"I've been thinking about it. It seemed logical since we're brother and sister. Would you like it?"
A slow smile lightened Carlos's feature. "Yes, I would."
"Good, now do everything Monty asks. I know he irritates you, but I'm depending on him to teach both of us our jobs."
Iris watched Carlos go off and hoped she had smoothed his feathers, but she hardly had time to see how her words were received. A growing disturbance drew her attention to Hen and Monty. They had moved too far away for her to understand what they were saying, but they were shouting.
She was certain they were shouting about her.
* * * * *
"We ought to cut out our herd and let them worry about their own damned cows," Hen was saying, furious at his brother. "We'd get along just fine by ourselves."
"We can't leave Iris with that crowd."
"You can't leave Iris. I can do it in a flash."
"You're a phony, Hen," Monty said, furious. "You're the one who's always acting like some damned goody two-shoes around women, watching your manners, mouthing pretty compliments, acting like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. I'm the one you say is rude and thoughtless."
"That's the way I treat ladies. This is Iris."
Instantaneous rage covered Monty like a blanket. He and his twin had disagreed on many things in their lives, but Monty couldn't remember when he’d come so close to wanting to strangle him. He grabbed Hen by the shirt-front and shook him hard.
"I know you don't like Iris, but don't you ever speak about her like that again."
"I'll say anything I like," Hen shot back, unfazed by his brother's threat.
"Not if I break your head first."
"That's you, always threatening to beat someone to a pulp."
"And you're always threatening to kill them."
"I don't threaten," Hen said. "I do it."
"I guess that means I'm not as bloodthirsty as you," Monty said, releasing his brother and pushing him away, "but I am just as stubborn. Iris goes with us until I can talk her into taking the train the rest of the way."
"It had better be soon," Hen said, readjusting his shirt. "She's caused enough trouble already."
Monty wanted to deny the charge, but he realized even though Iris wasn't responsible for their problems, every one of them had started with her.
"You worry about finding enough water," Monty said. "I'll take care of Iris."
"Well you'd better do a damned sight better than you've done so far." With that Hen stalked off, shouting for Zac to bring him a horse from the remuda.
"Is there more trouble?" Iris asked, coming up to Monty.
"No. Hen was just working off some steam." He looked up at the clear sky. "Pray for rain. At least a thundershower."
* * * * *
The next day dawned hot and still. The rolling hills, covered with thick grass standing still in the dead air, stretched away into the distance. The sun rose in a cloudless sky to pour down its heat on the unresisting land. Birds fluttered energetically to gather their breakfast before the heat of the day became oppressive. Iris could hear mice scratching in the brittle grass as they, too, scurried to eat before the hawks, which floated heavenward, could spy them and join in breakfast.
On a distant knoll, a single prong-horned antelope watched the herd as they left the bed ground and began to graze their way north. A chorus of bellowing cows gathered around the calf wagons as their tiny offspring were gathered up and put inside for the day's drive. The wagons were even more crucial today. Monty intended to cover as much distance as possible.
"Today's drive will be easy," Monty said as he pulled his mount to a halt next to Iris. "It's two or three days from now that'll be tough."
"Are we going to make it?" Iris asked. She had confidence in Monty, but the prospect of losing virtually everything she had scared her badly.
"We'll make it," Monty assured her before he rode away.
Iris couldn't remember when it had been so hot so early in the year. By noon, the sun was beating down on them like Texas in August. It didn't do any good to tell herself it had been hot for the last few weeks, that she only noticed it now because she was worried about water. Just thinking about it made her feel thirsty.
The day went smoothly. The cattle were in good shape and didn't mind being kept on the trail after dark. They grazed for over an hour then bedded down for the night.
"We made about twenty-five miles today," Monty announced to the crew. "I want all of you to get as much sleep as you can. No sitting up swapping tales or playing cards. Don't even take time to write a letter. In a couple of days you probably won't be getting any sleep at all."
Monty's warning only served to keep Iris awake long after everyone else had dropped off. For weeks she had lain awake thinking of ways to bring Monty to his knees, worrying he would desert her, rehearsing what she would say when she didn't need him anymore. Now she worried that even his help might not be enough.
* * * * *
The cattle were sluggish and fretful. Their incessant bellowing and the dust they stirred up had given Iris a terrible headache. Thirsty animals continually tried to break away from the herd and had to be driven back. Iris had used up six ponies already. Some of the men had used up their entire string.
"He's driving them too hard," Frank said to Iris on the third day. "Half of them will be so sore footed they won't be able to make it to the Canadian."
"Monty's hoping there'll be enough water in the Washita. He says they can make it that far."
"Last time I came through, there was quicksand."
"We won't have to worry about it this time," Monty said coming up behind them. "Not enough water."
"Maybe you should hope there is," Frank said, his voice filled with challenge.
"What I hope won't make any difference," Monty said. "I'm going to see how the other herd is getting along," Monty said turning to Iris. "If Hen gets back before I return, tell him to wait."
"I don't trust him," Frank said after Monty had ridden away. "I don't think he knows what he's doing."
