The Lover

by Genell Dellin

  Everybody within sight watched him ride through the stubborn cattle. It was only minutes after he reached a bunch of Susanna’s wet herd until he had his rope around the neck of a calf.

  As he came back through the herd, the frantic mother cow followed her baby. In turn, a string of steers followed her, becoming more and more frenzied at the sound of the bawling pair. Eagle Jack dragged the calf, caterwauling at the top of its lungs, straight to and then onto the bridge.

  The crazed mother cow came right along.

  The excited steers stayed tight on her heels.

  The commotion spread through the herd and more cattle moved toward the bridge. And onto it. They gathered and pushed at the entrance until the riders could barely hold them back—three or four men, plus Susanna, had all they could do to let only few enough pass to keep the chain of horned beasts from breaking.

  Susanna looked up from the work and met his gaze over the sea of horns forming between them. She sent him a smile that would rival the sun.

  It warmed his blood so fiercely he could feel it moving underneath his skin. He had done it, that smile said. He had done what no one else could do. He was the hero of the hour.

  He’d felt good before in his life. He generally always felt good about himself. But Susanna’s smile made him feel the best. In her eyes, he was ten feet tall and bulletproof.

  That beautiful smile stayed before his eyes when he reached the end of the bridge and hit the river, all the time he swam his horse and the calf across. They climbed out onto the far bank and got out of the way of the wave of cattle following as Eagle Jack looked back to see some of his drovers already in the water, swimming their horses downstream to the cattle to keep them from drifting too far.

  He had good men. He was thankful for that.

  As soon as he’d driven the leaders far enough onto the north side of the river to settle down and graze in the direction of Kansas, he got down and took his loop off the calf. Mother and calf reunited joyfully and finally quit bawling.

  Eagle Jack coiled his rope and dropped it over his saddle horn as he rode back toward the river. Now if he could get back over to the south side before Susanna left her post at the bridge entrance and swam her horse into the river full of clashing horns and flailing hooves, he would’ve done a fine day’s work.

  Susanna turned her horse and started for the river when she noticed her chuck wagon rolling that way. All she could see of it was the back as it went down the bank toward the water with the boxes of supplies lashed to its wooden top.

  The cattle were moving in a continuous stream now, all of them steadily determined to stay with the herd, and two drovers at the entrance to the bridge were plenty. She was needed more with the wagon.

  Maynell always had been the impatient sort, and at first she had thought the older woman was intending to swim her beloved mule team across on her own, but as Susanna trotted her horse nearer, she saw that some of Tolly’s men had tied their ropes to the wagon and were planning to pull it to the other bank with their saddle horses. Everybody in both the outfits was helping everybody else, eager to get the crossing done after all the waiting.

  “We’re gonna get me over yonder to start the supper fire,” Maynell yelled, when she saw Susanna. “These men need some hot coffee in their bellies with this cool drizzle soakin’ ’em through and through.”

  “And some steak and biscuits,” one of the drovers called as he looked back, “plus a gallon of coffee.”

  “You got it,” Maynell said.

  Susanna rode up to the wagon and looped her rope over the brake handle. “I’ll help keep you upright,” she said. “I’m craving some coffee, too.”

  The horses moved swiftly over the swampy ground of the slough south of the cattle-covered bridge and out into the river. For fear of bogging down and of horses balking, they never let up speed as they pulled the wagon in behind them a few yards downstream from the drovers on swimming horses who formed a line between them and the cattle.

  It was raining harder, now, and Susanna pulled her hat down against it as her horse began to swim. She wished that she’d taken time to find her slicker because Maynell was right, as usual. They’d all be wet to the skin by the time they reached the other side.

  Wherever on the other side that might be. Even with the water no higher than her saddle skirts, the current was strong enough to take all of them drifting a little more downstream every minute.

  “Don’t let ’em slow,” one of Eagle Jack’s drovers yelled. “Push them cows, men, push ’em!”

