The Trail Driver

by Zane Grey

  Finally Brite set off at a trot after the riders, who had caught up with the herd. One of them had been leading a saddled but riderless horse, undoubtedly meant for Texas Joe, who was on foot. Not for hours did Brite get a glimpse of his foreman, and by that time he was astride again.

  The slow miles passed to the rear, and the westering sun had sunk low and dusky red before Shipman halted for the night. This day’s drive would total fifteen miles, a long journey for grazing cattle. Water had been crossed about mid-afternoon, which was well for the stock, because this was a dry camp. Grass was luxuriant, and buffalo chips abundant. Moze halted his chuck-wagon in the lee of an outcrop of rock, which was the only obstruction on the level land. Brite finished his own chores and then packed in chips for the camp fire. Not until a dusky haze had mantled the range did he stop gazing back to the southward.

  Texas Joe did not ride in until after the night shift had gone on guard. He was silent and taciturn, aloof as Brite had seen other men who had lately snuffed out human life. Texas ate alone, kneeling beside the fire. More than once Brite caught him kneeling there, cup in hand, motionless, his thoughts far from the moment. Presently he slipped away in the darkness and Brite saw him no more. Rolly Little, Ben Chandler, and Roy Hallett, betrayed their knowledge of the marvelous fact that the Brite outfit had a young girl in it now, and not only a very pretty one, but also romantic and appealing. They were a changed trio. Excited, gay, decidedly on their good behavior they amused Brite. Not once did Brite hear them mention the killing of Wallen. That seemed far past. Rolly was the only one of the trio who had the courage to speak directly to Reddie. Ben took his attention out in covert glances, while Roy talked loudly, almost boastfully, a singular transformation in this boy.

  The most noticeable change, however, and a pleasing one, appeared to be in Reddie Bayne. She seemed natural for the first time, and no longer slunk in and out of camp hurriedly, with her old sombrero pulled down over her eyes. In fact, she did not have it on at all, and only one glance at her pretty head was needed to ascertain that she had brushed her golden curls. Where had she done that, Brite wondered? After supper she helped Moze at his tasks, apparently not heeding the noisy trio around the fire, although a sharp observer might have detected that she heard every word. More than once she flashed a furtive glance off in the direction in which Texas Joe had disappeared. Next she tipped her bedroll off the wagon, and was about to shoulder it when the three cowboys piled over each other to get it. Rolly was the quickest.

  “Whar yu want it unrolled Re … Miss Reddie?” he asked.

  “Thanks. But give it to me,” returned Reddie, bluntly. “Say, I’ve been totin’ this roll every night, haven’t I? Why not tonight?”

  “Wal, yu see, Miss Reddie, yu—we—it ain’t jest the same now.”

  “Oh, ain’t it? What ain’t?”

  “Yu know. The situation heah. …We boys have talked it over. Ridin’ remuda is enough for yu. No more packin’ saddles, bedrolls, firewood, water, an’ sich chores. We’ll do all thet for yu.”

  “Yu’re awfully good, Rolly. But please wait till I drop, will yu?”

  Whereupon she lifted the roll of canvas and carried it over significantly close to where Brite had unrolled his. When she had finished a like task for herself she came over to sit beside Brite.

  “I’m still sick to my stomach,” she confided. “An’ I have thet queer heavy feelin’ up heah.” She put her hands to her breast, high up, and pressed them there.

  “I savvy, Reddie. All thet this mawnin’. …Wal, it sort of faded for me. So much to think aboot!”

  “Gee! I’ve thought ‘til my pore haid aches,” declared Reddie. “Mr. Brite, these cowboys air funny now. Have yu noticed it—since I been found oot?”

  “Reckon I have. Shore it’s funny,” replied Brite. “It’s unusual to have a girl on a trail drive. Shore it’s goin’ to be somethin’ beside funny, Reddie.”

  “I’m afraid so. What do yu think?”

  “Wal, yu’re an awful pretty girl, an’ thet’s goin’ to make complications.”

  “Oh dear! … I reckoned so. But, Mr. Brite, they’re nice boys. I—I like them. I’m not afraid. I’ll be able to sleep. This is the nicest ootfit of men I ever rode with.”

  “Wal, thet’s a compliment to all of us, Reddie. Thank yu for it. I’ll bet the boys would like to heah thet. I’ll tell them.”

  “Oh, I cain’t get this mawnin’ off my chest,” she whispered. “Wasn’t he terrible?”

  “Who? Wallen?”

