Abruptly it occurred to her that if she would be tired tomorrow, he would be doubly so. He’d ridden a two-hour night shift with Les then another two-hour shift with her. But she already knew he wouldn’t complain. Oh yes, Pa would have taken to this man like cheese on pie.
She, on the other hand, was suddenly so tired she could hardly hold her eyelids open. When they returned to tie their horses to the wheel of the chuck wagon, she sat unmoving on her saddle, her eyes closed, searching for the energy to tether the horse and stumble back to her bedroll for the few hours remaining until dawn.
Strong hands circled her waist and lifted her off the saddle. Dal swung her close to him and slid her slowly down the length of his hard hot body. Freddy gasped, and her eyes snapped wide-open. She gripped his shoulders and stared into narrowed eyes, feeling his powerful arousal as her hips slid past his before he set her on the ground. Holding her tightly against him, he looked into her eyes, and for one breathless moment she thought he would kiss her.
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Except on a cattle drive. Keep that in mind, Frederick.” Then he released her and stepped back, touching a finger to the brim of his hat. “Sleep fast.”
Freddy’s mouth dropped open. He’d quoted from As You Like It. My God.
Lips parted, pulse thudding in her temples, she watched him walk away from the campfire and the scattered bedrolls. Damn him. She had lied about his kiss having no effect on her. And she’d be lying now if she claimed that the touch of his body hadn’t scorched her mind and flesh.
Feeling confused that she had wanted him to kiss her again, furious that he’d quoted Shakespeare and proved her wrong about him, she strode toward her bedroll, this time managing not to wake any of the other drovers. But against all expectations, it was a long time before she finally feel asleep.
Chapter 11
The first stampede erupted on the third night, two miles west of San Antonio.
The noise and shaking earth brought Dal out of his bedroll like he’d been catapulted into the air. He hit the ground running and raced for his night horse. As he’d been expecting this, he was fully dressed, and in less than a minute, he was galloping alongside the terrified herd.
That minute was long enough to notice the drovers exploding out of their bedrolls, long enough to watch Alex jump to her hands and knees and frantically scramble for her chair, to see Freddy and Les freeze in panic. He hoped to hell neither of them joined in the melee.
A sliver of moon shimmered through the billowing dust, pushing the shadows enough that he wasn’t entirely blind. Squinting into the murk, he saw a tide of clashing horns and pounding hoofs sweeping past him on the right. Stampeding animals gave off a scorching heat, and he felt it on his face, inhaled the nearly overpowering odor of fear and rank cowhide. Shouting orders would have been futile, swallowed by the din of rattling horns and the thunder of eight thousand hooves churning up the ground. He had to trust that his drovers would perform as a unit even though they couldn’t see or hear one another.
Swearing and shouting, trying to squeeze down the herd and hold them together, he rode hard, praying his horse didn’t stumble in the darkness. The other drovers would be doing the same, trying to reach the point and turn the lead animals toward the tail of the stampeding herd. Once the lead steers turned into a circle, the cattle would twist themselves into a self-stopping ball and eventually the mass would wind so tightly together the stampede would end.
Thirty minutes after the sun drifted above the horizon, the mill finally ceased churning and his weary drovers began to sort things out and drive the herd back to the bedding ground, which was now three miles behind them. Peach and Daniel rode out to search for animals that might have strayed during the early stages. The first stampede had ended.
Dal removed his hat and wiped sweat from his face, watching Freddy and Les riding toward him, their faces pale in the morning light. His instinct was to instruct them to leave the mopping-up to men with experience. But sitting on the sidelines never made a cowboy.
“What are the injuries?” he asked as they rode up. Injured men and horses would return to camp expecting Alex to patch them up. He hoped she knew how to do it.
“Charlie has a gash on his leg and James broke two toes,” Freddy reported.
“I never heard or saw anything that terrifying in my life,” Les said in a voice scarcely above a whisper. “I’m sorry we didn’t help. We just… we just…”
“You were right to stay out of it,” he said wearily. “Later, I’ll review what we did. You’ve heard what to do before, but now that you’ve seen a stampede, it will make more sense.”