The Cattle Drive [The Armstrong Brothers of Cedar Creek] (Siren Publishing Classic) (28 page)

“Matthew doesn’t tell me anything,” she said. “Now as much as you feel compelled to stay, there is a cattle drive that needs all the help it can get. Henry is only seventeen, and he is out there doing a man’s job, your job. So give that pretty lady a kiss, leave her to me, and get your ass back to that drive and take him with you,” she said, pointing to Matthew.

Michael just smiled and turned his attention back to Rachael.

“Michael. Go help Henry. I promise, Rachael will get the best medical attention my money can afford,” Sarah said, reaching for Michael’s hat and handing it to him.

Michael leaned over and kissed Rachael gently on the lips. Standing up taking his hat from his mother, he looked back at the woman he loved more than life itself. Putting his hat on his head, he walked out of the hospital.

* * * *

The trucks arrived at the campsite to find everything in full swing. The shift change was taking place, and when Michael exited the truck, he took a deep breath and prayed he was doing the right thing. As he stood there looking at the camp, he was surrounded by his brother and fifteen extra men he had grown up with. All the hands stood watching.

Michael walked into the site, and everyone got quiet.

“This doesn’t look good,” Kenny said, walking toward Jake.

Michael took off his hat. “Rachael is going to be fine. The snakebite did more damage than we thought, but the doctor has assured me that she will be fine,” he said, looking at the crew. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Now, I know the last few weeks have be horrible, but for Rachael we have got to see this drive through. So Mattie and I have brought in some reinforcements. So with that said, let’s get this camp packed and ready to move within the hour. We have a job to do.”

Michael walked toward the camper and walked in, sitting at the table and putting his head in his hands. Hearing the camper door shut, he looked up.

“Mattie, that was the hardest thing I ever had to do.”

“I know, bro,” Matthew said, sitting down across from him. “Where’s Henry?”

Michael grabbed the clipboard hanging behind him and looked at his watch.

“Out with the herd.”

“You should tell him you’re back,” he said, handing him a walkie-talkie.

Michael took it from him and pressed the button.

“Henry, come in, Henry.”

“Henry here…go ahead.”

“Return to camp.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“On my way.”

Michael placed the walkie-talkie on the table and looked at his brother. “How am I going to do this?”

“This is now your drive, Mike. Mom told me to help you and to make sure those cattle get to Silver Lake on time.”

Jake knocked on the door and walked in. “Hey, boss. I was talking with Justin yesterday, and he told me something funny. He said the day Rachael was bit by the snake, he saw two men riding away from the camp. He didn’t think anything of it, but with me getting the wagon ready to move… Mike, I wasn’t paying attention, and with fall settling in, Mike, it’s too cold for rattlers,” he explained.

“Thanks, Jake,” Matthew said. He watched Jake leave the camper and turned to look at his brother. Michael stood and slammed his fist into the small cabinets above the sink.

“Michael, calm down. That isn’t going to help anything,” Matthew quietly spoke.

“I am going to kill him, Mattie. I am going to kill him.” He turned, looking at his brother. There was another knock at the door, and in walked Henry. He removed his hat and looked at his father. “How’s Rachael?” he said.

“Better,” Michael said, looking at his brother.

“Henry. Your grandmother is here in town. I want you and Rachael to go with her,” he said, looking at his son.

“No, I’m staying here, Dad.” Henry faced his father.

“Son, I wasn’t asking you.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. But I am staying here. I don’t know what going on, but my gut says it isn’t good. All I know is that Rachael needs me out here, driving these cattle, and I aim to see this drive done,” he said and left the camper.

“I guess that boy just became a man,” Matthew said, standing up and walking toward the door. “I better go make sure he doesn’t get too big for his britches,” he said and walked outside.

* * * *

Out in the cold, crisp air, Michael saddled up Jasper and soon headed out toward the herd. He had a job to do. With less than five weeks to get this herd delivered, he was now more determined than ever to see that these cattle made it to Silver Lake and that Rachael didn’t lose her ranch.

The crew work diligently and hard over the next week and a half, making their first shipment delivery on time in Cotton, Wyoming. It took another five days to make it to Reading. After the herd was divided and the camp was set, Michael allowed half of the crew a night for relaxation.

The snow was thick on the ground, and with the forecast expecting another six inches overnight, Michael sat atop of Jasper looking out over the herd. The land was beautiful. The tall trees were snow covered, the ground a blanket of white, and the cattle mewed and swayed, giving motion to the coldness that surrounded them. The night sky was lit up with thousands of sparkling stars, masking the storm that was brewing far off to the northeast.

Looking around, he noticed the eerie quietness to the land, and a shiver ran deep down his spine.

A warning.

He knew the feeling as soon as it hit him. Then out of nowhere, lighting struck over the horizon. As if in slow motion, he slowly turned toward the cattle as the loud, boisterous thunder ripped overhead. The cattle started running and running hard off toward the northwest. Alert in seconds, Michael reared up Jasper and turned toward the herd. Grabbing his walkie-talkie, he yelled only one word, “Stampede!”

The camp all heard the one word that every cowboy dreaded. Running to their horses, the remaining guys left behind were all soon riding out toward the moving herd. All fighting to control the herd, they made their way fast through the land. The cattle soon split, dividing the crew to control the herd they were closest to.

Michael swayed to the right, moving northeast trying hard to get in front of the herd. Behind him, about ten other ranch hands right on his heels were spreading out to surround the herd.

It took Michael and his crew almost thirty minutes to get the herd turned around heading back toward the camp. Having settled down, Michael took a deep breath, thinking the worst was over.

He was wrong.

