"You'd open them fast enough if Iris was about," Hen grumbled.
Monty ignored his brother and crawled into bed.
"What to you mean?" Zac asked, yawning. "I thought Monty had been trying to get her out of the way."
"That's what I thought to, but he hasn't talked about anybody else all day. If I hear one more word about how tough things must be on a woman like her, I'm going to take my bed and sleep with the cows."
Zac looked at his brother, an unholy gleam in his eyes.
"You can forget what you're thinking," Monty growled at his youngest brother. "You say one word to Tyler or Salty, and I'll strangle you with your own picket rope. I'm not sweet on any female, but it just doesn't seem right a girl who doesn't know any more than how to bat her eyelashes and pick out a pretty dress should be left in such a pickle."
"If you think Iris Richmond is still a girl, you need glasses," Hen said, dropping to his blankets.
"Monty doesn't need no glasses," Zac said, a sly smile on his lips. "The way he described her to me this morning, he can see real good."
Zac dived into the midst of the remuda to escape his brother's angry charge.
"I hope they trample you to death," Monty called out as he stalked back to his bed. "I should have known better than to let George talk me into taking that brat along."
"He's doing just fine," Hen said, turning over and settling under his blanket. "You're just in a foul mood because of Iris."
"I am not," Monty practically shouted. "I've hardly thought about her all day."
"Sure," Hen said.
Monty mumbled several curses under his breath. Then added a few more for the smile he knew was curving his twin's lips. He had not talked about Iris all day, but he wasn't easy in his mind about her. She was worried about something. He had seen it in her eyes. She didn't act right either. Iris had always been more conscious of her looks than anything else. Not now. She'd taken to riding each day. She'd even cut one of her dresses down to make an extra riding outfit. That definitely wasn't like the Iris he knew. Even more shocking, she had cut her nails to keep them from catching. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen her do it. He'd have guessed she'd have walked to Wyoming before making such a sacrifice
Of course it was Frank, the rat. Monty knew he couldn't sleep easy in his own bed if Frank were his foreman. He couldn't prove the man was a crook, but if ever there was a good man likely to go bad, it was Frank.
Monty flipped on his side. But he couldn't get comfortable. He turned over a couple more times before he settled down. "You'd better come out of that remuda," he called to Zac. "I don't want to have to take your trampled remains home to Rose."
"The horses are jumpy," Zac said, ducking under the rope and heading toward his bed. "You seen any tracks around?"
"Nothing bigger than a coyote," Monty said. "You're imagining things."
"I'm not imagining that," Zac said, pointing to the herd. They stood with their ears pricked, all looking north.
Monty raised his head and looked, but the horses continued to stand very still.
"I don't know," Monty said. "Maybe they smell a panther." He put his head back down, but the moment his ear touched the earth he leapt to his feet. "It's a stampede," he shouted. "It's headed this way."
Chapter Eight
To Iris's horror, a mass of cattle a hundred feet wide was headed straight toward her. Without waiting for her command, her horse took off at a gallop. Iris had all she could do to hang on.
Iris told herself not to panic. People survived stampedes all the time -- her own men had survived one just a few days earlier -- but that thought wasn't the least bit comforting when she looked over her shoulder to see a sea of horns closing in around her. Even as the seemingly endless expanse of cattle engulfed her, a single thought kept pounding in her head.
If Monty were here, he'd know what to do.
But Monty wasn't here. He was at his camp miles away, sound asleep. And even if the stampede did wake him, the chances were he wouldn't be able to find her. If she was going to get out of this mess, she would have to get out by herself. Iris held tight to her horse. If she fell beneath the thousands of hooves behind her, there wouldn't be enough left for Monty or anyone else to find.
Gradually the panic receded enough for her to decide that if she could get ahead of the herd, she could veer off to the side and out of the path of the stampede.
