Calder Brand - Janet Dailey Page 0,3

thorny Texas brush, they were still apt to be skittish. Anything—a noise in the bushes, a clap of thunder, or even a rabbit bounding across the trail, might be enough to spook them into a stampede. It had happened before, but the quick work of the men had headed off the leaders, ending with the herd milling in a circle and finally slowing to a stop.

As the wagon passed the herd, one of the men waved to him. Joe recognized Jonesy, one of the younger hands. Over the past few weeks, Jonesy and another man, Andy Young, had become Joe’s friends—not close friends, because they were usually working the herd. But they sat with him at supper and shared songs and jokes. Joe looked up to them. They’d taught him a lot about being a real cowboy.

Joe liked the other men, too—Spanish Bill with his reckless, laughing ways, Wooly Willis, named for his curly blond hair, Zeke Taylor, who never seemed to stop talking, Shorty, whose mellow singing voice calmed the cattle at night, and the rest of them. They were all fine fellows. But they were seasoned cowhands, and they treated Joe like a kid. Jonesy and Andy treated him as an equal.

Joe returned Jonesy’s wave, then turned his attention back to guiding the team. As the wagon crested a low rise, he saw the river for the first time. It was even wider than he’d imagined, and full to the banks. The water, mud red with spring runoff, was fast-moving and treacherous. He remembered Mary’s warning. At the time, he’d dismissed it, figuring that she was being overly cautious. Now he understood.

Benteen Calder had already found the ford place and chosen the safest route across the river. Now the boss sat his horse on a high part of the bank, directing every step of the crossing. At his signal, Jesse Trumbo, the most experienced cowhand, moved ahead of the chuckwagon and rode into the water to show the way. One after another, the three wagons followed him. Joe gripped the reins as his team waded into the rushing current. The water rose around him, almost high enough to cover the horses’ backs. He hadn’t expected to be scared, but he was.

Clucking encouragement to the horses, he riveted his gaze on the back of Mary Stanton’s wagon and followed it, pushing through the strong current. An eternity seemed to pass before the chuckwagon, then the Stantons’ wagon, lurched onto the bank. Moments later, Joe, too, was out of the river, the horses dripping and snorting as water streamed off their hides. He began to breathe again.

The wagons rolled on, moving away from the river to leave plenty of room for the horses and cattle that would follow. When Rusty stopped at last, in a level clearing, Joe pulled the wagon to one side, jumped to the ground, and untied his horse from the back. As he swung into the saddle, he saw Lorna climbing down from the chuckwagon. She gave him a little wave, along with that smile of hers. He was tempted to ride over and tell her how careful he’d been, driving her wagon. But right now he needed to get back and help move the herd.

Trumbo had gone back to ride point on the herd. Joe reached the ford to find Yates bringing the remuda across. He pitched in to help. The horses were strong swimmers. They had no trouble with the deep water or the current. Within minutes they’d all made it to the far bank.

After helping Yates herd the remuda to a safe place near the wagons, Joe turned around and headed back to the river at a gallop. Already soaked to the skin, he plunged his horse into the swift-moving current and pushed for the other side.

Looking ahead, toward the far bank, he could see the cattle moving down the long slope to the ford. The riders, two on point, two on either side in flank and swing position, and three riding drag in the rear, had squeezed the herd into a ragged line, with a big brindle steer in the lead. As they reached the ford, Joe realized that the cattle would be coming straight toward him.

Spanish Bill, who was riding point with Trumbo, spotted Joe in the water. With frantic gestures, he motioned for Joe to go back. Joe got the message. With the herd surging into the river, he swung the horse around and rode back the way he’d come.