Chapter Fourteen

One month later

Late June, 1878

Joe jumped out of the saddle, stretched himself, and then headed for the chuck wagon. He collected two coffees and a couple of doughnuts, took them over to Ethan Grey, gave him one of the mugs and a doughnut, and sat down next to him.

Ethan glanced at him. ‘You’ve done well for a new boy, Joe. I’ve bin watchin’ you the last few days. You’ve picked up real quick the way of trailin’ the cattle so they don’t know you’re herdin’ them and makin’ them go in the direction they’re meant to be headin’. It takes some new trail hands a lot longer to get the touch.’

‘I appreciate you sayin’ that, Ethan.’

‘I’m only speakin’ as I find it. Monty will’ve seen it, too. And like me, he’ll have seen you swimmin’ that horse of yours.’ He paused a moment. ‘No offence meant, but you don’t wanna get into the water too quickly. Some of the streams have hidden bogs and quicksands. If we’re not careful, we could lose horses, cattle, and even men. You don’t wanna be one of those who gets sucked under.’

Joe nodded. ‘I’ll remember, and go more cautiously.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ He gave Joe a slow grin. ‘I’m kinda gettin’ used to havin’ you as a trail partner, and I wouldn’t wanna lose you on our first drive together.’

Joe laughed. ‘I’ll make sure you don’t.’

Ethan bit into the doughnut. ‘He makes a good mug of coffee, our cook, and these bear signs of his are the best I’ve ever had on a drive.’

‘Bear signs?’

‘That’s doughnuts to you greenhorns,’ Ethan said with a smile. ‘But to get back to work. We’ll soon reach the North Platte, and we’re gonna be the lead horses over the river. Like I said, Monty must’ve seen your horse swimmin’. When we’ve finished our coffee, we’ll go ahead to the river and check that the cattle and wagon will be able to get across. If they won’t, the boss will have to find a better place to ford it.’

Joe nodded. ‘Makes sense for us to lead. Our day mounts are the best swimmers.’ He took a drink of his coffee, leaned back against the tree trunk, pulled his hat over his face and closed his eyes. ‘I could’ve done with more than a couple hours’ sleep last night.’

‘Yup; third watch ain’t the best. Just when you’ve fallen asleep, it’s one o’clock and time to go on your watch, and by the time it’s three-thirty, it’s too close to mornin’ to get back to sleep. You’re lucky to have gotten as much as two hours.’ He glanced at Joe and gave him a sideways smile. ‘When you bin doin’ this a mite bit longer, you’ll find you can sleep on your watch. Your night horse will know the distance to keep from the cattle, and it’ll just keep goin’ round and round while you sleep pretty in the saddle.’

Joe opened his eyes, raised the brim of his hat and grinned at him. ‘Not if you’re my watch partner, I won’t. Your singin’s enough to set the cattle stampedin’. We’re meant to be makin’ a noise that tells the cows a friend is watchin’ over them. But if I was cattle hearin’ you in full voice, I’d think the sound was comin’ from the devil himself. If you wanna be kind to the cows, whistle rather than sing. That way they and their stomachs will stay content.’ He then threw back his head and laughed.

Ethan chuckled. ‘You just keep laughin’,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Make the most of it – you might not feel much like laughin’ by the time we get to the other side of the river. There’s bin an east wind in the night so the water could be high, and it’s gonna be bitter cold as the snows haven’t long melted.’ He finished his coffee, stood up and looked around. ‘I reckon the herd’s about to get movin’. We’ll set off now.’

Joe got up, took Ethan’s mug from him, returned the mugs to the chuck wagon and hurried across to the horses, where Ethan was waiting.

‘Hold the reins hard when we get close to the water,’ Ethan said, putting his foot into the stirrup and pulling himself up into the saddle. ‘The horses will smell water and you don’t want them runnin’ away with you. And try and keep your saddle blanket dry. Like the boss said – if you look after your horse and equipment, they’ll serve you well.’

‘I’ll remember,’ Joe said.

Sitting low in the saddle, Ethan set off at a fast trot, and then broke into a canter.

Joe swung himself into the saddle and headed after Ethan at speed, and side by side they galloped towards the river.

The flanks of their horses were steaming and their coats glossy and slick with sweat by the time they reached the damp earth bordering the river. Pulling up their mounts, they sat and stared at the water, a wide band of gold in the late morning sun.

Joe smiled to himself.

‘What’s so funny?’ Ethan asked, glancing at him.

‘Nothing. I was just thinkin’. Well, rememberin’, more like.’

‘Rememberin’ what?’

‘When I was pannin’ for gold ‘bout ten years ago, I heard someone call out and then fall off the bridge soon after. It turned out to be a China woman, who’d had a baby not long before. She was dead when I got to her so I took the baby home, and Ma and Pa kept her. I don’t know why I just thought of the girl, with this river being much bigger and faster, but I did. Maybe it was the golden colour of the water; I don’t know.’

‘Not many whites would keep a China woman in their house. Leastways not these days, they wouldn’t.’

Joe shrugged. ‘I don’t know you well yet, but from what I’ve seen of you, I’m guessin’ you might’ve done the same if the choice had been that or seein’ her put out to die.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Anyway, Charity’s real useful now – that’s her name. She more than earns her keep. Yup, you’d’ve done the same, Ethan.’

