by Vivi Holt
She nodded. “Yes, Tom.”
“Load a rifle and don’t be afraid to use it if the rustlers come back before I do. I’ll be back soon. I promise.” He pulled her into a quick embrace and kissed the top of her head, letting the fragrance of her hair fill his nostrils for just a moment. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of holding her close, then ran to Alto, vaulting onto his back and kicking him into a gallop after the herd. It wouldn’t be difficult to track them. The hard part would be catching them and bringing them back. That is, if the Jayhawkers didn’t get to them first.
Chapter Eighteen
Thomas bent down to study the dry and dusty prairie. It was obvious which way the cattle had gone – the grasses lay flat directly to the east. The campsite lay behind him to the west and the sun sat directly above him, boring into the top of his Stetson. He climbed onto Alto’s sturdy back and pushed him into a gallop.
It wasn’t long before he saw the stragglers following the rest of the herd. They’d slowed to a trot now and some were even nosing around in the grass looking for a place to graze. He could hear the cowboys at the front of the herd, still some distance away – the crack of a whip, a shrill whistle.
The booming echo of a rifle? His heart leaped into his throat. Why were they shooting? The Jayhawkers must be up front with his crew. Surely they wouldn’t be so foolish as to engage the Jayhawkers in some kind of shootout?
He made his way around the outside of the herd and soon saw Dan up ahead. Dan was banking the herd to the left, turning them in on themselves to balk and mill around in confusion. The rest of the crew were stretched out in a line, flanking the longhorns and pushing them forward. He pulled up alongside Dan, tipping his hat in a casual salute. “How’s it going?”
Dan nodded in response, “We managed to pull them up. Should be able to get them back to the campsite now.”
“What was the shooting about?”
“That was the Jayhawkers. They made off with about two hundred head. Sorry, boss – we couldn’t stop them.”
Thomas slapped the pommel of his saddle. “Those scoundrels! Well, what’s done is done. You couldn’t help it – they were armed and I’d told you not to engage in a gunfight. I don’t want any of you risking your lives that way. Thanks, Dan.”
Dan nodded again and signaled to the men to drive the cattle back. The sun was heading down the edge of the sky, and the cattle, bathed in sweat and tired from their sprint across the prairie, hung their heads and trotted west under its warming rays.
***
The men had returned to the campsite with the bulk of the herd a few minutes earlier. Genevieve had searched frantically for Patches and found her, jostled between some other yearling calves, her head rope still attached. She waited for an opening and hurried to reach for the rope, drawing Patches out and leading her back to the wagon. She tied her up and fed her a bucket of milk, stroking her coat all the while.
Now she wiped a stray strand of hair from her eyes and squatted beside the fire to stoke it. She pushed the Dutch oven closer into the coals and slid the biscuits into it to cook. The men would be hungry once they finished settling the herd and grooming their horses.
Sarah slipped from the chuck wagon with slabs of salt pork. She carried it to the fire and threw it piece by piece into the large skillet-like lid of the oven to fry. She smiled at Genevieve. “I see you got Patches back.”
“Yes, I was so relieved. But I heard they lost quite a few cattle to the Jayhawkers.”
“Bill said about two hundred, I think.”
Thomas strode into camp, his face clouded with frustration and anger. “Sarah, Genevieve – good evening.” He threw himself down beside the fire and lay on the grass, staring into the flames in silence.
The rest of the crew soon joined them as the smell of frying salt pork and baking biscuits drew them all in. “What’s the plan, boss?” asked Vaquero, standing a little apart from the rest of the group and pushing a wad of tobacco into his cheek.
“We’ll eat and rest up for a bit – let the cattle get some shuteye – and we’ll make our way to the head of the Oregon Trail. It’s not far from here, and I think it’s best if we avoid Baxter Springs after all, given that’s where the Jayhawkers’ base is. We’ll restock our supplies in Nebraska. We can’t stay here overnight or they’ll be back in the morning to take more of the herd. There weren’t enough of them to take the whole herd at once, but they’ll take as many as they can get if we stick around. They’ll be expecting us to spend the night, after a day like today. But we won’t risk it. I know everyone’s tired, and the last thing you want to do right now is spend the entire night traveling. But the best chance for keeping the herd intact is to get as far away from this place as we can, as soon as possible.”
