Buffalo Gal

by Mary Connealy

  Wyatt sighed. “I’ve got one more pasture to check.”

  Seth reached behind the seat of his truck and dragged out a brown paper sack. “Got a sandwich and some coffee for you. Buffy packed it, said you probably hadn’t eaten all day.”

  He hadn’t. He took the sack gratefully.

  The two men with Seth climbed out and started loading the calf. The calf was young and only had three good legs, but it was still a thousand-pound buffalo. He tried to kill them. They threw a lasso on him and held him cross-tied, but he didn’t quit fighting.

  Wyatt watched the two wrestle with the feisty little critter but didn’t offer to help. He lifted his ancient black Stetson off his head and set it on the seat beside him while he ate the huge sandwich Buffy had sent out.

  Egg salad. No meat, of course. But he was starving so he didn’t complain. He’d save that for later when Buffy was handy.

  He took a long drink of the hot coffee and let the caffeine ease into his blood. It was a brutally hot day, and Wyatt had been driving with the window open rather than running the air conditioner, afraid Buffy’s engine might overheat.

  “Thanks, Seth. The coffee helps.” He felt the sweat beading on his forehead from the hot liquid, and his already-soaked shirt was dripping. A light breeze wafted over him, and his wet shirt turned cold.

  “You look beat, Wyatt. Time to call it a day.”

  “It’s early yet.” Wyatt drank deeply again and started a second sandwich.

  “Seven o’clock.”

  “That’s early.”

  “I know, but not when you were up all night. You’re all in. We’ll finish checking the herd. Leonard arranged a cleaning crew for your house and boarded up the windows. He’s got the electricity back on and your phones working. So you’ve got a home to go to.”

  Wyatt felt a little lift from the day’s brutal tension. He’d wondered where he’d sleep. “I’ve got six hundred head of unbred heifers with my best bull. They’re the last herd I’ve got left to check. Has anyone been by the Johannsons’? Emily and her little sister are there alone these days.”

  “We’ve been up there several times. No sign of buffalo, but one might wander in. We’ve warned her to be on the lookout.”

  “I’ll pull through there. My herd is right on the way.”

  “We can handle it. You need a break,” Seth cajoled.

  Wyatt got the distinct impression that the whole Buffalo Commons staff had been told to give him anything he wanted to head off a lawsuit. He had no intention of suing if Leonard made things right. But he didn’t want them to quit worrying just yet.

  “I’ll stop in. And I don’t need you riding out to my herd. My herd. My job.”

  Seth didn’t argue anymore.

  The two men with Seth strong-armed the wounded calf toward the cattle trailer.

  For a moment, Wyatt and Seth watched the mayhem, and Wyatt realized he was enjoying it. “They’re beautiful critters in an ugly sort of way.”

  Seth nodded. “There’s something, I don’t know. . .majestic. . .about ’em. Working with ’em’s the best job I’ve ever had. A’course they’d kill you soon as look at you, but I’ve learned my way around ’em, and it suits me. I’m sure sorry about the mess they made last night. I s’pose if you want it bad enough, you can shut us down over this.”

  “I’m not going to talk about that now. I’m still too mad to trust my own judgment.”

  The buffalo went in the trailer, a thousand-pound baby bawling for its mama. Seth drove off with a touch to the brim of his hat.

  Wyatt headed for the last herd, the one farthest out. After he was sure they weren’t being visited by the buffalo, he would go home, assess the damage to his place, then get Anna and the boys. He shouldn’t have left them alone all day. He realized he’d trusted them to Buffy’s care.

  He didn’t know why he’d trust a little woman who had done her best to ruin him, but he did. He didn’t intend to think of almost kissing her either, but the mind is an unruly thing. She had been interested. Neither of them wanted it, but the night had worked its magic.

  The truck drifted across the gravel road into the soft shoulder. The bouncing shook him awake, and he realized he was nearly asleep, lost in his daydream of Buffy’s soft skin and gentle concern for him and his children.

  And she’d known his boys apart.

  He forced himself to quit thinking about how comfortable it had been to hold Buffy. Comfortable and dangerous.

