This Calder Range (Calder Saga 1)

Spanish limped back to his saddle and lowered himself to the ground, stretching his injured left leg in front of him and leaning against his saddle.

“I swung my loop on a ladino,” Spanish said. He used the Mexican word, which has no true equivalent in the American language. “Outlaw” comes closest to describing a wild cow that will fight to the death for its freedom. “When the rope started to tighten around its neck, he switched ends like a cutting horse. That ladino had a horn spread five feet across, maybe six. He charged my horse and hooked a horn into its breast, twisting and pushing. I never had time to throw away the rope. The horse died right underneath me. It was a good horse.” He shook his head briefly. “But the ladino, he takes off with my rope.”

Horses were more easily replaced than good rope.

“Was it a big ole red devil?” Jessie asked.

“Sí.” Spanish nodded.

“I tangled with him a week back. That animal isn’t about to be taken. Don’t waste your time tryin’. You’re better off shootin’ him.”

No one disagreed.

Supper consisted of steaks and beans, sopped up with cornbread made out of meal, tallow, water, and a little salt. No one pretended it was delicious. It was food that stuck to the ribs and that was the important thing.

After they’d eaten, each man scrubbed his own plate clean with sand. Water was too valuable in this country to waste as dishwater. There was still some coffee left in the pot. Benteen poured some of the thick black liquid into his tin cup and sat on the ground in the shadowed fringe of the firelight. When he took the pouch of Bull Durham tobacco from his pocket, he noticed it was nearly empty.

“Hey, Benteen.” Shorty broke the weary silence that had settled over the camp. “Are you going to invite us to your wedding?”

“I was thinking about asking all of you to come along with us on our honeymoon,” he replied while his fingers tapered off the rolled cigarette.

“You serious?” Stretched out on the ground with his saddle for a pillow, Shorty lifted his head to frown narrowly at Benteen.

“Sure I’m serious.” He leaned forward to take a burning limb from the fire and hold the glowing end to his cigarette. “Lorna and me could use some help trailin’ that herd up to the Montana Territory.”

“Are you takin’ her on the cattle drive?” Jessie Trumbo sounded incredulous.

“I’m not going to marry her and leave her behind,” Benteen replied. “The offer stands. Any of you wantin’ a job taking these cattle north are welcome to sign on.”

“You can count me in.” Shorty was the first to speak up.

“I got nothin’ keepin’ me in Texas,” Jessie included himself.

“Spanish?” Benteen glanced at the Mexican. He wanted his experience on the drive.

“I go with the cattle,” he agreed, and grinned when he added a quick qualification, “—as long as you get the herd there before it gets cold. My blood is too thin for such weather.”

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The Mexican’s dislike of the cold was well-known and greatly exaggerated. It brought a lazy curve to Benteen’s mouth as he turned to the last man in the group. Ely Stanton was always the quiet one, the last to speak up, slow to decide anything until he’d thought it through. He was also the only married man present. He’d tried his hand at almost everything—from farming to storekeeping—but he wasn’t happy off a horse.

“What about you, Ely?” asked Benteen.

“I don’t think the idea would sit well with Mary,” he answered slowly, with reference to his wife. “She’s got relatives in Ioway. She’s wantin’ us to go there and see if I can’t find me a place with some good rich dirt.”

“Aw, Ely, you ain’t gonna walk behind a plow and look at the back end of a horse all day when you could be ridin’ one, are you?” Shorty declared with a cowboy’s derision of a farmer.

“I been thinkin’ about it.” There was a stiffness in the man as he poked at the campfire’s coals.

“If you decide to pull up stakes for Iowa, you might consider throwin’ in with the herd as far as Dodge City,” Benteen suggested. “Lorna might like the idea of havin’ another woman along for part of the journey.”

“I’ll let you know about that,” Ely said.

The cattle milled in the pen, horns rattling together. The men around the campfire were immediately alert, expecting trouble, but the disturbance was only a minor shifting of positions. Within minutes the bunch had settled down and all was quiet.

“You been away an awful long time, Benteen,” remarked Shorty. “How do you know yore gal’ll be waitin’ there to marry you? Maybe she changed her mind an’ run off with somebody else.”

Unwittingly he touched a sore spot. Benteen had never forgotten his mother’s defection.