Texas True (The Tylers of Texas 1)

Time was running out.

CHAPTER 5

As the sun continued its climb in the morning sky, inching ever closer to its apex, Beau could feel the warmth of its rays on his back. After nearly nine days in the saddle, he had managed to work all the stiffness out of his muscles.

Slowly he walked the close-coupled roan nearer to the milling knot of steers. The minute he spotted the unmarked yearling bull that had eluded last fall’s roundup, he sw

ung the roan into the herd, intent on separating the yearling from the rest.

As if knowing it was destined to be branded, tagged, and relieved of its cojones, the young Hereford bull made a dash for a clump of nearby mesquite. The cow-savvy roan seemed to anticipate the escape attempt, simultaneously lunging forward to block its path.

After that, Beau had only to sit easy in the saddle and let the well-trained cow pony do his job. With catlike agility, the roan gelding cut off the yearling’s dash to freedom and turned it back toward the herd. The young bull made a show of returning, then attempted another break. The roan thwarted it with ease.

Spider Jones, one of Rimrock’s younger cowhands, joined up with Beau and together they herded the animal to the chutes. Once the gate clanged shut behind it, Beau leaned forward in the saddle to stroke the roan’s damp neck, offering low praise. “If that had been a cutting contest, you would have won us some money.”

Spider Jones swung his horse alongside Beau. Together they jogged their horses back to the gather. “Nice work. But that’s what I like about working for Rimrock. You’ve got good horses here.”

“That we do,” Beau agreed, well aware that the bulk of the credit for them belonged to Sky and his skill in training.

“I was wondering . . . ,” Spider began, then hesitated and started over, his uncertain blue eyes darting a glance at Beau. “We’ve probably got only a few more days of roundup before we’re finished. Me and a couple of the other boys plan on going into Lubbock to celebrate. There’s a club there that has a room upstairs where a fella can go to get that manly itch scratched . . . if you know what I mean. You’re welcome to join us. If you like,” he added, suddenly uneasy, as if he was worried that, by inviting one of the new owners, he had violated some unwritten rule.

“Sounds like the go-to place for a good time.” Beau deliberately let the young cowboy believe he might accompany them. But as far as he was concerned, there was only one woman he wanted to scratch his itch, and she wasn’t in Lubbock.

Although on second thought, Beau realized that the wisest course might be to go to Lubbock. Natalie was a married woman, and it was best if he kept his distance.

“You got that righ—How the hell did he get his rope tangled up like that?” Disgust and amazement mingled together in his voice. Following the direction of Spider’s gaze, Beau saw Lute, his rope partially around his body and a half loop around his horse’s nose. “For somebody who’s supposed to be related to Sky, he sure is worthless around cattle,” the young cowboy declared. “Somebody needs to take that rope away from him and put a shovel back in his hand.”

“Heads-up, Beau! Two o’clock!” Will’s voice barked across the distance, directing Beau’s attention to the cow and calf just breaking free of the gather.

Beau reined after them. In two jumps, the roan was at full stride. After a half dozen more, he was level with the escaping pair. The cow swung away from him and meekly trotted back to the herd, her calf trailing and bawling in confusion.

Checking the roan to a walk, Beau lifted his free hand to signal Will that the runaways were back in the fold. But Will wasn’t where he had last seen him. He was galloping his tall bay toward a half dozen steers, bunched on the far side of a clearing. Intent on the strays, he didn’t seem to notice that he was headed straight into a prairie dog colony. Hated by ranchers, the little rodents dug burrows that could trap and break the leg of a horse or cow.

Beau shouted a warning. Seeing the danger, Will wheeled his mount hard to the left. For a split second everything seemed fine. Then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

The horse shied, shrieked, and shot straight up, twisting in midair like a rodeo bronc. In a scene that took on the slow-motion quality of a nightmare, Will flew out of the saddle. One foot caught the stirrup, then slid free of the boot as he slammed to the ground, landing flat on his back. Unharmed, the terrified bay plunged through the brush, gaining distance with every bound.

By now Beau was close enough to leap off his mount and race toward his brother. Will appeared dazed but he was moving, raising his head and shifting his legs.

A dozen strides away, Beau heard Will utter a sharp grunt of pain. Twisting sideways on the ground, Will yanked out his holstered pistol and fired three low shots at something unseen on the far side of his legs. Bits of pink and gray exploded into the air.

An instant later, Beau reached Will’s side. There in the dust, inches from Will’s leg, lay the bullet-riddled carcass of a diamondback rattlesnake, six feet long and as thick as a man’s forearm.

Will’s face was tinged with gray. He slumped back onto one elbow. “Bastard got me, Beau,” he muttered, pointing to his thigh. “But I got him back.”

Kicking the dead snake out of the way, Beau crouched next to his brother, his heart pounding and a sick knot forming in his stomach.

He threw a shout over his shoulder for help, yanked out his pocketknife, opened it, and slashed the denim away from Will’s leg. The flesh was already swelling around the two deep red puncture wounds. Beau knew a rattler that size could inject a hefty dose of venom. More than enough to kill a man without prompt treatment.

“Bad, is it?” Will cursed through clenched teeth.

“Bad enough. Don’t try to talk. Just lie still.”

Whipping off his bandana, he knotted it around Will’s thigh a few inches above the wound. It would need to be loosened every few minutes. A too-tight tourniquet could shut off the blood flow into the leg, doing more harm than good. And the old practice of cutting the flesh and sucking out the venom had also proven to be ineffective. The best course of action was to keep Will quiet and get him to a hospital; it was the only way to save Will’s leg, and maybe his life.

Sky was the first to reach them. His cool blue eyes quickly took in the situation. He tossed Beau the canteen from his saddle. “Pour this on the bite. The nearest hospital’s in Lubbock. I’ll call for Life Flight.” He whipped out his cell phone and punched in 911.

Beau helped Will sit up to keep his heart above his leg and slow the rise of the venom. Knowing the leg would swell, he cut off the rest of the pant leg and removed the sock. Will had lost the boot when the horse bucked him off.