The Trek: Darwin's World, Book II (The Darwin's World Series 2) (30 page)

Meantime, he felt a momentary sense of loss for the comfortable working saddle and woven cotton pad he'd used during his ranch years. But that was gone, so he would do what was necessary, "cowboy up" as the saying had it. Make do, and not worry about the things he didn't have.

He would be riding essentially bareback in any case, and that ability might take a little longer to become second nature. He would condition the horse to riding in the same way the plains Indians had done, by attempting the first ride in water. Not quite the gentle-break method, not quite the more brutal breaking that had been common on the American frontier downtime, but a procedure that fell midway between the two. Someday, he'd try the rest of Monty Roberts' method by using a real round pen. But for now, time was important. Roberts hadn't been alone when he broke horses; he’d had help that Tex didn’t have.

The sweetened hay was gone the next day when he returned. He added honey to the new bundle of grass he carried and laid it down in the same place.

He repeated this process each day, gradually spending more time in the makeshift corral. The stallion now watched and lipped the sweetened hay from the flat rock even before Tex left the corral.

Another day, perhaps two, and he'd be ready. Tex continued working on his tack that afternoon, as he had done every afternoon. It too was almost ready. He rubbed the beeswax he'd retained into the rawhide hackamore; it would act as a preservative.

Tex added a new activity next time he entered the corral. Laying his weapons aside, he uncoiled the reata and tossed the end away from him. Reeling it in, he repeated the process a dozen times, pausing between tosses. He never hurried, never gave the horses reason to spook.

The horses snorted and tried to bolt the first time, but there was nowhere to go. Paying them no attention, Tex worked on. Half an hour later he decided to stop. By now, the horses stood watching him from across the pond. The pond’s edge showed signs where the horses had sunk a few inches into the mud and had slipped several times when they came to drink.

It was almost time; Tex would make the attempt tomorrow, and if something happened...well, walking and running were better than being crippled, but nothing compared to the feel of a strong horse beneath a man. It was worth the gamble.

#

"How's that ferry doing, Colin?"

"It's working great, Matt. The rope worried me for a while, because it's only about half as thick as it was in the beginning. But there's no sign that it's failing."

"I expected it would do the job. Lilia's pretty careful."

"That she is, Matt. I'm glad she's with us."

Matt nodded his understanding. "Sal's wheels working as expected?"

"They're fine, Matt. He worked up a kind of sandpaper using river sand. Scraps of rawhide and smear warm hide glue over that, then pour sand over the mess and when it cures dump off the excess. He wrapped that around a stick and tied it tight at each end. That's what he uses to smooth the center hole where the axles go.

“The wheels are a little tight right now, but they'll work in during the first day and should fit a lot better than the old wheels ever did. As soon as all that meat has cured, we might be ready to move on. What do you think?"

"I think so, Colin. We've been here long enough. How much longer will you need to have everything ready?"

"Maybe three days, Matt. I'll talk to people and get them thinking about the move. They'll need to pack stuff, lash everything to the carts except kitchen stuff and bedding. What do you want to do about the ferry?"

"We'll leave it. Someone may find it useful and if no one finds it, the rope will eventually break. The ferry could end up in the Gulf of Mexico!"

The two shared a grin.

That night, thunder rumbled far away to the north; but when Matt woke up next morning and went to look, the river had risen only a little. The clouds were thicker now but there had been no rain. Only that thunder and the distant flashes of lightning showed that a series of storms had passed west-to-east beyond the horizon.

A breeze stirred the trees. The weather was changing.

It was time for the tribe to move on while they still could.

Chapter 27

The reata swung loose this morning, held in Tex's left hand when he came to the enclosure. The horses watched him, heads up and ears forward.

Much of the grass in the 'corral' had been eaten. Today was the day Tex would try to ride the stallion.

Tex pulled the lightweight tree back into place after carefully stacking his weapons by the entrance. The knife still rode his hip, but other than that, the reata was his only defense.

With luck, it would be a tool, not a defensive weapon.

