The Heart's Frontier

FOURTEEN





Papa seemed in no more hurry this morning than he had yesterday, but Emma didn’t mind so much now. During much of the night she had begged the Lord to make her more compliant, more obedient, more willing to accept the life He had planned for her. Long after midnight she finally fell into the peaceful sleep of one submitted to the will of the Father, who knew her heart’s desire.

She awoke to the sun rising into a clear blue sky over the wide Kansas plain. A persistent wind had blown all night and swept away much of the stench of the cattle herd. Instead, the sweet smell of prairie grass and the fresh scent of water filled the air.

After breakfast Emma and Rebecca collected the dishes—plain metal ones purchased back in Gorham—and took them to a nearby stream to scrub them clean. Sunlight danced on the moving surface of the narrow creek that had carved a deep swath through the land. When their chore was complete, Emma took the opportunity to wash the dust from her neck and face, while Rebecca wandered upstream.

“Emma, look here. I found a school of tiny fish. How colorful they are, like bits of rainbows playing about the rocks.”

Emma glanced at her little sister, who was bent over the stream’s edge and staring intently into the water. Delight made the girl’s tone light, and Emma couldn’t help a smile in response. Not so many years had passed since Rebecca was a child, tromping off to school swinging a book strap in one hand and her lunch pail in the other. How proud Mama would have been had she lived to see what a lively young woman her baby had become.

A movement in the distance drew her attention. Something was heading their way from the north and kicking up a lot of dust as it came. She caught a glimpse of brown hides. Alarm pricked her nerves to attention. Horses, maybe? Had the thieves returned?

“Papa!”

When he looked up from his inspection of the oxen’s legs, she pointed. His head turned as he followed the direction of her hand. Staring at the quickly approaching objects, Emma noticed that these animals were riderless. As they drew near, she also realized they were not horses but cattle.

They slowed on their approach, and the dust began to settle. Perhaps the wagon with the towering hutch in the middle of the trail looked like a barrier, or maybe they were tired from running. Regardless of the reason, their pace dwindled from a run to a trot, and then to a walk. One of them left the trampled trail and stood in the tall prairie grass. It inspected Emma and her family with a solemn, dark-eyed stare, its sides heaving from exertion. When it had caught its breath, the horned head casually lowered and the steer began tearing up mouthfuls of grass. Soon the others followed suit.

Where had they come from? A note of concern worried her thoughts as she counted them. Eleven cows did not just appear from nowhere. Either a ranch was nearby, or they came from a herd traveling in the area. And there was only one herd she knew of that had been through here recently.

With a determined step she strode toward them.

“Emma!” Maummi’s sharp tone sliced through the distance. “Take care.”

She waved a hand in answer but didn’t slow until she drew near enough to see the brand seared into the rump of the nearest steer. Three bars, two vertical and one horizontal, stood out clearly on the brown hide.

She turned and found Papa’s eyes on her. “It’s the Triple Bar brand. These are from Luke’s herd.”

Though his expression remained impassive, she saw acknowledgment in his eyes and his slight nod.

How did Luke lose almost a dozen cattle? Perhaps they had wandered off while one of the cowboys wasn’t looking. Surely in a herd of two thousand it wasn’t uncommon to lose a few along the way, but if that were the case, why had they been running?

Several possibilities presented themselves. Something had happened to frighten them. She herself knew how easily the silly things became startled. A prairie dog, maybe, or a snake in the grass. But then surely one of the riders would have noticed, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t someone have come after them?

She scanned the horizon, but no cowboy on horseback appeared. At the sight of the wide open plain, the muscles in her stomach drew tight. What if something had happened to the riders? Or—she swallowed against a mouth gone suddenly dry—to their leader?

She ran toward her father, who stood watching the grazing cattle, lines heavy on his brow. “Something must have happened to frighten them away from the herd.”

He didn’t answer, but his lips tightened.

“We have to help them.”

His calm gaze slid to hers. “There is nothing we can do.”

The words pulled the knots in her belly tighter. “We can gather them up and return them.”

“Emma.” A soft smile curved his lips. “We have no horses, no way to move cattle forward.”

“We have our feet.” With an enormous effort, she stopped herself from stomping one of hers out of sheer frustration.

Rebecca ran up to join them. “She’s right, Papa. Emma knows how to make cattle move. We all saw her do it yesterday.”

Had the situation not been so dire, Emma would have pinched her sister for her smug grin.

“We can all do it,” Emma insisted. “The four of us, along with two oxen, can certainly push a few cows down a trail. Especially if they belong to the man who has helped us over and over.”

A struggle clear on his features, Papa’s eyes moved as he studied her. What was he looking for? Did he suspect her of concocting a ploy to see Luke again? With a flash of guilt, she could not deny that she found the idea appealing. And yet what else could they do? Leave his cows grazing on the side of the trail and continue on their way? How could they live with their consciences after all he had done to help them?

Emma returned Papa’s gaze without flinching. After a moment, he turned away.

“I will pray on the matter.”

A low groan threatened to rumble from deep in her throat. And how long would that take? They could be here for days while Papa waited to hear from the Lord, and all the while Luke could be in trouble. In fact, with every moment that passed she became more certain that he was in trouble. He might even be hurt and waiting for someone to come to his aid.

Lord, please don’t take long to get through to Papa.

She’d barely had time to pace once from the stream to the wagon and back again before Papa turned to face his family. Whether the Lord heard her prayer, or Papa’s own sense of responsibility toward their rescuer convinced him, Emma couldn’t be sure.

“We will gather these cows and take them with us,” he announced. “If we find the herd along the way, we will return them. Otherwise we will take them home to Apple Grove, and I will send word to Hays for Luke to come and get them.”