  The truck started bounding again. He got back on the road and turned his thoughts to his children. They’d been through a traumatic experience. Suddenly he was anxious to get done working and be a father.

  He pulled onto the gravel road leading to the Johannsons’. The lights were blazing in Emily’s house. A big beast of a buffalo cow was eating her front lawn.

  Emily poked her head out the back door when Wyatt pulled up. He stayed in his truck. The animal was squarely between Wyatt’s truck and the house. It didn’t seem neighborly to sit in his truck and holler, but Wyatt had no intention of ending this awful day by having a buffalo do a Texas two-step on his face.

  He contacted the Commons with his CB, and they advised him to dart the animal. Yeah, great advice. He’d have tried to hook her up to a halter and lead her home otherwise.

  “Get back in the house, Em. I’m gonna put this big girl to sleep.”

  Emily and Stephie went inside to be well clear of the shooting. The buffalo looked at its flank, sniffed at the dart, and went back to munching.

  The Johannson girls came back out.

  “You okay in there?”

  Emily nodded. “I’d already phoned. The Commons is sending a trailer to pick her up. How weird is this, a buffalo in my yard?”

  Stephanie, Emily’s little sister, smiled out at Wyatt and waggled her fingers in a wave. The two were a matched set. Long, straight brown hair and million-dollar smiles. They’d been living all the way out here alone since their father died. Emily had been adamant that Stephie not be uprooted. She’d given up college to be a lady rancher. The only one Wyatt had ever heard tell of.

  “Are you all right? Any damage? Were you outside when it came up?”

  “We’ve been hiding inside all day like a couple of houseplants. The hands from the Commons even did my chores for me.”

  “How’s your herd?”

  Emily shook her head. “Okay, I hope. It’s a cow, so I don’t have to worry about it too much.”

  “Did the twins get to see the buffalo?” Stephie asked. She went to the same school as his boys, and the Johannsons attended the same church as the Shaws.

  They weren’t close friends. Their ranches weren’t far apart; the Johannson place was across a rugged stretch of land, and it wasn’t often Wyatt came back this far.

  The placid cow kept standing, so Wyatt stayed in the truck.

  Emily asked about his place, and they chatted over the shaggy back of the buffalo until it dropped off to sleep. Emily invited him in.

  “I’ve got one more herd to check before I’m done, so I’d better go.”

  A Commons truck pulled up with a trailer.

  Wyatt had to wind around to get out of the hilly area surrounding the Johannsons’.

  He came up on the herd and found a couple hundred young cattle surrounding the well nearest the road.

  A man on horseback rode toward him.

  “These are my cattle,” Wyatt said. “Are you checking for buffalo?”

  “Yep. Matt Grissom.” The rider touched his hat politely. “Mr. Leonard had me fly in from his Wyoming ranch until we get the buffalo under control.” The man had the same weathered, ageless look Wolf had. He wasn’t an Indian, but his skin was deeply lined and baked to a deep brown; he also had the same wise, patient look in his eyes. Wyatt wondered if they got hired because of that look or if they started looking like that after they worked with buffalo for a while. “I haven’t seen any sign of ’em out here, Mr. Shaw.”

  “It’s Wyatt. Saves time
.”

  The man nodded.

  “I’m going to drive around. I’ve got a couple more wells on over the draw. This is only about a third of the herd.”

  The man sat up straighter. “I’m sorry. I thought this was the lot of ’em. I can ride out if you tell me which way.”

  “Nope, don’t worry about it. I’d need to check ’em anyway.”

  “I’m going to radio in.” The man jerked his thumb at a heavy-duty truck with a horse trailer on the back. He’d obviously driven himself and his horse out here. “I’m going to tell them we need more men to ride herd.”

  Wyatt waved and started driving.

  Wyatt found another couple hundred head around the second well. He sighed with relief. He was one quick check away from quitting for the night. He wasn’t doing a head count and knew that might be a mistake, but he was going to fall asleep at the wheel if he didn’t get home. The cattle, especially young ones, tended to stay together. The one thing he had to make sure of was his bull. He hadn’t been with any of the other heifers. He was about twice their size, and he stood off alone, often as not. He could be picked out at a glance.

