Calder Brand - Janet Dailey Page 0,4

Reaching the bank just in time, he reined his horse to a safe vantage point to watch the crossing.

The sight was one Joe would never forget. The first of the cattle had reached the river and stopped to drink. But more animals, with the cowboys pushing from the rear, moved in behind them, forcing them ahead. The point riders urged them forward, into the current. The flank riders, Andy and Jonesy, along with the swing riders, pressed them from the sides, keeping them to the solid bottom, away from the eddies and quicksand, while the drag riders picked up any stragglers and pressed the herd from behind.

For now, everything seemed to be going well. The cattle made a strange spectacle, with just their heads and their long horns bobbing above the muddy water. The sound of their bawling filled the air. By now, the leaders had made it across and were being herded to a safe spot half a mile beyond the river. More cattle followed behind them. On the far bank, the herd was still coming, pouring down to the water in a steady line.

The morning sun had risen and climbed the sky. Its rays danced on the water, the brightness dazzling Joe’s eyes. He reached up to pull down the brim of his hat.

His pulse jerked.

His hat was gone.

Shading his eyes with his hand, he scanned the riverbank. There was no sign of his father’s battered Texas-style Stetson, which he’d accepted as a parting gift when he’d left home. He must’ve been wearing it when he’d helped Yates with the horses. If not, he would surely have missed it sooner. But where was the hat now?

There was only one place it could be, Joe realized with a sinking heart—the river.

Still shading his eyes, he gazed out over the roiling red-brown water. There was the hat. Circling on a small eddy, it was drifting into the path of the oncoming cattle. Joe’s first thought was that the hat would be trampled into the mud and lost forever. Then, suddenly, he became aware of a much more dangerous situation.

Several cattle had spotted the hat, where it twirled and bobbed on the water like some living thing. With tossing horns and snorts of alarm, they turned aside and tried to head back the way the herd had come. Other cattle followed, plowing back into the animals that were moving forward, forcing them into the mass of moving bodies.

Sick with helpless dread, Joe watched from the bank as the herd began to mill—plunging and jamming into a solid, circling, bawling mass of confusion. It crossed his mind that maybe he should ride into the river and help. But without knowing what to do, he’d only be in the way.

Was that the truth, or was he just plain scared?

Benteen Calder spurred his horse into the river as his men fought to break up the melee, pushing, shoving with their horses, and flailing with their ropes. Some of the weaker animals were already going down, to be drowned and trampled.

A panic-stricken steer slammed into Andy’s horse, knocking the young cowboy out of the saddle. Seeing him go down, Jonesy charged in close to throw him a rope. An instant later, both of them were lost from sight.

Spanish Bill leaped from his horse onto the cattle. They were packed so closely that he was able to cross on their backs, beating at them with his fists as he moved toward the center to open up a wedge. A moment later, in the confusion, Joe lost track of him, as well.

Miraculously, or so it seemed, the knot of cattle began to separate. A few at first, then more and more allowed themselves to be herded the rest of the way across the river and up the bank. They left behind a mess of churned-up mud and carcasses that floated downriver on the fast-moving current.

Soaked and exhausted, the cowboys herded the last of the cattle to safety. Joe glimpsed Spanish Bill, back on his horse. The others looked to be all right, too—except for Andy and Jonesy. There was no sign of them.

Surely his two friends had made it out of the river, Joe told himself as he rode back to the wagons. Of course they had. They’d be showing up anytime, laughing and joking about their harrowing adventure.

Rusty had a fire going and hot coffee to warm the men. They drank in silence, pale and cold. Joe had set up a rope corral for the horses