Owen Family Saga Box Set: Books 1-3

by Ward, Marsha

Carl spoke low. “I reckon them low-life carpetbaggers make up the rules as they go along, especially if they see a profit in doing it.”

  “I favor that Henry feller getting here with a powerful yearning to travel on with us. We come too far with Ma’s gold to see any Yankees make off with the cows she bought.” Albert sat up straight. “That there’s the stable hand coming up the walk, and he’s got another feller with him.”

  Bob and Bill Henry came through the door of the dining room, Bill brushing the dust of the road from his sleeves. He had light brown hair that curled over his shirt collar, and blue eyes that flicked around the room and settled on Rod, at the rear table.

  From his seat two feet away, Carl looked over the powerfully built Texan. He wore a moustache that drooped over the sides of his mouth. His face, shaded by a hat with a wide brim, was brown and unseamed, and Carl guessed he was at least two years older than himself. Judging from the bulge of muscles in his thighs, he had spent most of those years on a horse.

  The man spoke to his cousin in a low voice, “I reckon that’s the fellow with the cows and no savvy on moving them. Let’s go see what he has in mind.”

  ~~~

  Bill Henry swaggered across the room like he owned the whole of West Texas. His cousin Bob followed after, and came up to the table as Rod rose to his feet.

  Bob nodded to Rod. “Mr. Owen, this here’s my cousin, Bill Henry.”

  “Sit down, gentlemen. Can I offer you supper?” At the nod of the young man before him, Rod waved in the direction of the kitchen. “Two more places at this table,” he called out.

  Bill Henry sat down, and leaned back in his chair. “I heard you’re looking for a trail boss and some hands to move cattle.” His blue eyes never looked over at Rulon, but gazed straight into Rod’s.

  “I bought a herd, something over 1400 cows. I reckon I need help to get it to the Colorado Territory. I’ve raised dairy cattle all my life, but these longhorns are a different breed. I need a good man to show me and my five boys the proper handling of this herd. If that man was willing to stay up in Colorado and show us the rest of the beef cattle business, I reckon he’d be the right man for the job.”

  “You say there’s six of you?” Bill tipped back his hat with one finger. “I know cattle trailing as good as any other man, and I know the rest of the business, but I ain’t so sure about leaving Texas for good. I’m a Texas man born and bred.”

  “Well, I’m offering twenty-five dollars a month and room and board for the man who’ll come with me and stay on to settle nearby. We got us a place of trees and meadows, grass a plenty, and water enough for all the cattle we can bring. You look like a canny man, and if what you tell me about yourself is true, you’re the man for me.”

  Bill Henry frowned and sat up in his chair. “Seeing as how you’re just come to Texas, I won’t take that for insult. Out here we don’t question what a man says he can do. A man’s word is all he has, sometimes, and if he can’t tell the truth about himself, he won’t last long.”

  Rod grinned. “I thank you for not taking offense at my mistake. I reckon I’m still a little green around the edges, in spite of my gray hairs.”

  Bill cracked a thin smile. “You’re a fair man to admit it. I figure you’ll do. If your place is as green as you say, no offense meant, I could settle there while you learn the business.”

  “No offense taken. Do we have a deal?”

  “Thirty dollars a month for me as trail boss, and twenty-five for the rest of the hands.” Bill sat back in his chair and waited.

  “Thirty for you?” Rod considered the matter for a moment, then shrugged one shoulder. “Deal.”

  “I reckon you bought horses? We’ll take my cousin here as horse wrangler. I’ve got another prime hand in my outfit—Chico Henderson—and Sourdough Smith, who is a mighty fine cook, even if he is a little long in the tooth. Sourdough used to trap up in Colorado Territory, and he said he wouldn’t mind seeing it again. We could use a couple more men, but if you’re in a hurry, we can do it shorthanded.”

  “My boys are steady workers and fast learners, but if you think we need more men, hire them. We have to pick up the herd on Tuesday. Oh yes, I bought a hundred horses with the herd. I figure that should keep us mounted across West Texas and up the Pecos.”

  “You’re not going through the Panhandle?”

  “Too many Indians driving off stock up that way. We’ll go the same way we came, through West Texas and up the Pecos in the New Mexico Territory.”

  “You remember coming through the Staked Plains? How do you figure to get cows across that desert?”

  “As fast as I can. I figure we’ll lose some there, but it’s better than losing the whole herd to the Indians in the Panhandle.”

  “You’re the boss, but I have my doubts about your choice of trails.”

  Rod’s grin split his beard. A waitress brought two more platters to the table. “Like you said, I’m the boss. Get your crew and meet me at the Davis ranch early on Tuesday. Here’s your food, boys. Eat hearty.” Rod settled back in his chair and resumed eating.

