Goodnight's Dream (A Floating Outfit Western Book 4) (18 page)

Even without Goodnight’s
signals, the
bayo-cebrunos
knew what had to be done. Although lacking some
three hundred and seventy pounds of the steer’s almost twelve
hundred pound heft, the gelding moved alongside it and tried to
shoulder it into a turn. When that failed, the horse’s head snaked
around and its teeth chopped at the side of the steer’s throat.
Neither the charge nor the bite made the steer alter
course.

Seeing the attempts fail,
Goodnight nudged his heels gently against the gelding’s side.
Although it had run at a full gallop for nearly a mile, it extended
itself and actually increased its speed. Slowly it drew ahead of
the steer and its rider sat level with the wicked horns. Carefully
Goodnight edged the horse nearer and made sure of his balance as he
prepared to take a desperate chance. Slipping his right foot from
the stirrup iron, he lashed out with his leg. The toe of his boot
thudded hard against the side of the steer’s head. Snorting, the
longhorn jerked away but the gelding crowded after it. Again
Goodnight kicked and, seeking to avoid the punishment, the steer
continued to move away. The
bayo-cebrunos
missed its footing and stumbled. Deftly,
with a riding skill a Comanche would have admired, Goodnight
adjusted his balance to assist it. For a moment the rancher
wondered if it was his finish. Then the horse regained its footing
and plunged in to let him slam another kick at the
steer.

Close behind Goodnight, Wardle watched in
silent admiration. Then he gave his full attention to his own part.
In the way of their kind, the steers following the ring-streaked
blue swung after it as it turned and Wardle was ready to prevent
any attempt to deviate from the curve started by Goodnight’s kicks.
All along the left side of the herd, men prepared to ensure there
was no breakaway from the course forced upon its leader.

Unlike his uncle, Dusty had
gone along the right flank. The big paint had carried him towards
the point but he knew that he could do little to help and so had
not caught up to the lead steer. With the other men on the right
side, he had given his efforts to holding back hopeful strays.
Watching Goodnight
turn the ring-streaked blue, Dusty was aware of the danger
to the men on his side of the herd.

From a straight line the stampede slowly
began to form a circle. The cowhands on the inner flank whirled
their horses to ride clear. Last to go was Dusty. After all the
others had ridden out, he sent his paint running for the rapidly
narrowing gap between the point and drag. He timed the departure
just right, having ensured that none of the hands were trapped in
the ring and leaving himself before the lead steer came close
enough to take fright at his sudden appearance. Once beyond the
cattle, he reined the paint around and waited to see if there was
anything more he could do.

Instead of allowing the blue steer to join
behind the drag and make a complete circle, Goodnight forced it to
turn inwards before it reached the last of the cattle. Once again
the others followed their leader, passing along the right flank and
forming an ever-decreasing spiral. The cowhands did their best to
keep the cattle moving, causing them to mill closer and closer
until the big blue found itself unable to continue forward due to
the pressure of the others around it. In that way the movement of
the herd was brought to a halt.

‘
Circle them, keep them held!’
Goodnight yelled to the cowhands.

There might still be danger if some of the
steers broke out of the tight-packed mass. However, the worst of
the trouble was over and the rancher could withdraw to try to
assess what losses he had suffered through the stampede. Nor did a
man of Goodnight’s character forget those who had helped to halt
the cattle.

‘
Thanks, Tom, boys,’ he said as the
other ranchers rode towards him.

‘
You’d’ve done the same for any of us,
Charlie,’ Wardle replied. ‘Our boys’ll tend to the herd. You send
your crew off to see what they can gather from the
strays.’

Nodding gratefully, Goodnight turned to give
the orders. He knew that the stampede had caused a serious loss of
stock. Just looking at the packed-together mass of the remainder
told him that. Just how bad the losses would be, he could not tell
for certain; but he estimated well over five hundred steers had
broken away. A few would be dead, others picked up and returned by
his men. The majority of the escapees were headed back to the brush
country as fast as their legs could carry them. Even if the Mineral
Wells men accepted his offer, it looked like he would still be a
lot of cattle short of the number required to fulfill his contract
with the Army.