  The river was colder than the rain, way colder than Susanna had expected, and she wished, suddenly, that she had chosen to sit up high and dry on the wagon seat with Maynell. She glanced up to see how her friend was doing. Maynell had her neck cranked around to watch the cattle.

  Susanna followed her gaze. There seemed to be trouble of some kind in the middle of the river.

  One of the men—it was Tolly—took off his hat and waved it at the cattle. He yelled an order that got lost in the commotion, and then he was standing up in his stirrups, shouting again.

  “Break ’em up,” he said. “Push ’em! Don’t let ’em slow like this! Watch it, boys, they’re about to mill.”

  He never should’ve said it. It was like his words were prophecy because the moment they came out of his mouth was the moment the cattle in the middle of the river began to swim in circles. On both sides of the tightening mess, some cows ignored it and kept swimming for the north bank but others were caught up in it.

  The sound of horns clanking together rang out over the water and more men began shouting.

  “Hey ya!! Hi yay, cows!”

  “Somebody git a bullwhip!”

  “Watch out, now, there’s one goin’ under!”

  A high, shrill whistle rang out but the cattle in the middle paid no mind to any of the racket. Frantic for a firm footing, they were on top of each other, hooves and horns, and thousands of pounds. More cattle were being drawn into the maelstrom.

  The men tried, but the horses weren’t going into the melee and they honestly couldn’t get room between the cows anyhow. The next specific thing Susanna saw in the confusion of white horns and spotted hides against dark water was Tolly, standing on his saddle now and stepping out onto the backs of the cattle that covered the river thick as moss.

  More and more cattle were pouring off the bridge and into the river, it was becoming solid with thrashing bovine bodies. Tolly started walking on them toward the mill, his quirt in his hand.

  Susanna watched him with a sinking heart. What good would a quirt do? Those cattle would hardly even feel it in normal circumstances, and they were panicked now.

  She looked ahead to see that the way was clear and then to the far shore for Eagle Jack. He might know what to do but, even on the ground, if cattle got to milling, it was next to impossible to break them up.

  Eagle Jack was nowhere in sight. Maybe he was already back in the river, helping with the crossing on the upstream side.

  “Oh, no! Hey, men, let’s see if we can reach him…”

  The general shout of dismay brought her around in the saddle. The wagon was moving even faster now and she leaned across her saddle horn to see as best she could.

  Tolly was gone from the backs of the cattle. Vanished. The stricken looks on the remaining men told the tale. He had been sucked into the maelstrom.

  Susanna’s heart plummeted, too. She strained her eyes at the bawling, milling mass as if she would only look long enough, hard enough, she could bring Tolly to the surface again.

  He couldn’t survive that, could he? Nobody could. But if he were a very strong swimmer, he might dive underneath the cattle, mightn’t he?

  But was the water deep enough? Was there enough room for a man to move free of the cattle?

  Her thoughts scrambled frantically while her blood pounded with a roar in her head. The wagon jerked against her rope and brought her back to herself.

  She had a job to do and she
’d better do it. They didn’t need a second disaster on top of the first one.

  But she couldn’t actually do anything but watch the water now, the strongest river current that was running in the middle of the stream, now just ahead of the men pulling her chuck wagon. An incoherent shout from the men tore her eyes away from it and she lifted her head to see several of them staring at the opposite shore.

  Eagle Jack was racing his horse along it, and at the sharp bend, he headed it out toward the water and sent it leaping into the river. A huge relief surged through her. Eagle Jack could save Tolly if he was still alive.

  Susanna searched the surface of the river between her wagon and Eagle Jack, she scanned the churning water between her and the other shore, then she drew her gaze back nearer to settle on the strongest current again. A flash of blue caught her eye—Tolly was wearing a blue shirt—and then she realized a scattered glimpse of a pale hand.

  The sight galvanized her in the saddle for the space of two heartbeats. “Here!” she screamed. “Over here!” She waved her hand high, then dropped it to point. “Here!”

