“We brought you some bedding,” Crockett said. “Maybe I can drive the wagon closer, and the girls and I can unload that stuff for you?”
“Sure. Or Jane could take it, if you want to look for the pigs.”
“Be glad to.”
Ben nodded. “Thanks. Them and two horses and a couple dozen steers is about all we’ve got.”
“I’ll keep my eyes out while I’m looking for the pigs and let you know how the cattle are faring.”
“’Preciate it. The girls can drive your wagon close to the foot of the trail to the cave. And you can take Jane’s horse to look for the pigs.” Ben turned back to the ruins and poked a mass of charcoal with his hoe.
Crockett went to the corral and saddled Jane’s thin chestnut. Jerry, the cowboy from the Allens’ place, joined him. It took them most of an hour to locate the pigs and figure out how to run them back to the homestead. Once there, Jerry guarded the gaps in the broken fence while Crockett mended it so they wouldn’t get loose again. Of course, that was iffy with pigs. They were great at digging under fences, but he did his best.
When they were done, he walked over to where Ben and Mr. Allen had lined up the few things they’d salvaged from the ashes of the house.
“Find anything usable?” he asked.
“A few things. Pieces of hardware mostly. I was saving nails, but Mr. Allen says they won’t be good to use again.” Ben kicked at a charred tin.
“Did the girls come back yet?” Crockett asked.
“Nope.”
“Maybe one of us ought to ride out there and see if they need help.”
Mr. Allen had gone over to the well and had Jerry pour water over his filthy hands. He soaked his bandanna and mopped his face with it.
“Ben, you reckon you’ll be all right tonight?”
“Yes, sir,” Ben said. “We appreciate you coming over to help, you and Jerry.” He nodded to the cowboy.
“I know you’d do the same if it was us.” Mr. Allen straightened and put his hands to his lower back. “Bad business. You let us know when you need a hand putting up a new house. It won’t take long to throw up a cabin the size of what you had.”
“Thanks.”
Ben said no more but watched them go to Mr. Allen’s wagon and pull out.
“Come on,” Ben said to Crockett. He walked to the corral and put a bridle on his dark bay gelding and swung aboard with no saddle.
“Pa, we’re going to bring Janie and the Hart ladies in.”
Crockett had forgotten all about the old man. He had mounted Jane’s horse again, and he swiveled around to look for Boyd. He sat in the same place he had nearly two hours ago, and he lifted a languid hand in response to Ben’s comment.
“Is he all right?” Crockett asked Ben in a low voice.
“He’ll be fine.” Ben took off at a trot, and Crockett followed him out the trail toward the hills. The sun was low, casting long shadows. Ben turned to look at him, and he brought his horse up alongside the bay.
“Pa wanted to stay up at the cave, but I wouldn’t let him. I said even if he couldn’t help, he could come down and watch other people pick over the mess he made.”
“It was an accident,” Crockett said.
Ben shook his head, frowning. “Accident. My pa breeds ’em.”
They rode less than a mile to where Jane had parked his wagon, at the bottom of a path winding up the hillside. Jane, Emma, and Annie were sitting in the grass nearby.
“Well, hi, gentlemen,” Emma called.
“Howdy.” Ben eyed the empty wagon bed. “Guess you got it all unloaded.”
“That was hard work, lugging all that stuff up the hill,” Crockett said.
“It was,” Annie admitted, “but we did it. And now we’re taking a little breather before we head back.”
Crockett hoped they hadn’t let Emma make the trip too many times. Her baby wasn’t due for a few more months, but still…
Emma stood and brushed off her skirt. “We should have taken you up on your offer, Crockett. I had no idea how far we’d have to carry that stuff.”
“Anything left to tote?” Crockett asked.
“Nope,” Annie said.
Jane stood. “Did you find the pigs?”
Crockett smiled. “We did. It took Jerry and me a while to figure out how to herd ’em, though. They’re snug in the pen now.”
“He fixed the fence,” Ben added.
“Thank you.”
Crockett nodded. “You all sure you want to stay out here?”
“The barn isn’t fit to sleep in,” Ben said.
Crockett knew he was right. The so-called barn was a sorry sight. It was more of a large, rickety shed than a barn. When he’d run inside to find something to fight the fire with, he’d found the dirt floor knee-deep in manure and old straw. One corner had been cleared and held a couple of barrels and a few worn tools. Any animal forced to sleep in there would be miserable.
“Yeah, the air’s lots better out here,” he said.