Praying she wouldn't lose her balance, Iris pulled her pony to the left of the steer running directly in front of her and urged him forward with heels and knees. It soon became clear that though her mount was sure of foot, he was barely faster than the cows she wanted him to outrace.
With nail-gnawing slowness, they passed that steer and two others, but just as she came alongside of the lead steer, they breasted a small rise. Before them lay the Circle-7 herd. Her cattle were going to smash right into Monty's herd with her in the lead.
* * * * *
Monty was astride Nightmare and headed out of camp before Hen cleared his blankets. Monty was desperate to head off Iris's herd before it reached his own. If he didn't, the two herds would be so mixed up it would take days to separate them.
Shouting to the rest of the crew as he rode past, Monty gave Nightmare his head. The big gelding had been in more than one stampede. He knew what to do.
Monty's heart sank when he reached the herd. Some of them were on their feet, their heads turned in the direction of the dull thunder of fifteen thousand hooves as they pounded the dry earth at a gallop. Shouting for the night guards to join him, Monty thundered past. He had the feeling he was too late, but he had to try.
They were much closer than he expected. Just as he reached the foremost cattle in his herd, the Double-D herd burst out of a low place in the plain. He gaped in stunned horror when he realized that the rider at the front of the herd was not a cowhand trying to turn the herd.
The rider was Iris Richmond, and she was fleeing for her life.
In a flash Monty's herd was on its feet and running like the wind. Iris was caught in the middle of a stampede of more than six thousand cows.
Monty's instinctive reaction was to get to the front of the stampede as quickly as possible and turn the leaders. If he could do that, they would begin to mill, to run in a circle, and the stampede would soon be over. That's what he'd always done before; that's what duty demanded of him now.
Iris would be all right if she just rode along with the herd. She was on a good cow pony. Besides, one of her own men would look after her. His responsibility was to his own herd.
But Monty couldn't ignore Iris. Someone else could turn the herd. They could run all the way back to Austin if they must. He had to rescue Iris.
The cows uttered no sound as they ran. Only the clicking of their horns competed with the thunder of their hooves. Occasionally Monty saw the flash of gunfire as members of the two crews tried to keep the cattle together. They were running on a very broad front. He doubted even gunfire would keep them in a bunch for very long.
Monty had never seen so many cattle in a stampede. It seemed that Iris was miles beyond his reach. Yet digging his heels into Nightmare's flanks, he drove his horse into the mass of running animals.
Nightmare didn't hesitate. He was a big strong horse, two hands bigger than the average cow pony. His thoroughbred blood gave him tremendous speed, but right now Monty hoped he could depend on his Morgan ancestors to help him weave his way through the herd to Iris.
The minutes seemed to crawl by as Monty worked his way through, first dropping behind one animal then sprinting past another. The gunfire increased as the two crews fought desperately to hold the herd together. Monty wished they hadn't been doing such a good job. He could reach Iris more quickly in a less compact herd.
Iris was white-faced when Monty finally drew alongside. She held tight to the pommel with both hands. Her pony was too small and tired to withstand any more buffeting by the stampeding longhorns.
"Hold on to me,"
he shouted as he leaned over and wrapped a strong arm around Iris's waist.
Iris's kept her grip on the saddle. Monty could see she was too frightened to let go.
"Let go," he shouted. "Your horse could go down any minute."
Iris looked numb with fear. Taking a firm hold with his left hand, Monty leaned over, wrapped his arm around Iris's waist, and bodily lifted her out of the saddle.
That broke her grip. Iris immediately twisted her body around, threw one leg across the saddle, threw her arms around Monty, and clung to him tighter than ivy to a stone wall.
For a moment Monty thought they might both fall out of the saddle. Iris had knocked the reins out of his hand. But Monty didn't worry about Nightmare. A little pressure with his legs, and the big horse started working his way out of the packed mass of animals. It took all of Monty's strength and concentration to keep his balance while he settled Iris in the saddle.