  ~~~

  “I tell you, Berto, it’s them same tenderfeet we laid for out of Kansas City, them as drove us off from that little camp in the crick. I’d know that old man anywhere.” Willy took a long slug of water from the canteen. “‘Course he didn’t see me in the back of the room, but now that I shaved my beard, he ain’t likely to know me anyhow.”

  “And this man wants to hire cowhands, you say?” Berto Acosta looked around at his henchmen and tossed his cigar into the fire.

  “Jellico told him to look up Bill Henry, but he’s only got that old cook and Henderson with him, and maybe his cousin. The tenderfoot’s going to need more hands than that.”

  “Are the sons with him?” Acosta asked, stroking his scarred right cheekbone with his forefinger.

  “I counted five.”

  “And the hot-head, he is one of them?” The Mexican’s grin chilled Willy’s heart.

  “He’s there.”

  “I wonder where is that girl he fought for?”

  “I asked around. They came down from Colorado.”

  Acosta stood up and looked around the group. “Amigos, we have to make a little trip to Colorado, a business trip. Tilden, Dawes, you will go into town tomorrow and hire on with this man. You will get word to Willy at the saloon of when you leave and what route you will take. We will follow behind, and when the work is done, we will take the herd and have our revenge. And amigos,” he threw back his head and laughed. “There is such a girl as you have never seen, a white goddess to enjoy, when the job is completed. It will be worth every mile!”

  “That little dark-haired one is the filly I fancy,” leered Rankin.

  “I got first call on the one with the fight, that red-headed gal.” Willy rubbed his chin. “I figure to tame her.”

  “If I got to eat trail dust and smell longhorns, I reckon I’ll take a share,” mumbled Frank Tilden, wolfing down his beans.

  Pete Dawes ate a biscuit, his piercing blue eyes staring into the fire. When he had swallowed, he turned to Acosta. “Colorado’s a far piece. You aim to get more than revenge out of this drive?”

  “We will sell the herd after we take it from those tenderfeet. The cows will bring much money. There is more than pleasure to be had.” Berto frowned. “You must gain their confidence. You must be trusted. Work hard, and do not complain. You will get a just reward, I promise you.”

  Chapter 18

  Carl decided that riding drag on a herd of ornery, mean-minded, long-legged, slab-sided cows was the most punishing and dangerous job he’d ever attempted. Getting the long-horned critters used to the idea of grazing all in one direction took every bit of his concentration, and a good deal of muscle, besides. He saw why Bill Henry rotated the cowhands to different positions every day.

  As they crossed the great dry desert west of Centralia Draw, the bitter alkali dust stirred up by thousands of hooves rose in clouds to choke the men
and coat their bodies with briny white powder. Water barrels ran low, canteens were sucked dry, and thirst added to the cowhands’ misery as they fought to keep the weaker cattle moving with the rest.

  Bill Henry rode back from the head of the herd to speak with Rod.

  “We won’t bed the cattle down tonight. We’ve got to keep them moving toward the Pecos.”

  “The men are tired.”

  “It can’t be helped. There’s no water until we hit the river, and if you want to save your herd, you’ve got to keep them on their feet.”

  Rod let his breath out in a rush. “I’ll tell the men back here.”

