Of Peaks and Prairies (Paradise Valley Book 1) Page 3

  Bill put his hands on his hips as he eyed the length of the river before them. “Looks like a good place to cross. We’ll probably be able to wait for the herd here, since it seems to only get wider on either side.”

  “I might go for a stroll,” said Sarah as Bill helped her step down onto the sand.

  “Good idea. I’ll give Purdy a drink and tether him on that knoll.”

  Before long, all three of them had been watered and fed, Sarah had explored their side of the bank and returned with a fistful of sundrops and daisies. They sat to relax beneath the shade of a Texas ash, the wagon parked beside them and Purdy grazing close by. Bill’s eyes nodded closed and his breathing slowed as sleep overtook him.

  Sarah smiled at him. He needed his rest – he’d undertaken the bulk of the work on their trip, insisting upon it, and gone without sleep many times. She lay her hand on his chest and felt it rise and fall beneath her touch. She felt so blessed to have met him in Cutter’s Creek. She hadn’t been looking for a husband, but she was glad she found one, and their first months of marriage had been full of love, laughter and fun. She felt as though she’d been able to open up to him, something which she hadn’t been able to do with anyone for a long time.

  The bellow of a steer startled her, and she glanced across the river to see a thin line of cattle trotting her way. They followed a cowboy on a black horse. She stood to her feet and lifted one hand to shade her eyes. The thunder of thousands of hooves filled the pleasant silence of the crossing. A dust cloud drifted into view, followed closely by the bobbing foreheads, pink noses and dusty coats of thousands of longhorns making their way toward the crossing, all in a line, nose to tail in single file or pairs.

  Bill awoke at the noise and jumped to his feet. He whooped and slapped his hat on his thigh. “Here they come!”

  Cowboys wheeled around the herd, whistling and cracking the occasional plaited leather whip as the cattle balked at the river bank and tried to run off. They circled back into the group in confusion and soon were milling around in an ever-growing bunch of bawling longhorns surrounded by lithe, dust-covered cowhands.

  Chapter Five

  Genevieve strode beside the chuck wagon as it bounced and jounced over the rugged terrain. It felt good to get some exercise. They were some distance from the front of the herd, and glancing back over her shoulder she could see the dust rising from the line of cattle traipsing before them.

  She wondered what Fred and Quincey were doing now, how upset they must be at her sudden disappearance. She shivered. She hated to think how angry they would be and what they’d do if they ever found her. She was regretful that she’d had to leave without telling her good friend Cora goodbye. Cora would wonder where she was and what had happened to her. She’d have to send her friend a letter as soon as she got settled to let her know she was all right.

  Cookie steered the wagon off to one side to park beside a clump of ash trees. He shifted his hat on his head and wiped a trail of sweat from his brow with a dirty handkerchief, shooting a stained grin at her. “How’re ya travelin’, Miss Genny?” he asked as he shoved the handkerchief back into the pocket of his vest and spat a line of brown tobacco juice over the side of the wagon.

  “I’m fine, thanks, Cookie. Are we stopping here?”

  “Nah, this is the Red River crossin’. We’ll be taking the herd across in dribs and drabs for the rest of the day. Chisholm Trail’s on t’other side, and that’s what’ll take us up to Kansas.”

  “Oh.”

  “You can take a look around if ya wish to. We’ll be here awhile.”

  “All right, thank you, Cookie, I think I’ll do that.” She made her way to the river’s edge. The river flowed by smooth and sleek under the midday sun. Its edge was shallow, and she could see minnows and small bait fish darting among the cattail and pondweed that sprouted in clumps there.

  The herd milled about on the river bank in a crowd of dusty coats and clashing horns. The men drove the cattle into a tight circle at the water’s edge, and they snorted at the fast-flowing river with wide eyes. Two cowboys pushed a group of cattle into the water at the narrowest part of the river, moving them forward with whoops and slaps on the hide of any who seemed reluctant. They plunged forward as they bellowed and raised their tails high. In a few moments the water deepened and the cattle had to swim.