Relief swept over Emma at the words. She lowered her head demurely to hide a smile she could not prevent.

One way or another, she would see Luke again when he reclaimed his cattle.


Luke squatted on his haunches in the grass, his gut churning as he inspected Jesse’s leg.

“It’s not that bad, Luke. If we splint it and wrap it tight, I can still ride.” Regardless of his brave words, pain pinched white creases at the corners of Jesse’s eyes, and he spoke in a clipped manner, as though every word was a struggle.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Luke didn’t mean to snap the words, but at the moment he couldn’t muster the effort to comfort his friend. “I can see your bone sticking through your pants. You aren’t riding anything but a wagon to the closest doctor.”

To take the sting out of his words, he gently clapped Jesse on the shoulder before he rose to his feet. Even that light movement caused the tough cowboy to hiss in pain.

Luke’s gaze strayed beyond the chuck wagon to a somber place in the prairie grass. Grief filled him at the sight of a pair of bodies, cocooned in blankets. Kirk would have made a fine trail boss one day soon. Luke would have recommended him without hesitation. And Willie—

A knot of sorrow threatened to choke off his breath. He cleared his throat, fighting against the sting of tears. That boy wasn’t but fifteen years old, on his second cattle drive and young enough to still be in love with the idea of life on the trail. At home he had a ma and a houseful of younger sisters and brothers. Around the nightly campfires he’d told how he aimed to send most of his pay back home to help out.

Jesse followed his gaze and spoke in a soft voice. “They died well, Luke.”

A sarcastic blast exploded from Luke’s mouth. “Yeah? I don’t see how any fifteen-year-old can die well. Or twenty-five-year-old, either. They are dead, same as those rustlers lying over yonder.”

His gaze switched to the second line of bodies, set off a little ways outside the campsite. His men had taken out four of the rustlers during the skirmish. Luke was fairly sure his rifle had not fired a fatal shot because he’d aimed over the bandits’ heads hoping to scare them off. He’d watched Griff charge at a pair of men as they galloped through the herd to scatter it, and the old cowhand had taken them both out. In the ensuing confusion of gunshots and shouts and stampeding cattle, Luke didn’t see the other two fall. He and his men found the bodies when their compadres high-tailed out of there in a cloud of dust.

A retching sound from nearby drew his attention to Charlie, who stood at the back of the chuck wagon, his waist bent as he vomited on the ground in front of his boots. Luke exchanged a sympathetic glance with Jesse, and then he went to put a steadying hand on the boy’s back.

“It’s all right, son.” He set his voice in a soothing tone. “You made it. You’re going to be fine.”

Charlie straightened and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “It ain’t that, boss.” His gaze strayed toward the rustlers’ bodies, and his skin took on a green tint. “I ain’t never shot nobody before.”

The agony in the young man’s voice twisted something inside Luke’s chest. How could he answer the soul-sick grief of someone who had taken a life, however justified? His hand still on Charlie’s back, he pulled the young man into an awkward embrace. “Don’t let guilt eat you up. You did what you had to do.”

“Does that make it okay?” Charlie’s voice sounded tortured. “I’ll never get used to this feeling. Never.”

Luke thumped his back before releasing him. “I pray you don’t.”

At the sound of hoofbeats, Luke turned to find Griff and Morris riding toward them. They stopped as McCann exited the chuck wagon with a pail of clean water and some strips of cloth to bind Jesse’s wound.

“Looks like we’ve lost about five hundred head,” Griff reported as they reined their mounts to a stop. “The remuda scattered too, but Vic took off after them. He’ll bring ’em back.”

From his place on the grass, Jesse looked up at Luke. “Not as bad as it could be.”

“Bad enough,” Luke replied, his voice grim. How could he show up in Hays having lost a quarter of the herd and two men? “Anybody get a count of the rustlers?”

“Eight.” Morris’s gaze strayed to the line of bodies. “That means four escaped. I saw two riding off together to the west, one northeast, and one due east. They’ll meet up with each other again soon enough.”

“The cattle went in every direction.” Griff raised a hand above his head and made a circling motion. “Those rustlers were hightailing it away without thought for the herd they tried so hard to get. The way they were going, the cattle are miles from here by now.”

Charlie found his voice. “We can hunt down the strays, boss. We’ll get ’em back.”

Nods all the way around. Luke forced a smile of appreciation for the men’s attitudes, but his heart plummeted toward his boots. They had started out with a minimum crew to begin with—nine men to drive a herd of two thousand head plus a forty-horse remuda—and now they were down by three. Despite Jesse’s brave words, he couldn’t ride with that leg. In fact, he’d be lucky if infection didn’t set in before they got to Hays. McCann, who knelt over the injury, cleaning it and then binding it with clean cloth, looked pretty grim. Jesse might end up losing his leg, and whoever heard of a peg-legged cowboy?

Morris’s voice cut through Luke’s worries. “What in tarnation is that?”

They all looked toward the south. An unusual sight on the horizon sent Luke’s jaw dangling.

“Well, I’ll be a cross-eyed mule.” Jesse shook his head in disbelief. “It’s those Aim-ish folks.”

Sure enough, the sight of that ridiculously huge hutch in the back of an ox-drawn wagon was unmistakable. Even more amazing was the small herd of cattle being driven in front of the cart. Leading this bizarre parade was Jonas on foot, his round-brimmed straw hat and black suspenders unmistakable at any distance. And on either side of the cattle, Emma and Rebecca trotted along in flank positions, long sticks in their hands and black skirts trailing in the high grass.

A sudden lightness lifted his spirits and a slow grin spread across his face. It looked as though the Lord had sent him help this time. His gaze focused on Emma.

And He chose a mighty pretty delivery method.