Sidewinder (11 page)

“They will come in the night, I think.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I think they watch at night. I do not see riders when the sun is in the sky.”

“All right. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Felicity went to see Pilar and commiserated with her over the loss of her dogs. They were just curs and Pilar did not take care of them very well, but Felicity knew that she was fond of them and that they provided company for her when Julio was away from the bunkhouse.

During the next few days, Brad selected ten head of cattle that he planned to drive to the Arapaho village. One day, he saw the smoke signals on a peak near the Indian camp and knew that Wading Crow had gotten his thirty snakes and was calling in tribesmen to carry the baskets back to his village. He hated to leave Felicity at such a time, but he had no choice, he thought. He had ridden a wide circle every night, below the creek and up in the timber, watching and listening for horses. Carlos and Julio had done their parts, too, taking turns watching for night riders.

Perhaps, Brad thought, the riders were just curious and were only hunters or travelers. It was hard to figure. While it looked suspicious, he had no proof that rustlers were interested in his herd. Still, the story of the Seguins bothered him, and what he had learned about the Coombs brothers was disturbing.

He and Carlos installed a windmill and pump next to one of the tanks over by the bluffs and the small canyons that lead off the valley. The canyon was full of limestone caves where he would winter his stock. In fact he had done that with a few head the previous winter. Brad’s ranch, which he and Felicity had not yet named, was long and wide, with high ground to the north, where the stray cattle had gone, and an open south end where he could drive his cattle to market or winter range on the flatland. He had chosen the spot when he had been hunting and had found a large herd of elk wintering there. The entire ranch was ringed by mountains, offering protection from the elements and good grazing in summer. The previous year, he had even planted winter wheat and in the spring, potatoes. Pilar used an acre to grow vegetables, which lasted all summer. She and Felicity canned the surplus, which had carried them through the winter.

He had a few hundred acres to the east, in another valley which was protected by high mountains and limestone bluffs. He ran some cattle on it, but they competed with the mule deer and elk, and the game was another resource Brad did not want to lose.

Two days before Brad planned to drive the cattle to the Arapaho village, Felicity invited Carlos, Pilar, and Julio up to the house for supper. Pilar brought two pies she had baked, and Carlos brought a small bouquet of sunflowers and columbines, which Felicity put into a mason jar filled with water and set in the middle of the large dining table.

After supper, they all sat out on the porch to watch the sunset.

“Do you really think you ought to leave the ranch to drive those cattle to God knows where, Brad?”

Felicity’s question surprised him, until he realized that this was why she had prepared such a sumptuous feast for him and his hands. She had wanted to soften him up so she could make her case about the drive north.

“We can use the money,” he said. “Until we drive a herd to Denver in the fall, we’re pretty cash poor.”

“We don’t really need money until the end of the year when you can sell some stock.”

“Felicity, I made a deal with Walking Crow.”

“With an Indian,” she said, and Brad’s head twisted to look at her.

“Meaning what?” he said.

“Meaning, well, it’s not the same, is it?”

“You mean that business between white men is more honorable than business between a white man and an Indian?”

She pulled in a breath. Pilar began to squirm in her chair. Julio slumped in his chair. Carlos looked as if he wanted to sprout wings and fly off the porch.

“I didn’t mean it that way exactly,” Felicity said.

“I think you did, darlin’. But I forgive you. Old prejudices are hard to shed, I know. But a deal is a deal, and if a man’s word isn’t any good, then what is?”

“You could wait,” she said.

“Wait for what?”

“A better time.”

“Did you ever hear someone say ‘there’s no time like the present’?”

“Oh, my mother, yes. But you know what I mean. Drive those cattle up just before we leave for Denver.”

“No, Felicity. I told Wading Crow I’d bring them up right away. Right away is the present. Julio and I leave day after tomorrow.”

“I think it’s a mistake.”

“Why?”

“Those horse tracks. Strange men watching the house at night. Pilar is scared to death. Those men killed her dogs, and she thinks we might be next. After what happened to the Seguins.”

“Do you want to live in fear all your life, girl?”

“Don’t call me ‘girl,’ ” she snapped. “And, no, I don’t want to live in fear. That’s why I’m asking you not to go. Not now.”

Brad said nothing, but he was fuming, as all could see. He glowered at Felicity, and his eyes narrowed to slits as if to bank the fires within. The sun painted the far clouds in subtle pastels, salmon and pink, gilded some with gold and others with silver. Bats appeared, plying the air with silent leathery wings, their peeping cries guiding them into small clouds of insects. Somewhere a quail piped and the sky began to drain its ocean blue to a pale whitewashed gray.

“Pilar, let us go. Thank you for the fine meal, Felicity.”

“Good night, Felicity,” Pilar said, rising from her chair.

“Don’t you want to wait around for the fistfight?” Felicity asked, without sarcasm.

“You two love each other too much for that,” Pilar said.

“
Buenas noches,
” Julio said.

“I think I go now, too,” Carlos said, and jumped from his chair. “Thank you for the supper. See you tomorrow, Brad.”

Brad and Felicity said their good nights, then sat in silence for a while as the sun sank below the snowcapped peaks and the clouds turned to ashen batting. The bats whirred close to the porch and made little squeaking sounds as they devoured mosquitoes.

“Well, I certainly ruined a perfectly good evening,” Felicity said after a time.

“No, you didn’t.” He reached over and covered her hand on the chair’s armrest with his. “I see the worth of your concern, Felicity. And I don’t want to leave.”

“Just think about it, will you, Brad? Think straight through it, and think real hard.”

“I’ll think about it,” he promised.

