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“You aren’t the only one who has to say good-bye to friends, Lorna.” His voice was as flat as his expression. “I think mine have been more final than yours.”
When he turned and walked away, she felt both pity and guilt. He couldn’t show his grief, because that wasn’t part of his code. But it was there, she realized. Why hadn’t she seen through his closed-in expression?
Breakfast was being dished up when Yates, the horse wrangler, drove more than half the remuda close to camp. With fresh horses to ride, there was no more reason to tarry over the meal and give tired horses a chance to rest. Over five hundred head of Longhorns had scattered in the stampede. They had to be rounded up and brought back to the main herd. There wasn’t time to rest or mourn the dead.
17
The noon meal was a catch-as-catch-can affair. A pot of beans was kept hot, as well as the coffee, for any rider that came in. Usually a drover would ride in, wolf down some beans, wash them down with coffee, saddle a fresh horse, and be gone in less than fifteen minutes.
“It looks like Mr. Willis has woken up,” Lorna noticed as the injured cowboy stirred in the shade of the Stanton wagon and attempted to sit up. “I’ll take him some food.”
After Woolie had passed out, they had carried him to the shade and laid him on his soogan, where he’d slept through the morning and into early afternoon. It was a combination of shock, exhaustion, and alcohol that had kept him out.
Mary added some biscuits to the plate of beans Lorna dished up. She carried the plate and a cup of coffee over to the wagon. Woolie had managed to sit up with the wagon wheel for support, but effort had him sweating again from the knife-sharp throbbing in his broken leg. There was still a pale cast to his tanned face as his breath came in short pants.
“I thought you might be hungry.” Lorna bent down to offer him the food and coffee.
“Thanks.” He took the plate, but made no attempt to eat the food. His head turned to gaze at the herd. “How are the boys doin’? I’ll bet those cattle are scattered all over hell and gone.”
“They’ve brought in several bunches already this morning,” Lorna assured him.
Despite the faint glaze of pain in his eyes, there was a determined set to his jaw when he looked again at Lorna. “Could you help me get to my horse? They’ll be needin’ my help.”
“You’re in no condition to ride with that broken leg,” she protested.
“You get me in a saddle and I’ll stay there,” he insisted. “They’re working shorthanded an’ they’ll be needin’ every rider they can get.”
With the loss of Spanish and Dollarhide, there were only six able-bodied riders left, not counting Benteen. Two of those had to stay with the main herd, which left only four to search for the missing cattle.
“You can’t go tearing off across the prairie.” Lorna frowned.
“Maybe not,” Woolie conceded, grimacing in pain when he tried to shift his position. “But I sure can walk a horse around that herd and free up Jess or Ely to look for cattle. It don’t take two good legs to do that.”
She stared at him, seeing a certain logic in what he was saying. His first thought on waking had been for the herd, not concern for his injuries or hunger. First and foremost, it was the cattle—just like Benteen. The herd represented their future livelihood. Lorna remembered the way her mother worked at the store to help out on busy days, while she had resented the amount of time her father spent at his work and not lifted a hand to help him.
“Missus Calder, I just can’t sit here when they need me,” Woolie argued.
“You are going to sit there until you’ve eaten that food.” Even she was startled by the ring of authority in her voice. “You’re going to need all the strength you can get.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He obediently took up his fork.
Rising, Lorna turned and walked to the chuck wagon. She opened the sideboard where the bedrolls were stowed. “Rusty, which one of these bedrolls belonged to Joe Dollarhide?”
He came over, a curious frown making a scowl on his features. “Why do you want to know? I was gonna see to it that his property was returned to his folks.”
“Just tell me which one it is.” She kept the sound of authority in her voice, not wanting to explain her plan to him.
Just like Woolie Willis, he obeyed. “This one.” He pulled out one that didn’t appear any different from the others.
“Thank you.” Lorna turned away before he could ask any more questions. As she started for her wagon, she called to Mary, “Could you come help me a minute?”
She was inside the wagon and untying the roll when Mary climbed in the back. “What is it?” asked Mary.
Unrolling the tarp, Lorna didn’t pause to answer as she rummaged through the contents. “I’m going to ride astraddle, so I need some clothes to wear. These skirts and petticoats will just spook the cattle and there’ll be another stampede. Joe Dollarhide was about the same size I am. I thought his pants might fit me.”
Mary sat down on a corner of a trunk, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?”
“Benteen’s shorthanded right now. He needs riders to find the missing cows.” Lorna found a clean shirt and pair of pants and held them up to study them with a critical eye. “Mr. Willis just said that anybody can walk a horse around the herd. So that’s what I’m going to do, which means Mr. Trumbo can look for cows.” She turned to Mary and held the pants against her waist. “What do you think?”
