Rafferty: Cowboy Trail Boss: Christian Historical Western Romance (The Kavanagh Brothers Book 9)

by Kathleen Ball

  Cookie quickly added water to the pot hanging over the protected fire and then joined Rafferty. “I’m going to have to take her shirt off.” To the woman, he spoke gently. “Can you tell me your name?”

  Her eyes flickered in Cookie’s direction.

  Cookie placed a blanket over her. “This is one of the dry ones.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you. That was the worst storm I’d ever been in.” She peered up at Rafferty and narrowed her eyes. “Why were you late?” she asked again.

  He took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh to get some of the water off. “Ma’am, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Late to what?”

  “My pa was to meet up with you with our herd. They were cattle you’d sold to some smarmy man. He said to bring them here, continue up the trail with you, and we’d get about thirty dollars for each of those beeves. We got here a day early, then something sent the cattle stampeding. I ended up thrown by my horse. The other men with us weren’t around when I came to. I don’t know if they’re alive or not.” She slumped, seemingly out of breath. That amount of talking had apparently taken too much of her energy.

  “You and your pa been in the cattle business long?” Rafferty asked softly.

  “My brother and I used to take care of the cattle. Pa had enough to do keeping a roof over our heads.”

  “Where is your brother now?”

  “He died in service of the great Confederate States. After that we had to sell the herd to pay off some of Pa’s debts and pay the taxes. He’d claimed it was a fortuitous day when he bought the cattle.” A sad smile lifted her lips. “But he was mistaken.”

  Chapter Three

  “How about telling me how you went about getting that arrow in your shoulder?” Cookie asked. He shook his head. “I’m going to have to take it out and it’s going to hurt. If we leave it in, you’ll perish.”

  This time her eyes widened, and she nodded.

  “Boss, I’ll need the whiskey, a sharp knife and my sewing kit. I’m hoping I can stitch it, but I think I must cauterize it. Shea, come help hold this little gal down.”

  Shea raced over. “What is she doing out here?”

  “Maybe you can ask her afterward,” Cookie replied sarcastically.

  “Ah… I’ll help get the supplies.” Shea exchanged a smirk with Rafferty.

  I suppose that leaves me to help. Rafferty sighed. Shea didn’t seem so cocky at the thought of helping.

  Rafferty himself had to glance away once the woman shrieked. He held her down, but he didn’t wish to watch. Rafferty had once had a bullet taken out of him. It had hurt like the dickens. She must be in even worse pain. He waited for her to pass out. Many men passed out from pain, but not this female. Though obviously in agony, she didn’t even struggle while Cookie doctored her up.

  Her screams died into whimpers, and he gritted his teeth against the pathetic cries. Maybe he was out of his element being trail boss. When were his other brothers going to catch up?

  Finally, though, it was over. She exhaled a deep breath and seemed to calm.

  Cookie was thankfully quick, and afterwards, he washed the wound with whiskey. “There’s still some poison from the arrow in her. I’ll place a loose bandage on her for tonight and determine what we got in the morning. Hey, Phil! I need you to move the supplies around so she can sleep in the wagon.”

  Cookie never waited for replies; he expected his orders to be taken seriously. They usually were.

  Rafferty kneeled so he could see the woman’s face.

  She angled her head in his direction, her eyes full of agony. It must be hard lying face down on the tailgate.

  “What’s your name?” he asked softly.

  “Mae. Mae Swing. You’re late getting here. My pa and I ran into trouble while we waited.”

  Late? Waited? “Where’s your pa now?”

  “Six feet under.” A frown creased her forehead. “Well, I couldn’t have dug that deep down. He’s buried on the trail up yonder.” She closed her eyes, obviously spent.

  Rafferty carried his sodden saddle under the tarp. Not only was it drier there, but he wished to be close to Mae. There wasn’t much merit to her story except for the arrow in her. What type of man takes his daughter on a cattle drive? It was a curious explanation. Perhaps she struck her head?

  “How far ahead do you judge her herd is?” Cookie whispered.