Tex had woven a loop into one end of the rawhide line. It was not a proper hondo, but it would do. He shook out a loop and idly tossed it toward the horses. They watched but didn't attempt to bolt as they'd done a few days before, the first time he'd done this. The scary rope had become a familiar thing, nothing for horses to be alarmed about.

Rebuilding his loop, Tex walked slowly forward. His path wouldn't take him directly toward the horses, but would still slowly close the distance between them as he circled. Ahead, the horses nervously moved away. The stallion remained between Tex and the others, moving as they did but always in position to protect his mares.

Tex ignored the horses and continued his slow pace, but now he held the loose reata coils in his left hand while the loop swung ready in his right.

Gradually Tex worked his way closer to the horses. Every circuit of the enclosure brought him nearer. Finally, the stallion stopped and faced Tex, legs braced. Tex looked directly at him and swung the loose coils menacingly and the stallion bolted. Tex kept up his slow, steady, pace. The band of horses milled and snuffled before walking away.

Finally he was close enough and a final hard swing of his arm sent the loop sailing over the stallion's head. The horse reared and started for Tex, ears back, head held low. Tex had been waiting for this.

As soon as he'd launched the loop toward the stallion, he'd prepared for the coming fight by transferring several of the coils to his right hand. Only a few coils remained in his left hand. As the horse charged, Tex cocked his hand and stepped aside, slapping the enraged stallion across the nose with the hard coils of rawhide. The animal snorted in pain and tried to bolt away, but the loop around his neck tightened and stopped him. Rearing, he hopped forward while Tex braced his feet and let the horse drag him. The smooth moccasin soles slid on the short grass, Tex hopping when necessary to remain upright.

The stallion finally stopped and faced Tex, panting. Tex slowly walked toward him and swung the loops again. The stallion turned and tried to bolt once more but again Tex restrained him. This time the horse stopped after a few seconds. Tex slowly pulled in on the reata, as he walked closer.

With every plunge, every attempt to escape, the horse tired. Finally Tex was close enough to begin controlling the stallion. He slowly backed away, tugging gently on the reata. The horse took a step forward and Tex immediately slacked off slightly on the pressure. Pausing for a moment, Tex backed again. This time the horse stepped forward immediately and again Tex rewarded him by releasing the pressure.

By midafternoon the horse was responding readily to the lead rope. Tex had managed to get close enough to stroke his neck, loose coils ready if needed. But the tired animal submitted to this indignity as he had to the other things Tex had done. The rest of the horses watched, ears cocked, from across the small pond.

Getting the rawhide band around the nose and the crownpiece over the stallion’s poll, the bump atop the head, also took time. Eventually the weary stallion submitted.

Tex spent most of an hour leading him around the enclosure, finally allowing him to drink. While this occurred, Tex picked up an armload of dried grass he'd collected and left near the entrance. He led the horse from the water's edge and dumped the grass where the horse could feed.

The preparations paid off. When Tex finally mounted, the stallion barely jumped. For a moment the years fell away; Tex was once again mounted on an animal that showed spirit and endurance. If this horse was smaller than those he'd ridden downtime, the lack of size could be overcome by breaking the others to ride. Instead of riding one horse for a day, he might find it necessary to ride for three or four hours and change mounts.

There was no telling yet how the horses would adapt to being ridden. Icelandic horses were also small, but like Arabians, they were very strong. Both breeds had found a niche downtime, Icelandics for their comfortable gait and Arabians for endurance. Perhaps these horses would also have some special trait. In any case, selective breeding would yield improvements within a few generations.

But Tex was mounted now, and that made it all worthwhile.

#

Matt woke up and finished his normal morning activities before heading for the cook-fire. At least the rain had held off, although thunder had threatened and lightning had flashed far to the north.

The smoke had irritated his eyes this morning...strange, because the light breeze was coming from the north and the kitchen area was west of his camp. It wasn't cold enough for anyone else to have their own separate campfire...

He accepted food and a mug of 'tea' from Margrette.

