Maybe Lady Luck was following him, he thought, as a sturdy-looking man with a full face of gray whiskers rode up to join them. Like the two before him, he cast a sharp eye back and forth along the line of the bank behind Carson. Figuring that if there was any funny business planned, it would have already been happening, he nodded to the young man. “Howdy, young feller,” he remarked. “Where are you headed?”
Marvin answered before Carson had a chance. “He’s on his way to Fort Laramie, lookin’ to catch on with a herd goin’ to Montana.”
That brought a look of interest to Duke’s face. “Well, now, is that so? You ever work cattle before?”
“Yes, sir. I just came up from Texas with a herd that belonged to Mr. Bob Patterson, but he only took ’em as far as Ogallala.”
“How come you wanna go to Montana?” Duke asked.
“’Cause I ain’t ever been there,” Carson replied.
Duke grinned. “I reckon that’s reason enough. Reminds me of myself when I was about your age.” He paused to think about it a moment longer before deciding. “We are short a man.” He glanced at Johnny and shrugged. “Hell, we could use about two more men than we’ve got, but one more would make a heap of difference. Wouldn’t it, Johnny?”
Johnny responded with a grin of his own. “I reckon that’s the truth, all right.”
“I guess we could give you a try,” Duke went on. “This feller, Patterson, I reckon he was payin’ you about twenty dollars a month. Right?”
“No, sir,” Carson replied. “He was payin’ me thirty dollars.”
“That’s the goin’ rate for an experienced cowhand,” Duke came back. “And right now you’re a pig in a poke.” Carson shrugged indifferently, and Duke continued. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you a try at twenty until you show me you can cowboy with the rest of us. Whaddaya say?” Carson started to reply, but Duke interrupted when a thought occurred. “You ain’t wanted by the law, are you?”
“No, sir,” Carson answered. “I ain’t.” He hesitated for a moment, then said, “I reckon I’ll go to Montana with you.” He knew he was worth more than the twenty dollars offered, but he didn’t blame the man. Besides, he figured, he was bound for Montana one way or another, so he might as well go with this outfit. It might be a better bet than looking for one passing near Fort Laramie this late in the summer. He didn’t know where in Montana they were taking the cattle, but if he had to guess, he’d say they had over three hundred miles to go. So they were cutting it pretty close as far as the weather was concerned. It was going to get pretty cold in a month or so.
“Fine,” Duke said. “My name’s Duke Slayton. This is Johnny Briggs and Marvin Snead. What’s your name?”
“Carson Ryan.”
“All right, Carson, you can meet the rest of the boys at supper. Might as well just wait around till the drags come in and we settle the herd in this valley. You can dump your bedroll and other stuff in the chuck wagon and talk to Skinny Wills—he’s the wrangler—about a string of horses.” He turned to Johnny then. “You and Marvin pick the best place to cross in the mornin’?”
“Right here where we’re sittin’ is about as good as any, I reckon,” Johnny said. “There ain’t much bank to climb on the other side.”
Duke turned to Carson then, in a spirit to playfully test the new man. “What do you say, Carson? This look like a good place to push ’em across?”
“No, sir,” Carson replied stoically. “If it was me, I’d try it upstream a couple hundred feet, maybe on the other side of that tallest cottonwood.” He pointed to the tree.
All three men looked genuinely surprised to hear his reply. “Is that so?” Duke responded. “And why would you do that? The banks are good and low on both sides right here.”
“Quicksand,” Carson answered matter-of-factly.
“Quicksand!” Johnny exclaimed. “How do you know that?”
Carson shrugged. “Well, I don’t know for sure, but I noticed a couple of places toward the other side where the water looked like it was makin’ little whirlpools. And it wasn’t flowin’ around any tree roots or rocks or anything, and that’s what the water looks like when there’s quicksand under it.”
Duke couldn’t contain the laugh. He threw his head back and roared. “Whaddaya think, Johnny? Maybe we oughta go ahead and give him the thirty dollars.”
“I’m just sayin’ that’s what the water looked like when we got into some quicksand on a drive two years ago crossin’ the Red River,” Carson quickly offered, afraid he might have made an enemy of Johnny. “Might not be quicksand here at all.”
“Ain’t worth takin’ the chance,” Johnny said, apparently not offended. “That stuff can cause a lot of trouble that I’d just as soon be without.”
“All right, we’ll cross ’em up above the big cottonwood,” Duke said cheerfully. “And if we get into any quicksand, we’ll hang Carson in the damn tree. Does that suit everybody?” Everyone grunted in approval, including the new hire. “Now, let’s get them cows watered. Come on, Carson, I’ll take you to see Bad Eye—he’s the cook.”
Black Horse Creek (9781101607466) Page 25