  “I’m headed up the other side to spread the word.” Bill rode off, white dust following his trail.

  ~~~

  Later on in the day, the cows bawled and moaned for water. Their tongues, coated with the roiling alkali dust, lolled from their mouths. Their ribs began to protrude from sunken sides like the bars of a wrought-iron window grill, and the suffering of the animals caused friction to surface among the men.

  “Hey, you’re letting one get by you!” warned Clay, as a wild-eyed cow attempted to slip past Carl into the freedom of the desert.

  Carl’s nerves rebounded, and he drew his gun halfway from its holster. “That’s my lookout, you half-grown busybody. Get along, or I’ll clip your tail feathers for you,” he shouted.

  Clay’s face blanched beneath the coating of alkali already whitening his features, and he wheeled his horse away around the herd.

  Horrified at his demented action, Carl dropped the pistol into its sheath and reined in to remove his hat and knead the back of his neck. “Hush, them cows give me such a pain, I came mighty near shooting my own brother. And now I’m talking to myself.”

  He slapped his hat against his thigh, raising a billow of white. “I surely do wish I was back in Colorado, paying court to Miss Ellen, instead of pushing a bunch of cow critters down the trail.”

  ~~~

  “Clay says he won’t ride near you until we get over to the Pecos, son. What happened?” Rod’s eyes skewered Carl’s as they rode side by side at drag position that afternoon.

  Carl took a small sip from his almost-empty canteen. “I don’t reckon I blame him. If there’s one man on the crew who’s worse off than these cows, it’s me.”

  Rod remained silent, and waited for more explanation.

  “He was ridin’ me about letting a cow through. I pulled my pistol and yelled at him. I reckon he worried I was gonna shoot him.”

  “We can’t get our work done if we’re fighting, Carl. You go—”

  “I know, apologize to him.” He bit his lip, then regretted the action as alkali hit his tongue. He spat, then took off his hat, smoothed back his hair with his forearm, and reseated his hat. “I suppose you want me to apologize to James, too.”

  “That would go a long way toward making peace in the family.” Rod rode off a short distance and slapped the rear of a weary cow with a rope coil he held in his hand. “Hi-yup, there,” he called, getting the animal started on the trail again before he returned to Carl’s side. “I’ve found that a man’s family needs to be peaceful to work well.”

  “Pa, I can’t help that I fell in love with James’s girl.”

  “Maybe not, but you can give her up with the same grace James showed about the Bingham girl.”

  “He carried on something fierce, as I recall.” Carl attempted a grin, but noted that it didn’t go over well with Rod.

  “He got used to the situation and did his duty to court her.”

  “Pa, a girl don’t want duty from her husband. She wants romance, devotion.”

  Rod’s glare was chilling. “You mend your fences with your brothers, both of them.”

  Carl spat again. “Yes, Pa,” he grunted, and hurried out after a steer, thinking, I’ll say I’m sorry, but I won’t give up Ellen!

  ~~~

  After three grueling days and three sleepless nights, the herd neared the Pecos, and the cattle, smelling water, stampeded. Bill Henry and the hands riding at point and flank tried to turn the lead animals in on the herd to circle them. By this time, though, the exhausted cows were unmanageable, and they broke through the shouting, cursing cowhands and continued toward the river. As they ran, their horns banged together, creating a din of clack and clatter. Then the drumming of their hooves crowded out any other sound, even the futile gunshots the cowhands fired off in hopes of turning the herd.

  Carl watched in disbelief as the lead cattle disappeared from sight, bawling in fright as they galloped off a cliff.

  “Owen!” Bill yelled at him from ahead. “Get down that bank! Use your rope. Don’t let them pile up and drown!”

  Carl was halfway down the slope before he realized it, yelling, whooping, driving his horse down the steep incline. He hit the water with a great splash, and gasped for air as it cascaded on top of him. Grinning at the liberation from dust, he whirled his rope and snared a cow thrashing on top of a yearling in the water. “Hiy-hiy-hiy,” he hollered, dragging the cow off the other animal.

  “Keep ‘em moving to the other side,” Bill called. “There’s quicksand yonder.”

  Carl rode back and forth in the water with the others, yanking struggling cattle to their feet and hazing them to the other bank of the river. By nightfall, most of the cows had crossed the river.

  Bill Henry called to Rod from the water. “Mr. Owen, hold up and wait for me!” He rode out of the river, then climbed off his mount and strode over to Rod. “Six cows are bogged down in the quicksand and they’re likely goners, and about twelve drowned at the start, but that’s a small loss, considering.”

  “Considering what?” Rod growled.

  “Considering they stampeded in.”

  “Am I to be happy I lost any?” Rod stared down at his trail boss.

  “You’re to be happy your crew is safe and you lost so few cows. You will lose cows, Mr. Owen.” Bill widened his stance. “I can guarantee that. My job is to keep the numbers low and try to keep the hands alive and well.”

  “Then you’re doing your job,” Rod slowly agreed. He nodded at the Texan and rode away onto the flat, where the cattle were finally bedding down for the night.

