“The men insist on some concessions, Maggie. I’m going to send Nevada Hatch back with you to see your pa with our last offer. If he turns us down this time, I can’t hold the men. I’m trying to persuade them to at least bring in the cattle we’ve rounded up before we leave tomorrow, but I can’t promise that will happen.”
“But … you’ll all keep working today?”
“I can’t speak for all of them, but I sure will. And I’ll try to keep the rest of them working, at least until we hear back from your pa.”
Tears glistened in Maggie’s eyes. “Please don’t let them do this, Alex. It could ruin my father.”
Just pulling in the next breath was painful, and he couldn’t look her in the eye. “What do you think this will do to the men? Think of Leo, Maggie. Think of Sela and the kids. Is that how you want your family’s employees to live?”
Nevada trotted his big bay horse over. “I’ll be riding with you, Miss Maggie.”
Maggie glared at Alex. Without another word, she turned and gathered her horse’s reins. She lifted her left foot to the stirrup. Under other circumstances, Alex would have offered to give her a boost, but such an action might get him clobbered about now.
She swung up into the saddle and wheeled Duchess without so much as a glance in his direction. She clucked to the horse and took off at a canter. Nevada’s horse shot off after hers. Alex stood watching until he could see only a puff of dust where they’d disappeared. He reminded himself to breathe. He had cattle to round up.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tommy and three of the other cowboys rode over to where Alex was checking his saddle girth. “We’re heading for the Bar D and the Lazy S to tell the men there what we’re doing,” Tommy said.
“Why don’t you wait until Nevada comes back and we know for sure? Let’s get this job done and leave with a clean slate.”
Tommy shook his head. “If we wait, Porter will tell the other ranchers, and we won’t be allowed to talk to their men.”
That was likely true, but Alex hated to let them go and drum up support before he got this final confirmation. He realized he was clinging to a slim thread of hope that the strike would not go forward, but the odds were against him. He and Porter had parted last night with the understanding that they would strike, and he doubted that would change now. But if the Rocking P was the only ranch where the hands struck, plenty of other men would be ready to hire on with Porter.
“All right. But just you four. And come back by sundown and tell us how it goes.”
Tommy nodded. He and the other three loped away, letting their high spirits escape in whoops. Maybe it was better to get them off Rocking P land for a spell.
As Alex mounted Red, Early rode over. “You and me for the creek bed, boss?”
Alex bit his lip. “If we strike, I’m not your boss.”
Early nodded. “Remind me when we get the word.”
“All right. Let’s go.”
For the next two hours, he tried not to think about the strike, or Porter’s iron stance on the pay issue, or Maggie’s tear-streaked face. He and Early popped cattle out of brush and drove them down ravines and over hills. When they brought in forty head to the corrals, Bronc was tending the gate with his left hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage.
“What happened?” Alex asked as soon as the cattle were confined.
“Oh, I was holding down a calf for Diego, and he singed me with the branding iron.”
Alex winced. “How bad is it?”
“It won’t keep me down, but I feel it.”
Alex looked him over and decided to trust Bronc’s assessment. “All right. Take it easy if you need to. I’ll talk to Diego. He needs to be more careful.”
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Bronc said. “I gave him that message, loud and clear. Lucky you wasn’t around when it happened.”
Alex nodded grimly. Bronc’s vocabulary got creative on occasion.
Alex turned Red out with the remuda and took a fresh horse, to give his personal mount a rest. He and Early rode out again to look for more strays. They had to go farther each time, and it was past noon the next time they reached camp. Alex handed his horse off to Joe. Half a dozen men were eating their dinner. Stewie had beans, side meat, flapjacks, and unlimited coffee ready.
“Nevada back yet?” Alex asked Joe at the corral gate.
“No sign of him.”
Alex didn’t like it, but he headed for the chuck wagon.
“Eat up, boys,” Stewie called. “You may not know where your next meal is coming from.”
