The Heart's Frontier (19 page)

“We’ll form up in two groups of three,” Luke told his strange little group of riders. “Nobody goes off alone, understand? Four of those rustlers are still out there somewhere, and a single man on horseback is an easy target.”

“Or woman,” Rebecca added from the opposite end of the loose circle they had formed between the cook’s wagon and the Switzers’.

The truth of her words brought grim concern to the face of every man. Luke glanced at Emma, who stood nearby, watching him. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. For that reason, he didn’t intend to let her out of his sight. Nor would he leave Rebecca’s safety to chance, either.

“Or woman,” he agreed, solemn. “I’m counting on the fact that those surviving rustlers scattered nearly as widely as our cattle. It’ll take them a while to regroup and even longer to round up the strays, but if those strays are as tired as the bunch Griff and Morris brought in earlier, they won’t have run far. We might find a good number of them nearby.”

Morris nodded, and Griff’s expression settled into one of agreement. Jonas’s eyes fixed on him with an unblinking stare, his expression as unreadable as ever. At least it was obvious where Emma inherited her intent focus.

“Regardless, even if you don’t find a single steer, you get back here before nightfall. Come daybreak, we’re breaking camp with whatever herd we have. Griff, you, Charlie, and Jonas head north. We still have a couple of hours of daylight, so ride out for thirty minutes, then swing around to the west. Vic, Emma, and I will ride the other way and swing up to meet you, and then we’ll head back in.”

“That means I’m going east?” Rebecca asked, her gaze straying in that direction behind Luke’s shoulder.

“No, we’ve already covered the east. You’re staying here to guard the main herd.”

Rebecca’s mouth pursed, her displeasure apparent in the angry eyes she fixed on him.

“It’s the most important job we have,” Luke explained to the girl in a patient voice. “We have seventeen hundred head of beef left, and we can’t afford to lose a single one. You, Morris, and McCann will watch over them.”

Morris nodded.

A voice behind him joined the conversation. “I’ll stand guard too.”

Surprised, Luke whirled around to find that Jesse had awoken and was struggling to lift himself up on one elbow, pain etched on every inch of his puckered brow.

Mrs. Switzer sprang out of her rocking chair and sprinted to his side to stand towering over him, her hands on her hips. “Stand you will not!”

Either he didn’t have the will to oppose his formidable nurse, or the pain of struggling to a sitting position convinced him. “Yeah, so I’ll
sit
guard.” With much wincing, he leaned sideways, grabbed his rifle out of his pack, and laid it across his lap. “Somebody help get me up in that wagon so I can see, and I’ll help keep watch.”

Relieved to have an extra pair of eyes, Luke nodded toward Morris and Charlie to help Jesse. These cattle were his responsibility. He’d contracted with Mr. Hancock to deliver them to Hays, and he didn’t intend to sit idly by and watch those rustlers take a single one.

When Jesse had been seated as comfortably as possible in the Switzers’ wagon, his back resting against the hutch and his rifle in his lap, Luke gave the order to mount up. He was walking toward Bo when Jonas caught up with him.

“A word, please.”

It didn’t take a genius to know what was on the man’s mind. Though he addressed Luke, he focused across the camp toward the place where Emma and Rebecca were being helped onto their mounts. Worried crevices were carved into Jonas’s brow, and his clean-shaven lips were tight.

“You will watch after my girls.” Though he voiced a statement, Luke detected a tacit plea for reassurance in the man’s voice.

Luke matched his quiet volume so they couldn’t be overheard. “Jonas, the rustlers won’t return, not this soon. And besides, with Morris and McCann and Jesse, Rebecca and Mrs. Switzer are safer here than they have been since the day you left home.”

“And my Emma?”

Luke turned to look toward Emma. She sat atop Sugarfoot, her legs swathed in her father’s black trousers, and the bunched fabric of her wide skirt was settled into a modest yet comfortable position around her thighs. As though she felt his regard, she lifted her head. A smile lit her features when she saw him watching her, and a fierce protectiveness overtook him in response.

“I will protect her with my life.” He looked Jonas in the eye. “You have my word.”

Jonas held his gaze for a long moment, as if weighing the value of the word of an
Englisch
cowboy. Then he nodded and walked toward the horse he’d been assigned.

Luke continued on to the corralled remuda
, where Bo stood already saddled and ready to ride. His promise to Jonas resonated in his soul, the words somehow more real and weightier for having been spoken.

He
would
protect Emma with his life, without a moment’s hesitation.

Of course, that didn’t mean she was anything special. He’d do the same for any woman, or man, even, especially one who was helping out at a time when he needed all the help he could get. Right?

He placed his foot in the stirrup and swung his other leg over Bo’s back. As soon as he was secure in the saddle, Emma nudged Sugarfoot alongside him.