  ~~~

  Bill Henry held the herd in camp for a day, watering the cows until they’d had their fill before he gave the word to move them out again.

  Two nights later, Carl rode slowly out to the herd, chewing on the last of his biscuit. He was to relieve James on night guard, and his nerves were taut. Earlier in the day, he had tried to speak to James, but his brother shrugged off the hand he’d placed on his shoulder, and walked away. Now he hoped James’s weariness would work in his favor.

  As he approached, he heard the twang of the jaw’s harp as James played a song for the cattle. Carl made sure James saw him coming, and halted his horse in front of him. James continued to play until he came to the end of the song, then he lowered the instrument and blinked Carl’s dust out of his eyes.

  “Are they quiet?” Carl asked.

  “All bedded down. They like the music.” James sounded defensive.

  Carl put out his hand. “Will you teach me to play that harp?”

  James slowly raised his chin and stared long at his brother. He finally put the instrument into his shirt pocket. “I keep what’s mine.”

  “I’m sorry things ain’t smooth between us, brother.” Carl dropped his hand, and brushed at his trousers.

  “That’s not my doing.”

  “I know, I know. I reckon I should have left Miss Ellen at the dance. I didn’t, though, and James, I can’t change that.”

  “You can leave her be.” James’s voice was husky.

  Carl shook his head slightly. “It ain’t as simple as that, brother.”

  “Sure it is. You just pull your heart out, cut it into strips, stomp it into the dust, and do your duty. I done it.” James took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh.

  “I don’t want to do that.”


  James swore. “Then don’t come to me with that thin excuse for an apology. You just tell Pa I didn’t accept it.”

  “She wants me, James.”

  James swore again, kicked his horse away from Carl, and headed toward the campfire.

  ~~~

  By the time Rod Owen’s slightly diminished herd of cattle came through Raton Pass and entered Colorado Territory, Carl had a collection of sixty-three rattles from snakes he’d shot along the Pecos, a wild mustang, and a healthy respect for Bill Henry and his instructions.

  “That Texan knows his business,” he told Albert, as the two brothers rode along at the drag position. “Who would have thought he could teach us to twirl a rope and grab a cow with it?”

  “I reckon,” the youngest Owen son answered. “I’m just glad to be back in the Territory.” He raked at his tousled hair. “I want a good, long, hot bath.” Albert looked at the dirty blond locks spilling over the neck of Carl’s shirt, and the red-gold beard masking the front of his visage, and a slow grin stole across his mouth. “From the looks of you, you’d better hunt up a razor when we get back. You smell scruffy as a mossy horn steer, too.”

  Carl rubbed his bushy beard and grinned back. “I reckon when a man’s busy night and day, he has a right to grow himself a little face hair. As to smell, you don’t take no first prize, little brother. When Ma catches a whiff of you, she’ll plunge you into the wash kettle so fast you won’t have a chance to get your clothes off first. ‘Course, that’ll save her some time and labor, having you wash your own filthy clothes at the same time you scrub your hide.”

  Albert’s tanned face reddened. Grasping at a straw, he countered, “Well, you better have yourself a bath before you go a-visiting, or Miss Ellen will catch the first freight wagon back to civilization and take her chances with them rowdies we scared off back on the plains.”

  Now Carl colored, and rode off after a lagging cow, thankful for the action to divert his mind. He’d tried not to spend much time thinking about Ellen, because the memory of her face brought up the remembrance of Chester Bates refusing his proposal.