  “Wallen!—No, he was just low down. … I mean Texas Joe. …Wasn’t he fierce? I could have dropped in my tracks when he shot Wallen. …Just as quick as thet! Just the moment I confessed I was a girl—an’—Wallen was after me. …Oh! He killed him! I prayed for some rider to do thet very thing. But when it was done I was sick. My blood curdled. …Yet even thet wasn’t as bad as when Texas grabbed me by the throat an’ nearly jerked me oot of my boots. …‘All the time yu was a girl—all the time,’ he barked at me. I’ll never forget thet.”

  “Aw, yes, yu will, Reddie,” replied Brite, soothingly. “Tex took the sap oot of me, too. Gawd! how quick he bored thet skunk! Why even Pan Handle remarked aboot it. …Just forget it, Reddie. We’ve lots more comin’, I reckon, this trip.”

  “But, Mr. Brite,” she faltered. “I—I got the idee Texas Joe thought Wallen had—thet I was a—a hussy.”

  “Reddie! I’m shore he’s thought nothin’ of the kind,” replied Brite, hastily.

  “Oh, yes he did. He looked at me so! I could have sunk in my boots. …Mr. Brite, I—I just couldn’t go on with yore ootfit if he thought I was a bad girl.”

  “Tex was only shocked. Same as me—an’ all of us. It doesn’t happen every day, Reddie—a pretty kid of a girl droppin’ in on us oot of the sky. Yu see, Tex had swore at yu, an’ spanked yu thet time, an’ otherwise put familiar hands on yu withoot the least idee yu was anythin’ but a boy. He’s so ashamed he cain’t come aboot.”

  “It’s very kind of yu to say thet, Mr. Brite,” rejoined Reddie. “I wish I could believe yu. But I cain’t. An’ I cain’t ask him—dammit!”

  “Ask him what?”

  “If he thinks I’m bad.”

  “Wal, I reckon Tex would be hurt to find oot yu believed he could so insult yu in his mind. But ask him. Thet’ll settle it.”

  “But I cain’t, Mr. Brite. I cain’t be mad at him—no matter what he believed me. ‘Cause he killed a man for my sake! ‘Cause he saved me from wuss’n hell—an’ from spillin’ my own blood.”

  “Reddie, yu’re all upset,” replied Brite, moved at the convulsed pale face and the dark eyes. “Yu go to bed. In the mawnin’ yu’ll feel better.”

  “Sleep! What’s to keep thet man Hite from sneakin’ in heah with his ootfit, knifin’ yu all, an’ makin’ off with me?”

  The startling query acquainted Brite with the fact that there was not very much to oppose such a catastrophe. Too many drivers were required on guard. That left the camp force weak.

  “Reddie, thet’s sort of far fetched,” said Brite.

  “It’s been done over Braseda way. I heahed aboot it.”

  “I’m a light sleeper, Reddie. No Comanches, even, could surprise me.”

  Reddie shook her curly head as if she were unconvinced. “It’s tough enough to be a girl in town,” she said. “Oot heah on the trail it’s hell.”

  “No one but Wallen’s ootfit knows. An’ shore they won’t come bracin’ us again. Go to bed, Reddie, an’ sleep.”

  Brite lay awake, thinking. This waif of the ranges had disrupted a certain tenor of the trail drivers’ life. Having her with them was a drawback, a risk. But Brite could not entertain any idea of not keeping her. The fact that Reddie was a strong, skillful, enduring rider, as good a horse wrangler as any boy, did not alter the case. She was a girl, and growing more every minute a decidedly attractive girl. Impossible was it to keep the cowboys from realizing that alluring fact in a way characteristic of Texa
n youths in particular, and all youths in general. They would fall in love with her. They would quarrel over her. Nevertheless, suppose they did! Brite would not surrender to dismay. He refused to admit that youth, beauty, romance might detract from the efficiency of a group of trail drivers. On the other hand, they would rise to the occasion. That free, wild, spirit to do and dare would burn more fiercely and make them all the more invincible. No, Reddie Bayne was not a liability to this enterprise, but an asset. Brite satisfied himself on that score, and when that conclusion had been reached he realized that the orphan girl had found a place in his heart which had ever been empty.

  The events of the day had not been conducive to undisturbed sleep. Brite was awake on and off until the guard changed at midnight. Reddie Bayne was also awakened.

  “Boss,” she said, “I’m goin’ to have a look at my remuda.”

  “Come along. I’ll go up with yu.”