‘
Bad, huh?’ Wardle said
sympathetically, following the direction of Goodnight’s
gaze.

‘
It could’ve been a whole
heap worse,’ the bearded rancher replied. ‘About that
golondrino.
It was part of a
bunch Pitzer Chisum brought in with your stock. Only Dawn
Sutherland had trailed them up here. It was her who first put me
wise to Chisum’s game. Dustine helped me cut the herd and we took
out all the D4S critters. Only she left them with me while she
headed for home to see her pappy.’

‘
Ain’t that Dawn the spunky one,’
grinned Jones. ‘We didn’t go to the D4S with Darby having that bust
leg. Figured to fetch his stuff back without bothering him. Only
young Dawn licked us to it.’

‘
Trust her for that,’ grinned Hultze.
‘What happened to our stock?’

‘
Chisum took it with him,’ Goodnight
replied. ‘Allowed he’d turn it loose close to its home range. I
couldn’t’ve got it without shooting, which’d’ve spooked the herd
anyways.’

‘
We’ll tend to his needings,’ Wardle
promised grimly.

Before any more could be said, Dusty rode up.
Nobody but a close friend could have told by looking at his face
how concerned he felt about the stampede.

‘
I’m real sorry I started the shooting,
Uncle Charlie,’ Dusty said.

‘
You
didn’t start it,’ Goodnight corrected.

‘
I wanted to stop those two yahoos
busting through until you’d had time to tell these gents about Dawn
Suth—’

‘
They know now. And my boys wouldn’t’ve
let them go into the herd.’

‘
Say. Where the hell’re
them two jaspers at?’ Colburn de
manded, rising in his stirrups and
staring around. ‘They could’ve easy got somebody killed, acting
that ways.’

‘
That’s what they was after doing, I’d
say,’ Dusty put in as the other ranchers also looked around without
locating Luhmere and Turner. ‘And it was three of them, not
two.’

‘
How do you figure that out, Cap’n
Fog?’ asked Wardle.

‘
Way I see it, that lanky cuss in the
coonskin cap was in it up to his dirty neck,’ Dusty replied. ‘And
I’ll be tolerable surprised if either of the others ride for the
Lazy N.’

‘
Comes to that,’ Colburn
remarked. ‘I know Needles of the Lazy N, and I’ve never seed either
of them fellers on his place. They allowed that he only
took
’em
on recent when I asked them about it.’

‘
Unless things’re better for Needles
than most of us,’ Wardle commented, ‘I can’t seeing him having the
money to take on extra help.’

‘
I didn’t give much thought to it at
the time,’ Colburn answered. ‘Hell! When somebody rides in to say
you’ve had your gather wide-looped, you don’t stand around asking
questions.’

‘
That’s for sure,’ Dusty
agreed.

The ranchers dismounted to cool and rest
their horses. While waiting, Wardle inquired, ‘Why’d you reckon
Scroggins’s in cahoots with Luhmere and Turner, Cap’n Fog?’

‘
He didn’t meet up with us until last
night,’ Hultze went on.

‘
Way I see it, this all ties in to a
play at stopping Uncle Charlie taking his cattle to Fort Sumner,’
Dusty replied. ‘First they get to Chisum and persuade him to grab
off your stock to replace that herd Pitzer lost. Then they have
Luhmere and Turner telling you about the thefts and bringing you
after whoever took your cattle. To make sure nothing went wrong,
they had Scroggins hid out. He come to you on the trail after dark
and said how he’d seen Chisum delivering cattle to Uncle Charlie,
likely steered you here—’

‘
He did,’ Wardle confirmed.

‘
They knew you don’t like
Yankees, Tom,’ Dusty went on, ‘and were counting on you regarding
Uncle Charlie as one. When you didn’t bust in and start the
shooting, Luhmere and Turner made a stab at doing it. That damned
fool
golondrino
coming out gave them an excuse. Once the first shot’d
been
fired,
you’d’ve cut in figuring Uncle Charlie was lying about sending your
cattle back.’

