Chapter Twenty-Two

Del eyed the restless cattle. He rode flank tonight, working to keep the unruly beasts from breaking out sideways at the slightest sound. Drovers said every little noise can set them off, and now he was witnessing it firsthand. Could be the howl of a wolf, crack of a gun, or whirling dust devils roiling the land. Laramie, enthusiastic as ever, had picked the best available saddle horse for him to stand watch with. He’d checked on Shade. The horse didn’t shy away anymore when Del ran a hand over his side. Shade was probably ready, but no need to take him yet. Looked like a quiet night. He’d ride him again soon, though.

Kip rode up, a worried look on his face. “Back of my neck’s crawlin’ and that don’t usually happen without somethin’ bad followin’.”

“What’s got you spooked up? It’s a pretty night”—Del swept an arm at the sky—“though the beeves do seem twitchy.”

“Dunno, just a feelin’ I get sometimes and I got it now.”

“Ride along with me. We’ll make an up and back trip this side of the herd.”

The cattle’s uneasy lowing made it hard to hear anything else. Del stood in the stirrups, scanning the dim surroundings as his horse jogged slowly. Kip’s edgy feeling was catching. Del noticed his friend tug his hat tighter and did likewise.

Kip cupped a hand to his mouth. “Now’s the most chancy part of a drive, right here, when you got cattle backed against a river and held off from drinkin’. There’s not a lot of good and lots of bad that can happen.”

A stab of worry ran through Del. He'd change the subject. “I think Rodrigo’s doin’ better, don’t you? I mean, he’s made a friend out of both Buck and Rose. And her dog. Learnin’ to cook some, too. Always smiling these days.” He glanced at Kip, hoping he agreed.

“I guess he’s doin’ fine. Seems like he don’t have to talk though, everybody does for him without him sayin’ a thing.”

A flush ran up Del’s cheeks. It was true. Was he helping the boy by not prodding him? Not encouraging him? Rodrigo could talk. He’d been a chatterbox, playing with his son before that night. When Del got back to camp, maybe he’d—

Gunshots split the night air. Kip reined up. “Don’t know who the hell’s doin’ that, but he ain’t likely none of ours. Let’s split up. You try to front the herd. If they start to stompin’, do everything you can to turn ’em away from the river. Ride back and forth shootin’. They get in that current and we’ll lose the lot of ’em in this dark.”

Del already knew how difficult a swift-running river crossing was in daylight, much less at night. Half the herd would drown if they stampeded that way. More firing and the cattle’s loud bellowing drowned out everything else. The animals were on the move, as if they were a river themselves.

Kip yelled. “I’ll go run those shots down.” He disappeared into the darkness.

Del wondered if he’d ever see his friend again. Surely he would, but then again, there was little either of them could control. He kicked his horse into a sprint and drew his Colt, firing into the black air until the hammer clicked hollow. The lead cows were still rumbling directly toward him—and the river behind. The ground thundered. Damn! Del had less than half a mile to stop them. A couple of other drovers joined him in full sprint as well.

Del shouted. “Get to shootin’, I’m ridin’ nearer the water!” He dropped the reins and loaded bullets from his gun belt as his horse flew. Cows raced alongside him almost as fast as his horse ran. Gradually, he gained their front and crisscrossed back and forth a quarter mile this side of the roiling current. He reached for his rifle. Made more noise. His rapid firing made its deafening presence known, and the others joined in. The lead cows reacted. They slowed but didn’t know which way to go. Del angled them off to the west, away from the river. The other cowhands kept the push up and soon the whole herd made a wide, winding turn on dry soil back to their grassy basin.

The foreman rode up. “Good job turning them. Grab a couple wranglers and search the arroyos for strays. I’d guess fifty or so probably drifted off during the rampage. Any range cattle you find, herd them in, too.” He spun his horse away.

Del stared at Goodwin’s retreating frame. First time the foreman said anything halfway nice to him. He shook his head. The herd was settling again, but his heart rate was still up. He’d get to searching, but first he’d find Kip. Del spurred his horse in the direction of the first shots. He swung wide around the river side of the herd, pushing some here, running a stray in there. Straining to see in the distance, he whacked the horse’s rump with the reins. Soon a large bluff loomed out of the darkness ahead. Kip wouldn’t be farther than this, would he? A yank on the horse’s mane brought the animal to a walk again. Where was Kip?

A voice sounded off to his left. “Help me up, will you, cowpoke?”

Kip! “What’re you doin’ down there?”

“Just takin’ my ease. Stupid question. Whaddya think I’m doin’? Got knocked off my mount, but not before I drilled one of them raiders.”

Del reached a hand down, and Kip swung up behind him.

“Any idea who they were?”

