It was hot for the next six days, during which time Red Dank and the rest of the crew steered clear of Buck Halliday but kept a wary eye on him at the same time. Halliday didn’t mind. He was used to this kind of treatment when riding for a new outfit, especially one where the men were bound together by fear of somebody like Dank.
Halliday was worked hard, but no harder than any of the others. The long, green valley from which they herded summer-fattened cattle was unmarked by wheel tracks or fences, and the lush grass was thick and water was plentiful.
On the sixth night when they camped beside a river, Halliday sat alone, eating his supper and listening to the grumblings of the crew about Dank’s hard ramrodding.
Halliday learned that in previous seasons this valley had taken weeks to clean out. To a man, they agreed that Dank was pushing too hard. It became clear to Halliday as the talk went on that some of the men felt Dank was kowtowing to Jude Cowley a little too much.
He was about to turn in when a rider came into camp from the town trail.
A short, bulky cowhand who had complained long and loud about no liquor being allowed in camp, a man made his way across the glow of the fire and stood, his feet planted wide apart, in the rider’s path.
The rider spoke quietly and the man moved out of his way to allow the big man to walk his horse into the light. It was then that Halliday recognized Jude Cowley, his right hand still in a glove, a smug look on his face.
“You took some finding, Stone,” Cowley said. “I hope the valley is properly cleaned out.”
“Best see Red about that, Mr. Cowley,” Stone said, then he made his way wearily back to his bedroll. He had just settled down when Red Dank came up from the river where the cattle were bunched and quiet. Dank, who had been studying the ground intently, stopped short when he saw Cowley coming out of the saddle.
“Mr. Cowley,” he said with a nod of deference. “Didn’t expect you out here so soon. Didn’t have to bother yourself. We got the best bunch you ever saw, near a hundred more’n last year.”
“That’s fine,” Cowley said casually, then he glanced about at the rest of the men who had settled down for the night.
“I came to see how young Kerry was fitting in.”
“Kerry Hogan?” Dank said, plainly puzzled.
“Yeah. I bought his place and put him on the payroll. Hasn’t he arrived yet?”
Dank shook his head. “No, Mr. Cowley, he hasn’t. And damn me, I ain’t sure I want him here. Hell, he’s a wild one, no mistake. Don’t strike me as one who can take orders. His own pa—”
“I want to give him a chance, Red,” Cowley said, interrupting his ramrod.
He walked across to the fire and kicked a couple of charred cuttings into the flames. Sparks rose and the glow of the fire showed his face set deeply in thought as he looked calmly about at the men again. When Dank hurried off to fetch him some coffee, Cowley looked at Halliday, smiled and said;
“How is it going, Buck?”
“One drive’s like any other,” Halliday told him.
“I suppose it is—but this one could be different, especially if you still hold a grudge against young Kerry, or he against you.”
“Can’t see that happening,” Halliday told him. “Not from my corner, leastways.”
“Good,” Cowley said as he accepted a steaming mug from Dank, who then drew back with his boss to discuss the roundup.
Cowley listened, nodding his satisfaction from time to time, and when Dank had finished, Cowley told him he would spend the night with the men. He rolled out his saddle roll, and with a brief exchange of pleasantries with some of the men, went off to sleep.
Halliday lay awake for some time, trying to push a nagging thought from his mind. Cowley had ridden a great distance to come out here, and for no apparent reason. Yet at the back of his mind was the thought that Cowley was not the kind of man who wasted his time for no apparent reason. The hiring of Kerry Hogan didn’t worry him that much, but he wondered why Cowley would take the ride out here to tell them.
Halliday slept soundly, as he had every other night after a hard day. He had made no new friends, but then he hadn’t expected to in the short time he’d been with this outfit. Making friends had never meant that much to him anyway. If somebody took to him, it was always a casual thing, always a friendship which asked nothing of either party. A man liked somebody, drank with him, gambled with him, shared some good times, then went on his way. Maybe they met up again, maybe they didn’t. Halliday didn’t worry if the meeting took place or not.
He was awake at sunup and moving about through the bustle of the camp, getting his sorrel saddled, having something to eat and readying himself for the day ahead.
Stone and Wiley joined him at the river’s edge and Stone was grumbling about a thirst it would take a dozen bottles of red-eye to drown, when Kerry Hogan rode into view on the other side of the river.
