“The beeves we pulled out of the thickets and breaks,” Frisco explained curtly. “These are wild cattle who don’t have a herd mentality yet. They’ll be a problem for about three days, then we’ll move beyond their home range and they’ll calm down some. The point is if you see any muleys peel out and start toward you, turn them back into the herd or we’ll lose them.”
Freddy watched the wide band of horns moving past her, and thought about trying to change the mind of a wild steer who was determined to go home. She didn’t exactly see how she was going to do that. Whoever had first decided that it was a good idea to instruct twelve men to take two thousand cattle to a market over seven hundred miles away had to be a raving lunatic.
Studying her expression, Frisco grinned and leaned a forearm on his pommel. “Would you feel better if I rode up ahead and drew some lines and x’s for you?”
She glared at him, then felt her chest tighten. Today Frisco’s eyes were a deep cobalt blue, a stunning contrast to bronzed skin and the lock of dark hair that fell forward on his forehead. He had never looked more handsome or virile than he did this minute. He loved what they were doing. Dust coated his hat brim and his shoulders, and already the sun was hot enough to pull sweat out of a man’s pores and wet down his shirt. The heated stink of cowhide permeated the air, and the horses were restless and edgy with excitement. Every breath pulled dust into the lungs, and something disastrous could happen any second.
But he loved it. Freddy gazed into Dal Frisco’s sparkling eyes and saw his pleasure and excitement, saw that he was as alive at this moment as he had ever been, a man totally in his element. She saw an expression that she wished she had seen after he kissed her. She would have understood his excitement then, would have comprehended the electric vibrancy evident in his tension and anticipation. She didn’t understand it now. Frowning, she told herself that she didn’t want to think about his sensual mouth or lean hard body either. He’d made it clear that kissing her had meant nothing to him, and it meant nothing to her, too.
“There’s the tail end,” Frisco said, nodding into the swirls of flying dust, then looking at Freddy. “I’ll check back with you later.”
Freddy and Les didn’t budge as they watched him canter north, moving up the side of the herd. Freddy swallowed a feeling of abandonment. They were alone now, and she wasn’t ready.
“I can’t do this. I’m scared to death,” Les whispered. “I want to shoot myself.”
“You’d miss your target,” Freddy answered, absently touching the butt of the pistol on her hip. None of the sisters were remarkable shots, but at least they weren’t afraid of guns anymore.
“Oh my God,” Les shouted. They had waited too long. Les’s horse, afraid of being left behind, reared, then bolted after the herd, which had passed them by. Startled and out of control, Les grabbed the saddle horn and fought to keep her seat as her horse galloped into the haze.
Freddy had only a second to watch, then her horse ducked his head, kicked his hind legs, bucked forward and raced after Les. At the first kick, she flew out of the saddle and hit the ground hard. Dazed and unsure what had happened, only that it had happened faster than she would have believed possible, she gingerly picked herself out of the grass and dirt, gave her head a shake and looked around.
“Damn!” Cursing, she took off at a run, shouting at her horse to come back. This was crazy. She was beginning the drive by chasing after the herd on foot. If she’d had an audience, they would have hooted her offstage.
Within a minute she realized she would never catch her horse. Walker was running full out, cutting up the side of the stragglers and heading north. Freddy wasn’t. She’d discovered that riding boots were never made for running and she was losing ground. When she tripped over a prairie-dog hole and fell flat, she struggled to her feet, then sank back to the ground in hopeless resignation. The drive was minutes old and already she was out of it. She had lost her horse, lost her share of the inheritance, and she hadn’t come within thirty feet of a longhorn.
“Freddy!”
Looking up, she spotted Les, red-faced and sweating, leading Walker toward her. For a minute Freddy thought she had to be imagining things. Catching her horse would have required some hard and skilled riding. Or fantastic luck. However Les had managed it, Freddy wished she had witnessed the feat. Part of her was elated that she hadn’t lost everything. And part of her was disappointed. For a few minutes it had appeared that she had a wonderful excuse to tuck her tail between her legs and walk back to the ranch horse and sanity.
“Thanks, I owe you,” she muttered, climbing back in the saddle. The thing that galled her about this incident was Les’s role in it. She was not accustomed to thinking of Les as competent or adept. After a lifetime of taking care of Les, it sat wrong to have Les take care of her.
“Hurry up. Look how far ahead the herd is.”