Iris was tired of Frank's constant litany of complaints against Monty. She knew it stemmed from jealousy, but it was getting harder and harder for her to listen to him and keep her own confidence up. She could almost see the cattle's suffering increase with each passing hour. She figured Monty was doing the best that could be done, but she wondered if that would be enough.
"I'm worried too," she said to Frank. "Everything I own is out there. What would you do?"
Frank looked startled at the direct challenge. "I'd check out some other route," Frank sputtered, caught off guard.
"Until you have checked out your other route and know there's another way to get this herd through alive, I want you to do everything Monty says. Everything!" Iris repeated. "Is that clear?"
"Very clear," Frank said, surprised at the force of her command. "But maybe there's something you haven't thought about. Most of your cattle are in the second herd. If there's water in these creeks, the first herd gets it. His cows. Think about that for a while."
Iris turned toward the herd. As her gaze moved from one cow to another, she saw the same brand. The Circle-7. The Randolph brand. Where were her cows? Why weren't they in the first herd? She knew there must be an explanation. Monty wouldn't have divided the herd like that. She would ask him that evening.
* * * * *
The few men lucky enough to be off duty for a few hours lounged around the fire spinning yarns, playing cards, and smoking. They were a bedraggled bunch. Due to the water shortage they were going without shaving and washing. Several days' accumulation of grit and grim clung to their clothes and in the folds of their skin. Hair that wouldn't be cut for another two months was already over their collars.
They didn't smell too good either.
Hen didn't ride in that evening and Monty didn't return.
"Wonder why Monty didn't come back?" one of the hands wondered aloud.
"Probably wanted to eat at his own chuc
k wagon," said one boy who obviously hadn't liked that night's supper. "I hear his brother is a wonder."
"He didn't stay away because of the food," the cook said. "That man would eat dried buffalo hide if he had to."
"I agree he had his reasons, but what are they?" the first man asked. "He's been sticking to Miss Richmond like she was a shoe and he was shoe laces."
"Probably seeing how the other herd is doing," the cook suggested.
"Nah. He trusts that Salty character like his own right hand."
"Well, I don't trust him," the second fella said. "And I don't like him."
"You're just mad because he fired Clem."
"He had no right."
"Maybe, but he done it."
"You boys had better get to your horses," the cook said. "There's not a single cow that's laid down yet."
The herd milled about for another hour before a few of them tried to lie down. But they were kept stirred up by those that continually complained of their thirst.
"We're going to lose control of them soon," Frank predicted. "I knew it would happen."
No one answered Frank. It took every bit of Iris's faith to keep believing Monty would get the herd to water before they perished of thirst. It took everybody else's energy to keep the herd on the bedding ground. Desperate for water, the cows continually tried to go back toward the last water they remembered.
"After the today, we'll have to keep them heading north even if we have to rope them," Monty had said before he left that morning. "They'll never make it back to the Red River alive."
When Iris finally fell into bed, more tired than she had ever been in her entire life, she couldn't sleep. The noise from the herd constantly reminded her there was no water, that Monty had not returned.
She knew he hadn't abandoned her. This was his herd. He might leave her, but he wouldn't desert his cows.
* * * * *
"Time to get up. I want to be on the trail by sunup."
Iris fought the sleep that clogged her brain, the exhaustion which made her limbs feel like they weighed a thousand pounds each. Monty was back.
"The second herd is in worse condition than this one," Monty explained while Iris slipped on her boots. She had slept in her clothes. There wasn't enough water to wash her face.
"The streams haven't been recovering."
"The herd's frantic with thirst," Iris said.
"Then you know how bad it is with the others. We've got to get this one through and go back before we lose the second herd."
Iris's herd.
"But the Washita?"
"Hen says there's barely enough water to keep this herd going forward. There won't be anything for the second."
The day was the hotter than ever. Even though there was only a trickle of water in the Washita, it was almost impossible to force the cattle out of the river and onto the hot, dusty plain. Monty drove the cattle and the crew mercilessly. They reached the Canadian an hour after nightfall. The river was low, but there was plenty of water for the second herd if it could only reach it.
"Put them across tomorrow and hold them until I bring up the second herd," Monty told Frank. Monty shouted for the wrangler to fetch him a fresh mount.
"Where are you going?" Iris asked.
"To the other herd," Monty said. "I'm taking half your crew with me."
"Hell, no," Frank objected.
"Do you need more than six men to hold a herd that wouldn't leave this river if there was a prairie fire coming this way?" Monty asked.
"Well, no," Frank admitted, the steam taken out of his resistance
"Take everybody you need," Iris said. "Most of my cows are in that herd. I'm coming with you."
Monty started to object, but changed his mind. "Be ready to ride in five minutes."
At first Iris couldn't understand how Monty decided on the men to go with him. Not until they were in the saddle did she realize he had chosen all the men he didn't trust. If Frank were trying to rustle her cattle, he wouldn't have anyone to help.