“Agreed,” said Dan. The rest of the men murmured their approval of the plan.
Sarah and Genevieve dished up their supper and they ate together quietly. Genevieve listened closely to every sound – the hoot of an owl, the bawl of a steer, the scurrying of a mouse through the grasses – careful not to miss any sign that the thieves might have returned. Every noise seemed louder tonight.
As she went about her work, she watched Thomas from the corner of her eye. His mood seemed to have shifted – he was laughing and joking with the rest of the crew as they ate their hearty meal. Every day she knew him, he seemed to grow more handsome. His chestnut curls framed his face and his blue eyes danced in the firelight. His muscular forearms grew more and more tanned with each day they spent under the sun. Even his shaggy new beard made her pulse race a little faster as she thought about running her fingers through it. And she was amazed at the way he responded to the sucker punches life brought him — with honor and integrity. Not venting his frustration at the expense of those around him. He was unlike any man she’d ever met, and her heart warmed as she watched him.
Chapter Nineteen
The night was still and silent as storm clouds drifted ominously across the moon and the creatures of the night hid in hollows and burrows all over the prairie. Tall grasses swayed darkly in the rising winds that swept over the marshlands and buffeted the prairie from the west. The crew, with tired legs and aching backs, climbed on fresh horses from the remuda, ready to sneak the herd past Baxter Springs and onto the Oregon Trail, bound for Montana Territory.
Genevieve hustled Patches from where she lay behind the chuck wagon, pulling her to her feet and leading her over to tie her to the wagon bed. “Come on, my darling, you have to walk. I’m sorry, I know you’re tired and all you want to do is sleep, but you’ll be left behind. We can’t have that now, can we?” She scratched behind the calf’s ears and rubbed her nose gently, staring into her big, brown eyes.
“She’s not gonna make it,” said Thomas from behind her.
Genevieve spun around. “What? Of course she will.”
“No. She’s too young and exhausted.”
“But we can’t leave her here!” Genevieve felt her throat constrict at the thought of leaving the small calf behind. She was exhausted herself and feeling the effects of the drama of the day. She’d been buffeted and bruised by the cattle as well, and limped on her right foot.
He scratched his head and eyed her with a half-grin. “We won’t leave her. She can sit up front with Cookie.”
“Really? Oh, that’s a great idea – thank you, Tom!” Relief flooded through her and her face broke into a wide grin.
Thomas walked over and bent to lift the calf in his strong arms. He wrapped them around the front of her chest and behind her tail, carried her to the front of the wagon and set her down beside Cookie, who stared at her in dismay.
Genevieve felt her heart warm as she watched. Thomas carried the animal so carefully in his arms and lifted her so gently into the wagon. He knew how much Patches meant to her – and perhaps she was being ridiculous getting so attached to an animal, especially one that was intended for meat.
After everything she’d been through and the way she’d lost e
veryone she’d ever cared about, it was as though Patches was her family. Although, she was starting to feel as though some of her traveling companions were a family of sorts, as well. It had been so long since anyone but Cora had cared at all about her, it was hard for her to accept that maybe some of the folk on this cattle drive did. They certainly seemed to – Sarah, Bill, Dusty, Cookie, Thomas and the others. They’d all shown her respect, care, concern and even the beginnings of friendship.
She smiled at the look on Cookie’s face as the calf nuzzled his arm, almost knocking his flask from his hands. “What the dad-gum heck?” He stowed the flask below the wagon seat and pushed his hat back to scratch his forehead.
“She’s riding up here with you, Cookie,” said Thomas.
Cookie nodded, but frowned. “Wonders never cease,” he said, shaking his head.
Genevieve hobbled to the front of the wagon. “Hmmm … where should I sit?” she asked, addressing no one in particular.
“You’re hurt?” asked Thomas, his face full of concern.