“Nah, just a couple hombres, more skittish than the beeves. Hightailed it into the night when I braced ’em. The one I hit’s probably lyin’ out there right now, dyin’. Senseless way to go.”

“Where’s your horse?”

“Shouldn’t be far. Likely we’ll run across him on the ride back.” He rubbed his shoulder. Red stained his shirt sleeve.

“Rustler hit you in the arm?”

“Just a scratch—I’ll live. He ought to have plugged me in the chest, I weren’t no more than a few feet away when I ran across them. After he hit me, he panicked and almost shot himself.” Kip guffawed.

“Good thing he didn’t hit you in the talk box, ’cause I wouldn’t have seen you down there. You scared me for a second.”

“’Course you didn’t see me—dark’s my advantage. Saw you and your pasty white face comin’ a mile away.”

“No, you didn’t. No way.”

“Smelled you, too. Smell worse than the cattle. When’s the last time water landed anywhere on your body?”

“Uh…” Del raised an arm and sniffed as they rode. Right ripe. He thought about Rose. “Maybe I’ll take a quick dunk on the way back. No, make that a leisurely soak. That’ll give your arm time to fester up some. You’ll get more sympathy that way.” He grinned. “No need to thank me, I’m always thinkin’ of you.”

“Sympathy? From this bunch of ne’er-do-wells? ’Tain’t likely. Take your time, the cattle ain’t goin’ nowhere. They’re tuckered out, and my arm’ll feel better when you smell better.”

Del chuckled. “Want me to bind that up?” It was deeper than a scratch, but Kip seemed to be holding up well.

“What would you do that with? One of your dirty bandanas? No thanks. The river’ll do it just fine.”

They chuckled as they came across Kip’s horse.

At the river, Del doffed his clothes, held them by the hand, and waded in. The swift current wanted to knock his legs from under him. Kip followed, cleaning his wound. Del grabbed handfuls of wet sand and rubbed it through his hair and beard. Wiped it across his armpits. Sank to his neck in the cold, fast-running river. Leaned into the rushing waters. Let the Pecos have its way. Rubbed his clothes together in the water then threw them to the river bank. A sudden wave of sadness swept over him like the current he was caught up in. A year ago, he was ranching a small place with a beautiful wife and a son. How did the sun still come up, the rivers run, how did people still laugh, as if nothing happened? A chill coursed through him. On the bank, he hurried his wet pants, shirt, and boots back on and swung up into the saddle. He'd dry quick in this weather.

Kip said, “Good thing you didn’t lose your britches, what with Rose waitin’ for you back at camp.”

“Don’t think she’s waitin’ for me.”

"You okay?”

“Okay.” Del kicked his horse into a trot. He didn’t even know what he was feeling anymore.

“Your face says ‘no’.”

“You mean my pasty white face?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“I’m okay. I…” He left the words dangling in the night air. What was there to say?

Kip said, “Your frettin’ brings to mind somethin’ my pappy used to tell me. He’d say, if you see ten troubles comin’ down the road, nine will likely be off in the ditch before they ever get to you, and the tenth won’t be anywhere near as bad as you thought.”

Del nodded. “Your pappy sounds like a smart man. Let’s go. Foreman wants us to search for strays.”

****

Tyson had sent his two men to create their diversion in the dimming daylight. The cattle would likely stampede at their shots. As he thought about how he’d grab Lawson in all that chaos, he came up with a better idea. He didn’t need to run Lawson down at all—he’d grab the kid. That would make Lawson come after him, and Tyson could take him at his leisure. The boy was the best bait he could have. He told Donovan to watch the draw for the return of the two shooters. Even as he said it, he knew they wouldn’t be coming back.

Tyson stayed to the arroyos as he rode toward the drover’s camp. Wasn’t far. From a low, barren rise he surveyed the layout. Just like he planned, the cowpunchers had all left to run down the stampede. A cook stood near the chuck wagon preparing something. He ladled some to a boy, who ate vigorously. A young woman sat by a low campfire. Pretty. She beckoned to the boy and patted a spot next to her on a large log. A brown dog lay nearby. Was she the one Lucas Skinner told him about back at the fort? Tending Lawson? Even better. He’d kidnap the boy and the woman—who knows how she could come in handy?

He tied his horse off on a low shrub and skulked to the rear of the chuck. He knocked the cook out with a pistol blow to the back of the head, but the boy saw him and screamed. “Help!”

Tyson rushed over, his Colt aimed their way. “Git over here, both of you. Now. And shuddup!”

The dog barked furiously while the woman hugged the boy to her. Tyson swatted the animal aside as it charged. The woman and boy stood paralyzed.

