’d become hard and callous because it was the only way he thought he could survive. No one mattered.
Until Sam. Sam mattered.
Sam mattered so much that it hurt to see her moping around the camp. It was agony to watch her putting on a show of indifference as she went about whatever meaningless tasks Jake gave her.
But no matter where she was or what she was doing, she haunted Matt.
He was letting her down. Just like he’d disappointed the boys under his command—before he’d become uncaring.
She’d forged ahead and looked for him when it would have been safer to stay behind. She was accepting Jake’s sentence of a trip to Baxter Springs because she was one girl against a passel of cowboys.
One girl…with whom he’d fallen in love.
Sitting beside the fire, Sam knew that come daylight, her time as a trail hand would end. She didn’t want to think about all she had sacrificed, all she was going to give up.
She didn’t want to contemplate how disappointed her family would be when she returned empty-handed. Or how disappointed she would be to return with nothing to show for all her hard work.
She hadn’t spoken a word to Matt since the morning when he’d told her about Jake’s decision. She knew she shouldn’t blame him…but if he’d only kept his dang mouth shut, hadn’t tried to protect her, she might have had a chance to pull off this deception.
As it was, she had nothing.
Matt continued to ride drag, but Jake had moved her up to point. Not as a reward, but as a punishment. To have her closer, so he could keep an eye on her.
Matt no longer set up his pallet near hers. They no longer shared the night watch. He always found someone to trade with him.
She was grateful; she truly was. But she was also disappointed. Sometimes, she didn’t know how she felt about Matt. She longed to talk with him, but it hurt to think of him betraying her.
She glanced up as Jake brought his horse to a halt near the supply wagon. He looked extremely unhappy as he dismounted and strode into the middle of camp.
“Listen up!” he yelled, and all the men moved in closer.
Sam expected that he was going to announce that they had to draw names to determine who was to escort her to town. But she quickly realized his expression was too grave for such an insignificant matter as her trip to town.
“The Kansas farmers are in an uproar over this tick fever that some longhorn cattle carry. Rumors are that they’re going to get their rifles and try to stop any cattle crossing into Kansas or Missouri,” Jake said.
Sam glanced around at the men. They were furrowing their brows and tightening their lips into straight lines. Her gaze clashed with Matt’s, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he remembering their kisses, the closeness they’d felt by the river?
“What exactly does that mean, Boss?” Slim asked.
“We’ve got to move and move fast if we want to get our cattle to Sedalia before these farmers are completely organized and cut off the routes,” he said.
“Sounds like you’re gonna need every man to work harder than he has been,” Matt said.
“That’s right,” Jake agreed. “We’ll leave an hour earlier in the morning, ride two hours later into the evening.”
“You’re gonna need every trail hand you have,” Matt said quietly.
A hush fell over the men, and Sam’s heart kicked up. She thought she could have heard a leaf landing on the ground as Matt and Jake stared at each other.
Jake finally nodded. “You’re right once again. I will. You’ll need to hightail it back here as fast as you can once you take Sam to Baxter Springs tomorrow.”
Matt shifted his gaze to her. His eyes held a sadness that she didn’t know how to interpret. He turned his attention back to Jake.
“I’m not taking Sam to Baxter Springs.”
“You’re the one who hired her. You’re the one who gets to escort her out of here.”
“I hired her and I’m damned glad that I did. She’s a first-rate trail hand, Jake, and you know it,” Matt said. “She’s never shirked her responsibilities to us, even when we’ve shrugged off ours to her. She’s crossed rivers when she was terrified, fought prairie fires when she knew it was safer to stay behind—when she was ordered to stay behind. She’s tended our wounds, and continued to help out even when she knows she won’t be paid.”
Sam’s chest tightened with his announcement, and more, with the realization that he was acknowledging the work she’d done for the outfit.
Jake shook his head. “I’m aware of everything she’s done. But the dangers of armed farmers and moving the cattle fast is too much of a risk for her and for us. I’m not willing to risk having a girl in the outfit.”
“Then I reckon you won’t have me either,” Matt said quietly.
Sam was on the verge of protesting when someone said, “Or me.”
“Or me,” Slim said.
“Or me,” Squirrel announced.
“Or me,” Jeb and Jed said at the same time.
One by one, the other cowboys voiced their support of her, each stepping back until Jake stood alone in the center of the camp.
Jake swept his hat from his head. “Look, fellas, I appreciate how you all feel about Sam, but if you leave now, you won’t get paid.”
“I reckon I’m not getting paid, either,” Cookie said, “since I’ll be leaving as well.”
In her short stint as a trail hand, Sam had learned that the one man almost as important as the trail boss—and some would argue, more important—was the cook.
Tears stung her eyes as she thought of all they were willing to give up for her. “You fellas don’t have to do this for me.”
“Why not, Sam? Wouldn’t you do the same for one of us?” Matt asked.
Of course she would, and he knew it.
She met and held Jake’s gaze. “You told me never to lie to you again, so I’m going to tell you the honest-to-gosh truth. If I didn’t think I could contribute to the outfit, you wouldn’t have to escort me to Baxter Springs. I’d go on my own. But Mr. Vaughn, I honestly believe I can help you get these cattle to Sedalia before the trouble starts.”
“I’ve never had a problem with your work, Sam,” Jake said. “If you were a boy—”
“It wouldn’t make a difference,” she interrupted.
“Maybe you’re right,” he conceded. “I do know I can’t get the cattle moving if I don’t have a crew. Since these cowpunchers seem to be as loyal to you as you are to them…I reckon you can stay.”
The cowboys tossed their hats in the air as their yells echoed around her. Sam blinked back her tears of joy. It wouldn’t do for a trail hand to cry.
And that’s what they were all acknowledging that she was at long last. A trail hand.