“Yes, I think one of the longhorns stomped on my foot and I twisted my ankle. I feel as though I’m bruised all over – they really jostled me around when I was setting Patches free from the chuck wagon.”
His face clouded and he frowned. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should take a look at your ankle?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sure it’s just a bruise.” The last thing she needed right now was for Thomas to strip off her stocking and feel her ankle. The last time they’d been that close, she’d ended up sopping wet and pressed against his gleaming, naked chest. She blushed at the memory of it.
“Well, Bess needs a rest. So, you can ride with me,” said Thomas with a smile and a smug gleam in his eye. She wondered if he had guessed what she was thinking. A dappled gray gelding stood quietly behind him and he drew the horse forward by the reins that were slung over its neck. He climbed onto the animal’s back in one swift motion and extended his hand to Genevieve.
She took hold of his hand and he pulled her close to his side. Then, slipping his hands beneath her arms, he lifted her as though she weighed nothing at all and sat her between himself and the pommel. It was a tight squeeze, and she found herself leaning back against his hard chest no matter how hard she tried not to. Her face flushed and her pulse quickened. She drew and held a quick breath, then slowly released it, trying to calm herself.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea for her to ride with Thomas. He’d kissed her in the river, after all, and she couldn’t allow that to happen again. She might be poor and have no one to care for her, but she was raised to be a lady. She wasn’t about to let an entire crew of roughened cowboys think any less of her by letting a man kiss her when she was married to another, as much as she might despise her husband. Well, at least she wouldn’t let him kiss her again.
Sitting this close to Thomas, feeling the heat of his skin through his coat, the beat of his heart, the curve of his strong arms around her as he reached for the reins … she didn’t know if she could resist spinning around in the saddle to kiss him herself. Her heart raced, and she felt her skin prickle with the mounting tension between them. “I’m not sure that I can trust you to be proper, Mr. O’Reilly,” she muttered.
He laughed. “I sure don’t trust myself,” he teased, and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her hair, his chin almost resting on top of her head. “But I promise to do my best.” His voice dropped low and took on a serious tone. “I know you’re married, Mrs. Ewing. So don’t fear. I’ll behave myself – as much as I’d rather not.”
She grimaced at the sound of her married name on his tongue. She wasn’t truly Mrs. Ewing and never would be. The name repulsed her, and she felt suddenly sick to her stomach. “Well, that’s good to hear. Whatever you might think of me, I am a lady, after all.”
“No one who saw you could ever think otherwise,” he said. “And I certainly don’t intend to compromise your honor. Well, at least no further than I already have.” She could hear the grin in his words.
“Thank you, Tom.”
The herd had already been moving out for some time, and now Thomas and Genevieve were ready to follow. The cowboys up front led the way, quietly traipsing across the prairie. They’d already lost two hundred head to the Jayhawkers, and Thomas had been adamant that they not lose any more.
Thomas, Genevieve, Sarah in her wagon and Cookie and Patches in the chuck wagon took up the rear of the herd, urging any stragglers onward. The cattle were tired and dragged their hooves in the grass. Their heads hung low and they dawdled. Thomas whistled softly to them, clicking his tongue and calling out “Giddup” whenever they needed some encouragement.
The gray walked briskly, and its movements rocked them together in the saddle. At first Genevieve felt self-conscious every time Thomas’ legs pressed against hers or her back leaned upon his chest. But after a while she relaxed into him, relishing his touch and the comfort of having him so close. She felt the tension slowly leaving him as well. Gradually he loosened up, and soon they were moving together with the rhythm of the horse, as one. And it felt as if it were just as it should be.
Chapter Twenty
Thomas peered down at Genevieve, who was snuggled firmly against him. Their horse continued to plod forward after the retreating herd, its head low. He let the reins hang loosely across the animal’s neck.
They were all exhausted, after spending weeks pushing ahead as fast as they could. After bypassing Baxter Springs without further incident, Thomas had kept a close watch on their rear to make sure the Jayhawkers didn’t surprise them from behind. Then they’d found the Oregon Trail and made their way through Nebraska and into Dakota Territory.