The youngster reined-in and looked nervously across at them. Wiley waded his mount across the river and drew rein short of the young man.
“Heard you signed on, Hogan,” Wiley said without a trace of welcome in his thick voice.
The youngster nodded.
“Don’t worry nobody here either way,” Wiley said. “But you get it clear in your head, no Johnny-come-lately rides in and throws his weight about. Know your place and things’ll work out fine.”
Halliday saw the young man’s mouth twitch. But although he seemed on the verge of coming back with a smart remark, he suddenly stiffened and looked past the trio toward the camp. Halliday heard horses coming before Red Dank bellowed;
“All right, on your feet! We got a lot of country to cover today. Hogan, Mr. Cowley’s waitin’ up top for you. When you’re through, get back to me quick as you can.”
Dank ordered another bunch of riders to start moving the cattle away from the river. After giving Kerry Hogan a casual nod, Halliday went on his way. But as he circled the herd, he saw Cowley and Hogan riding together down to the river.
Dust was rising thickly from the feet of the slow-moving herd and put a screen between him and the two men. Halliday pulled his bandanna up to cover his face and herded the steers toward Stone and Wiley who, as usual, were content to let him eat all the dust. Halliday didn’t mind. He knew the place of the new kid on the block.
The morning passed without incident and the heat came down into the long valley from the high rocky hills which surrounded it. By noon, Halliday’s shirt was stuck to his back. But despite the dust, he felt good. His thigh no longer worried him and his strength had fully returned.
After a half-hour rest at noon, Halliday took up his usual position riding drag but turned in the saddle to notice Kerry Hogan eating dust on the other side of the herd. Anyone else put in that position would have circled the herd for cleaner air. Not young Kerry. He was content to keep a close eye on Halliday despite the dust. Finally, in midafternoon, he slowed to let the youngster catch up. Then, regarding him calmly, he said;
“You gettin’ tired, Kerry?”
The youngster stubbornly shook his head. “No chance of that, Halliday. I can stick it with the best.”
“Runnin’ your own place is different to takin’ orders from someone else,” Halliday observed. “A man just naturally does things his own way when he’s the boss. Here it’s different, and you’ll have to change your ways.”
“I can change ... when it suits. What worry is it of yours anyway?”
“No worry to me, Kerry,” Halliday said. “But you’ve got me guessin’ about why you’d sign on. Cowley said he bought you out.”
“What business is it of yours if he did?”
“If he did, you’d have plenty of money in your pocket. Besides, you’ve got things to forget. Teaming up with this outfit would be about the last thing I’d do if I was in your position.”
“Well, you’re not in my position, and what I do is my business,” the youngster said angrily.
Halliday saw a gleam enter the boy’s eyes when their stares locked. He said firmly, “I said it once and I don’t aim to say it again. I came across your place days after the event. So that’s the end of it. Do your work and let me do mine. And stop watchin’ my back.”
The youngster grinned tightly. “Gettin’ a little nervous, are you, Halliday?”
Halliday sighed and watched Stone turn the herd again. Now they were coming to the end of the valley and he could see train tracks in the distance.
“I’m not nervous,” he said. “But if you go on like this, I might have to take some action. You’re probably a nice kid, I just don’t like people trailin’ me where I can’t see ’em.”
Halliday was riding him and he knew it.
“And quit callin’ me ‘kid,’” the youngster growled. “I ain’t takin’ that from you or anybody else. I signed on with Cowley because I reckon there are people on this drive who know who killed my pa and my brother. I ain’t a fool and I ain’t a kid.”
Halliday reined-in and stared into the youngster’s eyes. Finally, he said, “If I can help, I’d like you to let me know.”
Then he pulled the bandanna back over his face and heeled the sorrel away.
The afternoon heat slowly died after the sun sank behind the hills. Red Dank came storming along the rear of the herd, yelling for everybody to keep the herd moving until he gave the order to stop. They pushed on past the beginning of the spur line for another five miles before Dank decided to make camp.
Feeling the pinch of the saddle more than he had on previous days, Halliday was glad to swing down and wait for the others to select their positions before he selected a spot for himself. Dropping his gear, he saw Kerry Hogan laying out his bedroll a short distance away. The youth looked weary enough to fall asleep on his feet, and as soon as he had spread out his gear, he dropped onto his blanket and let out an exhausted sigh.
