a determined set to her jaw, stirred emotions deep inside him. He was right to give the order to move forward without recovering the rustled strays from his herd. Her safety, and the safety of her family, were far more important than a few hundred head of cattle or any future job he may or may not land.
The horses in the remuda pranced nervously when he ducked under the rope Vic had strung to keep them contained.
“Whoa, there you go. It’s all right.”
He pitched his voice low as he made his way toward his favorite night horse. Bo had worked hard the past few days, and he deserved a full night’s rest as much as the men. With an outstretched hand Luke approached Whitey, whose name described him perfectly, murmuring words of comfort. Whitey was fresh, fully rested, and eager to escape the confines of the corral. Luke swung the saddle over his back and cinched the girth snugly.
“There we go, boy.” He lifted the rope barrier over the horse’s head, and led him out to the other side. The sight of his white hide circling the perimeter in the night had served to calm a restless herd before, though this one slept soundly enough that Luke doubted his choice of mount would make a difference.
He swung himself up into the saddle and started his circuit. At the south end of the herd, he met up with McCann, who had swung around to the east. The man nodded and waved a hand in silent greeting, then turned and headed back in the direction he had come. They would pass their two-hour watch repeating the same path, on the lookout for invaders or restless cattle.
After a few uneventful passes, Luke’s attention was drawn to the southwest. The moon lay veiled in clouds, but the sky painted a lighter picture than the blackness of the earth. Strain though he might, he could not make out the ridge of a hill in the distance, though he knew the land swelled high, like the waves of a restless sea. Beyond that the rest of his herd lay sleeping. As did the marauders who had stolen them.
Jesse was right. It would be ridiculously easy to surprise the rustlers and take back his cattle. Well, not easy, because there was always the danger they would put up a fight, and whenever a man drew a gun the possibility of injury or even death existed. Pa always used to tell him, “If you draw a gun against a man, you’d better intend to use it.” Luke had drawn his gun many times during his life on the trail, but never with the intention to shoot another man. Even this morning he hadn’t been able to bring himself to aim for the rustlers.
If I kill them, that makes me no better than they are.
He glanced beyond the camp, where six fresh graves bore witness to the morning’s violence. The loss of life—even those of the marauders—sickened him to the point of nausea. If he’d pulled the trigger that resulted in one of those deaths, he was certain he’d be in the same shape Charlie had been after shooting that rustler, unable to hold anything in his stomach besides guilt.
He slapped a hand against Whitey’s neck. “I’m not much of a trail boss, am I, boy? My pa wouldn’t waste a second thought about defending his herd.”
Or about taking back his charges. Luke looked again in the direction of the rustlers’ camp. The night was so peaceful.
On impulse, he whistled for McCann’s attention. When the man looked up, Luke swept a hand over the sleeping herd and then pointed at him. He understood the message, that he was to keep an eye on the cattle for a minute, and nodded.
Luke turned Whitey southwest with a gentle tug on the reins and galloped off. He wouldn’t be gone long, just long enough for one last look at those stolen cattle.
Emma lay awake on her pallet beneath the wagon, watching Luke’s white horse pace around this side of the sleeping cows. Beside her, Rebecca’s quiet breath was nearly drowned out by Maummi’s robust snores. Though she’d been tired when she left the campfire to find her bedroll, Emma’s sleep had been fitful. When Vic roused Luke to take the watch, she had woken as well. Now sleep eluded her the way wild jackrabbits avoided the snares in Papa’s vegetable garden.
A single question revolved in her mind. Why couldn’t Luke become Amish?