Calder Brand - Janet Dailey Page 0,2

far from experienced. Last summer, down by the swimming hole, Betty Ann Flinders had let him kiss her and touch her breasts. The moment had strained the buttons on his trousers. But a quality girl would never let a boy go that far. And that was the kind of woman he wanted at his side someday—a real lady like Lorna Calder.

The right woman wasn’t all he wanted. Someday, Joe vowed, he would have his own ranch with his own vast herds of cattle. He’d even thought of the brand he’d use—the outline of a cowhide with a dollar sign on it, for Dollarhide. This job was the first step toward making his dream come true.

He rode out to where the remuda was grazing and uncoiled his rope from the saddle horn. Yates was already gathering the horses. Without being told what to do, Joe made a wide circle, picking up any stragglers and heading them in with a flick of his lariat on their haunches. There were far more horses than men on the drive. Each of the hands had been assigned a string of several animals. When working cattle, they rotated their mounts every few hours to keep them rested and healthy on the long drive.

By now the horses were accustomed to the morning routine. It didn’t take long to get them headed for the rope corral. Joe arrived back at camp to find Benteen Calder already gone and Lorna behind the chuckwagon, washing the last of the dishes—a job that would have fallen to Joe if she hadn’t volunteered her help.

She gave him a smile as he passed her to stow his bedroll in the chuckwagon. “Good morning, Joe. My husband tells me you’ll be driving our wagon across the river.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Joe could feel his face warming. “I promised him I’d take good care of you.”

One delicate eyebrow arched slightly. “Oh, it won’t be me, just our wagon. I’ll be riding on the chuckwagon with Rusty.”

“Oh.” Joe felt the brightness drain from his special day. So Benteen Calder had changed his mind. It made sense that Calder would decide to put his wife in the safest possible place, with a driver who’d crossed more big rivers than Joe had years. Knowing the boss, it made even more sense that he would entrust her to the one male in the outfit who didn’t rouse his jealousy.

“That sounds like a good idea, ma’am.” Joe tipped his hat. “I’ll get your wagon hitched and make sure everything’s tied down tight. No need to worry about that.”

She gave him another melting smile. “Thanks, Joe. I can always count on you.”

“Thanks for trusting me, ma’am. It means a lot.” Joe tipped his hat again and strode across the camp to the wagon. The two draft horses were grazing nearby, tied to a picket.

Mary Stanton, a plain woman who looked and talked like a younger version of Joe’s mother, was hitching her team.

“Can I help you, Mrs. Stanton?” Joe asked, knowing her husband was busy with the cattle.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m almost done.” She tightened the last harness buckle. “Are you all right with driving the wagon across that river, Joe?” she asked.

“I reckon so. I’ve driven the wagon plenty and crossed rivers before.”

“Well, the Red’s a lot bigger than anything we’ve come to so far, and Ely says the water’s high. The important thing for you will be to stay right in line with the other wagons. Otherwise you could drift off and get mired in quicksand or get carried off by the current.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am.” Joe hurried to hitch the horses to the wagon tongue. Mary Stanton had given him sound advice but, truth be told, he was looking forward to the crossing. It was going to be a great adventure, and he would be a vital part of it—even without Lorna on board.

By the time the wagon was ready, with Joe’s saddled horse tied behind, it was time to pull out.

The chuckwagon went first, with Rusty and Lorna sharing the driver’s bench. Mary Stanton’s wagon pulled into second place, with Joe bringing up the rear. A few minutes later, they passed the herd. The cattle were on their feet, grazing at a distance from the water. When their time came to cross, the thirsty animals would be easy to drive into the river.

Joe could see the cowhands working the mixed herd of longhorns—steers, cows, and bulls. Rounded up wild over the winter in the