“Mike!” Matthew shouted, pointing off to the southeast. Michael turned his attention to the rolling snow-covered hills, to find a horse speeding fast through the night. He watched as Rachael’s hair whipped fast in the wind, flowing behind her as she moved through the stampede, racing ahead to cut the other half of the herd off. Like a bolt of lightning, she vanished into the herd, emerging off to the left of the herd, yelling, “And move ahead of them!”

Michael kicked Jasper and was soon racing down the hill toward the herd. He watched as she maneuvered the crew, and soon, she took control, turning the herd back toward the other group. As Michael approached her, she looked at him. What he saw there in that moment was blind fury.

She didn’t say anything. She quickly turned her horse and soon rode off to help the crew get the herd back to the valley for the night. Michael watched her leave and soon followed, helping her.

Saying absolutely nothing, she left the herd for the night, heading back to camp. Michael stayed with the herd until the next shift change, trying to figure what she was doing here. Giving up trying to understand her, he headed back with Matthew at his side.

They arrived at camp, to shouting and cursing. Matthew and Michael looked at each other and dismounted their horses. Walking over to the commotion, they soon found Rachael, toe to toe with their father, and Mitchell, Mark, Marcus, and Mason standing right behind her.

Michael’s mother ran over to him. “Michael, I couldn’t stop her. When she found out what your father had done, she went ballistic.”

“What are you talking about, Mom?” Michael said, walking closer to Rachael.

“He bought the note on her ranch, Michael. He took it out from under her,” she said, looking at her son, disgusted with her husband.

Michael and Matthew flew past their mother. Michael grabbed his father by the shoulder, turning him around just as his other hand connected with his face. His father flew back, landing hard on his back. Michael was then on top of him, punching him in the face. Mason quickly moved Rachael out of the way, handing her off to Mitchell. It took only a minute for Matthew and Mason to pull Michael off of him, but the words emanating from his mouth even shocked the most hardened man.

“You son of a bitch. I am going to kill you! You hear me, you bastard! I am going to kill you!” Michael yelled, trying to break free from the arms that held him back. “You took her ranch. You bastard! You tried to kill her! You greedy son of a bitch! You are not going to get him, do you understand. I will kill you first!” Michael fought the boys hard. Finally breaking free, he got his hands around his father’s neck and was planning on choking the life out of him when a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

“Michael, please,” she said softly. Michael looked up to find his mother crying, pleading with him to stop. He looked over at Rachael, who was also crying in the arms of Mitchell. When he looked at Henry, he, too, turned to look away.

“Michael, please. He isn’t worth it, honey. He isn’t worth it,” his mother sobbed. Michael released the hold on his father, throwing his head back toward the ground, and walked over to Rachael. He took her in his arms and held her. Her arms wrapped around his waist, holding him tight.

Sarah Armstrong stood, looking at her sons and Henry. She walked over to her husband and said for all to hear, “This was the last straw, Mason Harold Armstrong. I have never told you how to run Crossfire Ranch, never once did I interfere, even with your whores, but this time you went too far. I told you next time I wouldn’t sit idly by. I would get a good lawyer, M. H. I want a divorce!” She looked at the man. Turning away, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder and said, “By the way, you’re fired! Get your shit and leave.”

“I just wanted what was mine!” M.H. shouted as she turned her back on him.

Sarah Armstrong walked over to the camper and disappeared inside, leaving everyone outside in the snow to wonder what had just happened. They all watched M.H. Armstrong get up and stagger toward one of the trucks and leave. The crew that accompanied their father followed.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Henry said, looking for answers.

“Not now, Henry.”

“Michael?” Rachael questioned, looking up at Michael.

“I am so sorry, Rachael.”

“But why, I don’t understand?” she cried into his chest.

“Mikie, get her inside. She isn’t wearing a coat,” Matthew quietly said.

The whole camp watched Michael scoop her up into his arms and take her into the camper. He emerged a couple of minutes later, walking over to the fire.

“Michael. Come over here and let me look at your hand,” Matthew said, getting the first aid kit. Letting him tend his hand, Michael’s eyes never left the camper.

“Mason, please come in here,” Sarah said from the camper door.

The brothers watched as Mason quietly walked over to the camper, closing the door behind them. He saw Rachael lying on the bed in the back, while his mother was sitting at the table going over paperwork.

“Sit down, Mason,” she told him softly.

“Mom, this is way out of control. You should have called me sooner.”

“I am so sorry. You’re right, but circumstances have now changed, and I am going to ask you to do something for me that you may have a hard time with,” she said, looking at her son.

“Mom?”

“Michael, the boys,” Jake said quietly to him as he fixed his hands. Michael looked up and realized they were all still standing around watching.

“Shift change. Everyone back to work!” he yelled.

“You heard the man…move,” Kenny said, reiterated his order.

The brothers stood outside waiting. The snow had begun to fall, and they all walked over to the fire to stay warm, waiting for anyone to emerge from the camper. But no one did.

Sitting outside, Michael wondered what he could do to fix this. Rachael had lost her ranch. Her cattle were no longer hers. Trying to figure everything out, he concentrated, staring into the fire. It was Mark who spoke first. “What do you think she is talking to Mason about?”

“Whatever it is, it ain’t good,” Mitchell replied.

The brothers all knew what Mason did for a living. They had all accepted it, for it was what he chose. He was good at what he did, and no one could deny that.

Mason Harold Armstrong was the best sharpshooter the United States Army had, at least according to his brothers. Mason enlisted right out of high school, looking for an escape from their father. Like all of his brothers, Mason couldn’t wait to get the hell away from Dodge. Mason soon made a new home for himself in the army. He loved what he did and was on the fast track. After serving three tours in Iraq, he had just returned from his last tour in Afghanistan. Mason was the quiet brother. Never saying much, he preferred to let his weapon do the talking for him.