“And what might that be?”
“Cow pies. The drier the better.” When her mouth dropped open, he smiled. “No, the food won’t taste like manure, unless you drop some of it inside your pots.”
She understood at once. He expected her to roll out onto the range, hook up dried manure, and collect it in the sack. A shudder ran down her spine. After today, she would have no pride.
Hands shaking on the wheels of her chair, she blinked hard and rolled away from the wagon. This was the worst. She had no farther to fall; she had hit bottom.
“Well, Payton. If you were seeking revenge,” she whispered, glancing toward the high thin haze floating below heaven, “today you have it.”
Expressionless, scarcely aware of the tears slipping down her cheeks, she stabbed a powdery circle of manure with the nail, then scraped it into the sack on her lap.
Chapter 8
It was a sullen group that assembled in the ranch house parlor the evening before the drive began. Freddy stood near the doorway with Grady and two of Frisco’s top hands. There were nine drovers in the room, all lean, iron-muscled men with weathered faces and work-hardened hands. They studied Freddy, Alex, and Les with sidelong glances and with the same curiosity and doubt as she focused on Frisco and Lola, who sat at the front of the room.
As much as she disliked Ward Hamm, who leaned next to Les on the sofa, his store was a gathering place for the town gossips. The tidbit that he’d passed on to Les was alarming, Freddy thought, looking slowly from Frisco’s face to Lola’s smirk. She didn’t know what to make of Ward’s information, but she intended to find out before the herd headed north tomorrow.
Skipping her gaze over Luther Moreland and his ubiquitous lapful of papers, she finally let herself glance at Jack Caldwell. He had been trying to catch her eye, but she had carefully avoided him until she was certain his attention was elsewhere. Tonight he was resplendent in striped trousers, a crimson-brocade vest, and snowy cravat. The contrast between Jack and Dal Frisco was stark. Dal wore work pants tucked into high riding boots, a faded grey shirt, and a worn leather vest. Yet Frisco was the man her gaze continually returned to.
There was no mistaking who wielded the authority at this meeting. Frisco effortlessly controlled the room though he hadn’t spoken other than to greet everyone as they arrived. When he rolled back his shoulders and hooked his thumbs in his back pockets, everyone fell silent and looked toward the front of the room.
“I want everyone in their places at sunup. Caleb, you’ll ride pilot,” he said to Caleb Webster, and Freddy leaned forward to examine a tall man with pleasant features. “Alex, you’ll follow Caleb with the chuck wagon, and Grady will be right behind you with the remuda.” Next he spoke to the punchers, assigning them swing or flank positions before he considered Freddy and Les. “You two will ride drag, and I’ll check on you when I can.”
“What is drag?” Freddy asked. Heat rose in her cheeks as she saw the drovers shift uneasily, and Lola and Jack exchanged an amused smirk. So far Lola had not addressed a single word to her stepdaughters, which was fine with Freddy. She hoped the woman choked on the cup of punch she held in her lap.
“Drag is the tail end of the herd. Your job is to keep the stragglers moving.” Now Frisco glanced at Luther and swept cold eyes across Jack Caldwell. “I understand you two will share a wagon and Mr. Hamm will drive his own rig.” Frisco focused on Jack. “The rule is, no gambling and no liquor on this drive.”
Jack leaned back in his chair. “I’ve never seen any harm in a friendly game.”
“And I’ve never seen a friendly game,” Frisco said. “Break the rule, and you’re gone. Mrs. Roark will have to appoint another representative.” Now his steady eyes settled on Ward. “The same applies to you. With the added promise that if you interfere with the herd or with my drovers in any way, you’re out. You observe, and that’s all.”
Ward puffed himself up and scowled. “Naturally I expect to spend time with my fiancée.”
“If she has the energy to socialize after her work is finished, I have no objection. But if her work suffers, I’ll warn her. If I have to warn her twice, you’re both out. Is that understood?”
Red-faced and embarrassed, Les nodded. Ward just stared with resentment.
“Everyone here is familiar with Joe Roark’s will. We’re starting this drive with two thousand, two hundred and twelve steers. I wish the brush poppers could have found us more wild beeves because we’re not allowed to purchase replacements for any we lose along the way. A ten percent margin isn’t comfortable, but that’s what we have to work with.”
Grady stepped forward. “Can we keep any strays that wander into our herd?”