From the side of her eye, she noticed that Les, too, had lost some of her shyness and fear. She was kicking at a straggler in frustration just as Freddy had done, all the while screaming her head off. Freddy didn’t have time to think about it. She shot after a pair of stragglers, who looked to her like they were thinking about going home. The hell they were.
When Frisco showed up about noon, Freddy rode up to him in a fury. “Where have you been! We could use some help here!”
“I can see that,” he said, his mouth tight. “You have stragglers strung out for almost half a mile.”
“You’re looking at Les’s side. My side isn’t strung out that far. So where have you been?”
The steely look that she hated came into his eyes. “Riding drag is the easiest job in the outfit. If you’re looking for help to manage a few slow beeves, you ain’t gonna get it, friend.”
“It’s more than that, and you know it. We’ve been fighting those damned cimarrones all morning!” She would have stabbed a finger in his chest if she could have reached him. “We’ve lost four steers now. Four!” Moisture generated by anger and frustration glittered in her eyes.
“We knew we’d lose a few,” Frisco said finally, his mouth grim. He studied her flushed face and the sweat streaming down the sides of her cheeks.
“How can you be so calm?” she shouted, trying to keep her horse from dancing around his. “We’ve lost four before noon of the first damned day!”
“On the plus side, you and Les finally learned to do some cowboying. You’ve learned more in the last few hours than you learned in six weeks of preparation.”
Freddy blinked, startled into silence. He was right. She hadn’t once worried about staying on her horse since her disastrous beginning. Hadn’t thought about aching muscles in her arms and thighs, or the dust, or anything except catching the escaping cattle before they got too far away.
Nothing was going to alter a healthy fear of wickedly curving horns and the massive size of the cattle, but this morning she hadn’t had time to think about being afraid. For the last few hours, she had glared at the fleeing cattle and felt a burst of fury that they were trying to escape, steal her future, and make her look bad in the process. In her heart, she was absolutely certain they were doing it on purpose.
“The main herd is grazing during the noon rest. Bring up the stragglers, then come to the wagon for something to eat.”
Les arrived in time to hear Frisco’s instructions. “Won’t the steers wander off?”
“At least two drovers are riding circle,” Frisco said, looking at the hair falling down her back and the blood pulsing in her throat and cheeks. “After Daniel and Peach eat, they’ll spell the Webster boys.” Slowly, he looked back and forth between them, then touched two fingers to his hat brim and rode toward the campsite that Freddy noticed off to the left of the herd.
“We look like hell,” she muttered, staring at Les.
“Did you tell him that we lost four steers?” Les looked as exhausted as Freddy felt. “What did he say? Are we in trouble?”
“He behaved like it didn’t matter. It’s not his inheritance.” But his money was also tied to bringing two thousand steers to market, so her snarled statement fell flat.
“Is he going to send us some help?”
“What do you think?” Freddy snapped, turning her horse’s head toward the stragglers.
“I can’t bear the thought of telling Ward that we’ve already lost four steers!”
“Then don’t tell him,” Freddy said sharply, riding off. She was in no mood to hear about Ward Hamm.
If one more thing went wrong, Alex thought she would lose control completely.
During the hair-raising chase after the pilot, her crutch had bounced out of the wagon but she hadn’t discovered the loss until the pilot waved her off and she had wrestled her team to a shuddering halt. Shaking and quivering from the horrifying ride, feeling like her bones had rattled loose, she wiped terrified tears from her eyes, unable to move for several minutes. When she finally collected herself, she’d reached behind the seat and discovered the crutch was missing. The shock of it stunned her. Then came the realization that she was stuck.
She could not reach her wheelchair, which was tied on top of the bedrolls and the other supplies she was carrying. She couldn’t even climb out of the wagon to the ground. Fresh shock came with the appalling realization of how swiftly she had become dependent on the hated crutch. Now it was gone, and she was helpless.
She was still sitting on the wagon seat fifteen minutes later, blinking hard and feeling hopelessly inadequate when Grady’s horses swept past her. As he rode by, he paused long enough to give her a disgusted look before he tossed the crutch up to her.
But now she was so rattled that she didn’t pay attention as she climbed out of the wagon. Her skirt caught on the brake handle and threw her off-balance before the material ripped up the back and tore free. She fell flat on the ground just as Luther Moreland and Jack Caldwell drove in to camp. Luther jumped down and ran toward her, but Grady’s voice stopped him.