“I’m glad I am assigned to ride south.” Her head dropped demurely, but after a moment her eyes cut up sideways to lock with his. “With you.”

Luke had seen a rodeo show once. He had watched, fascinated, while a man did tricks and flips on the back of a charging stallion. As a boy he’d been amazed, exhilarated, and inspired to do those and even greater feats of daring and courage.

That was exactly the way he felt right now.

E
mma squeezed her legs tight around Sugarfoot, her muscles protesting the abuse of an extended period in an unfamiliar position. Herding the cows on foot this morning was far easier than this. How did Luke stand this day in and day out for months at a time? She shifted and squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable position, to no avail. Carefully, she set her feet securely in the stirrups, grabbed hold of the pommel, and rose ever so slightly out of the saddle. Blood rushed into her uncomfortably numb backside, bringing simultaneous rushes of pain and relief.

Sugarfoot veered sideways during her canter, and Emma nearly lost her balance. She dropped back into the saddle, and almost cried out at the impact.

Though ahead of her, Luke must have sensed her distress. He turned his head, slowed his horse, and fell alongside her. Vic, a quiet man with swarthy skin and intense dark eyes, kept up the pace and soon pulled ahead of them.

“You need to take a break?” Luke asked, his gaze searching her face.

“I’m fine.” She forced a brave smile. “We haven’t found any cows yet.”

“We’re getting close. This trail is fairly fresh.”

Trail? For the first time, Emma observed the ground beneath her horse’s hooves. She’d been so focused on her discomfort, and on staying near Luke, that she had missed the obvious signs of the recent passing of cattle. A fair number of them, judging by the wide swath of trampled grass.

Up ahead, Vic slowed when he approached a swell in the land. His horse climbed toward the crest of the hill, but before he reached the top, Vic’s arm shot high into the air, his fingers splayed. With a jerk on the reins, he whirled the horse around and galloped back toward them. Luke and Emma slowed to a halt when he approached.

“We found them.” The man’s voice held a barely checked excitement, his eyes alight as he jerked his head backward, toward the hill. “Their camp’s over yonder.”

“The rustlers?” Luke asked.

“And our cattle.” Vic’s voice went hard. “Plus some.”

Emma rose in her saddle again, straining her eyes toward the hill.

“Let me take a look.” Luke swung his leg over Bo and hopped to the ground. Tossing the reins toward Vic, he strode forward.

The men who had stolen their things and scattered Luke’s herd were right on the other side of that hill? Emma wanted to see. She mimicked Luke and swung her leg over Sugarfoot’s back. But her stiff muscles protested the sudden movement, and the distance between the stirrup and the ground was greater than she thought. A moment later she found herself on her backside, staring up at a purple-streaked sky.

“Emma!” Luke doubled back to her as Vic jumped out of his saddle to rush to her side.

Heat rose from her collarbone up her neck, and she was sure her burning face shone bright enough to rival the late afternoon sun.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, but she couldn’t meet Luke’s gaze. What a clumsy oaf. What must he think of someone who couldn’t even get off a horse by herself?

“Here, let us help you up.”

Luke slipped a hand beneath one arm, and Vic did the same on her other side. The men lifted her to a standing position. Her feet felt unsteady, her legs trembled beneath the weight of her body, and she couldn’t even enjoy the feel of Luke’s steadying hand holding tightly to her arm. She clutched at him, afraid that if she tried to take a step she’d find herself back on the ground.

“The saddle can be hard on the legs when you’re not used to it.” Vic’s voice held a wagonload of sympathy.

Miserably embarrassed, she nodded and concentrated on forcing her legs to support her weight. Setting her teeth together, she managed a step away from Luke.

“Good. You’ll be fine. Stay here while I take a look over that hill,” he said.

“I’m going with you. I want to see too.” Though it was hard to sound firm and unyielding while hobbling like a babe taking her first steps, Emma tilted her chin in the air and hardened her jaw.

After studying her a second, Luke shrugged. “Keep quiet, that’s all.”

He held out his crooked arm as though offering to escort her to a fancy dinner. Emma took it gratefully, not at all confident that she could walk the short distance on her own, though the feeling was starting to creep back into her legs.

When they neared the crest of the hill, he crouched and then dropped to his knees to crawl the last few feet. Emma followed suit, and side by side they climbed the rise and peeked over the top.

Before them lay a small valley, ringed on three sides by swells in the land such as the one they knelt upon. Cattle filled the bowl, their number impossible to count but probably close to half the size of Luke’s herd.

“That’s them, all right.” Luke spoke quietly, his gaze fixed on the northeast corner of the valley, where a break in the hills formed a wide opening in the natural barrier.

She strained to see across the distance. “How can you be sure? I can’t see their brands from here.”

“First off, there are half a dozen different breeds down there. A cattle drive can take more than one breed from more than one owner, but there would be a bigger number of each. Second, there’s no chuck wagon. Just them.”