  Then he got to the next water hole, and it didn’t even take a glance. He saw a bull dropping down off the back of a heifer—a buffalo bull. The buff moved on through the herd; then, at the sound of charging hooves behind him, the buff turned to face the enemy in the form of Wyatt’s purebred Angus bull.

  Wyatt watched as the two animals faced off, bellowing. Wyatt jammed his foot on the accelerator to get between them before his bull was killed. His bull had obviously been driven off once already, because there was an ugly gash the length of his belly.

  The buffalo, a thousand pounds heavier and armed with slashing horns, raced toward Wyatt’s ten-thousand-dollar bull. The Angus broke off the attack and ran. The buffalo charged after him until the Angus headed for the hinterlands. Then the buffalo turned toward his girls.

  Wyatt had closed the gap between himself and the buffalo. He slammed on his brakes and drew the rifle. Taking careful aim, he darted the monster. The Angus disappeared over the hill.

  Wyatt slammed his fist into the steering wheel and watched helplessly as his bull ran into some rugged land where his truck couldn’t follow. He needed a horse.

  He looked at the wavering buffalo and reached for the radio. Well, they’d told him he could have anything he wanted.

  “This is Buffy. Come in.”

  “I’ve found another of your brutes. I’ve darted him, and he’s going down. He was fighting my bull. My bull’s hurt, cut up bad, and he’s run off. I’m going to need a horse out here.”

  “We’ll be out there as fast as we can travel.”

  Wyatt settled in as the sun began to lower in the sky. He’d only been sitting a couple of minutes before Buffy was on the horn again. “We’re on the way. I’m bringing my vet bag so I can tend your bull.”

  “I would have considered darting my bull, but I was afraid the dosage in the tranquilizer gun was too high. We’ve only got a hour or so of daylight left. He was bleeding bad. If we don’t find him before dark, we’ll find him dead in the morning.” Wyatt heard the exhaustion in his voice. His thoughts wouldn’t move in a straight line anymore.

  “Tell us exactly where you are, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt heard her talking as if she were fading away into the distance. “You’ve got a man out here. Matt. . .Matt something. Uh, he was watching my herd. He said he was going to call in for more help.”

  “Okay, we know where he is.”

  “I’m. . .I don’t know. Near him.”

  “Wyatt, are you all right?” Buffy asked. “I’m not picking you up very well.”

  “That’s a stupid question considering the day I’ve had,” Wyatt said. “Of course I’m not all right.” Then he wondered, without really caring, if he’d actually spoken out loud.

  He tossed the CB mike in the general direction of the radio and leaned his head back on the headrest. He couldn’t give Buffy any better directions. He was so tired he didn’t know where he was.

  Eight

  “There he is!”

  Buffy aimed her truck at the herd of cattle surrounding the huge black lump on the ground.

  Bill.

  Their last escapee. Caught for the second time in two weeks by Wyatt Shaw. One angry cowboy.

  “Why hasn’t Wyatt answered the CB? Could he be hurt? I asked him if he was all right, and he said, ‘Of course not.’ What do you think he meant by that?”

  “I don’t know what he meant,” Wolf said. “Same as I didn’t know two minutes ago when you asked me and five minutes before that and four minutes before that and. . .”

  Buffy leaned forward until her nose almost touched the windshield and talked over Wolf’s recital of her nagging. “You know, I see his truck, but I don’t see him. Do you see him in the truck? What if he’s not in there? Where could he have gone?”

  Wolf’s only answer was a groan; Wolf had put in a long, hard day, and Buffy knew he wasn’t inclined toward idle chatter at the best of times.

  Buffy pulled up to the truck—her truck—and saw Wyatt slumped low in the seat behind the steering wheel. She jumped out of the rig before it had come to a full stop and raced to the door. “Wyatt! Wyatt, are you all right?”

  He jumped so hard he cracked his head on the roof. “Ouch!”

  Buffy noticed he didn’t swear, which was something she was used to—being around men so much. But he put enough feeling in “ouch” to reassure anyone listening he was furious.

  Buffy yanked open the truck door. “Are you all right?” She laid her hand on his scowling cheek, wondering that she didn’t shrink away from his anger.

