by Danni Roan
“Yes, the men need to have plenty to eat on the drive. Your pa never skimped on grub for his men, and I won’t either.”
Quil ran her eyes down the neat line of figures, adding and subtracting in her head rapidly. “Alright then, I think we’ll be alright. Is there anything we really need for ourselves? I’d rather wait until the sale is done.”
“Do we need anything?” Prissy asked, wandering up to look at the supplies, sucking on a lemon drop.
“Prissy, you aren’t supposed to be buying candy,” Quil snapped, “this is a supply run.”
“I paid for it with my own money,” Priscilla wrinkled her nose at her sister.
“Where did you get money?”
“I sold some of my elderberry jam to the Grist Mill, if you must know,” Prissy huffed.
“Those jars belong to the ranch, not you.” Aquila placed her hands on her hips and glared at her younger sibling. “Those things don’t just grow on trees, you know.”
“We swapped,” Prissy snapped back. “I’m not a ninny you know, Quil. The way you go on you’d think you were the only one with a brain between your ears.”
“Girls, that’s enough,” Maud spoke, pulling some bills from her reticule to pay for the goods, “The sale of the veal has given us enough to make do.”
“Mama, we can’t be so frivolous with our own supplies.”
Maud turned her eyes on her daughter. “Enough, Aquila, Prissy had as much right to sell her jam as we have to eat it.”
Behind her mother’s back Priscila stuck her tongue out, making Quil roll her eyes.
“Let’s get these things in the wagon and out to the round-up,” Maud said studiously, ignoring both of her children. “Where’s Sara?”
“Here I am,” Sara came bouncing into the store, a bright grin on her face. “Are we ready?”
Together they began carrying their supplies to the wagon. The girls jostled and joshed while they carefully placed each item into the bed of the wagon, stopping suddenly at the sound of a loud voice.
“So, you managed to get some of my hands to leave me and come back to work for you, did you?” Harlan Dixon came striding down the sidewalk, his thumbs tucked in the pockets of his expensive brocade vest.
Maud sagged as she pulled her kid gloves on. “Good morning, Harlan,” she called, her voice anything but inviting, “and as far as your men, I understand they were let go.”
“If I’d known anything about it, they wouldn’t have been,” Harlan’s dark eyes glinted maliciously.
Rafe Dixon stepped from an alley beside the general store, a soft grin on his face, but it evaporated like fog in sunlight when he saw his father glaring at Mrs. Adams.
“I’m not crazy about this idea of a joint drive, either,” Harlan called. “My boy will be keeping a close eye on what’s going on, so don’t get any sneaky ideas.”
Maud’s face reddened as she pulled her shoulders back. Her deep green eyes flashed with anger at the implied insult.
“Pa, you about ready?” Rafe jumped in, laying a strong hand on his father’s arm. “We’d better get back.”
Harlan squinted, curling his lip derisively and turned away. “You stay clear of any of them Adams women,” Harlan’s voice dripped venom. “I’ll not have one of those little cats getting her claws into you, Rafe.”
Sara stretched forward, grabbing her mother’s arm and pulling her back as she raised her reticule like sling above her head.
“Never mind, Mama. He’s a bitter old man and I pity him.” Sara’s voice rushed out in one breath. “Something terrible must have happened to him long ago to make him so mean.”
Maud pursed her lips, squinting at the receding back of Harlan Dixon and his handsome son. “Once upon a time he was a nice, young man,” she said absently, shaking her head and stepping up into the wagon. “Let’s get home.”
***
“Quil?” Cameron’s voice pulled Aquila from her memories. “Are you alright? You look troubled.”
He smiled and she smiled back. “Is everything alright?” she asked.
“That’s what I was asking?” Cam said with a bark of laughter, as Sugar sidled up to Snap.
“I was just thinking about Harlan Dixon,” Quil said, the little worry crease appearing in her brow. “He’s a very difficult man.”
“Some people are simply hard to get along with. I wouldn’t take it too seriously.”
“How’s the drive?”