Alex washed in the enameled washbasin and shook the droplets from his hair. After he’d scrubbed a layer of dust off his hands and wet his bandanna, he went to Stewie for his dinner.
“Are you walking with us if it comes to that, Stewie?”
The cook handed him his plate. “I reckon so. Hate to leave the Rocking P, but I also hate to think of what’ll happen to me when I’m too old to cook. Shep’s working around the main ranch, but I wonder how long Porter will keep him on. And he sure hasn’t got room for two old geezers with rheumatism.”
Alex sat down in the shade of the wagon to eat. Early got his plate and came to sit beside him. “Whatcha think now, boss?”
Alex took a gulp of coffee. “I think it’s taking us longer to do this job without Tommy and the others. We’re down six men now, counting Leo and Nevada. I sure hate to ride off and leave a job not done.”
“That’s kinda the point, ain’t it? Show Porter how much he needs us?”
“I suppose.”
“Listen, boss, I gotta tell ya, I didn’t like the way they was talking this mornin’. If they start talking about roughin’ you up again … well, I won’t stand for it, ya hear?”
“Thanks, Early. I did wonder about you and Nevada. We go back a ways.”
“Yup. Nevada, he wouldn’t let ’em hurt you either. He just didn’t say nothin’ so the boys wouldn’t get any madder’n they were. He mighta let them tie you up, but I’m guessin’ he’d’ve been the one to do the tyin’—not too tight, you know? And he’d knock down anyone who tried to seriously hurt you.”
Alex wasn’t sure the older man was right, but his words did bring a little comfort.
Tommy and the others came back with noncommittal news from the other cowboys they’d contacted. Most were happy to stay where they were, and no one wanted to come right out and declare in support of the strike. At least nobody else was eager to hire on at the Rocking P if the men left their jobs.
“We warned ’em about conditions here,” Tommy said. “Porter will be lucky to find a single man to work for him after this.”
When Alex went back for more beans, Stewie said, “How’s it going?”
“You mean the roundup?”
“Well, yeah. Everything.”
“Not bad. Not good, either.”
“You boys aren’t nearly done, are you?”
Alex shook his head. “It would take three or four more days to do it right, but I guess we’re done once we take this cut in.”
Stewie nodded. “I’m hoping Nevada brings us good news.”
“Me too.” Alex looked around at the men. No one seemed in a hurry to get back to work. Diego had gone off by himself, probably keeping out of Bronc’s way. The rest sat within a few yards of the smoldering fire. “Got more coffee?” Alex asked.
Some folks thought it was foolish to drink hot coffee in the Texas heat, but they didn’t have anything better, and when men dragged into camp tuckered out, something about the strong brew hit the spot.
“I’ll get you some,” Stewie said. “That fresh pot oughta be ready. Sit down and eat.”
Alex ambled back to where Early still sat in the shade. Stewie grabbed a tin cup and walked over to the fire. They’d let it burn down to embers, just going enough to keep the food warm.
“Hey, boys, coffee’s ready,” he called.
Stewie lifted the coffeepot and turned toward the wagon. He didn’t notice the empty s
pider he’d set off a few minutes earlier and he tripped over it. He had the presence of mind to fling the coffeepot away from him as he fell, but the contents sloshed out on the ground, sending a brown wave from his hands nearly to where Alex sat. A few drops splashed on Early’s boots.
Stewie curled up and rubbed his shin, swearing mildly. Bronc chimed in with a stronger epithet.
“Oh, great.” Tommy scowled at Stewie. “Nobody needs a clumsy cook.”
Alex stood and walked over to extend a hand to Stewie. “You all right?”
“I think so.” Stewie took his hand, and Alex pulled him up.
Early had followed Alex. He stooped and retrieved the coffeepot. “You got makin’s for more?”
“Oh, sure.” Stewie took the pot and headed for the back of the chuck wagon, muttering and limping.
“It’s my turn to work the branding fire,” Alex said to Early.
Early nodded and gazed toward the hills in the distance. “Reckon I’ll see if Diego wants to ride up to Willow Canyon. They’s probably a few cattle up there.”