“I said move!” He cocked the weapon. He should kill the dog, but he’d never liked hurting animals. His mother shot the only dog he’d ever had, and he’d never forgiven her. But he’d gotten even. Yes, he did. His kick sent the growling dog away again. He motioned toward the remuda, forcing Rose and Rodrigo ahead of him. “You the one minded Lawson back at the fort?” Her shocked expression told him all he needed to know.

A lanky kid smiled as they approached. “Hullo, Miss Rose. Who’s that?”

Tyson held his gun out of sight behind the woman. “Throw your hogleg away real easy, son, or you’re the last person this pretty lady ever sees. Toss it by the barrel. Far. That’s right. I need another horse. Go on and grab me that one there. Move!” He kept the pistol pressed against the woman’s back. When the horse was saddled, Tyson said, “Give me the reins.” He eyed the wrangler. “What’s your name, son?”

“Laramie.”

“Well, Laramie, you’ll live longer if you stay right where you are.” He led the horse back to camp, the woman and boy in the lead. Looking back, he saw the wrangler standing with a bewildered stare.

At the chuck wagon, the woman bent over the unconscious old man. “Buck! Buck!” She patted his face and glared at Tyson. “Get some water!”

Tyson said, “I put him down; I ain’t gonna help him back up. Get away from there, you’re goin’ with me. The boy, too.” He flashed a yellow-tooth smile.

“Stop!”

Tyson whirled to see Laramie aiming a shaking gun at him. He quick-drew and whizzed a couple bullets past the horsekeeper, who lit out back to the remuda. Tyson muttered, “Shoudda killed him. Gettin’ soft.”

As Rose worked on the dazed cook, she reached for his gun. Her body shielded the movement. “We can’t just leave him here, he’ll die. Let me tend him then I’ll go with you.” A quick glance at Tyson.

“No, he ain’t worth my time—”

Rose whirled and fired. Hard to miss a big target like that, but she did.

He didn’t. A shot to the shoulder laid her out. Tyson kicked her gun away. He pointed his barrel at her chest. “You’re the second person I shoudda killed in the last five minutes. I was gonna be real nice to you, you bein’ a pretty lady and all, but you shouldn’ta shot at me. Can’t think of anyone still alive who done that.” He cocked his gun.

Rodrigo yelled. “No!” He ran and punched Tyson in the stomach.

Tyson clamped a meaty palm on the kid’s head. Held him at arm’s length while the boy swung at air. He eyed Rose, gasping on the ground. “I couldn’t take you even if I wanted to, now. Think I’ll leave you as is. Tell Lawson it was Tyson did this. Tell him I got the boy, too. He wants to see the kid again, come after me. He don’t have to worry about findin’ me, I’ll find him.” He holstered his gun, then threw Rodrigo up on his horse. He swung up behind the boy and tipped his hat to Rose. “Pleasure spendin’ time with you, ma’am. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, but reckon you didn’t. Don’t bother gettin’ up, I’ll be leavin’ now.”

****

Locating strays took Del a couple of hours. Darkness didn’t help. He and Kip rounded up nearly forty head standing blankly in a couple of washes, which made his job easier. The weight of the animals’ hooves on the sandy bottom produced small pools of water they were drinking their share of. Del had his hands full forcing them out of the bottoms. When cattle wanted something, it was hard to change their minds. He and Kip drove them out, then ran them in with the rest of the herd, which had settled some by now. The smell of water so close still made them edgy.

Del couldn’t hide a grin. His mood lifted. “Stubborn beasts. But that was some of the most fun I’ve had yet. Yahooin’ them out of those draws. Got a bath, too. Who’da figured?” He tipped his hat to Kip. “Pleasure ridin’ with you, Kip Holloway. Think that arm of yours is gonna heal or fall off?”

“I’m bettin’ fall off.”

“Let’s get you back to camp before it does.”

They drifted over trampled land in dim moonlight, skirting the herd. A strong wind passed over Del, cooling him all the while. As suddenly as the sadness overcame him in the water, a certain peace came over him now, bringing with it a touch of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. The two friends jabbered on as they rode back. Cowboying was beginning to have a certain appeal Del wouldn’t have figured on. Nearing camp, he could tell something was up even in the faint light of the campfire. Drovers scurried about, gobbling food off plates, Goodwin shouting orders. What had happened? He slowed.

“Lawson! About time you got back. Raider shot Miss Rose and took the boy. Headed south. Sending two men after them.”

Del’s heart raced. Blood pounded in his ears. “Where is she?”

“In the chuck, along with Buck. He got knocked on the head.”

He raced to the wagon and pushed the canvas flap aside. His heart leaped when he saw her lying there in her own blood. Rose lay on her back, eyes fluttering, shirt reddened at the shoulder. “How is she?”

