The Cattleman Meets His Match

by Sherri Shackelford

  No one could blame him for being out of ideas. No one, not even his brothers could fault him for giving up this time.

  Champion lay at his feet and he absently scratched behind one raised ear. As much as it pained him to admit it, the dog seemed to like the name.

  Moira had an idea. John guffawed. It wouldn’t work. He didn’t even know what she was thinking, but he already knew her plan was doomed. He knew because he’d considered everything and all his ideas ended in calamity.

  A sound caught his attention and a pair of familiar, scuffed boots came into view. He lifted his head and met Moira’s steady gaze. The eyes that had haunted his dreams the previous night. They weren’t forlorn anymore. They were determined and that didn’t bode well for either of them. Tension tightened around his shoulder muscles.

  She knotted her arms over her chest. “You said you were crossing the border into Kansas and traveling on to Cimarron Springs. How far is that?”

  “It’s about seventy-five miles to Fort Preble. That’s the closest thing to civilization between here and Kansas. And there’s nothing in between Fort Preble and Cimarron Springs except for a couple of cow towns that aren’t safe for women and children.”

  “How many miles can the cattle travel per day?”

  “About fifteen.”

  Moira did a quick mental calculation. “That’s only five days to Fort Preble. You can find another crew there.”

  “In terms of math, yes, it’s five days.” He bit off a curse. “Except math is just numbers. Out here it’s wind and weather and rugged trail. You can’t put that in an equation.”

  “We’ll drive your cattle as far as Fort Preble.”

  “Who is ‘we’?”

  “The girls and I.”

  John barked out a laugh. “Thanks for the joke, but I’m not in the mood just yet.”

  “The way I see it, you don’t have any choice.”

  “Oh, I have choices.” He bluffed. “Lots of choices.”

  She tilted her head. “Name one.”

  “I’m still sorting out the details,” John grumbled. So much for bluffing Miss Moira O’Mara.

  “The older three can ride well enough,” she continued. “Tony can rope. We’re your best option.”

  “Do you know how much those cattle weigh?” He scoffed. “You’d be hurt or killed before you crossed the Snake River. And the Snake River is about twenty yards away. You’d be ground into dust by Fort Preble.”

  Her chin tilted up a notch and she braced her feet apart, planting her hands on her hips. “You said children drove twelve-hundred-head of cattle twice the distance. Why can’t we?”

  “Because you’re not boys. You’re girls.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  John stood and mirrored her implacable stance. He didn’t relish the task, but she needed a lesson. Conjuring his most intimidating glare, he lowered his voice into a deep, frightening growl. “The difference between boys and girls is weight and strength.”

  She drew herself up another notch. “What we lack in size we make up for in brains. I’ve seen plenty of cowhands. They’re not real smart.”

  She had him there. “The cows aren’t real smart either. That’s why you have to be strong.”

  “You think women aren’t strong?” Her lips tightened. “Do you have any idea what we go through each day? Have you ever worn a corset?”

  John raised his arms in supplication. “I think we’re wandering off the topic.”

  “Have you ever had your hair curled with a flaming hot iron?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Look at this.” She palmed a ringlet from her forehead, revealing a faint raised scar. “That’s from a curling iron. And I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

  He studied the shimmering halo of brilliant red curls cascading over her shoulders. “You shouldn’t be using an iron anyway. Nature has done a fine job already.”

  “My hair is not the issue,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “Please stick to the subject.”

  John gaped. “Don’t get mad at me. You brought it up.”

  “I was trying to explain the difficulties of being a woman.”

  “Truce?” he said. He’d never understood the complexities of a woman’s beauty regime, and not one word of this conversation left him wanting more information. Which was the exact flaw in her argument.

  He had her now. “Women can be strong. But you don’t have women, you have girls.” Aha! She couldn’t dispute that. “And I’m not risking the lives of girls.”

  Let Miss Moira O’Mara argue his logic now.

  Her expression turned incredulous. “Then you’ll just let the cattle starve here waiting for someone to stumble upon their corpses?”

  “Don’t change the subject when I’m winning.”

  “This isn’t about winning or losing. This is about honor and integrity.”

  His ears grew hot and his vision blurred in a haze of red. “Don’t you lecture me on honor and integrity. I could have left you in that alley.”

  “You still wouldn’t have a crew.”

  “I could have gone back into town. I could have gotten my old crew back.”

  “Would you have taken them back? Really?”

  He was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. “No.” He kept his gaze averted. He recognized the accusation in her voice. This wasn’t the first time he’d disappointed someone, and it wouldn’t be last. Ruth Ann had accused him of being too easy going to be a good husband. His brothers thought he was too reckless to make a good cattleman.

  For once in his life he was being thoughtful and cautious, and he’d found the one person who wanted him to return to his old ways. “I told you. I’ll drive the cattle toward richer pasture. Eventually, word will spread that there’s free cattle for the taking. The rest will take care of itself.”

  He’d rather keep Moira safe than win her approval. It was that simple.

  “Then you’re quitting?” she asked.

