Cowgirls Don't Cry(73)
Not far away, a horse whickered, answered by the lowing moo of one of the cows. She inhaled. The aroma of the coffee in her mug mingled with the hot, acrid smell of dust. Leather, trampled grass and the dry sweet scent of Bermuda hay all hit her nose. And it smelled like home. No. She couldn’t give up the ranch. Not now. Not after all the battles she’d fought.
The camp stirred around her. Quiet voices as people finished quick breakfasts were punctuated by the stamp of horses’ hooves as they were saddled, the creak of leather and the jangle of bridle bits as riders mounted. An occasional whinny as horses and humans worked to gather the herd added to the music of Buddy’s happy barks.
Cass swallowed the last bit of liquid in her cup. “I’ll saddle our horses, Uncle Boots. You finish your coffee.”
The first vivid scarlet of the sun’s curve poked above the horizon. Cass looked at the knot of riders awaiting her signal. This was it. About six miles to the end of her rainbow. She needed a big pot of gold when she reached it. Her throat closed, and she couldn’t breathe for a long moment.
Boots nudged his horse up beside hers. “What’s up, baby girl?”
Her smile wavered. “Just a memory.” At his arched brow and curious head tilt, she continued. “Do you remember the spring Momma died?” He nodded, and she swallowed around the lump. “Lot of storms that year. There was a double rainbow after one of them and Daddy loaded me up in the truck to go chase the end of it. We drove all over three counties, me pointing and shouting out the way. I swear that thing stayed in the sky for a couple of hours. I was so disappointed when it faded away. Daddy held my hand on the way home, even when he had to shift gears. When we got out, he told me that Momma gave me that rainbow—to show me that chasing my dreams was never a waste of time. And to remind me that she’d always watch over us.”
Boots cleared his throat then coughed softly. “For such a hard man, Ben was just an old softy when it came to you and your momma, baby girl.”
She inhaled and exhaled, her chest rising and falling, but the constriction only lessened slightly. “Daddy’s watchin’ over me now, Uncle Boots. And I want him to be proud of me.” Cass rose in her stirrups and addressed the riders. “Head ’em up, folks. Time to move ’em out.”
Buddy barked and raced to the back of the herd. The others reined their horses into position and remained quiet while the drag riders pushed the herd forward. Amid moos and bleats, the cattle milled around then moved forward. Outriders funneled them through the gate of the field where they’d camped. Boots led the way, setting the pace. With fences on either side of the section line road, it was more a matter of keeping the herd moving. They wanted to stop and graze in the right-of-way.
This was their fourth day on the drive, and folks had settled into the rhythm. The occasional whoop and slap of work-gloved hands on leather chaps punctuated the still summer air. Four thousand hooves kicked up a lot of Oklahoma red dirt. Cass wondered how far off the dust cloud could be seen. In less than a mile, they’d hit the Oklahoma County line. The front of the herd was already on paved road, but she seriously doubted she could sneak past the border.
A helicopter buzzed overhead. A few of her volunteers looked up to track its movement. A couple of them waved. National news reporters or local? She shook her head, still surprised by the coverage. She might fail miserably but at least she’d go out in a blaze of glory. She thought of the Bon Jovi song and chuckled.
“Oh, yeah. Cyrus Barron definitely wants me dead or alive. Preferably dead, I’m sure.”
* * *
Cord led two horses out of the trailer and handed the lead rope of one to Chance. “I can’t believe all the legal hoops you’ve jumped through. Getting recused from the suit and then you got Judge Reynolds to sign the order that’ll really put a twist in the Old Man’s shorts.”