  Ackerman brought in the relief horses and reported that all was quiet, with the herd bedded down. The moon in its last quarter was low on the horizon. Sheet lightning flaring behind dark, stringy clouds in the west told of heat and storm.

  As they rode out together Texas Joe swept by on a lope and hailed them gruffly. “Hang close together, yu!”

  Brite heard Reddie mutter something under her breath. How she watched that dark rider across the moonlit plain! They found the horses resting, with only a few grazing. The grass was knee high. Out beyond, a great, black square defaced the silvery prairie, and this was the herd of long-horns. San Sabe’s voice doled out a cowboy refrain. The other guards were silent. Brite and Reddie rode around the herd twice, and finally edging the horses into a closer unit they turned campward. Reddie appeared prone to silence. Several times Brite tried conversation, which elicited only monosyllables from the youngster. They went to bed, and Brite slept until sunrise.

  That day turned out uneventful. Shipman drove at least twelve miles. Brite observed that his foreman often faced the south to gaze long and steadily. But nothing happened and the night also proved quiet. Another day saw a lessening of anxiety. Ross Hite had not passed them in daylight, that was a certainty. A mild thunderstorm overtook the drivers on the following day, and the wet, shiny horns of the cattle and the fresh, dank odor of thirsty earth were pleasant.

  Coon Creek and Buffalo Wallow, Hackberry Flat, The Meadows, and night after night at unnamed camps took the drivers well on into June. Buffalo began to show in straggly lines on the rise of prairie to the west. A few unfriendly riders passed at a distance. Brite began to think that good luck attended his trail again, and forgot the days and camps.

  Meanwhile, except for the aloof Texas Joe and Pan Handle, the outfit had grown into a happy family. Reddie Bayne had been a good influence so far. Rivalry for her favor, for who should wait upon her in any conceivable way that she would permit, lacked not friendly spirit, for all its keenness. Smiles grew frequent upon her pretty face. She improved visibly under such pleasant contact. And Brite came to the day when he decided he would adopt her as a daughter, if one of these cowboys did not win her for a wife. Still, Brite, sharp watch and guardianship as he kept over her, found no serious courting. No one of them ever had a chance to get her alone. It just happened that way, or else Reddie was clever enough to bring it about.

  Nevertheless, where Texas Joe was concerned there appeared to be smoldering fire. He watched Reddie from afar with telltale eyes. And Reddie, when she imagined she was unobserved, let her dreamy gaze stray in Joe’s direction. As foreman he had the responsibility of the herd, and day and night that was his passion. All the same he followed imperceptibly in the footsteps of his riders. Seldom did Joe address Reddie; never did he give her another order. Sometimes he would tell Brite to have her do this or that with the remuda. In camp he avoided her when that was possible. He seemed a weary, melancholy rider, pondering to himself.

  Brite saw how this aloofness worked upon Reddie. She had come in to her own, and his indifference piqued her. Reddie never lost a chance to fret and fume to Brite about his foreman. Pride and vanity had come with the championship of the cowboys. Despite her ragged male attire, she no longer could have been taken for other than a girl. Some kind of a climax was imminent. Brite had his choice of a suitor for Reddie, but he liked all his boys. They had warmed to her influence. Perhaps if she had shown any preference then there might have been jealousy. But so far they were all her brothers and she was happy, except at such times when Texas Joe projected his forceful personality and disturbing presence upon the scene.

  One early evening camp at Blanco River all the drivers but three were in, and Texas Joe was among the former. It had been an easy day until the crossing of the wide stream, where some blunders, particularly with the remuda, had ruffled the foreman. He gave Ackerman one of his round-about orders for Reddie. They were through supper and Joe about ready to take the night guard out. Suddenly Reddie flashed a resentful face in Joe’s direction.

  “Deuce, I cain’t heah yu,” she said, quite piercingly. “If Mister Shipman has any orders for me, let him tell them to me.”

  Ackerman was not slow in translating this into his own words, for the benefit of Joe and all. But it really had not been necessary.

  “I’ll give orders any way I like, Miss Bayne,” said Texas.

  “Shore. But if yu got anythin’ for me to do yu’ll say so, an’ not through somebody else.”

  “Wal, I’ll fire yu when we get to Fort Worth,” rejoined Joe, coolly.

  “Fire me!” cried Reddie, astounded and furious.

  “Yu heahed me, Miss.”

  “Then yu’ll fire the whole damn ootfit,” declared Reddie, hotly. “The idee! When I’ve not done a single thing wrong. …Tell him, boys. Deuce, Roy, Whit, Rolly—tell him.”