Iris sat straddling his legs, facing him, clutching him so tightly he could hardly breathe. Nor could he see where he was going. An incredible tangle of red hair blocked his vision.
"Move your head," Monty shouted. "I can't see."
Iris held more tightly, her cheek pressed against his.
Having finally retrieved the reins, Monty put a hand on Iris's head and forced it down on his shoulder. By leaning to the left, he had about half a field of vision, the half he needed to work his way out of the herd.
Iris's horse stayed with the herd.
Monty didn't know how it could be so, but he was almost more aware of Iris's body pressed against him than the dangers of the stampede. He was familiar with everything a cow could do, but he had never ridden a horse with a woman sitting on his lap. Even if Iris hadn't been blocking his field of vision, he'd have had trouble concentrating.
Monty hadn't reached the age of twenty-six without having a fair amount of contact with women. He couldn't control his reaction to Iris's physical presence any more than he could control the herd.
The gentle rocking motion of his horse caused their bodies to rub against each other. Incredibly, he felt his body tighten. He would never have thought himself so susceptible, but by the time he reached the edge of the herd and turned back toward his camp, he would have been embarrassed to climb out of the saddle.
"You can let go now," he said, his voice thick with tension. "We're out of danger."
Her grip did not loosen.
Neither did the tension in Monty's body lessen. The pressure of her breasts against his chest, the smell of her hair, the pressure of her buttocks as she sat in his lap combined to bring him dangerously close to losing control.
When they finally reached the camp, he brought his horse to a stop near the campfire and slid from the saddle. Iris came with him in a tangle of limbs.
"It's all right now," Monty said as he tried to pry her arms from around him. But she wouldn't let go, and it seemed only natural for Monty to put his arms around her. She clearly needed comfort. The other men could follow the herd as it disappeared into the night.
Monty didn't have much experience at rescuing women. No one had ever held onto him as though her very life depended on him. It had never been up to him to reassure a woman who was so upset she couldn't stop her body from shaking or loosen the death-grip she had on his neck.
He should have hated it, but he didn't. He shouldn't have felt so nervous, but he did. He didn't know what to do, and Rose wasn't around to ask. Nobody was around, and that could be a problem. If one of her cowhands happened to ride up now without knowing what happened, there would be hell to pay.
Women never came on trail drives, but not because of any danger from cowboys. A cowboy would lay down his life to protect a good woman, and that's exactly what was bothering Monty. He didn't want anybody laying down anything before he had a chance to explain he was only protecting Iris from the cows.
He tried to ease her arms from around him, but they felt like bands of iron. He didn't try too hard. Their being there gave him a good feeling. And his body sure hadn't shown any sign of wanting her to move.
"Are you cold?" Monty asked.
Iris nodded.
"You're shaking like a leaf. Let's get some coffee in you."
Keeping one arm around Iris, Monty walked her to the fire. Firmly unclenching Iris's hands, Monty seated her on a log someone had pulled up next to fire. He took his blanket and draped it over her shoulders. He poured some coffee in a cup and handed it to her. Iris's hands were so unsteady she spilled half the coffee.
"Here, let me hold it," Monty said.
Monty held the cup while Iris guided it to her mouth. She jerked away when the hot liquid burned her lips, but it seemed to steady her. After a couple of swallows she didn't shake so badly.
"Do you feel better now?" Monty asked. He had gotten himself under control. He stepped back.
Iris nodded.
"You'll be okay here."
"Where are you going?"
"I've got to help with the herd."
"Don't leave me," Iris said, her hands shaking worse than ever.
"You'll be okay. There's nothing to bother you now."
"There's nobody here."
Only now did Monty realize that Zac and Tyler must have gone after the herd, too.
"I've got to go," Monty said. "The herd's my responsibility."
But he didn't move. He might have been able to leave Iris if she had looked sad and forlorn. It was Iris trying to look brave that tore at his heartstrings. But if he stayed, he would forfeit his position of leadership. He'd waited years for this chance.