“We’re doing fine. The weather’s good which is a benefit. We don’t want to push it, we want to keep the critters nice and plump.”
Quil smiled. “That sounds like something Prissy would say.”
Cam simply shrugged. “How are you doing?”
“It’s actually nice being on a drive. Pa took each of us girls with him at least once. He felt that we needed to understand the full process of having a ranch.”
“I think I would have liked your pa.”
“I think he would have liked you as well.” Quil’s voice felt small even to herself.
Cameron kneed Sugar closer to Snap and took Quil’s hand, squeezing it gently. He didn’t speak, simply offered his strength to hers.
They rode a long a while like that, as the lowing of cattle, steady clomp of horses’ hooves, and the jingle of bridle and spur filled the afternoon air.
“We’ll make camp right before sunset. Do you need anything before that?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” Quil almost giggled at his concern. “You go on and chase cows now, before someone thinks I’m keeping you from doing your fair share.”
Cam tipped his hat. “See you at supper,” he said before galloping away.
By supper Quil was ready for the stop, and nothing had ever looked so good as the tall, faded chuck wagon sitting under the shade of a few big cottonwood trees.
Clicking her tongue, she pushed Sugar into a fast trot and pulled up next to the Brody’s cook.
“Something smells good,” she said, sliding off her mount and heading to the fire, her wide-legged, split skirt slapping around her ankles. “What can I do to help?”
“Ever’things ready but you can serve the coffee when the fellas git in.”
Quil grinned at the old cook, a man called Jackson who was older than dirt. “Sounds like a plan,” she said, hiding her mirth as she plopped down on a cracker crate. “So, what’s for supper?”
“Bacon, beans and biscuits.”
Another horse arrived at the fire and Cam stepped down. “What’s for supper, Cookie?” he called, as his boots hit the ground.
Old Jackson looked at Cam, then looked at Quil, and looked back at Cam again. “Bacon. Beans. Biscuits,” he said loudly, rising and stomping away with a grumble.
“What’d I say?” Cam whispered, settling on the ground next to Quil, whose green eyes were full of laughter.
“You want coffee?” she asked, grabbing a tin cup and reaching for the huge coffee pot that was puffing steam from a hook on the rack above the fire.
“Rafe seems to think a day and a half will see us to the line,” he said, offering her a thank you for the coffee she handed him.
“If the weather holds, it should be an easy trip.”
“Looks like it.”
One by one the other men arrived, settling around the fire and drinking coffee while the old cook handed out plates of biscuits, beans and bacon. They chatted a while, deciding on who would take the first and second watch, and began drifting off toward their bedrolls or horses.
Cam spread his bedroll under one of the big trees, then rolled out Quil’s next to it. The night was warm and he didn’t feel they needed to be near the fire.
“What are you doing?” Quil asked, walking out of the darkness.
“Making up our beds.” Cam replied.
“They’re very close.” Her words were soft.
“I’m afraid folks will think something’s funny if we sleep far apart.”
“Oh, of course.” Quil could see the logic in that. A few minute
s later, she shimmied down into her blankets, easing her weary body into the rough fabric.
Beside her, Cameron wrapped himself in his blanket and leaned against his saddle. In the distance, he could hear the soft hum and whine of a harmonica as someone rode through the bedded down herd.
“That’s pretty,” Quil spoke sleepily.
“I think that’s Rock. I know he plays.”
“Hm,” Quil intoned, her breathing growing steady.
Cam smiled at the young woman beside him. She’d ridden all day in the sun and the dust without so much as a complaint. His arms itched to pull her to him and hold her tight.
He knew he was in a bad way over the woman he’d married to add credence to his promises. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown to care for her.
His whole life he’d been a careful man, keeping to himself, safe, never putting his heart at risk. Almost from the first time he’d seen her, Quil had squirmed into his affections.
Her keen mind, her slow smile, her beautiful eyes. The whole day he’d been chasing strays or riding herd, his eyes kept following her. Watching her lifting her face to the sun, or riding along with one of the cowboys from the two other ranches.