  “I have no idea. Can’t be too far. Even stampeding cattle gotta slow up sometime. When my brothers join us, I’ll ride out and find them.”

  “No, you will not. This is your drive, Rafferty. You are Trail Boss and that’s that.”

  Rafferty stared at the other man. He hadn’t thought about it, but Cookie was right, he was in charge and it should remain that way. Would his older brothers think the same? He couldn’t imagine Sullivan taking direction from him. The rain had let up. Small puddles made up their camp. He was just about to get up when Shea headed to him.

  “You relax. I’ll check on the men. Cookie, you still have the stew you promised?”

  Cookie grinned. “You make sure to tell them to be quiet coming in for the girl’s sake.”

  Shea tipped his hat. “Will do.” As he walked away, he grumbled under his breath as he struggled to lift his boot after it was sucked in by the mud.

  Rafferty leaned back and closed his eyes. He slept on and off. The men weren’t particularly quiet, and neither was Cookie’s loud whisper warning them to be quiet. A smile played at Rafferty’s lips. He had a fine outfit.

  First light came early. He finally drifted deeper and slept heavier than usual. He didn’t hear Cookie make coffee or hoe cakes. Cookie always made a lot of the cakes so he could hand them out for a cold lunch with lukewarm coffee. No one minded; that was life on a cattle drive.

  Mae must have been tucked into the wagon after she fell asleep. Good. Rest was just what she required. Though once the mules started pulling the wagon, it would be bumpy enough to bruise a body.

  He needed to talk to her more about the cattle and where they came from. Something didn’t sit well. Cookie put a pan with water over the fire to heat— for the girl, Rafferty would bet. He drank a cup of coffee, ate a few hoe cakes, and saddled up. It was his job to check the on the herd and the men.

  The rain had left the ground riddled with puddles, but at least there wasn’t endless dust being kicked up as he rode. The cattle looked none the worse for wear. He made sure each drover had time to eat. It didn’t look as though they’d lost any of the herd. He’d already checked with Donald. The horses had a dreadful night, but they were fine now.

  They didn’t need to pull out in a hurry. He’d give everyone time to get themselves straight. His clothes were still wet, but that was just the way of it. As he arrived back to camp, he noticed Cookie’s limp was worse. Mae was awake, though, and sitting on the tailgate. Her dark hair lay limp past her shoulders, her skin was extremely pale, and her eyes seemed even bigger than the day before. Brown. Her eyes were a pleasing warm brown, he noted.

  He dismounted and acknowledged the men with a nod for each. “We’ll get moving shortly. Our things will dry as we ride.” They nodded back and shrugged; it was a common enough occurrence. “Good job on keeping the herd together.”

  “They stayed because they all love the O’Reilly boys singing to them. You’d expect they were courting the beeves,” Hank teased.

  “At least the herd doesn’t up and run like when you try to warble,” Griff commented with a chuckle.

  “How are you, Miss Swing?” Rafferty asked.

  She raised her head and peered at him. “Grateful you found me. Call me Mae, please. She moved her bandaged shoulder and winced. Those arrows hurt more than a bullet.”

  “I expect it would. I need to talk to you after we stop this evening. Maybe we can catch up to your cattle.”

  She gave him a weak nod and a wavering smile. “I’m feeling woozy. I need some help to get back into my spot in the wagon.”

  He st
epped on the tailgate and followed behind her. Gently he lifted her and managed to turn in the small area. Carefully, he set her down. “If you require to stop for any reason, just yell out to Cookie. Phil is our scout. He knows Indian country. The wagon goes next. You’ll have enough of a lead to stop if you have to. Hold on Mae, it’s going to be an unruly ride!”

  There was so much he needed to ask her, but tonight would be soon enough. She needed her rest.

  Mae winced with each turn of the wheels and every dip and bump in the rutted trail. She was fast getting bruises on top of her bruises. How did people travel all the way to California in one of these things? It was noisy too, with the pots and pans swinging from the top.