‘
I’d say they picked on
you, figuring you’d make some
loco
move and they could handle you easy, Cap’n Fog,’
Jones remarked. ‘If you know what I mean?’

Dusty grinned at the worried expression on
the gangling rancher’s face. It had been many years since the small
Texan’s lack of inches had caused him either embarrassment or
resentment. So he took no offence at Jones’ comment.

‘
There’s not many’d’ve thought their
game out as quick as you did, Cap’n Fog,’ Hultze complimented. ‘Or
gone at it the way you did to stop them.’

‘
It was a fool way,’ Dusty grunted.
‘Turner moved faster than I expected to cock his Spencer and got
off a shot.’

‘
It turned out all right, boy,’
Goodnight assured him. ‘Damn it, though, Dawn’s flogging hell out
of her horse to get back home and see you gents.’

‘
How come?’ asked Wardle.

‘
That’s something we could talk over
better at the house,’ Goodnight replied. ‘If you gents can spare
the time to take a meal and a drink, that is.’

‘
We ought to be getting back and
cutting Chisum’s sign,’ Jones said. ‘Time enough for it after we’ve
taken Charlie up on his offer, though.’

‘
If Cap’n Fog’s called the play right,’
Wardle continued, in a tone which showed that he did not doubt it,
‘Chisum’s done what he intended with the herd and’ll turn it loose.
If I know those steers of mine, they’ll find their way back to
their home range in the end.’

While waiting for the horses to recover from
their strenuous exertions, the ranchers saw some of the cowhands
returning. A few brought back cattle, but others came in
empty-handed with tales of steers fleeing into the bush.

‘
I went in after a
bunch,’ the young cowhand, Austin, declared, his shirt torn to
shreds and his face and torso sporting numerous vicious-looking
scratches. ‘Was following a rattlesnake down a path that got
narrower all the time. Only when that ole rattler
started
backing
out of it, I figured that track was just a touch too tight
for me to go along anymore.’

Knowing the manner in which brush-reared
longhorns could pass through dense, almost impenetrable
undergrowth, none of the listeners blamed him for failing to bring
back the cattle. They gave him his laugh, but offered scant
sympathy over his tattered condition. All the other Swinging G
hands knew that they would most likely soon be brush-popping in an
attempt to re-gather the lost cattle and bring the herd to its
original strength.

Satisfied that the horses had recovered, the
men started to move the herd back to the area from which they had
fled. Tired by the stampede, the steers raised no further
objections and went quietly. Looking back, Goodnight let out a low
sigh of relief. They had come within a hundred yards of the thick
country before he managed to turn the lead steer and he knew just
how fortunate he had been.

Soon after moving the herd out, Goodnight
asked for help to make a trail count. Accompanied by Wardle, he
rode ahead. The two ranchers sat facing each other some twenty
yards apart and the men channeled the cattle between them.
Tactfully Goodnight placed the other rancher at the left, so that
Wardle could study the brands on the passing steers while making
his count.

Concern grew more apparent on Goodnight’s
bearded face as he watched the last of the steers drawing ever
nearer; but the numbers were falling short of the original two
thousand. At least three-quarters of the herd had gone by before
the count reached one thousand.

Wardle also counted, doing his work
thoroughly although he was human enough to take notice of the
brands. Seeing only Swinging G and D4S steers, he was fully
satisfied that Goodnight had told the truth. The idea that maybe
all his own and his companions’ stock had been with the herd, but
escaped, never entered his head. He knew that would be almost an
impossibility and trusted Goodnight’s honesty. In addition he was
waiting with some eagerness to hear what the other rancher had to
discuss. If it should be what Wardle hoped, Goodnight could count
on at least one willing man in his audience.

At last the drag of the herd passed between
the two ranchers. Tallying up their count, Goodnight and Wardle
came together.

‘
I make it fourteen hundred and
sixty-five, Charlie,’ Wardle announced.