17

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” The vaqueros moved slow, and all of Sarah’s coaxing did nothing to speed them up. “Ugh!”

She scanned the herd, hoping and praying nothing would delay them today. They should already be on the other side of Rollover Pass. The tide would be coming in strong all day long. Why didn’t anyone listen to her? They didn’t understand how important it was to get the cattle across the pass.

A twinge of hope filled Sarah’s heart when she saw one of Reinhardt’s men running.

But he was running from another vaquero chasing him with a knife and screaming in Spanish.

Oh, Lord, why is this happening to me? Five more miles, that’s all I ask, Lord. Five more miles and we’ll be at the pass.

Reinhardt took off after the two wayward vaqueros, hollering. He pulled his lariat from his belt and began slinging it in a circle above his head. The looped rope flew through the air before coming down around the arms of the knife wielding man. With one mighty pull, Reinhardt brought the man to the ground. He gathered the slack rope and punched the vaquero in the jaw before removing the knife from his hand.

A string of Spanish words came from Reinhardt’s mouth, none of which Sarah understood, which was probably a good thing.

The other vaquero had put some distance between himself and the knife. The third vaquero was laughing so hard that coffee sloshed from his mug onto his britches.

Pedro appeared by Sarah’s side.

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“Sí, Sí.” Pedro pointed toward the man who had been chased. “This man, he tell the other man that his sister is, is, how do you say, much beautiful. He also say that he want to...” Pedro’s tan cheeks blushed a shade of red. “He say he want to...I rather not tell you what he say, Miss Sarah.”

“I think I understand.” Five more miles, Lord, just five more miles.

Reinhardt stood over the downed vaquero, and gathered up the loops of rope. The younger man rubbed his jaw. Reinhardt glanced at Sarah, silently assuring her that he had things under control.

“Can we get going now? We have to hurry. The tide will be coming in strong all day, and we need to get the herd to the other side of the pass.”

“You know, you worry too much.”

“Look, you don’t have any idea what lies ahead. Have you ever had to cross Rollover Pass?”

“Nope. Never heard of it.”

“Exactly. If we had crossed over yesterday, everything would be fine, but with the tide rising it’s a whole different story.”

“What kind of woman keeps watch on the tides?” Reinhardt mumbled the words under his breath.

“Someone who was born and raised on this peninsula, that’s who!”

He shook his head and hollered at his men. “Vamos, hombres!”

~*~

“H’ya, h’ya!” Sarah tried to push the cattle faster. It was dangerous moving the herd at high tide. Even the mighty longhorns were no match for the water rushing in from the Gulf of Mexico through Rollover Pass into Galveston Bay.

Reinhardt rode up. “So tell me, what is this pass you’re so dern worried about?”

“It’s a wallowed-out place in the middle of the road where water passes through from the Gulf to the bay. It’s called Rollover Pass because way back when, pirates would roll big barrels full of booty over, instead of taking them into Galveston where they would have to pay customs on it.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Well, you would, wouldn’t you?” Sarah snapped back at him.

He laughed.

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh along with him. Their light-hearted exchange gave Sarah the courage she needed to ask a question she’d been mulling over. “Say, Reinhardt, you mind me asking what brought on that speech you gave yesterday about being thankful? And why did you all of a sudden feel the need for me to say grace over the food? Seemed kind’a out of character for you.”

The trail boss looked off into the distance and shrugged. “I don’t know. When I saw you helping birth them calves it reminded me of my mama. Mama raised me and my three brothers all on her lonesome. She was a strong woman who loved the Lord, but all her prayers couldn’t keep my pa out of the saloon. She’s gone on to her reward now.” Reinhardt glanced at her and grinned. “Pirates, huh? Guess I should have brought my saber. So what kind of booty are we talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know…whiskey, rum, weapons maybe. I’ve heard stories that smugglers are still doing it to this day. That’s why I don’t want to cross over at night.”

“Sounds like a good enough reason to me. All right then, let’s get going.” He slapped his horse’s reigns and hollered, “H’ya!”