As the other men saddled their fresh mounts for the afternoon’s work, no one mentioned Nevada. He should have been back by now. Alex grew more tense every time he thought about it, but he was glad no one brought up the subject.
As Harry mounted his horse, the cinch strap on his saddle broke, and the cowboy plummeted to the ground, saddle and all. He lay there for a moment with an injured air. Tommy, Bronc, Early, and Diego burst out laughing. After a moment, Harry joined them. For the first time that day, Alex cracked a smile.
“Well, now, boys,” Harry said as he climbed to his feet and dusted off his pants, “I reckon I’ll be a minute puttin’ a new leather on there. See ya later.”
“I’ve got one for you,” Joe said. He kept some extra straps, rivets, a leather punch, and other supplies with his cache of horseshoes and nails in kegs mounted outside the chuck wagon.
Despite the small mishaps and the tense atmosphere, the men continued driving in cattle, culling them, and bringing the mavericks to the branding fire. Alex worked there with Joe and Tommy. The day had turned out hot and humid, and working around the fire had Alex thirsty, tired, and out of sorts in short order. He tried to keep the tone light and friendly, though when the men came in from the range they invariably asked if there was any word.
In the occasional lulls, Alex recorded the number of calves branded, cows released, steers added to the day’s “cut,” to be driven to the ranch and join the herd that would be sent to Fort Worth. Who would handle the cattle drive? He wondered if Mr. Porter was already lining up a new crew.
There must have been a better way to handle the men’s complaints. Alex went over in his mind the men’s rising discontent and his pleas to Mr. Porter. Step by step, they’d come to this impasse, and now he was in the awkward position of having to choose sides. And he’d chosen, irrevocably, to stand with the men. That meant, in all probability, being out of work within a day, without regular pay, and without a place to live. He supposed he could always go home to his father’s ranch and take up freighting again, though he loathed it.
Even more distressing than the thought of being out of work, Alex knew he’d lost the respect of one of the men he admired most.
He didn’t like the way Porter had behaved over the last few months. As much as a year ago, he’d seen signs that the boss was growing weary. Slowing down. Not working as hard as he used to. And last year’s cattle sales had been disappointing.
Had financial losses brought him to this—where he wouldn’t take care of the men who’d given him their labor and loyalty? He’d pushed the men too far, something Alex never would have thought Mr. Porter would do. When he looked back over the spread of years, he could see that the boss had changed drastically. It had happened so gradually, the newer men didn’t even remember him as a generous, good-natured employer who would toil beside them from sunup to dark.
Alex had never had a claim on Maggie, and yet he felt he’d lost her too. He’d known she admired him when she was younger, but he’d followed the advice of his foreman then, and ignored her more blatant attempts to flirt. He’d treated her like a kid sister. Sure, she was cute then, and fun to be around. He’d always brightened when she came out to the corral to watch them breaking new horses or when he’d been assigned to keep an eye on her while she took a pleasure ride. But he didn’t want a shred of distrust between him and the boss, so he’d been extra careful not to give any reason for offense. That had paid off and gotten him where he was today.
And now she was back. He might have earned the right to look at the boss’s beautiful daughter as something more now—even the right to court her. But that couldn’t happen when he was leading his boss’s men in rebellion. Maggie was right—Porter would never forgive him now. He wasn’t sure Maggie would either. That cut him to the quick.
An hour before sunset, Nevada came back alone. His horse jogged along slowly as though both he and the rider hated to return to camp. Harry spotted him first and called to Alex.
“Looks like Nevada’s back. Took his time.”
Alex laid down the Rocking P branding iron and walked out to meet Nevada before he reached the campfire.
“What’s happening?”
Nevada frowned and shook his head. “Porter won’t listen. Any man who won’t keep working at thirty a month is fired immediately and can pick up his pay tomorrow. He says he’ll have it ready. Today’s the fifteenth, so we’ll each get half a month’s pay. That’s it.”