When they’d stopped for supplies in Grand Island, Nebraska, he’d insisted Genevieve buy some new clothing. She’d been borrowing dresses from Sarah, but even those were getting ragged and didn’t fit at all well. Her eyes had glowed when she emerged from the mercantile wearing a new dress, with several others, a coat and a variety of more personal items that he didn’t wish to inquire about tucked into a new carpetbag beneath her arm.
They were likely within a few hours of the Bozeman Trail and from there it was a straight shot into Montana Territory. He felt his pulse quicken at the thought. They were so close. They were going to make it. He smiled and smoothed Genevieve’s hair with one hand – the breeze lifted loose strands and tickled his chin.
She’d taken to riding in front of him on occasion since the incident with the Jayhawkers. She’d been sleeping for hours now, and for the entire journey he’d had to fight the urge to pull her close and kiss her all over. He stifled a massive yawn. He hadn’t slept much in recent weeks and neither had the rest of the crew or the animals. He’d have to stop the drive to set up camp and get some rest, just as soon as they’d covered enough territory for the day.
Genevieve stirred and a small moan escaped her lips. Her eyelids flickered open and her eyes fixed on his. She blushed and dropped her gaze to the ground. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A few hours.” He smiled and lifted his hand to stroke her flyaway hair again. She jumped beneath his caress, and he frowned. He thought they’d made a connection over the past few weeks, that she felt the same way about him as he did about her. Perhaps he’d misread the situation and she didn’t care about him after all. He knew that they’d never have anything more than this between them, that she belonged to someone else, but their connection had meant something to him.
In fact, he’d come to the realization in recent days that it meant everything to him. He would do anything, give up everything he had, if she could be free of her husband, free to love him. He shook his head and rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers. But that might never happen. She was hiding something from him, and in all likelihood she’d get over whatever disagreement she’d had with Quincey and go back to him. Even if she didn’t, she’d never be able to divorce the man – he’d seen the look in Quincey’s eyes. He wouldn’t let her go.
“Where are we?” She sat up straight and stretched her arms above her head with a yawn.
“We’re almost to the Bozeman Trail.”
“That’s good to hear.” She snuggled back into his chest, her cheek pressed up against him, then jerked away, her cheeks red. “I’m sorry. I forgot myself for a moment.”
He chuckled, “Feel free to forget yourself any time you like.”
Bill rode up alongside them, a smug grin on his bearded face. “If you two are through with your canoodling, we thought we’d hunt down a few hare or a deer for supper. What do you say, boss?”
Genevieve’s face turned red and she dropped her eyes to avoid looking at Bill. Thomas watched her reaction with amusement and some compassion. He understood how she felt – he just wished they could forget about everyone and everything else around them. Then he could show her how he truly felt about her. “Sounds good. I’ll join you. We need some meat and I don’t want to keep using the cattle if we can avoid it. I think we’ve gone far enough to set up camp. Let the others know – we’ll stop here, then head back south to hunt.”
“Yes, boss.” Bill spun around on his bay quarter horse and galloped north to the front of the herd.
“I suppose I’ll stay behind with Sarah and Cookie,” Genevieve sounded disappointed. She turned to face him, her large eyes trained on his lips.
He smiled and used a finger to gently lift her chin until she was looking into his eyes. “You can come with me if you’d like to. But I think you’d be better off staying behind. Of course, I’d love for you to stay right here … but I can’t promise I’ll be good if you do.”
The corners of her lips turned up and she flicked her thick hair over her shoulder. He noticed that her cheeks seemed plumper and her face held more color than when she’d first joined them on the trail. She was obviously thriving on the hearty trail menu and outdoor lifestyle of the cattle drive. She looked even more beautiful than she had that first day he’d found her curled up asleep in the back of the chuck wagon, and he found himself fantasizing about the taste of her lips and the soft texture of her skin. If only he could wind his fingers through her silky hair. He shook his twitching fingers and held tighter to the reins.