Iris wondered why she ever wondered about Monty. It would have made everything a lot easier if he had taken the time to explain things to her, but it always turned out he was looking out for her. She was foolish to let her fears, or Carlos and Frank's constant griping, cause her to distrust him. He was the one person who had never failed her.
But she had to ask. She had to know. "Why are so many of my cows in the second herd?"
"You think I did that on purpose?"
"I know you didn't. I just wondered." She wouldn't tell him that Frank had planted the seed of distrust in her mind. She was ashamed to admit it.
"On a drive like this, cows get used to traveling with certain companions," Monty explained. "After a while they work out an order they keep the rest of the way. My lead steer went straight to the front, so my cows lined up behind him. Yours lined up after that."
Once again a fear had proved groundless.
But all her fears weren't removed. Coming face to face with the real possibility she could lose the herd made her know the meaning of being defenseless. She had understood the words before. Now she understood their meaning, and it petrified her. Only the herd stood between her and complete helplessness, and the herd itself, no matter what she did, was very vulnerable. There were no guarantees, no safety net for it or for her.
Monty didn't understand. He couldn't. He could lose the entire herd, and it wouldn't change anything. George might shout at him, and his brothers might call him a fool, but they'd stand behind him. He wouldn't be penniless. He would always have a family.
She would have nothing. She didn't fool herself about why Carlos had followed her. They were brother and sister, but they hardly knew each other. They might grow close in the future, but he would never have followed her if she had been penniless.
For her, even more than for Monty, the herd was everything. With it, she was somebody. She had a place, a name, some importance.
Without it . . . Iris didn't even want to think about that.
* * * * *
The herd was already on its feet when they reached the second camp.
"They haven't slept," Salty reported.
"I'll let them graze as long as the dew's still on the grass," Monty said. "After that, we'll throw them on the trail and drive them as fast and as long as they will go."
"Any water in the Washita?"
"No."
"How far to the Canadian?"
"Sixty miles."
"I don't know if they'll make it."
"They have to. I've brought Lightning. Maybe they'll follow him."
The big line-back steer was coal black with a white stripe down his back and black-and-blue markings below. The jagged white slash which gave him his name ran from his right shoulder half way down his leg. Iris thought him a fierce looking beast. Monty treated him like a pet.
"We've got our own lead steer," Carlos said.
"Lightning knows there's water ahead. Your steer doesn't. All he knows is the water we passed."
"If we're going, let's get moving," Hen said.
Carlos looked unhappy at having to work with Monty and Hen. Iris decided Salty must have been giving him enough responsibility to make him feel important. With Monty and Hen around, he amounted to little more than an ordinary hand.
"Be glad they came," Iris said, hoping to bolster his enthusiasm. "We need every bit of help we can get. It's your future as well as mine, you know."
"At least Joe's here," Carlos said.
Iris didn't like being thought less important than Joe Reardon, but she didn't have time to waste on Carlos's fit of temper. The herd was on its feet, but it didn't want to move.
"Get Lightning started," Monty told Hen.
About a dozen followed the black steer, but it took them more than an hour before the entire herd was on its feet and heading north. It was the most exhausting day Iris had ever endured. The herd fought them every step of the way. Cows, sore of foot and nearly dead of thirst, would dro
p back with calves that only remained alive because of their mother's milk. Yearlings had to be dragged to their feet. Steers maddened by the heat would suddenly turn and attack the closest rider.
* * * * *
Iris barely escaped being gored by an angry cow. She swore it was the beast who had tried to kill her earlier.
There was no such thing as mealtime. Men ate in the saddle or not at all. The men used up so many horses Iris wondered if the remuda would last.
An unexpected rain shower put just enough water in the creek they reached a couple of hours after dark to keep the cattle from rebelling. But that night they refused to bed down at all. All night long they remained on their feet, restless, bawling, crying out their misery.
The men remained in the saddle.
"Get some sleep," Monty ordered Iris just after midnight. "Tomorrow's going to be worse still."
"I can't, not while everybody else is working."
"They're used to it. You'll be no help if I have to spend half the day looking over my shoulder to make sure you haven't fainted."
"Why don't you have a cup of coffee with me?" Salty asked after Monty had ridden away.
"It's too hot for coffee," Iris snapped. "Besides, I don't need you looking after me, too."
"Somebody's got to do it. It won't help a bit if you and Monty spend all your time fighting."
Iris saw why everybody liked Salty so much. He had a way of stating the bald truth so you couldn't deny it but you couldn't get mad at him for saying it.
"Sometimes he makes me so mad I could spit," Iris fumed as she turned her horse toward the campfire.
"He affects a lot of people that way until they learn it's just his way."
"What? To be rude, brutal, thoughtless, arrogant--"
"I've worked with him for nine years," Salty said. "There's nothing you can tell me about that man I don't already know."
"Then maybe you can tell me if there's anything human about him."
"A lot."
"I'm not speaking of cows," Iris said angrily. "I mean something a human being would recognize."
Salty laughed easily. He seemed to be enjoying himself so much Iris couldn't help but smile as well.
"That sounds like something Rose would have said when she first came. She knows different now."
Iris Page 17