  Looking out of the back of the wagon, tears streaked down her cheeks. Her pa was dead. He had dreamed he was going to be rich. Why had he accepted those men’s word for things? The arrangement had never sounded right to her. Her pa had tricked enough people out of their money, he should have known better. Her shoulder protested when she sat up. The agony of it was beyond anything she’d felt before. Being shot was no picnic, but Cookie had given her medicine for the pain.

  He’d offered her whiskey, but she didn’t drink. She and her Pa had observed too many people squander their hard-earned money on spirits. Plus, she was Christian, and she didn’t consider it fitting. Though that hadn’t been a popular opinion with the reverend. He’d been known to toss one back now and then. She minded her own business. Too many had opinions in the name of God, and she couldn’t say which opinion was the right one. She just studied her Bible and lived how she expected God would approve of. Fire and brimstone weren’t something she believed in either. She trusted God was in her heart, and she should live a life that glorified him.

  It wasn’t always easy. Sometimes she’d read the Bible trying to understand what it all meant. Just when she thought she knew; she’d read it again and it was a different message, though not entirely different. She gave her best. Though she often wondered if the good Lord would be as upset about her knowing how to ride and rope horses as her Aunt Minnie had.

  She sniffed. Her pa had expected that she needed to know how to survive in the untamed world. Aunt Minnie only knew about parties and social gatherings. She’d never had to fight for her life.

  What would it be like to walk in Aunt Minnie’s shoes? Mae shuddered and then sighed. Who knew what the future might bring?

  Chapter Four

  The cook wagon halted, and though she offered, Cookie refused to allow Mae to help set up camp. Maybe that was for the best—at least for now. Every muscle, every joint ached when she walked. But the only way to heal was to become stronger. She made certain she stayed close to camp. Cookie didn’t need to worry about her while he worked.

  Little by little, her body loosened up. If only she could swing up on the back of a horse, but she wasn’t strong enough yet. It was a trifle amusing that no one mentioned the trousers she wore under her skirt. They were probably being gentlemen.

  She drew a deep breath. There was nothing but sand and some scraggly shrubs to be seen. It was foolish for her to even show herself in this area. She had been hit with the arrow not extremely far from here. It was hard to judge, but she was confident it was near there.

  “Cookie, do you have a long gun?”

  “I do.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  “This is Indian Territory. It makes me nervous, is all. I had a long gun before— er, the stampede. Do you mind if I guard the camp with yours? I feel too exposed out here.”

  He stepped to the wagon and easily grabbed a rifle. “Here. You might be right about being Indian Territory. They’ll wait to attack when the cattle are near, though, if they attack at all.”

  “You think they’re friendly?” She shook her head.

  “No, but I know the buffalo are almost gone and they are hungry. There are two reservations not too distant from here, but they aren’t receiving what the government promised. Usually they ask for some cattle and then are on their way. We never had us a pretty female along.” He gave her a lengthy look. “You going to explain how you got that arrow in you? Was it Indians? How did you escape?”

  “I was stupid and didn’t realize this was Indian Territory. I decided that Kavanagh wasn’t going to meet up with us after all. There was nothing behind me, but the Red River and I couldn’t cross it myself, so I walked and walked. But then I encountered some Indians. I ran then dropped playing dead and one of them shot me with an arrow. He came after me, but the older men in his group made him leave with them. When I was sure they had gone, I hid and later walked back, hoping Kavanagh wasn’t the word breaker I considered him to be.”

  “I’m glad Rafferty found you. You do know if those Indians chose to follow you, they could have. Fine trackers they are. Course, that probably would have just rained trouble on them if they killed you or forced you back with them, and they know that too.” He shook his head. “There are plenty of graves on this trail. I’m glad one isn’t yours.”

  Tears brimmed her eyes.

  “Oh, Mae.” Dismay filled his voice, and he regarded her with genuine regret in his eyes. “I forgot about your pa.”

  She gave him a shaky nod. “It’s fine.” She turned her back to him and stared over the plain. “There is such lush grass for the cattle.”

  “Tomorrow we cross through the Wichita Mountains. The good part of the trail is there are frequently places to water the cattle. Stay close, though. I don’t need to lose you in that tall grass tonight.”

