middle of nowhere, stealing stock, afraid to even go into a town because of the price on your heads—there’s got to be a better way.”
Clem emptied the bucket of water he’d carried from the crude well behind the house. “It was Pa’s idea. It come to him after our ma died. When he sells the stock, he hides most all of the money—Slinger and me don’t even know where. When we get enough, he says, we’ll pull up stakes and head down to Mexico. We’ll be safe from the law, and we can live like kings. I reckon you can come with us if you want.”
Joe had doubts that the McCrackens would live long enough to make it to Mexico. Truth be told, he had the same worries for himself. But at least Clem’s words held out a glimmer of hope. One way or another, this mess he’d gotten himself into would have to end.
By the time spring crept over the prairie, Joe was restless and ready for change. By now he was seventeen, and still growing. Benjy’s ragged shirts and pants, which had fit him last fall, now left gaps above the wrists and ankles. After a winter of near starvation, he was thin, but his muscles were hard and strong. His body was a man’s body now, his mind a man’s mind.
With the change in season, the cattle herds were moving north again in even greater numbers than before. Joe and the brothers stampeded the first outfit, made off with eleven longhorn steers, and they were back in business. The man who bought them would pay part in cash and part in much-needed food and supplies.
As spring wore into blistering summer, Joe watched the trails for any sign that Benteen Calder was moving another herd up from Texas. To his disappointment he saw no trace of Calder cattle or any of the cowboys he remembered. If they’d made another drive, he’d missed it.
Day after day, his frustration boiled. If his old boss had taken extra minutes to rescue him, he’d be in Montana now, working to build his own future on the land. Instead, he was an outlaw, stealing to survive and living every day in fear for his life and freedom. As the weeks passed, the anger in his heart froze into cold rage—a rage that refused to be sated by anything less than vengeance.
One morning, after scouting a herd most of the night, Joe was riding back to the sod house, hidden from distant view by the bank of a dry riverbed. Bone-tired, saddle sore, and discontented to the core of his being, all he wanted was to fling himself onto his bunk, pull the smelly woolen blanket over his head, and shut out the world for a few hours.
Last night he’d gotten close enough to the camp to see the cowboys sitting around the fire before bedtime, talking, laughing, and singing. He’d remembered such times with the Calder outfit, the good men, the easy camaraderie, the trust that had bound them together. Somewhere below his heart, an ache festered like an abscess. He had never felt more alone.
He’d even toyed with the idea of walking into the camp and asking for a job, or even turning himself in and asking for protection. But caution had warned him off. The cowboys hated rustlers. Likely as not, he’d become the guest of honor at a hanging party.
Dark emotions swirled around him as he crossed the plain of parched grass. Dawn was breaking in the east. As the sun rose, ribbons of flame streaked the sky, casting a glow over the flatland.
That was when he saw them—the wild horses, galloping over the horizon with the blue roan stallion in the lead, and the mares, foals, and yearlings streaming behind him. Joe’s breath caught. He’d assumed that he’d dreamed those horses. Maybe he was dreaming now.
The horses had been coming right toward him. Now, as if suddenly wary of the stranger, they veered to one side and thundered past at an angle. Seized by a sense of awe, Joe gazed after them as they raced away. How could anything in this miserable world be so beautiful, so wild and free?
After the horses had vanished from sight, Joe began to wonder if his exhausted mind had been playing tricks on him. But no, he could still see tracks—the dry grass flattened by their hooves, and the hazy film of dust that lingered where the band had passed.