Alex stared at him. “It took you all day to get that out of him?”
Nevada shook his head and looked off toward the hills. “I rode into town after, to see Leo. The doctor’s keeping him doped up because he’s in so much pain.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, well Sela’s sticking by him, but she looks real tired. She’s got the baby with her all the time and nobody to help her. The doc’s gone most of the day, seeing patients.”
“Maggie got someone to watch the boys, though,” Alex said.
Nevada nodded. “But they really need Leo’s pay. I told her we’d see if we could get it for him tomorrow.”
“And Porter won’t change his mind?”
“Nope.” Nevada pushed his hat back and met Alex’s gaze. “We’re in it, chum. No backing down now.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Can’t you just give a little, Papa? Nevada looked so angry when he left!”
“He’s got no right to be angry. If anyone should be upset, it’s me. I’ve given those men exactly what I promised them, nothing less. And what do I get? Tough talk and laziness.”
Maggie decided not to debate that problem. The appropriation of the men’s private herds was obviously a sore spot on both sides. Nevada Hatch had yelled so loudly that Maggie had heard him in her bedroom and come to see what the ruckus was about. If she were the ranch’s owner, she wouldn’t handle the matter the way her father had. But he was supposed to be wiser, with all his experience. She felt as though he was throwing away what he’d worked all his life to build.
The bleak thought that soon she would be the owner didn’t cheer her. These men would be gone by then and she’d have a new crew. Without her father and the hands she’d known and trusted since girlhood, how could she run the Rocking P? She clutched the edge of his desk and tried to bring her thoughts back to the less terrifying problem at hand. She’d heard only the tail end of the latest argument, but the loudness and tone had made her fear the two men would come to blows.
“I never made maverick herds part of your wages,” her father had said in icy tones. “Show me where it’s written that I owe you a one of my cattle.”
“But you’ve let the men keep them for at least ten years that I know about,” Nevada had responded. “That’s setting a pattern, and stopping it now without compensation is going back on your word.” Maggie jumped at the sound of Nevada’s fist hitting the desk.
“It’s no such thing!” Papa’s
chair scraped the floor as he leapt to his feet.
Maggie knew she shouldn’t interrupt as they argued on for a few more minutes; she wrung her hands and wondered if she ought to barge in. Her father’s coughing bout tipped the scales. She’d marched into the office and invited Nevada Hatch to leave in none-too-cordial terms. Now her father drooped in his chair, still proud and unrelenting, though his enemy left the field.
“But, Papa, some of those men have families,” she said. “What will they do?”
“They should have thought of that before they started this strike thing.” Her father began to cough again. He pulled out a handkerchief and covered his face.
Maggie hurried to the side table and poured him a cup of water.
“Here. Drink this. And shouldn’t you be taking the medicine Dr. Vargas left for you?”
He took the cup and gulped down some water, then resumed coughing. Nothing she could do for him seemed to help.
He sank back in his chair with his eyes closed, a grimace of pain distorting his features.
“I’ll go for the medicine.” She hurried out and down the hallway to his room for the packet. She’d made him tell her the instructions for mixing it yesterday, and for the last twenty-four hours, she’d browbeaten him into taking it on schedule. Other than that, she’d found few ways to comfort him. Sometimes even her presence seemed to pain him.
She carried the mixture back to the office and held the glass out to him. “Here you are. Maybe you should lie down, Papa.”
“No, I’ve got work to do.” He waved a hand, indicating the ledger and papers spread out over his desk. But he took the glass from her and downed his dose.
While he drank it, Maggie peered cautiously at the papers.
Lowering the glass, he winced. “That stuff is awful. Can’t see how anything that bitter can help your insides.”
“Next time the doctor comes, I’ll ask him how it works. Can I help you with your work here? It might go faster.”
“No, thanks. I figure all the hands will be in tomorrow morning for their pay, and I want to have it all ready, so there’s no dillydallying. I want them paid off and out of here.”
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