“I’ll take this side and you be responsible for that side. And stay out of my way,” Freddy said irritably. Exactly as Frisco had predicted, about a dozen longhorns were falling behind the main herd, wanting to graze instead of trudge north.
“Stay out of your way?” Les snapped. “You can count on it!”
They glared at each other, then hurried to close the distance between themselves and the stragglers. Freddy’s gaze centered on a spotted mouse-colored steer who meandered along at a turtle’s pace. She was focused enough that she didn’t see trouble coming until she heard the pounding of hooves. When she looked up, six black steers with five-foot horn spans were trotting straight toward her, heading for home with a determined look in their eyes.
“Oh God.” Her heart stopped and every muscle in her body went rigid. The sudden convulsive pressure of her thighs signaled Walker forward and her horse leapt toward the oncoming longhorns, an action that almost gave her a heart attack. When the steers saw her racing forward, they scattered, still heading south. “Les?” The shout for help came out as a hoarse croak.
Horrified that she’d appealed to Les—Les!—for assistance, she still looked wildly to the east, hoping Les would respond. But Les was riding pell-mell toward some southernbound steers, terrified and screaming for Freddy.
Freddy whipped her head around to face the oncoming steers and everything she had learned or been told went out of her brain. She stared in panic at the longhorns trotting around her, her heart slamming against her ribs, and she went limp in the saddle, helpless with shock.
Walker couldn’t tell the difference between a relaxed rider and one half-dead with fear. Her horse interpreted her collapse as his signal to go to work. For the next twenty minutes, all she did was concentrate on holding on, keeping her seat, and trying to swing her legs away from hooking horns. When it was finally over and her horse drew up in quivering satisfaction, the six blacks were headed north again, moving fast to catch up with the herd.
Sweating and utterly boneless, Freddy fanned her face with her hat and waited for her hands to stop shaking and her heart to climb back into her chest. When she could breathe without making terrible little sounds, she leaned forward and stroked Walker’s neck. It was all his doing that the steers had been turned around, not hers.
Regardless of how it happened, she’d had a success, and she hoped that Les had witnessed it. But she didn’t see Les. It wasn’t until she looked behind that she spotted Les riding toward the herd. In the far distance, two cimarrones were turning into specks, running south toward home.
“You idiot,” she shouted when Les caught up, scarlet-faced and streaming sweat. “Thanks to you, we now have two thousand two hundred and ten steers! The first morning isn’t half-over and you’re already lost two steers!”
“I’m an idiot?” Les screamed. “Who lost her horse two minutes into the drive? Who could have helped me but didn’t?”
“I was busy over here!” Freddy yelled. Their horses circled each other as they shouted and screamed. “But I didn’t lose any of my cimarrones! And I’m sick of helping you. I’ve been helping you all of my life. Well, I quit! From now on, you’re on your own!”
They stopped screaming as three longhorns trotted past them, heading home.
“Well do something. Or are you going to let three more get away?” Freddy shouted.
“They’re on your side! If you’re so damned good, you turn them around!” Without a backward glance, Les cantered after the herd, leaving Freddy to chase down the escaping cimarrones or watch their margin shrink by another three beeves.
She was hot on their trail before she realized that she’d just heard Les swear; she planned to rub it in later. Right now, she had her hands full. After a grim battle of wills, she eventually managed to turn back two of the homeward bounds, but she lost the third. Wiping sweat from her forehead and swearing, she watched the third steer speed south.
And that wasn’t the only problem. A wide distance was opening between the dust from the main herd and where she was now. The stragglers were so far behind they made up a separate herd. Frustrated to the point of forgetting that she didn’t know what she was doing, Freddy threw back her head and screamed. Then, vibrating with determination, she galloped up hard and fast on the stragglers on her side, shouting cusswords and mad enough to kick at their lazy hides when Walker rode in close. She went after the two cattle who had tried to escape, spooked them into a run, and ran them right past the stragglers, up the side of the herd, and snarling and kicking, she all but shoved them back into the main bunch. Those damned cattle were going to catch up if she had to kick them every step of the way.