  She couldn’t get another word out of her mind or out of her mouth and she couldn’t get her rope loose from the wagon and she couldn’t let Tolly go by because she was the only one who’d seen him. Eagle Jack was barely in the water on the other side of the river, and the men nearest her would only turn and stare.

  So Susanna threw away the reins, kicked loose from her stirrups, grabbed a huge, ragged breath, and dived headfirst into the river, struggling for all she was worth against the dragging weight of her boots and the divided riding skirt she wore. Oh, if only she had put on a pair of Everett’s breeches today as she had so many mornings!

  She tried to think about that, she tried to think about anything at all except that Tolly had vanished again and she wasn’t finding him. Maybe he’d gone up for air!

  Struggling against the weight trying to hold her down, trying to pull her down to the bottom, she fought her way to the surface, broke it, and took air in in great, gasping breaths while she scraped her hair out of her eyes and looked around for Tolly.

  No sign of him.

  One more gasp and she let herself sink back down, forcing her eyes open, fighting panic so she could search.

  There! The blue again.

  She tucked her head down and began to swim with the longest, strongest strokes she’d ever made. Images flashed across her mind of one miserable summer spent with her aunt on Spunky Mountain. That house had been such a hateful place and her aunt so lazy that she didn’t care if Susanna did any work or not, so she’d spent her days in the creek, learning to swim.

  Now she was glad of it. This must’ve been the reason for all that tormenting loneliness—now she could use that old amusement of hers to save a man’s life.

  She got to him, she actually got hold of the back of his collar. It was Tolly, and he was alive because his hand moved. His face was turned away. She had to get him some air and herself some air. She had to get to the surface, so she twisted her fingers into the cloth, twisted in the water to get his weight up and started upward as best she could.

  It was the hardest fight of her life but she’d gone too far to turn back now. She was saving this man’s life. She was not giving up because Susanna Copeland never gave up. That’s how she had survived in her life.

  She never gave up.

  She would not give up now.

  This man was going to have some air if it took her the rest of the evening.

  Tolly was not going to die because she was not going to let him. Sometimes in life, things happened anyhow, but sometimes a person let them happen.

  This time she wouldn’t. She would not let it happen that Tolly died because the stupid cows had started swimming in a circle.

  The water wasn’t all that deep, it wasn’t all that far to the top of it, she was almost there. Almost. She was there.

  Her head broke the surface and the rain pelted her face and ran into her open mouth that was gulping for air. Tolly. She had to get air for him.

  Tugging on him with both hands, she realized she was using the last of her strength. Then Eagle Jack’s voice in a panicked shout broke through her consciousness and she realized one more thing—a thrashing, wild-eyed steer was barreling downriver straight at her and Tolly, its horns already hooking.

  She found a new strength she didn’t know she had and started swimming again to get out of its way, dragging Tolly along. Susanna made it out of the current and past the steer’s path but it hit Tolly with a sickening sound she would never forget. The force ripped him from her hand and turned her onto her back in the water.

  Looking upstream.

  The water was full of cattle coming at her, struggling, bawling, fighting the current. Her cattle. Scattered thick all over the river like enormous fish.

  They had lost them. The men had lost control of the herd.

  She had thought she could never lift her arms or move them anymore, but she turned onto her stomach and began to swim again, this time to try to save herself.

  The sounds came to her from far away, fading in and out, but they were still loud, too loud for anything. The cattle bawled unmercifully. One bellowed so loud it made echoes come back from everywhere.

  Men hollered and yelled.

  “Grab the rope!”

  “Heads up, boys, tend your wagon!”

  Water was splashing, loud, too, in with clacking sounds and snorts, but she was safe.

  All this noise was making her foot hurt, though. It was a hard, throbbing pain.

  “Hey, here’s Tolly.”

  “Alive?”

  There was no answer.