Monty didn't know what decision he would have made. He was saved the choice when he heard the rumble of hooves. Moments later the remuda trotted into sight. Tyler and Zac had gone after the horses when they stampeded along with the cows.
"Look after Iris," Monty yelled at Zac as he and Tyler put the rope corral back together. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"What are you doing here?" Zac demanded of Iris after Monty had galloped off. "What was Monty doing with you?" He might be only sixteen, but Iris could see he already had a few thoughts of his own, and none of them flattering to her.
"I got caught in the stampede," Iris explained. She waved her hand in the direction of the vanished herd. "My horse is still out there somewhere."
"Are you sure it wasn't something else?" Zac asked, obviously suspicious.
"What do you mean?"
"I thought I'd drop dead of old age before Monty paid more attention to some female than his cows."
"Surely, if you saw a woman in danger, you'd--"
"I would," Zac assured her, "especially if she was as pretty as you. But Monty--"
"Monty won't thank you for blabbing to everybody you meet," Tyler warned. He reached into one of the numerous drawers of the chuck wagon and drew out a sack of coffee beans.
"Iris ain't everybody," Zac protested.
"She's not family," Tyler said, measuring three tablespoons of beans into a coffee grinder.
That single sentence made Iris feel more alone than ever before. No, she wasn't family. But these boys were, and that unique tie formed a barrier that kept her an outsider.
Tyler dumped the grounds into a pot and filled it with water from the barrel. "You'd better get some horses ready. They'll be coming in soon for coffee and new mounts. And you'd better check those ropes while you're at it. It'll give you something to do besides run your mouth."
"I know what to do," Zac said, sulkily going about his work.
Tyler set the pot on the fire. "Fresh coffee will be ready in a little while." He walked back to the chuck wagon.
"I know how important this herd is to Monty." Iris spoke to Tyler's back as he worked silently. "But my herd is just as important to me."
Still Tyler didn't speak.
"Monty wanted me to turn them over to a drover, but I couldn't."
"You should have," Tyler said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. "Monty's got enough to do without having to worry ab
out you."
"He doesn't have to worry about me," Iris said, firing up.
"You're a woman," Tyler said. "A man always has to worry about a woman, even if he doesn't like her."
Tyler's words struck Iris like a surprise dagger thrust out of the night. She had taken it for granted Monty liked her. Everything had depended on it. But Tyler's words made her wonder if she had become so used to being admired she couldn't see Monty didn't feel the same way. Even after he proved immune to her blandishments, she had still assumed he liked her.
But what were his feelings toward her? Did he still think of her as the little girl who followed at his heels? Did he see her as the spoiled daughter of the nearly notorious Helena Richmond? Or did he see her as a young woman who exercised a strong hold over him? Probably something of all three, but that still didn't answer the question.
Did Monty like her, or was his attention merely cowboy chivalry?
Shocked, Iris realized she didn't know.
She realized with an equal feeling of foreboding that whether she got to Wyoming safely depended on whether or not Monty cared enough to keep on taking care of her.
Could chivalry last that long, and if not, what kind of feeling would?
Just as important, how did she feel about Monty? Really feel. How would she feel about a man who liked her enough to take care of her for two thousand miles through wild country? What could she offer him in return? What would he expect?
The unanswered questions buzzed in Iris's head until she felt dizzy. She had set out on this journey determined to use Monty for her benefit. She hadn't thought about what would happen when they reached Wyoming. She supposed they would separate, go their different ways, and forget each other.
Now she knew that wasn't possible. At least not for her.
She also knew she hoped it wouldn't be true for Monty.
* * * * *
Iris saw him ride in, tired and windblown, but radiating energy like he hadn't been in the saddle nearly twenty-four hours. Just watching him made her feel more alive, like she wanted to get up and do something. It sounded silly, but just knowing he was near made any danger seem less threatening.
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