Halliday fetched his own and Hogan’s meal from the chuck wagon. Putting one plate at the youngster’s feet, he settled down with his back to a tree stump and started eating.
It was only when he had finished that Halliday saw the youngster reach for his plate. Smiling, Halliday took his dishes back to the wagon and dropped them into the cook’s bucket, then he rolled a cigarette and looked lazily around.
Most of the men had already eaten and some had already turned in. Red Dank, Stone and Wiley were grouped at the highest point of the camp, sitting together. Halliday returned to the youngster and offered him the makings, but the youngster shook his head.
“Our pa never allowed us to smoke. He said it did bad things to a man’s lungs. He smoked most of his life so he reckoned he knew. Toward the end, he had trouble takin’ a breath. Don’t seem to be worryin’ you none, though.”
“Maybe in time it will,” Halliday said. “If it does, maybe then I’ll quit.”
Hogan watched the smoke lift over Halliday’s head. Now he seemed to be more curious about Halliday than suspicious.
Suddenly, he said, “I’ll try one if you roll it. I guess now that pa’s gone, a man’s got to rely on his own decisions. Always hankered to smoke one anyway.”
“It’s the same with women,” Halliday said. “Once you get a taste for it, it’s hard to put it down.”
The youngster smiled and then settled back and looked at the sky. Halliday knew the boy’s mind was tacking back to other places, other times, and other people.
“Get a good price for your land?” Halliday asked, keen to keep the conversation going.
“Fair enough, I guess.”
“What your father held out for?”
A notch of worry settled on the boy’s brow.
“Mebbe,” he grunted.
“Wasn’t then,” Halliday said. “Pity. The old frontier men, those who came out and carved out places for themselves in the wilderness, mostly know proper values. Never knew one to sell himself short.”
“You sayin’ I sold pa and my brother short?” Hogan scowled. “By hell—”
“Didn’t you?”
Hogan’s face went red with rage. But after wrestling with himself, he swore violently and growled, “What if I did? I had my reasons. I didn’t have time to wait around and argue. I had things to do. So when Cowley made me his offer and offered me a job, I figured it was the best place to start again.”
“So you think this outfit could hold some clues you’re looking for?” Halliday asked, pinching out his cigarette and keeping his voice as casual as he could.
The youngster sucked in his breath. “As it ain’t none of your business, why are you always pryin’, askin’ questions, makin’ me say things I don’t want to say?”
“Just tryin’ to be friendly,” Halliday said, tossing the cigarette butt away. He kicked a corner of his blanket flat and stretched out. Bringing his hat down over his eyes, he lay silent for a time before he heard Hogan shuffling about.
“Any idea why Dank pushed the herd five miles beyond the end of the spur line?” Halliday asked.
“He’s the ramrod, ain’t he? He knows what Cowley wants, don’t he?”
“Just struck me as a waste of good manpower to have twenty men push themselves in that heat when a line of freight cars could do the job a lot easier.”
“It’s new line,” the youngster said. “Only been down a month or so.”
“Whose land’s keeping it from going further?” Halliday asked without looking at the youth.
“Tom Prewett’s.”
Halliday let his mind drift back to his first night in town and his encounter with Cowley in the saloon. He remembered the talk between Cowley and Prewett and then Prewett’s drive from town with the pretty but troubled-looking young woman.
“Where did your land end?” Halliday asked. “As I figure it, we’ve come a long way but most of it’s been in a circle. Would have been a damn sight easier to cut straight across from Cowley’s place, across what you used to own and then go straight across Prewett’s land.”
“Sure it would,” the youngster said.
Halliday turned and saw the youth regarding him curiously. He smiled. “So maybe Tom Prewett will be the next to be bought out,” he said.
“Or burned out,” the youngster said, then, as though realizing how loudly he’d spoken, he looked anxiously about him.
Halliday pulled up his blanket and tucked it under his chin. He was smiling when he said, “First thing you should learn is to trust nobody. Remember that. Might save you a bullet in the back.”
Halliday turned on his side and put his back to the young man. But although he closed his eyes and felt sleep coming on, his mind’s eye saw the beautiful but worried face of the Prewett girl as she looked back from the buckboard.
“Halliday?”
“What?”
“Just wanted to say you might be right at that.”
“Yeah.”
Halliday cleared his mind and fell sleep.