  One cowboy – the trail boss, Dan Graham – led the way on his palomino gelding, its legs pumped and nostrils flared. The only part of it visible above the water line was its head and part of its neck. Dan floated above the horse, holding gently to its mane, and whistled to the cattle that followed him with wild eyes. Another cowboy, Coop, followed the group, calling out to stragglers and steering them back on course when they faltered. Before long the cattle had found solid ground and were wandering up the bank on the other side of the waterway, shaking the wetness from their coats.

  Genevieve found a shady spot to sit where she could hear the water bubbling by and watch the cattle cross. Already the next lot were on their way. This time, one of the cows had a young calf by her side. The calf balked at the water’s edge, and a cowboy shoved it into the rushing water.

  Immediately the calf fell on its side and was swept into the faster-moving water that ran toward the rapids. Genevieve cried out in dismay. “Oh no – look out!” She jumped to her feet and began to run along the bank, following the calf as it was carried along.

  The calf’s mother plunged after it, directly into the rushing water, calling loudly to her offspring. Genevieve drew to a stop and watched in horror as both mother and baby fell down the rapids, rising and falling again and again over the boulders and rocks. They disappeared from view for a few moments in the white water, and Genevieve took off at a run, lifting her skirts as high as she dared. She tripped on a tree root and fell forward onto her hands and knees with a cry. Then, back on her feet in a moment, she was after them again.

  She heard the sound of hooves thunder by her and saw Thomas leap from his chestnut stallion at the water’s edge. He carried a lasso in his hands that was fixed to the pommel of the saddle. With a lurch, he leaped into the rushing water and waded deeper against the insistent pull of the river. She watched as he lassoed the calf and, after a signal to his horse, the two of them pulled the exhausted creature onto dry land. Thomas returned to the water to find the cow.

  Genevieve hurried to the calf and fell to her knees beside it. It was alive and breathing heavily. She laid her hands on its coat and stroked gently, whispering encouragement. When she saw Thomas climb wearily from the water, she raised her eyebrows in question.

  He shook his head, “She’s gone.” He sat beside her and rubbed a hand across his face. “Let’s get back. Come now,” he called to the calf, pulling it to its feet.

  “Gently, Thomas,” reprimanded Genevieve, jumping to the calf’s rescue. “I think she could do with a little rest.”

  He arched an eyebrow in surprise and smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I tell you what, how’d you like to take care of this little one? She’s really too young to be on this drive. She must have sneaked into the heard unnoticed at the stock yards.”

  She nodded and reached to stroke the calf’s head. It butted against her, almost knocking her over.

  “Consider her yours then. You can tie her to the chuck wagon and feed her milk in a bucket.”

  “I’d be happy to.” Genevieve smiled in delight and scratched behind the calf’s ears. “I’ll call her Patches, because of this lovely patchwork of brown and white over her face and snout.”

  “Whatever you like. Just make sure neither one of you causes me any trouble and I’ll be happy as a lark.” Thomas watched her from the corner of his eye, and she felt her face flush warm under his gaze. He was wet to the skin and the lines of his firm body showed clearly through his clothing. She had to stop herself from reaching out to grasp the round, firm muscle of his bicep. She bit her lip and turned her attention back to the calf at her feet.

  ***

  Th
omas was still breathing hard when he sat beside Genevieve on the river bank. He was soaked through and his heart felt heavy over the loss of the calf’s mother. It was a disappointment, but one he’d have to cope with. He watched her stroke the calf’s face. The poor creature sucked hard at the air through its pink nostrils and rolled its eyes. It was exhausted by the swim down the rapids and had all but given up when he’d lassoed it, pulling it to safety.

  Genevieve’s hair shone black in the sunshine, and her blue eyes were full of tenderness as she caressed the creature. He thought for a moment he wouldn’t mind feeling that caress himself. She sat so close to him that she almost touched his bent knee with her hand as she patted the animal that lay before them.

  His lifted the calf’s head to check its breathing, and his hand brushed the skin of her arm. He watched her flesh goose-pimple at his touch. Could she be feeling the same electricity between them that he was?