"Did the wind change direction? I wondered what you were burning in the fire this morning."

"I'm using the same dried wood as always, Matt. This is mostly oak, but I also had a few mesquite chunks that someone brought in."

"I wondered. I thought I smelled smoke when I woke up."

"You did, Matt. I smelled it too. There's not a lot of brush here, and even the trees aren't close together after you leave this section along the river. There's some grass, but I don't know if it will burn. You think that lightning last night started a fire?"

"I don't know, Margrette. I'll take one of the scouts and we can have a look to the north."

Piotr joined Matt when he left camp. The two climbed the slope west of the river and looked north. The faint smell of smoke had vanished.

Far off, there was a cloud of smoke or dust on the horizon. A few hundred yards away a herd of bison was grazing, drifting slowly south, so perhaps it was only dust raised by their passing. Seeing no immediate danger in sight, Matt and Piotr returned to the camp.

#

There was work to do, always more work. Matt knew the tribe still needed meat; he told Colin what he had in mind.

A strong party of hunters and helpers followed Matt from the camp an hour later. If the animals were cooperative enough to approach this close, he would take advantage of it.

Hunting proved easy, compared to what they'd done before. He divided his hunters into pairs and issued instructions.

An hour later, everyone in place, Matt killed the first beast half a mile north and five hundred yards away from the path that led down to the camp. As he and Piotr field-dressed the big animal, another pair of hunters three hundred yards south downed a second bison and began preparing the carcass.

Five bison were soon loaded on the carts and the group took turns hauling them downslope to the camp, using ropes to check the descent as they’d done before. Lilia and Margrette helped Colin cut the meat into manageable sections, then sliced them into portions that could easily be cooked for dinner or dried. Matt helped for a while, but he had nothing approaching Colin's talent. Others took his place as soon as he left the butchering and Matt climbed back up the western slope.

The plain was dark with bison. In the time since Matt's party had killed those first five, an even larger herd had grazed its way into the vicinity. Worried, Matt looked north. A thin brown haze of dust covered the plains in that direction. If there was a reason for the herd to push south, he couldn't see it. He returned to camp and sought out Colin.

"You ought to take time to go up that rise and take a look, Colin. I've never seen this many bison in one place. I'm becoming concerned. It's too early in the season for them to be migrating south. I wonder if there's a fire up there?"

"I doubt there's anything to worry about, Matt. The trees along the river aren't likely to burn. At least, they won't burn fast. Not much underbrush along here and we've picked up a lot of the downed wood and burned it in the cookfire. But let's go up and take a look."

The two walked up the slope. As they neared the crest, the smell of dust grew stronger, as did the musky animal smell, a combination of old sweat with traces of dung. The low thumping of hooves became audible too. The first bison came into view even before the two reached the top of the slope.

"Considering how hard we've worked for meat in the past, it's almost a shame to let that fellow go on by."

"We don't need more meat, Colin. If the bison stick around, we can preserve the ones we've got and collect one every day or so for fresh meat."

"There won't be anything left up here after they pass. I think Lilia has been gathering a few plants up here, but they'll be trampled into the ground after this."

"Yeah. Well, they're staying up here for now, so it's not a problem. I wouldn't want them to decide to head down this slope for a drink!"

"I know what you mean, Matt, but for now they're just moving."

"We might as well go on back. Once you've seen a million bison in a herd, you've seen 'em all."

Colin chuckled and the two returned to camp only to find an alarmed Lee standing guard. Laz and several other men stood with him, some looking north but most watching to the south.

"Matt, did you see that pride of sabertooths that came through camp?"

"They came through camp, Lee? How many?"

"I counted seven. They just walked through like they owned the place and kept going south."

"Colin, get the women packing. I want everything on carts, and the carts parked as near as possible to the biggest trees you can find. That may help protect them. The steel tools are critical, lean them right against the tree so nothing will step on them. The bison are coming from the north, so I want the carts south of the trees. It may protect them. You've got half an hour, maybe. If the women can't finish packing in that time, drop it and get them out of here.