  “Yes, I’m all right!” His tone nearly left bite marks. “I just caught a few minutes’ sleep. Did you bring me a horse? I’ve got to ride out and check on my bull.”

  “Yes, we’ve got you a horse.” Buffy knew she should be trying to appease Wyatt because of Mr. Leonard’s worry about being sued, but all she could think of was helping him because she wanted to.

  “That bull?” Wolf asked softly.

  They all turned. Wyatt’s black bull, with the ugly wound, vicious red against his shining ebony hide, stood panting on a sandy hilltop about a thousand yards away.

  “That’s him.” Wyatt stepped out of the truck. “Wolf, what about the dosage?”

  “We reduced the dosage in one of our tranquilizers.” Wolf produced the altered medicine from his shirt pocket. “Cut it a little more than in half.”

  Buffy studied the big bull. Nowhere near as big as Bill, now sleeping peacefully, but the bull was still a huge animal. “It might not even knock him out, but it will make him docile. He looks pretty nervous up there.”

  They watched the bull stomp his forelegs and bob his head. Every once in a while, the prairie wind would catch the sound of a deep bellow and carry it to them.

  Buffy caught back the words of apology. Surely somehow, someday, something could pass between her and Wyatt that didn’t require “I’m sorry.” No one had gotten around to apologizing for that almost kiss yet. Of course, they’d been interrupted. They might have gotten around to it.

  “Better dart him,” Wolf said. “He’s ready to run right now.”

  “I’ll treat him out here if it’s not too serious. If he needs more, we’ll load him and take him back to the ranch.” She took the red-flagged dart from Wolf and handed it to Wyatt. “Wolf said you’re the man to take the shot.”

  Wyatt took the dart. He loaded his rifle without taking his eyes off his bull. “I can’t get him from here, not with this gun. I’ll drive a little closer. If I can get my truck between him and the buffalo, he might even come in for me. On a normal day, he’d walk right up and put his head in my cab.”

  “Well, this will never qualify as a normal day. I’ll drive.” Buffy climbed behind the wheel of her truck, and Wyatt got in the passenger’s side.

  “I’ve got a horse in the trailer if we need him.” Wolf
jerked a thumb at the truck he and Buffy had come in. “And an empty trailer on the way. I’ll get things ready to load Bill when he wakes up.”

  Wyatt gave the sleeping buffalo a startled look. “That’s Bill?”

  “Yeah, your old buddy,” Buffy said.

  “Will it hurt him to be sedated again so soon?”

  Buffy was amazed when he sounded like he cared. “It shouldn’t. Did you check and see if he was breathing?”

  Wyatt gave her a sideways glance. “I took a nap.”

  “Look, your bull is coming in.” Buffy tipped her head.

  “Pull the truck forward until the bull can’t see Bill.” Wyatt carefully settled the rifle between them, muzzle pointed down.

  Once Buffy had the truck in place, the Angus eased his way down the hill. He seemed to be at full strength, although he made skittish movements.

  “He’s usually so calm,” Wyatt said. “A lazy old lug.”

  Buffy watched the bull prance forward.

  “Do you toss hay out of your truck the way Wolf does for the buffalo?”

  “Yeah, so they come when they hear the truck motor.” Wyatt stepped out of the truck so he had a clear range of fire. “We could bulldog him, but I think it’s better if he’s asleep.”

  “Good. I can sew up his side and check for any muscle damage. If we aren’t satisfied with how he responds, we can take him in.”

  Wyatt raised the gun and took aim. His hands were steady as steel on the rifle. He lowered it. “You’re sure this stuff won’t hurt him?”

  “We use it a lot with the buffalo. I learned the prescribed dose for cattle in vet school. I’m sure.”

  Wyatt aimed. The bull walked straight toward them, and Wyatt shot him.

  The bull jumped and looked at Wyatt accusingly.

  “I know how you feel, old boy.” Wyatt hung the rifle up on the gun rack Buffy had in her truck. “Betrayed.”

  Wyatt didn’t look at Buffy, but she got the message. A motor drew her attention. Another stock trailer pulled up.