‘I guess we’ll never know. Right, let’s get across. I reckon we’ll be able to ford it here.’

Joe nodded. Slipping their feet from the stirrups, they jumped down into the soft mud at the water’s edge, discarded their saddles and boots, mounted their horses again and rode into the river, Joe leading the way.

‘Holy snakes, you’re right – it is cold!’ he shouted as the horse went deeper into the water. ‘It’s fair freezin’.’

‘Release the reins,’ Ethan yelled to him. ‘A swimmin’ horse likes to be at liberty. There’s no need to touch the reins.’

Glancing across at Ethan, Joe saw that he’d buried one hand in the horse’s mane and was gently slapping its neck with the other, and he did the same.

Their horses swimming strongly, they reached the opposite shore without mishap, jumped to the ground and let the animals roll on their backs in the sand and the grass.

Joe stripped off his shirt, stretched out his arms and stared up at the sun as droplets of water trickled in rivulets down his bare chest. ‘That’s better,’ he said in satisfaction. ‘The sun’s warmin’ me up real nice.’

‘I wouldn’t bother,’ Ethan said dryly. ‘The herd’s in sight; we’re gonna have to get back across the river sharpish. And then we’ll be goin’ from one side to the other till all the cows are across. Let’s go.’

They mounted their horses again and reached the opposite bank just as the front of the herd was arriving.

Following Ethan’s lead, Joe positioned himself facing the water. His horse snorting and pawing impatiently at the soft earth, he sat on its back and waited as the first three hundred cattle were cut from the herd and driven to the water’s edge.

‘Off we go now, Joe,’ Ethan called. ‘They’ll take the lead from us. The dumb brutes aren’t exactly social, but they’ll follow a leader.’

Joe nodded, signalled the horse with his heels and moved into the water. Then he leaned forward, put his hands on the horse’s mane and neck, and let the horse swim at its pace.

Lowing loudly, the cattle followed both him and Ethan, urged into the water by the drovers, who rode behind the cattle as far as midstream. By then the cows were swimming, and the drovers could return to the shore for the next three hundred.

Two hours later, with all of the cows having crossed in batches of three or four hundred, Joe again stood bare-chested in the sun, drying out as four of the cowboys counted the cattle.

By the time the counting had been done and a number agreed by all, it was too late in the day to drive any further, and the trail boss ordered the herd to be left to graze in a large circle, with half of the outfit watching them at a time. Then he rode off to scout for a patch of ground sufficiently elevated to pick up any breeze, and with the dry grass on which cows liked to bed for the night.

Since it wasn’t their turn to go on first watch, Joe threw one of his pair of blankets to the ground and sat down on it. ‘I’m gonna write to that Chinese girl I was telling you about,’ he told Ethan. ‘Ma will be wantin’ to hear what I’m doin’.’

Dear Charity,

I’m writing now even though my first letter may not have reached you yet, and I don’t know for sure if you’ll write back. But seeing the North Platte River this morning made me think back to the day I found you, and I had a powerful urge to write again.

I’m still more sore than I thought a man could be. Maybe not as sore as in the first few days, but it’s bad enough. And my hands hurt from holding the reins all day, and the insides of my legs are raw where the saddle flaps keep rubbing against them. Come sundown, I’m numb after sitting on a hard leather saddle for hour after hour without a break. You’d laugh if you saw the way I walk when I get off my horse – it’s like I’m made of wood. But, like I say, it’s not as bad as it was so I guess my skin’s gotten tougher.

In the short time I’ve been on the trail, I’ve seen places so different from Carter you wouldn’t believe. I’m not one for words, so I can’t describe real well what it’s like to open your eyes in the morning and see the sun come up. And there’s grass all around you, sweet green grass – at least there is in the part we’re in now.

And it’s not just the grass that’s beautiful to see. When I look back as I ride along, and see the cattle all strung out, with the sun flashing on their horns, that’s a sight to be seen, too.

Being out here on the range is reminding me of being on the ranch all those years ago, and how much I loved the life. Tell Ma I’ve been thinking about those days, will you?

I’m satisfied with the spare horses I picked from the remuda, and especially with the horse Mr Culpepper gave me. He’s good in the water. The horse of my trail partner, Ethan Grey, is also a strong swimmer and we were chosen to lead the cattle across the river today. The water was so cold it pained me when it hit my skin and I yelled like a baby. Tell that to Ma, will you? She’ll laugh.

Ethan is a few years older than I am and he’s been droving for several years. In some ways he reminds me of Mr Culpepper even though he’s younger. Just like Mr Culpepper taught me about horses and livery, Ethan’s teaching me about driving cattle. I struck lucky getting him as a partner on my first drive.

When we get to Casper, which’ll be soon, we’ll be camping outside the town for the night. We had a month’s supplies when we left Cheyenne, but we’ve used some and we’ll re-stock at Casper. I’ll send this letter to you from there. After Casper, our next stop will be Buffalo. Maybe I’ll find a letter from you there. I’d like that. I’m missing home more than I thought I would – or rather, I’m missing the people. But I don’t regret coming on this drive; not for one minute.

If you don’t want to write, Charity, that’s fine – I know you’re busy. But if you’re able to write, the place to write to after Buffalo is Columbus. That’s in Montana Territory, not Wyoming. It’ll be the first time ever I’ve left Wyoming, and that’s exciting.

Your friend,

Joe