He told himself he wasn’t lying to her. He would think about making that drive. But his mind was made up. He had promised Wading Crow he’d bring him ten head of cattle, and he wanted his word to be good, now and always.

“If you go,” she said, “Wading Crow will make you do that Snake Dance. You’ll probably get bitten and die. And I’ll be a young widow.”

“Boo hoo,” Brad said. “I’m not going to do no Snake Dance and you’re not going to be a widow. You’re going to live to be a hundred and so am I.”

“Ha,” she said, rising from her chair as she slapped at a mosquito that had landed on her neck.

“I’ll be in soon,” he said.

“Don’t be long, Brad.”

“That sounds like an invitation.”

“It is,” she said coyly as she opened the door, and Curly jumped up on her, nearly knocking her down.

Brad watched the night coming on. He would only be gone a week or so. They had been back for a week and nothing had happened. He felt sure that their fears were just so much smoke. Nothing would happen while he was away. Pilar and Felicity could both handle a rifle, and Carlos was a crack shot with a pistol or a rifle. They could drive off any would-be rustlers. And Curly could sound the alarm.

He was sure of it.

He got up to go inside, lingering at the porch railing for a moment.

In the darkness, he did not see the two riders steal along the creek, their horses’ hooves wrapped in burlap.

They made no sound. One of them put a pair of binoculars to his eyes and looked at the man on the porch.

The stranger held the binoculars on Brad until he walked inside and closed the door.

Then the man put his binoculars back in the case and turned his horse. The other man followed him as they rode off to the south.

The bats filled their gullets and flew on, down to the beaver dams far below the valley.

And the moon was still asleep somewhere below the high peaks of the Rockies.

Ginger was a good cutting horse. Brad let him work, exulting in the sure-footed way Ginger leaped at the cows, responding to Brad’s every light touch of the reins against his neck. He never had to use the bit. He could feel Ginger’s powerful muscles beneath him as the horse charged, retreated, swung sideways to cut a cow from the herd. It was like riding a great and powerful engine that was all muscle, bone, and sinew. Ginger’s performance took Brad’s breath away, and the wind on his face made him feel as if he were riding at high speed down a mountain slope.

Julio, on his pinto cow pony, Chato, drove the cut-away steers into the pack where Carlos could manage them on his horse, Tico. Tico rode a slow circle around the four head, kept them bunched. Carlos marveled at the way Ginger focused on each cow, forced it out of the herd, and sent it toward Julio and Chato. Carlos loved working with the cattle even though he knew Tico, a part-Arabian bobtailed dun with a cropped mane, could not perform the same feats as Ginger. There was the heady scent of cow dung and animal sweat in the close air of the valley, the tang of chewed grass on the green lips of the cattle. All of it made his blood sing in his veins like some soaring fandango dance in Guanajuato, where he had been born.

Brad cut out a few more head. Ginger drove them to Julio, who passed them off to Carlos. Brad saved the brindle cow for last. She had been eyeing him warily from her own little
querencía
, the spot she had chosen to make her stand and avoid being captured or driven.

“Come on, Ginger,” Brad said, and turned the horse in a wide circle to come up behind the brindle. Unless the cow turned its head, it was blind to its rear. Brad reined in Ginger and waited, watching the brindle to see if she would bolt and run or wait him out. He motioned to Julio to move off toward Carlos. Julio turned Chato and rode slowly over to the bunched cattle, nine of them held tight by Tico and Carlos. He pulled up and turned to watch Brad and Ginger. He was sweating under the heat of the spring sun and his shirt clung to his chest as if plastered there.

A meadowlark trilled down by the creek, and mountain quail wallowed in dirt beds, fluttering their wings to dust out the mites. Trout basked in the shallows, watching for flying nymphs or mayflies, and the buzz of flies sawed the silence as they dodged switching cow and horse tails.

Brad watched the brindle. When she stared straight ahead, he ticked Ginger’s flanks with his spurs. The horse strode to the brindle’s hindside. The cow tried to bolt to the right, but Ginger cut her off, and when she tried to escape to her left, Ginger was on her, towering over her, his legs nimble and quick. He herded the lone cow to the bunch already gathered, and she slid into their midst like a hot knife through butter.

“All right boys,” Brad said, “let’s run them into the little corral.”

The three men herded the ten head of cattle to a small corral north of the barn. Carlos jumped down and pulled poles to close the gate. Julio held the reins of his horse.

“Let’s pack up, Julio, kiss our wives good-bye, and head on out.”

Julio nodded and rode off to his bunkhouse.

“You keep an eye on things while I’m gone, Carlos.”

“Do not worry, Brad. I will do this.”

“I know you will. I’m depending on you.”

Carlos patted his pistol and grinned.

“Be back inside of two weeks.”

“I will look for you in ten days,” Carlos said.

Brad laughed and turned Ginger toward the house. The easy part was over. Now he had to drive ten head of cattle through the mountains, try to make it to the Arapaho village in three days, four at the most.

Felicity was waiting for him when he walked into the house. So was Curly. The dog was all wag, and his body bent like a pretzel as Brad patted him on the head.

“I’ve got you all packed,” she said, entwining his neck with both arms. “Damn you.”

“Oh, now you curse me.”

“I’m just mighty peeved that you’re going on this fool drive.”

“You look darn cute when you’re peevish,” he said, and smacked her on the lips. She clung to him, and her kiss wasn’t a smack. It was long and lingering, and he felt more than a tug of desire. He downright wanted her, then and there. She had that effect on him. He squeezed her tight against him, mashing her lips with his, and her breasts set his chest afire.