Something had shifted in him during this drive. He’d come to a conclusion; once the drive was over and the profits from sales collected, it would be time for a serious talk with Aquila Adams Royal.
This time it was his turn to propose. He lifted a prayer to heaven that his heart would see him through. He wanted Quil to know how he felt. Once the cows were sold, he could prove that the ranch, the money, the share in a home didn’t matter; all that mattered was Aquila herself.
Chapter 15
A gray haze obscured the rising of the sun, and a light breeze foretold the coming of rain. The men roused the cattle, scooped a hasty breakfast and moved on toward the big rail line in the next town.
Quil pulled her slicker from the roll at the back of her saddle as the first fat drops of rain arrived with a gentle patter and soon the earth was sodden, Sugar’s coat steadily turning darker with each drop.
“I hope you don’t mind changing horses,” Cam commented as he rode up, his hat pressed tight over his head, a steady trickle of water running out the back.
“Not at all,” Quil patted Sugar’s neck affectionately. “It only makes sense. Snap had an easy day trailing the herd with me yesterday. He’s much fresher for the work today.”
Cam smiled, his eyes twinkling with pleasure at her understanding. “I know he’s your old horse, though.”
The young woman wrapped in the dark oil cloth slicker simply shrugged. He’d make sure that she’d have Snap as her own personal riding horse again as soon as this drive was done.
As his thoughts zinged through his head, a rangy steer dodged out of the main body of the herd and the little mustang-cross dashed away, doing his job in quick smooth steps.
The afternoon dragged on and the men stopped for lunch, coming abreast of the chuck wagon as darker clouds lowered themselves into the flatlands of the plains. In the distance, a low grumble promised more rain and a sharp wind rattled the cover on the grub mobile.
Cam cantered to the hissing fire and swung down to grab a cup of hot coffee as the cook shoved a sandwich of biscuits and bacon at him.
“Them cows is restless,” Jackson said, topping up the mug.
“We’ll be alright,” Cam said, offering a tight smile to Quil who sat, her small hands wrapped tight around her own cup. “You keep the coffee hot until we get them moving again, Cookie,” Cam added, shoving the biscuit between his teeth and swinging up on Snap, so the next man could come in.
Sugar slogged along on the far side of the big herd, Quil huddled in the saddle, as the cattle bunched together for safety against the driving rain at their backs.
The deep rumble progressed, pressing in on them as dark clouds obscured the sky, making the afternoon seem like evening. A cold blast of wind made Quil shiver and the heavens opened with a blaze of lightening.
A crack of thunder shook the earth, and Sugar jumped beneath her even as one, the herd broke into a wild-eyed run.
Quil’s slick hands struggled to hold the reins as she watched the dark forms of the cattle lunging and lowing into the pounding rain. Leaning forward, Quil set Sugar at a run, traveling along beside the panicked herd.
***
Cameron’s knuckles whited on the reins as the little cowpony raced to match the speed of the herd thundering past. The crash of the last roll and clash still echoed in his ears, but the sound of the charging cattle wiped out recognition of anything else.
They needed to turn the herd, bend them back on themselves until, like an eddy in a stream they slowed and stopped.
Cam shifted his weight over the heavy shoulders of the ginger-colored horse, balancing his weight as he raced to catch the lead steer, its big, crooked horns glistening wet and deadly in the gray light.
Snap’s hooves drummed the prairie like the pistons of a staccato machine as he stretched his neck flat to outpace the leaders.
The big cow at the front rolled her eyes menacingly, driving toward the open prairie, the need for flight overriding every other sense the animal had.
Cam raised himself up in the saddle, preparing to make a loop of his lariat, but caught an outer darkness from the corner of his eye. The big cow with the crooked horn was headed straight for a steep gully that, from a distance, looked like open land.
An icy chill ran down Cameron Royal’s spine as before his eyes flashed the image of the mangled forms of the herd as they plunged to their deaths, taking with it all of Aquila’s dreams and hopes.