  “What were you running from, back in Fort Worth?” he asked. His voice was low and gruff, and he cleared his throat, trying to work out the emotion trapped there.

  “I wasn’t running from anything. Just wanted to find a way to get to California.” Her answer was glib, forced.

  He found it grated on him. Why wouldn’t she just be honest with him? What did she think he’d do, send her back? It was too late for that now. “Really? You just wanted to travel from Texas to California in the back of a covered wagon with a bunch of strange men? Doesn’t that seem a little odd to you?” He felt his cheeks redden with the heat of irritation.

  “As I told you. I’m meeting someone in San Francisco.”

  “Who are you meeting?”

  “My aunt.”

  “Couldn’t your aunt send you any money? You might have waited until spring and caught a coach. That would have been a much easier route.”

  “No, she doesn’t know I’m coming. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “She doesn’t know you’re coming? What if, when you get there, she’s gone? What will you do then?”

  She shrugged her delicate shoulders and plucked a dandelion from the ground to sniff it. “I’ll figure it out when the time comes, I suppose.”

  He wondered if she was actually trying to aggravate him, or if it just came naturally to her. He could tell she wasn’t being truthful, and yet there was nothing he could do about it. Whatever he asked, she’d just continue to talk around in circles. He wondered if she realized, or even cared, that he knew what she was doing.

  He pushed himself to his feet, noticing for the first time that his boots sloshed with each step he took. He’d have to remove them later and dry them out or his feet would get infected. “Look, I don’t know why you won’t trust me, but I don’t believe you’re meeting your aunt. I wish you’d just tell me what’s really going on. Maybe I could do something to help you.”

  She hung her head and twisted the daisy around.

  He pulled the calf to its feet with a grunt and pushed it forward in front of him. “Never mind. Do as you please. I just hope that you’ll trust me enough to tell me the truth sometime.”

  ***

  They made their way back to the crossing where Genny told Cookie the news about her newly adopted orphan calf. He rolled his eyes and made a pretense of being put out by the inconvenience. “Well, she’s yer problem – I ain’t feedin’ her or watchin’ her. I got enough to do lookin’ after these here cowboys. I don’t need no baby to mother.”

  “You don’t have to worry about her at all – Patches will be my responsibility. I’ll take good care of her, I promise.” She stroked the calf’s forehead and held tightly to the rope that Thomas had used to fashion a makeshift halter for the animal.

  Her heart was still racing from his harsh words. She hated having to lie to him, but what would happen if she told him the truth? Would he believe her? Not very likely. He’d probably take her back to Texas, or maybe leave her at the next town with coach fare home if she was lucky. Even worse, he might write to Quincey, telling him where she was. He was a kind man – that much she’d already gathered from her time on the trail with him. But her experience of kindness was limited, and she wasn’t sure what a kind man would do given the truth of her situation. For now, she had to follow her instinct, and her instinct told her to keep quiet about her life. The less everyone knew about her, the better.

  “Well, give her to Coop there – he’ll drag her behind his horse. It’s our turn to cross.”

  Genevieve led the calf over to Coop, who took hold of the rope and led Patches into the water. Then Genevieve climbed into the chuck wagon beside Cookie and they crossed the river without further incident. The chuck wagon floated like a boat on top of the water, and the mules pulling it swam strongly in the weaker current of the shallows.

  As they rolled up the bank on the other side, Genevieve noticed a covered wagon parked beneath a tall shade tree. A couple stood beside it with a bay horse tethered nearby. She smiled at the couple and lifted a hand in greeting. Cookie pulled the chuck wagon closer and called to them. “Howdy there, folks!”

  “Hello,” replied the man, striding forward to meet them. “I’m Bill Hanover and this here’s my wife Sarah. We’re looking for Thomas O’Reilly’s cattle drive. You wouldn’t happen to be one of his crew, would you?”

  “Yessir, I sure am. I’m Cookie – pleased to meet ya.”

  “Well, that’s good news. We’ve been waiting a while and were anxious to find you. We’re sure glad we didn’t miss you.”

  “Tom’s just over there organizin’ the men. Why don’t ya go on over and introduce yerself?”

