AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The breeze felt warm and heavy as it whipped around us, leaving a slight chill behind it as the horses’ hooves squished in the mud beneath us. The ground was slick, and I hated to think of how big of a mudhole we’d create if we brought all the cattle to one place—the small pasture just outside the main barn.
“Maybe we should consult with Dr. Dewy,” I threw out, clearing my throat as I considered our veterinarian. “I don’t know what all the rain water will do to the cattle if we go bringing them up. The grounds up by the barn are holding a good three inches of water. If we load it with cattle, we’re bound to pick up disease—”
“We don’t have a choice, Wade,” Dad cut me off. “It’s either take the chance with sickness, or let the herd drown out in the overflowing river. I’m not going to send these cattle to a certain death. That just ain’t right.”
“I’m not saying we should leave them,” I reasoned. “I guess I was just thinking out loud.”
“I understand your concerns, son. I just don’t think we have the luxury of time right now. We just need to get ‘em up here, then you can go make all the calls you want.”
“Just shut up and be a cowboy.” Hazel laughed, giving me a teasing look.
“Right back at you.” I eyed her, letting a chuckle escape my lips as we continued across the rolling meadows of north western Texas. My jaw tensed as we made it to the final gate, already seeing the cattle butted up against the fence, the flooding waters from the river rising.
“Iknewwe should’ve been out here sooner,” Dad grumbled, heading right for the gate. Atop his black gelding, he pulled the lever and swung it open. “There should be seventy-eight head here, so let’s cut them with the gate and count. Hazel, get in there and start sending them through. Wade you’ll work cut off since you’re on Freddy, and he’s gonna be more agile.”
We both nodded, Hazel taking off into the sea of cattle while I took my place beside Dad at the opening. I rolled my shoulders, already seeing the way the cattle were slipping and sliding on the ground.
This is gonna be a fucking mess.
“All right, send me some cattle,” Dad barked, waving to Hazel. Her horse, Bear, followed her cues as she began working them through the gate one by one. Occasionally a second or third would try to come through, and we’d let them through, while hollering out the number.
And it was takingforever.
“We gotta get a move on!” Dad shouted, his voice straining as we’d just made it to forty-three. “It’s already starting to rain on us again.”
“I’m moving as fast as I can,” Hazel shot back at him, her horse huffing and snorting as he worked another pair of cows toward the opening.
“Forty-five!” I called out, letting them slip through. My eyes scanned the remainders of the cows hanging around at the edge of the water, and I could already tell the math wasn’t going to add up.
There was no way all the cattle were there.
I glanced over to Dad, who was looking at the same scene I was, the lines on his face beneath his cowboy hat mirroring the same dread I was feeling. “Some are missing,” I said in a low voice.
He nodded, but didn’t say anything, gesturing back to the rest of them. “Let’s get them through, Hazel. Once this is done, we’ll know what we’re working with.”
She gave him a nod and went back to sorting the cattle, sending a couple at a time through the gate. Besides calling out the number, none of us said anything as we moved the rest of the cattle. The rain was steadily beginning to fall again, and while my yellow slicker kept me dry, my body still got chilled—but it wasn’t the weather.
It was the fact we were thirteen head short.
Hazel paused at the opening once the last two were on the other side. The herd was already heading toward the main barns, removing themselves from the flooded area.
“What’re we gonna do now?” Hazel asked, her eyes bouncing between my dad and me, both facing her, the cattle behind us.
Dad shook his head, the gray stubble on his square jaw shifting as he tensed the muscles in his face. “I don’t know. It’s probably not safe to go wandering out into those waters.”
“We can’t leave the gate open,” Hazel commented, her thin lips falling into a frown. “If they’re out there, they won’t stand a chance.”
“And if we go out there and get hung up in those waters…” Dad pointed out to the rushing waters of the river, “…we ain’t gonna be no better off.”
“So we stay to the edge,” Hazel urged. “We’ll hug the outer banks—stay out of the deep stuff. It’s worth it even if we can just save a few.”
“But we don’t even know if they’re out there,” Dad argued.
“We can just make a short trip,” I suggested, mediating the conversation before it dropped into a full-fledged argument. “Ten minutes of riding the outer banks. If we don’t see anything, then we come back. It’s that simple.”
“Fine,” Dad said with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go.”
Hazel took off, loping down the edge of the fence line, riding out ahead of Dad and me. She was the kind of woman who would walk into the fire for her animals, and I appreciated it—even if it felt like we were putting our own lives at risk.