Buck held a wet cloth to his head. “Can’t say, she hasn’t said anything. Looks like she’s hurt pretty good.” He pressed on her wound to staunch the bleeding while Rose’s moans filled the air. “Got to get her to a doctor.”

Del gritted his teeth. His gut told him the assailant was Tyson. He reached for Rose’s hand. Her gaze turned his way, eyes distant. What was he going to do? Should he get Rose to a doctor or run down Tyson and the boy? Rose closed her eyes. The moans stopped.

Del put two fingers to her neck. He exhaled deeply and nodded. “Okay for now. How’d this happen, Buck?”

“’Twer the same fella accused us of rustling his cattle a few days back. You all was gone after the stampede. He busted in here, knocked me out.” He rubbed a spot on his head. “Miss Rose must have come to see about me and snatched my pistol. Must have fired it, too, ’cause a bullet’s missing. Don’t know if she hit him, but he hit her. Guess he grabbed Rodrigo and skedaddled. I don’t know no more, things is a little fuzzy. Not good that she just passed out, neither.”

What to do wasn’t a question any more. Damn! Rodrigo would have to fend for himself for a spell. He rushed to the remuda for a fresh horse.

Laramie hailed him. “Sorry I couldn’t do nothin’ to stop that assassin, Del. He made me dive for cover, and by the time I got squared up again, he was flyin’ out of here with the boy.”

Del put a hand up. “Which way?”

“Off to the north. Maybe he figures we won’t try to follow him, with the cattle all scattered.”

Del stared into the distance. The stampede must have been Tyson’s handiwork. Tyson knew he’d trail him—he took Rodrigo to make sure. His insides churned like that night at the ranch. The Good Lord had just let him have a little bit of peace then snatched it away. He jammed his hat on harder. “Get me your fastest horse. Wait. Think Shade’s ready yet?”

“Been treatin’ him every day with potions Buck makes up. Worked, too. Rode him some. He’s fit as a fiddle.” Laramie led the black stallion out and handed the reins to Del.

Del eyed the light pink scar on Shade’s side. “You sure he’s okay?”

“Wouldn’t give him to you if he wasn’t. What’re you gonna do?”

Del whispered in the big animal’s ear. “Gonna saddle him. Get me another set of reins. Hurry.” Del made sure the saddle strap lay clear of the horse’s wound. He rode Shade back to camp. His gut gnawed at him. He’d have to leave Rodrigo be for now. Rose needed his help first. He was the reason she was here in the first place. She’d spent days tending him. He owed her, but there was more to it than that. He’d wanted to spend time with her. Maybe take her on a picnic or two. Thought about how she’d felt in his arms. Remembered their kiss.

“Lawson!”

Del brushed past Goodwin and climbed into the wagon. “Buck, get me a blanket and some food. Water, too.”

Stoney met him as he climbed out carrying Rose. “You ain’t takin’ her anywhere. We can fix her up right here, ain’t that right, Buck?”

“No, it ain’t. I can’t do for her. Not with that bullet still in her. She needs a real doc. And soon.”

Del mounted up while the cook kept his arms wrapped around Rose. “Hand her up, Buck.”

“Can’t. Not strong enough.”

Del stared at Stoney. He held the man’s gaze hard.

The foreman kicked at the dirt. He rubbed the back of his neck then cradled Rose from Buck and lifted her to Del. “Damnation, you are cussed stubborn, Lawson. Closest place is Fort Sumner from here.”

“Not goin’ to Sumner, they don’t have a doc anymore. Santa Rosa’s too far. Headin’ toward Puerto de Luna. Twenty miles at most.”

Kip nodded. “Better idea.”

The foreman wouldn’t let it go. “Never heard if they have a doctor or not.”

Kip said, “Maybe not, but might be a shaman ’round there, from what I hear.”

Del ignored Goodwin’s remark. Couldn’t afford to let that sway him. He squinted at Laramie. “Hand me that extra set of reins.” The wrangler tossed them up. Del wrapped the leather straps around Rose’s body then secured them to his own. Buck stuffed supplies in Del’s saddlebags. The cook handed him a couple jugs of water and crossed himself. “Kidnapper’s name is Tyson—said he’d find you if you followed.”

Del slung a canteen on the saddle horn. “Knew it was him.”

“You’re gonna, ain’t you?”

“Run him down?”

“Yeah.”

The old cook’s eyes misted. He and Rodrigo had been inseparable.

Del said, “I’d trail Tyson to the ends of the earth if I had to. Gotta care for Rose first, though.”

Buck nodded and wiped at an eye.

Del looked north. Hard riding lay ahead, along with a reckoning. Del held an arm around Rose, the reins in his other hand. A nudge and Shade lit out with Del’s precious cargo tight against his chest.

If Rose was to live, Rodrigo would have to wait.