  There were nonchalant and amiable remarks tending to the veracity of Reddie’s declaration.

  “My Gawd! what a lousy ootfit!” ejaculated Joe, in disgust. “Less Holden—my pard—air yu in cahoots with her?”

  “Shore, Tex,” replied Lester, with a laugh. “We jest couldn’t drive cattle withoot Reddie.”

  “Yu too!” burst out Texas, deeply chagrined and amazed.

  “Say, what kind of a foreman air yu—givin’ orders to yore hawse-wrangler through a third person?” flashed Reddie, scornfully. “I’m on this ootfit. I’m gettin’ wages. Yu cain’t ignore me.”

  “Cain’t I?” queried Texas, in helpless rage. It was evident that he could not. More than evident was it that something inexplicable and infuriating was at work upon him.

  “No, yu cain’t—not no more,” continued Reddie, carried beyond reserve. “Not withoot insultin’ me, Texas Jack Shipman.”

  “Stop callin’ me Texas Jack,” shouted the driver.

  “I’ll call yu wuss’n thet pronto. An’ I’ll say right now of all the conceited, stuck-up cowboys I ever seen yu’re the damnedest. Yu’re too proud to speak to poor white trash like me. So yu order me aboot through the boss or one of the boys, or even Moze. An’ I’m callin’ for a show down, Tex Shipman.”

  “Boss, do I have to stand heah an’ take all this?” appealed Joe, turning shamefacedly to Brite.

  “Wal, Tex, I don’t reckon yu have to, but I’d take it if I was yu’ an’ get it over,” advised Brite, conciliatingly.

  Thus championed by her employer, Reddie gave way utterly to whatever complicated emotions were driving her. Like a cat she sprang close to Texas and glared up at him, her eyes blazing, her breast heaving.

  “Yu can tell me right heah an’ now, in front of the ootfit, why yu treat me like dirt under yore feet,” demanded she, huskily.

  “Wrong again, Miss Bayne,” drawled Texas. “Yu flatter yoreself. I jest didn’t think aboot yu atall.”

  This seemed to be a monstrous lie to all except the pale-faced girl to whom it was directed.

  “Tex Shipman, yu killed a man to save me, but it wasn’t for me particularly? Yu’d done thet for any girl, good or—or bad?”

  “Why, s
hore I would.”

  “An’ yu had yore doubts aboot me then, didn’t yu, cowboy?”

  “Wal, I reckon so. An’ I—still got—them,” rejoined Texas, haltingly. He had doubts about himself, too, and altogether the situation must have been galling to him.

  “Yu bet yu have!” flashed Reddie, scarlet of face. “Come oot with them then—if yu’re not yellow! … First—yu think I—I’m bad, don’t yu?”

  “Wal, if yu’re keen aboot thet, I don’t think yu’re so—so damn good!”

  “Oh-h!” cried the girl, poignantly. Then she gave him a stinging slap with her right hand and another with her left.

  “Heah! Yu got me wrong!” yelled Texas, suddenly horrified at the way she took his scathing reply; and he backed away from her flaming assault. But it was too late. Reddie was too violently outraged to comprehend what seemed clear to Brite, and no doubt all the gaping listeners.

  “I ought to kill yu for thet,” whispered Reddie. “An’ I would, by Gawd! but for Mr. Brite! … Oh, I’ve knowed all along yu thought I was a hussy. …Thet Wallen had … Damn yu, Tex Shipman. Yu don’t know a decent girl when yu meet one! Yu gotta be told. An’ I’m tellin’ yu. …Wallen was a dirty skunk. An’ he wasn’t the only one who hounded me oot of a job. All because I wanted to be decent. …An’ I am decent—an’ as good as yore own sister, Tex Shipman—or any other boy’s sister! … To think I—I have to tell yu!—I ought to do thet—with a gun—or a hawsewhip.”

  Suddenly she broke down and began to sob. “Now—yu can go to hell—Tex Shipman—with yore orders—an’ with what—yu think aboot me! Yu’re dirt—under —my feet!”

  Chapter Six

  REDDIE plunged away into the gathering dusk as if she meant to leave that camp forever. Brite decided he would not let her go far, but before following her he took note of the group at the camp fire. Texas Joe stared after Reddie. The boys began to upbraid him in no friendly terms, when Pan Handle silenced them with a gesture.

  “Tex, this is liable to split our ootfit,” he said, putting a hand on the cowboy’s shoulder. “It won’t do. We all know yu didn’t think Reddie’s no good. But she doesn’t know. Square thet pronto.”