and was gathering dry wood for the chuckwagon when Benteen Calder rode in. His face was a granite mask.
“I need a couple of volunteers to ride downstream with me,” he said. “We’ll be looking for Andy and Jonesy and making a count of the lost stock. The rest of you, get those cattle ready to move out. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before nightfall.”
“I’ll go with you, Mr. Calder,” Joe said, stepping forward. Helping to find his friends was the least he could do.
Shorty offered to go as well. After saddling fresh horses, they fell in behind the boss and followed him back down to the ford.
With Joe bringing up the rear, they rode single file, saying little. Downriver, the buzzards were already flocking in to feed on the dead cattle. Calder had asked Joe and Shorty to keep their own count, to compare with his when there were no more to be found. Joe was already coming up on fifty—every one of them his fault for losing his hat in the river.
The sun beat like a hammer on his bare head. Nobody had said a word about his hat being gone, but surely the men had noticed. Some, at least, might’ve even guessed what had happened. Should he open his mouth and own up to it? The question clawed at his gut.
At the river’s edge, he noticed something brown caught on a snag. Pausing for a closer look, he recognized his waterlogged hat. The very sight of it made his stomach roil. But he couldn’t work without a hat, and there was no place to get another one. Reaching down from the saddle, he hooked it with a finger, squeezed out the worst of the muddy water, and tucked it under his vest before catching up with the others.
A mile downstream, where the river curved in its channel, they found Andy and Jonesy in a clump of flooded willows. Their bodies lay in shallow water, coated with mud and battered from tumbling in the swift current. Joe had fooled himself into believing his friends were safe. He should have known better.
He felt the soggy lump of his hat beneath his vest—the hat that in all likelihood had caused their deaths. It was his fault that two young lives were gone. And there was nothing he could do except try not to disgrace himself by being sick.
Calder’s jaw worked before he spoke. “Get them out of the water, boys, and lay them behind your saddles. I’ll ride back and let the others know. We’ll be moving out as soon as they’re in the ground. Never mind lunch—we’ll eat tonight.”
Andy and Jonesy were laid to rest on a nearby bluff. Once the graves were dug, the ceremony was brief. Ely Stanton fashioned two crude crosses to serve as markers. Benteen Calder offered a few words. Mary laid a sad little bouquet of wildflowers at the foot of each cross, and Lorna took two of the precious rose cuttings she’d brought and planted them in the fresh earth.
Then it was time to move the herd.
The chuckwagon was already heading out. Lorna and Mary followed, driving their wagons. With his wet, shapeless hat jammed onto his head, Joe took his place behind the remuda, keeping the horses together and making sure none were left behind.
Silence hung like a haze of dust over the drive. The cattle trailed along, kept in line by the mounted cowboys. Seventy animals had been lost in the river, along with two fine young men. But there was no point in mourning or counting the cost. There was nothing to do except keep moving.
As the sun dried his hat to the shape of his head, Joe struggled to clear his mind of the morning’s awful images. But the guilt that gnawed at his insides wouldn’t go away. His carelessness had triggered the disaster that left his two friends dead and cut deep into the value of Benteen Calder’s herd.
And he hadn’t said a word about it—not to anyone.
His mother had raised him to be honest. But would fessing up be honest or just plain stupid? What would the boss do to him if he confessed? Fire him and leave him alone on the prairie? Maybe take his earnings in payment toward the lost cattle? And what about the men? Surely they’d turn their backs on him, or do far worse, for what he’d caused to happen.
But how could anyone feel more contempt for him than he