  Susanna snuggled deeper into the blankets with the barest motion she could manage, so she wouldn’t disturb the deliciously perfect dream she was in. It held her safe and warm and happy, with the fragrance of a sweet wood fire mixing with Eagle Jack’s scent and the call of a faraway night bird floating on the wind.

  She could hear his heart beating, right against her ear. His arms held her there, her cheek against his chest and his arms loose and relaxed around her.

  He was lying on his side, turned to her, snoring gently. Every time he did, his breath blew her hair. It lifted and then fell across her cheek, lifted and then fell, in rhythm with his low, rumbling sleep noises.

  She snuggled a little closer into the warm curve of his body.

  His arms tightened around her. The noises stopped. He kissed the top of her head.

  Her eyes flew open. The dream was gone, yet Eagle Jack was still there.

  “Susanna,” he said, “are you awake?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t move.

  Eagle Jack had been holding her while she slept. He had been sleeping beside her.

  They both lay very still.

  He didn’t even breathe in her hair. She couldn’t feel him breathe at all.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, at last.

  Instantly, the wild mirage of images flooded her, mind and body. The horns clashing all over the water, the cattle coming down the river at her, the bellowing and bawling, Eagle Jack jumping his horse into the river, a horse rearing, its rider sliding out of the saddle. And Tolly’s pale hand underwater.

  Dear God.

  “Tolly?” she whispered.

  “You have a cut in the side of your foot,” he said. “Maybe from a tossing horn, maybe from a sharp rock. Is there anything more?”

  She did feel a vague throbbing pain in her right foot, now that he said that.

  “Did you save me?”

  “No, you saved yourself. You were out of the river before I could get to you.”

  “I can’t remember anything past the cattle coming at us and that steer barreling right into Tolly.”

  “That’s because you hit your head on a log in the slough.”

  Then he did move. He took her in his big hands and turned her onto her side and lifted her a little so that they lay face-to-face. He did it gentl
y, more gently than anyone had ever touched her in her whole life.

  “I haven’t made your poultice yet,” he said, “but I will as soon as I can get my hands on some antiphlogistine.”

  She smiled, in spite of the tears gathering in the back of her throat.

  “Don’t bother,” she said. “I’ll only throw it across the room.”

  “Careful not to knock a hole in your tent,” he said. “And you don’t want the canvas smelling like that medicine all the time, either.”

  “Eagle Jack,” she said, “I know Tolly died or you would’ve already answered my question.”

  “I hated to tell you,” he said.

  Her tears spilled over.

  “I should’ve held on to him,” she said, with a sob. “I should’ve seen that steer coming. I should’ve swum faster.”

  “You did more than most men would’ve done—or could’ve done,” he said. “They’re all talking about it. You’ll do to ride the river with, Susanna.”

  “But I wanted to save him,” she cried. “It was useless. I did all that for nothing. I came so close…”

  More and more tears, coming faster with every memory of that horrible afternoon, choked off her words.

  Tenderly, he pushed her hair back from her face.

  “You’ve got to get hold of yourself,” he said. “Listen to me, Susanna…”

  She threw her arms around him and buried her face in the hollow of his neck.

  “Hold me,” she said.

  And Eagle Jack did.

  Chapter 13

  Facing each other, the length of her body fit even more perfectly against his than it had done back-to-front, spoon-fashion, and he wished he hadn’t been so gallant as to wrap her in a separate quilt when he’d lain down beside her. But, with both of them naked while their clothes dried at the fire, what else could he do? He was a rounder, yes, he’d admit that in a minute, but he wasn’t low-down, not the kind to take advantage of an unconscious woman.

  Not even if she insisted on pretending to be his wife.

  Now he wished he’d never been the one to strip off her wet things in the first place, but he’d had no choice. By the time he’d swum his horse back across the river with Susanna limp and unconscious in his arms and had finally found Maynell and the wagons and the tent and the fire, Maynell had been far too busy treating the gash on Rod’s head and trying—with what equipment she had left—to get hot coffee and jerky into the bellies of the men so they could be gathering cattle while they dried out from the river.