Luke jerked his head toward the open valley to the northeast. Emma caught sight of a trio of men, dismounted and talking to each other. It was impossible to identify them at this distance. They were nothing more than featureless figures.

“And third, don’t you recognize the oxen?”

She looked where he pointed, and sure enough, a pair of oxen milled with the cattle nearest to their position. Though one ox looked the same as another to her, they were probably Papa’s stolen animals.

“My guess is this crew have been rustling cattle for some time, a few here and there, trying to build up a decent-sized herd. They must have a buyer somewhere.”

“Where’s the fourth one?”

Luke studied them as he answered. “Probably hasn’t caught up with them yet. He’s around, though.”

The words sent a chill sliding down Emma’s spine.

After another long moment, Luke whispered, “Come on.”

They crawled backward to the bottom of the hill, and then Luke helped her to her feet. She was glad to be able to cover the distance to where Vic waited with a more-or-less normal gait.

“What are we going to do, boss?” Vic asked when they approached.

“We’re heading back to camp.” Luke went to Sugarfoot’s side and entwined his fingers to form a step for Emma’s foot.

Rather than mounting, Emma stared at him. “We aren’t going to get our cows back?”

Another blush threatened at her subconscious use of the pronoun. She meant
his
cows, of course, but after rescuing forty of them this morning and learning to herd them this afternoon, she’d begun to feel a personal stake in their well-being.

“No, we’re not.” Luke’s tone offered no room for argument. “We’re going to Hays as planned, and we’ll report this to the sheriff. They’ll send a posse to find the rustlers and recover the cattle.”

“Hays is a good day and a half away if we run ’em on the hoof,” Vic said, swinging up into his saddle. “The rustlers might move out before the law makes it back.”

“If they do, they do. There’s nothing we can do about it shorthanded.” He held his joined hands toward Emma again in a silent invitation that was more like a command.

She didn’t move at first. Griff had said earlier that if Luke showed up in Hays missing so many of his cows, he would never get a job as a trail boss again. They might be short-handed, but the men in Luke’s command still outnumbered the cattle rustlers two-to-one, even without Papa and Jesse. No, the real reason he was willing to leave his stolen cows went unspoken, but she knew it anyway. She’d seen his pain clearly on his face during the funeral, and his determination afterward, when he looked toward her as he spoke with Papa. He wasn’t willing to put anyone else in danger—not his remaining men, and especially not her and her family. He was willing to leave the stolen cattle behind in order to keep them all safe.

Though he may not realize it, his was an extremely Amish approach to the situation.

The mood around the campfire that night was somber. Even Rebecca had lost her bubbly enthusiasm, and Emma understood why. After hours in the saddle, the ground seemed far harder and more unyielding tonight than ever before. They both preferred to stand as they ate their supper.

“I think we could take ’em, boss,” Charlie said between mouthfuls of beans. “We can turn their own stunt back on them and surprise them at daybreak when the cattle are starting to stir.”

“Maybe.” Luke didn’t look up from his tin plate. “Maybe not. I’m not willing to risk it.”

Jesse, whose injured leg had swollen despite the tight binding, picked at his food and grumbled loud enough to be heard by everyone, “A week ago we wouldn’t have let a handful of desperados get away with rustling our herd.”

Though he didn’t look in Emma’s direction, she felt the weight of his unspoken accusation. Jesse knew, like everyone else, that the Switzers—primarily she—were the reason behind Luke’s decision.

Maummi
got up out of her chair and crossed to Jesse’s pallet to inspect his plate. She pointed an accusing finger at his huge portion of beans. “Eat! A foolish man refuses food, and wastes his doctor’s skills.”

Jesse’s grumble became a grunt. With an upward glare, he took a huge bite and chewed with determined purpose.

“You’d better eat what she gave you, son.” Griff climbed to his feet and grabbed the ladle from the pot of beans hanging over the campfire. “There aren’t going to be any left tonight. Best beans I’ve ever eaten.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Vic joined him at the pot and refilled his own plate. “What’d you do different, McCann?”

“Same beans as always,” the cook insisted as he scraped the last of the thick soup into his mouth with a piece of flatbread.

“Well, they’re the best you ever made,” Charlie agreed.

McCann froze in the act of popping the bread in his mouth. He turned a suspicious glare toward
Maummi
, who had returned to her rocking chair and picked up her sewing. “Did you do something to my beans?”

There was no hesitation in her rocking or a pause in her mending as she answered. “Such a fuss over a pinch of salt.”

“You salted my beans?” McCann jumped to his feet, looking ready to explode. “Salt in my wounds, madam, that’s what you are. Salt in my wounds!” He stomped off and disappeared into the chuck wagon.

Emma exchanged a quiet grin with Rebecca while
Maummi
continued to rock, unconcerned.