  His hackles rose. “No. I’m not quitting. I’m walking away from an impossible situation while ensuring the best possible outcome.”

  “That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re quitting.” Moira smirked.

  A low growl lodged in the back of his throat. If John didn’t know better, he’d have thought his brothers sent Miss Moira O’Mara to torture him. It was as though he was being lectured by all six of them except the view was better. Yep. She was all half dozen of his brothers rolled into one beautiful, infuriating, redheaded package.

  John scrubbed his hands down his face. There was no way he was winning a verbal sparring match. He was outgunned and outflanked. The best choice was a calculated retreat. “I’m not playing word games with you. This conversation is over.”

  “Fine. Then you’re abandoning your cattle to anyone who sees fit to take them.”

  “Yes. Exactly.” He huffed.

  Oh no.

  John staggered a step and rubbed his chest. He was huffing. Men didn’t huff. Only one day with the girls and already they were changing him. This was not a good sign at all. Squaring his shoulders, he refocused his thoughts.

  He might have lost his dignity but at least Moira finally understood the bigger picture. “I’m leaving the cattle and taking you girls to Fort Preble. That about sums it up.”

  “Excellent.” She pivoted on her heel and stalked toward the campsite, tossing a last triumphant glare over her shoulder.

  John studied her ramrod-stiff back and a cacophony of alarm bells sounded in his head. She hadn’t won. Which begged the question: Why was she acting as though she’d won? What kind of trick was that?

  Pops, who’d kept himself hidden since the sheriff’s arrival, chose that unfortunate moment to reappear. He sipped his coffee and f
ollowed her progress. “You should go into town more often. I don’t recall a more exciting cattle drive. Nope. I do not. And that’s saying something. I’ve been around a while.”

  “Don’t you have a stew that needs stirring or something?” Feeling like he’d been picked up and dropped by a twister, John struggled for a reply. “What does she think she’s doing?”

  Before his suspicious gaze, Moira gathered her charges. Keeping her voice low, she talked and gestured. Champion barked and danced around the group. The girls shot him concerned looks every so often but mostly kept their attention focused on Moira. After a moment, a wave of nods rippled over their bent heads.

  The roar of alarm bells in John’s head grew deafening. They were most decidedly up to mischief. Judging from the determined looks on their deceptively innocent faces, a decision had been made. The last time they’d put together an idea as a group, they’d dropped onto his head and gotten him banned from Fool’s End. Well, this time he was prepared. He’d defuse this round of dynamite before they got him blown out of Indian Territory altogether.

  Her expression smug, Moira approached him once more. “We’ve reached a decision.”

  John crossed his arms over his chest. “About what?”

  “You’ve abandoned your cattle, Mr. Elder. We hereby assume responsibility for the herd.”

  He leaned closer, turning his face and angling one ear in her direction. “Say again?”

  “You heard me.”

  John reared back. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, you’d better think again.”

  “I’m thinking you’ve gotten too much sun today. You aren’t making a lick of sense. Would you like to sit in the shade for a moment?”

  “I’m making perfect sense.” He needed sleep, that was all. After a good night’s rest, everything would make sense again. “I don’t need shade.”

  “You’re also a touch cranky.”

  He ignored the trap. A denial only sounded petulant.

  “If the herd is up for grabs,” she said. “We’re taking it.”

  John searched for an ally. “Pops. Help me out.”

  The older man didn’t quite meet his gaze. “She makes a sound case.”

  Rocking back on his heels, John absorbed the blow of betrayal from his most trusted advisor. “Don’t tell me you’re on their side?”

  “I’m not taking sides,” Pops began in a conciliatory tone. “I admire the lady’s gumption. And she has a sound point. If you’re abandoning the herd, she’s got just as much right to the cattle as anybody else.”

  While John mulled over the dubious logic, Moira stepped forward. Her cheeks were flushed and she appeared taller somehow. “There’s another thing. We’d like to trade twenty head of cattle for five horses.”

  John touched his forehead. She was right about one thing, the sun had obviously baked his brain. He must be hallucinating because she couldn’t possibly be suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. “They’re my cattle. I can’t trade my cattle for my horses.”

  “The way I see it, you and Pops can lead twenty head easy enough. You can sell them in Kansas.”

  She was definitely taller. Had she changed shoes? John checked her boots. Nope. They were the same ratty pair she’d been sporting. “I’ll give you that. But why would I make a trade with my own horses?”

  “Because I counted ten horses in the remuda.” She explained as though the argument made perfect sense. “Without your men, you don’t need that many.”

  Pops bobbed his head in agreement. “That’s true.”

  “Stop!” John shouted then immediately lowered his voice. “Stop helping me.”

  “I’m not the problem here.” Pops lifted both shoulders, sloshing coffee over the side of his mug. “Since Moira and the girls have claimed the herd, the cattle are hers to trade.”

  “I... You...” How could the lunatic proposal make sense to one person, let alone two? And two people he had previously considered sane, no less. “You’ve both gone loco. They’re my horses and my cattle.”