  She shuddered. It would be easy to sneak up on the camp through the tall grass. She clasped the long gun tighter.

  Rafferty was glad to see the chuck wagon. He’d ridden ahead of the others, praying there would not be trouble. They were in Comanche Country. He’d met their leader a few times, and he seemed an honorable man. Hopefully, Quanah Parker would be bold and ride to them.

  He’d felt the heat of being watched for the last few hours, but he kept riding at a steady pace. As he approached the wagon, though, he gawked at Mae in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to be carrying a rifle. Frankly, he had thought she’d remain in the wagon for a few days.

  He nodded to her and swung off Maverick’s back. It felt good to be out of the saddle. “Any trouble?” he asked Cookie.

  “Not yet. I expect a visit though as soon as the cattle catch up. I was wondering if you wanted Mae inside?”

  She jutted her chin at him as he took her all in. “No, they know she’s here, no doubt. They could have taken her, but they didn’t.”

  “Yes, and they left me to die,” she answered in indignation.

  “It’ll be fine. Help Cookie if you’re up to it. Whatever you do, do not fire at anyone. I fully expect a visit, and I don’t want any trouble.” He stared at her.

  Mae dropped her gaze. “I won’t shoot. What about a hand-to-hand fight with the one who shot me?” Her eyes gleamed when she glanced at him.

  He suppressed a smile at the thought. “None of that either. Besides, you’re still healing.” He furrowed his brow. He didn’t know many females. He mostly knew his brother’s wives, and he didn’t remember any of them participating in hand-to-hand fighting. Some of them were feisty, but without a doubt Mae topped them all.

  “If that’s what you prefer,” she said her voice full of disappointment.

  “It is. Then after we eat, I want to hear more about the cattle your pa had.”

  Pain filled her eyes. “I’ll tell you all I know. I am grateful you discovered me.”

  He watched as she moved to the pot hanging over the fire. She stirred the food in it, and by her face he could tell the task was harder than she’d expected. If she kept at it, though, surely she’d get her strength back.

  Rafferty and Cookie walked off a little ways. “All should work as planned,” Rafferty told him. He had the lives of the whole outfit in his hands. It was daunting.

  “You know what you’re doing, Rafferty. Doubt put an end to more than one man. I realize they
’ve been following us. I’ll sit in the wagon with my rifle ready, but I don’t expect I’ll need to use it.”

  “Thanks, Cookie. They don’t want trouble either.”

  Cookie was right about doubt killing more than one man. A man needed to be confident and act quickly. The pounding of horse hooves coming their way was loud.

  Rafferty caught Shea’s glance and nodded. He swung down and gave Donald his horse to take care of. “They’re on their way. Looked like Quanah Parker. We can trust him.”

  “The Comanche will be here soon,” Rafferty announced to his men. “For those who haven’t been on trail drives with my family, it is important that you do not shoot. Do not place your hand on your gun. They just want cattle to feed their families.”

  “Ain’t that the half-breed?” A voice called out. “They captured his mother not awfully far from your ranch!”

  “Yes, and from all accounts his mother loved his father, so no insults. Let me and Shea do all the talking.”

  Sooner than predicted, Quanah and his men rode into camp. Quanah had an air about him that commanded respect. He nodded to Rafferty, then eyed Mae. “That the one who got an arrow in her?”

  She gasped and stared right back at him.

  “She’d make a good wife,” noted Quanah. “She reminds me of my mother.”

  “She is strong and skilled in the ways of the land. I have big plans for her,” Rafferty responded.

  Quanah nodded. One of his men rode to his side, holding a rope around a spotted horse.

  “Please accept this gift. The boy who put an arrow in you knew better. It’s our way of making things right.”

  Mae took a few steps toward Quanah. “Thank you. It looks to be a fine horse.” She accepted the rope the man held out to her. Then she took a step back, standing next to Rafferty.

  “My brother Shea will ride with you and cut some cattle out of our herd for you. I’m glad to see you looking well.”