  Bill took his suggestion and went to meet Thomas. Sarah stood still, looking uncertain about what she should do. Genevieve stepped down from the wagon seat and held out her hand. “I’m Genny.”

  “Hello, Genny, I’m Sarah. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Sarah’s hair shone in the Texas sunshine and her green eyes were wide and stood out against her golden skin.

  Genevieve smiled at her. “I’m really glad to have another woman join the drive, I can tell you that.”

  “I have to say, I was a bit worried I’d be the only one,” said Sarah with a laugh.

  “Will you be working too?” asked Genevieve.

  “I believe I’ll be doing laundry and helping with odd jobs around the place as needed.”

  “Well, come with me then,” said Genevieve. “I’ll take you to meet some of the men.”

  Chapter Six

  Genevieve surveyed the group of hungry cowboys seated around the campfire. The morning was filled with birdsong, and the dewy grass stood with drooped heads, letting tiny droplets fall to the cool earth below in the dim light.

  She scooped a spoonful of fried potatoes onto a plate and handed it to Dusty Lewis, who regarded her with a grin. He was the cowboy with kind eyes she’d followed to the stock yards. He’d removed his hat as she approached and his hair was caked down against the sides of his head with sweat. “How’d it go out there last night, Dusty?” she asked. “I heard you got lumped with the midnight shift again.”

  He grunted and shoveled a forkful of crispy potatoes into his mouth. “Went fine. Had to run off a coyote this morning, but otherwise it was pretty uneventful.”

  “Sounded like you played up a storm on the harmonica too. I could hear you from the campsite.” She smiled at him and tipped her head to one side, her eyes playful.

  “Yep, sure did. The cattle seemed to like it. Makes the time pass a mite faster for me as well.” His eyes sparkled at her and his cheeks took on a pinker hue.

  “Did you hear I’ve got a calf to look after now?” Genevieve pushed a few pieces of salt pork onto Dusty’s plate.

  He stabbed at them with his fork. “I did.” He took another bite.

  “Just wondering how I should feed her, if you have any ideas? Cookie says I can’t use his dadgum milk anymore and Tom told me I’d have to get my own from the milking cows.”

  “I’d say that’s about right.”

&nbs
p; “Well, where are the milking cows? All I see are thousands of cattle with horns that could stick a hole right through my middle. I don’t plan on wandering around, trying to figure out which one of them has milk to offer.”

  Dusty snorted and his eyes crinkled at the edges. “The milking cows are them over yonder, the ones with the halters fixed round ‘their heads. They run with the herd, but you can walk right up to them and clip on a lead. They’re a bit ornery, but you can milk ‘em, no doubt.”

  She watched the milking cows as they grazed on the edges of the group. They were longhorns as well and grazed freely beside the remuda, spare horses that wandered after the herd. The remuda was always watched closely by a wrangler who took care of them, fed them, groomed them and saddled them up as a replacement for any of the cowboys’ mounts who grew tired. Regardless of what Dusty said, she wasn’t sure she could find the courage to approach the milking cows. They looked just as wild as the rest of the herd.

  She moved on, spooning salt pork and potatoes onto the upraised plates of the rest of the hungry cowboys, all the while thinking about how she’d tackle the milking. Cookie had been no help. When she’d asked him to show her the milking cows, he’d just grunted and disappeared behind the chuck wagon. At least now she knew which ones they were. She’d milked cows before, many times. But the few cows Fred had kept on his small property had been docile and hornless. She swallowed, feeling her heart rate increase at the idea of milking a longhorn.

  When she’d finished serving the crew, she hurried back to the chuck wagon. A table was folded out at the tail of the wagon and Cookie had placed a steaming pot of chicory coffee on it. As she reached for a towel to carry it back to the men, she heard a voice address the group of cowboys behind her that made her freeze in place: “Mornin’, all.”

  It was Quincey! The sound of his voice sent a chill through her heart and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. What was he doing here? How had he found her? She heard Thomas answer him, then another man joined the conversation. It was Fred. He and Quincey were here together, and she knew what they were here to do – take her back to Fort Worth.