  “Not after today,” Pops added, warming right up to the idea like a snake to an occupied sleeping bag. “The way I figure, it’s a good deal. You won’t get that trade in Cimarron Springs, that’s for certain.”

  “I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming.”

  A sharp pain stabbed his arm. He glanced down as Hazel released her fingers.

  “Nope,” she said. “You’re not dreaming. I pinched you.”

  John rubbed the spot on his arm. “Not you, too!”

  The kid did have strength, he’d give her that. He’d have a bruise come morning.

  Moira ignored his outburst and stared him down. “Do we have a deal or not? I’d like the ten horses for rotation, but I figure we can make do with five since we’re girls. I figure we’re lighter than men are and we’ll set an easier pace. The horses will be under less strain.”

  “You can’t possibly be serious.” John considered his next words carefully. Since his first, logical reasons weren’t working, he decided on another tactic. “What are you going to do with all those cattle if, and that’s a big ‘if,’ you make it as far as Fort Preble?”

  “We’ll sell them, of course. The fort will have plenty of buyers. We’ll split the money and start over. It’s not the best solution, but it’ll do for now.”

  For an agonizing moment he followed her logic and found her argument sound.

  Then he remembered the whole idea was impossible. “It’s true. You’ve all gone crazy. I’m the only one here making sense.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I hear myself talking, but no one is listening. You’ll never make it across the Snake River.”

  “Say,” Pops interrupted John’s rant. “Can I take my ten head of cattle and add them to the girls? I think I’ll hitch a ride with the herd.”

  John felt like he’d been gut-shot. “Quit fooling around.”

  “The way I figure it,” Pops babbled on. “Six of us make better odds than five. And I know the way. We’ll point the cattle north and take our chances. What do we have to lose? The herd has come this far already. They’re trail broke by now. Seasoned. All the fight is out of them. Northern Indian Territory into Kansas is the easiest stretch. The terrain is flat, the grass is holding out and there’s plenty of water holes.”

  “I... You... But...” When had he lost control of the situation? John eyed the source of his problems. He’d lost control the moment Miss O’Mara had kicked him in the head. She must have shaken loose his brain. “You still don’t see the point. You can’t trade cattle that don’t belong to you.”

  “They don’t belong to you either.”

  “Yes. They do.”

  “Then what are you going to do with them?”

  “Well I’m not handing them over to a bunch of girls. Children. Greenhorns no less.”

  Pops glared. “I’m not a greenhorn and I’m certainly not a child. I’m experienced. I’ll take the cattle. I’ll even keep the same deal. You can drive your share, the ten head, all the way if you want. Start over in Cimarron Springs. We’ll keep the extra horses.”

  “I didn’t make a deal,” John’s voice cracked beneath the strain of his disbelief. “There was no deal. That’s the whole point.”

  Moira shook her head. “You’re talking in circles again, Mr. Elder. And wasting daylight in the process. I’ve got a busy day teaching these girls the rudimentary skills and then we’ve got a stream to cross.”

  “It’s a river.”

  “It’s two feet deep in most places with more sandbars than water. It’s not exactly the Missouri.”

  “There are places that drop off to five or six feet. And you don’t even know the rudimentary skills yourself. How are you going to teach them to somebody else?”

  “She’s g
ot good instincts.” Pops tossed his coffee dredges onto the red earth and tugged on his suspenders. “I’ll pack up camp.” He stuck out an elbow. “Join me, Miss O’Mara?”

  Behaving as though John wasn’t an active participant in the conversation, Pops and Moira linked elbows and walked away.

  The other four girls shifted on their feet and eyed him as though he was a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse. He recognized the emotions flitting across their faces—curiosity, doubt, fear, and worst of all, excitement. They were wary yet fascinated all at the same time.

  He clutched his throbbing head. “What just happened?”

  Tony chucked him on the shoulder. “You just got outwitted.”

  John rubbed his shoulder, still bruised from his rescue the previous evening and Hazel’s pinch. “I did not get outwitted. You can’t reason with crazy. Therefore, you cannot be outwitted by it.”

  The dark-haired girl scratched her head. “I know you think you’re making sense, but I understood Moira a lot better.”

  John blew out a breath. He’d ceased understanding his own reasoning somewhere around the time he’d traded his own horses for his own cattle and lost his cook in the process. “I can’t convince Moira, but you’ve got some cattle experience, Tony. I could tell by the way you rode yesterday. You know the dangers.”

  Her expression hardened and raw pain flickered in her dark eyes. “I did grow up on a ranch. My pa was a hand and my ma was a cook in the big house. Then the influenza came. My whole family got sick, but only I survived. The owner said I lived because I was special. He said I was so special, someone would surely pick me from the orphan train. But I knew he was lying, see? Because if I was such a great kid, why didn’t they let me stay on the ranch? That was the only home I’d ever known. But I wasn’t special. I was just another orphan.”

  John imagined Tony losing one family member after another and then being displaced from the only home she’d ever known. “You are special. He was a fool for not seeing that.”