“He was a real mean-looking fella,” the boy said, delighted at the way the room full of grown men hung on his every word. “I was sure he would shoot Rose dead right there in the mud.”
The condition of Rose’s dress was proof enough of that.
“So I grabbed a gun and shot him.”
“But you don’t know how to shoot,” George said.
“I’m a natural,” Zac answered, proud of himself. “I just pointed the gun, and I hit him.”
“Rifle,” Tyler corrected, disgusted with his little brother’s attempt to show off. “And you couldn’t have done more than wing him. He rode off fast enough.”
“He didn’t shoot Rose,” Zac said.
“And that’s all that’s important,” George said.
The conversation became general until Monty returned. He was like a gust of wind himself, entering with all the compressed energy of a giant spring.
“They shot the milk cow, the filthy bastards,” he said, going straight for the coffee Rose held out to him. “But they didn’t get the bull. The lazy beast was snuggled up under a bit of chaparral trying to keep his precious hide out of the rain.”
“They would have if Rose and I hadn’t driven them off,” Tyler said, determined to get his portion of praise for the night’s work.
“You left this house?” George said. He sounded so shocked and furious that Tyler wilted instantly.
“It was my decision,” Rose said, coming to Tyler’s rescue. “I was mad they would attack children. Then when they shot your bull—”
“They didn’t,” George pointed out.
“I thought they had,” Rose insisted, “and it made me mad. They couldn’t see us in the dark, so Tyler and I took a few shots at them.”
“Atta girl,” Monty said, grinning.
“That was a crazy thing to do,” George said, throwing his brother a fierce glare. “You could have been killed.”
“I could have been killed in my bed,” Rose shot back. “Besides, I didn’t see why I should wait here, quivering with fright, while they tore down the corral and worked up their nerve to attack us again. I thought we could drive them off, and we did.”
George still looked unhappy, but he didn’t say anything more.
“They may try again,” Salty said. “We ought to set a watch on this place as well as the camp.”
“That’ll stretch us real thin,” Monty said. “Anybody got any ideas how we can do it and finish the roundup?”
For the next hour they kicked around ideas about what needed to be done. By the time they had figured out a plan and worked out a schedule for who would guard what when, the sun was coming up.
The rain had stopped. Everything looked fresh and new.
Except the men.
“Where is Hen?” George asked suddenly. “I haven’t seen him in hours.”
“He went to look for the bull with me,” Monty said.
“Did he come back with you?”
“Sure.”
“He didn’t come in,” Salty said. “I remember it was just you and Ben.”
“You sure? He was right on my heels at the door.”
“I wasn’t paying much attention, but I think he went into the other side of the house,” Ben volunteered.
Monty dashed out of the room and was back inside a minute.
“He’s not there. Hasn’t been there as far as I can tell. The rifles and ammunition are still on the floor.”
Rose felt a sudden apprehension. She went to the bedroom. She didn’t have to count the boxes to know that several were missing.
“He went after the McClendons,” Monty said. “That’s got to be it. I should have gone myself.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” George contradicted. “You’d get yourself killed. You can’t go up against thirty or forty men.”
“Hen did.”
“We don’t know what Hen has done, but he’s not going to face that crowd. He’s too smart.”
“I’m going to help him.”
“You’re going to stay here and have your breakfast. Then we’re going back to camp and get on with the roundup.”
Monty looked ready to fight. “He’s my twin. I can’t leave him out there alone.”
“He’s my brother,” George said, “and if I know anything about him, he wants to be out there alone. He’s a wolf, Monty. Those men are in more danger than he is. You’re a bear. You would charge right in the middle expecting to take them by force.”
“What do you take me for, some kind of fool? We didn’t hold this place for four years by ourselves by getting our heads blown off.”