His heart stuttered as he moved into position to shift the old mossy horn with the wild eyes to the right. Every instinct within him told Cam he would fail, that a herd once started on the deathly race of stampede would not turn right, but they had to turn or perish.
His whole being seemed to cry out to heaven in fear and he threw his loop around the horns of the cow, slowly turning Snap with his knees toward the right.
The big red and black cow swung her head, tossing it toward the little horse who dodged and sped up, avoiding the strike as the sharp tip of the pearly horn scraped along Cam’s thigh, opening his denim-clad leg like a surgeon’s blade.
Gritting his teeth, Cameron continued his desperate struggle to move the cow in the direction of safety.
Bossy Mossy, echoed in his head like an echo of thunder as the cow glared at him madly, and Cameron remembered the day on the mountain with Amos.
“Bossy Mossy! Bossy Mossy!” Cam bellowed, legs clamped tight to his tiring horse.
The old cow bellowed, swinging her head low as he called again, “Bossy Mossy!” and as if by magic the big cow leaned toward the right making the turn past the danger of the ridge and pounding down into the flat plain, her steady tread slowing as the herd moved behind her like freight cars following the billowing engine into the station.
Cameron’s heart pounded so loudly he could no longer distinguish its mad dash from the sound of pounding hooves. From the edge of his vision, he saw other cowboys spreading around the herd, encouraging them to scatter out across the grassland and stop.
Old Mossy lowered her head with a snort, blowing snot and foam from her nostrils and sucking in a ragged breath as she ambled into the deep grass.
“Cameron!” Quil’s anguished cry made Cam whip around in his saddle just in time to see Aquila dragging Sugar up beside a heaving Snap.
“Are you alright?” her voice shook, her eyes full of fear. “Oh my gracious! Your leg.” Her face paled as she jumped from her horse and reached for him.
“I’m alright, darlin’,” Cam tried to make his voice sound calm and even, as her hands came to rest on his leg.
“You could have been killed,” Quil said, her eyes full of something new, some light of hope or fear, he couldn’t tell.
“We almost lost the herd,” Cam spoke, softening his voice as the rain pounded on his hat like a drum rol
l. Quil was getting wet. “You’re getting wet, get back up on Sugar.”
“The herd? The herd?” Quil’s voice shook with emotion. “You could have been killed.” Bright tears mingled with the rain drops pouring down her face. “What would I do if something had happened to you?” she finally sobbed.
Sliding from Snap’s back, feeling confused, Cameron reached for his overwrought wife.
“It’s not bad,” he drawled, “and you still have the herd, you won’t lose the ranch.”
Aquila Adams Royal wanted to scream, but instead wrapped her arms around the infuriating man’s waist, burying her face in his mud-splattered slicker.
“Quil, I’m fine.” He tried to soothe her, running his hands over her back.
“But I’m not,” she sniffed.
“Aquila?”
“Cameron Royal, I would have died if something happened to you. I didn’t mean to but…” She sniffed again, her voice going very small. “I love you.”
“You what?” Cam asked, his head reeling from either the revelation or blood loss.
“I love you,” she said again, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Aquila.” His voice was a deep growl as he placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “I was waiting until we got the proceeds of the sale,” he began, “I wanted to tell you.”
“I know you’re taking your share and leaving.” A fat tear fell from her eye.
“I was going to tell you,” he continued patiently, “that I didn’t care about the share or the money or any of it. I only care about you.” His hazel eyes glinted in the dim light and under his hand she gasped softly.
“You what?” she asked.
“I love you, Aquila Adams Royal. I want you to be my wife.”
“I’m already your wife,” she stated dumbly.
“I mean my real wife,” Cam said, lowering his head to capture her lips.
Ginger Snap snorted, dropping his head to graze as his two-people seemed to lose themselves on the open prairie.
“You two about done?” a cranky voice called as Cameron finally came up for air.
Quil blushed crimson as the rain began to ease and turned her back on the old chuck wagon cook.