Through Darkest America

spread out for, the way I hear it!”

He was sorry the minute he said it. He’d lost none of his desire for her at all. If anything, looking at her now, he wanted her more than ever.

“Aimie. I didn’t mean that.”

“It don’t matter.” She looked away, down the hill. “I ’spect it’s true enough.”

“Aimie…”

She looked back, faced him. “You want to know why I come after you, Burt? Truly? I wasn’t lyin’ about… what you done to me. I was all hot and ready and… I mean it, Burt, it ain’t like that with me. Not a lot, anyway. Only it was with you, and…”

“And what, Aimie?”

She bit her lip. “And… I knew you hadn’t had anyone before. I could tell that. And, Lordee, it was something knowin—”

Howie hit her. He didn’t want to, but a second before it happened he knew he couldn’t stop. And then he was on her, tearing cloth and tossing it aside until she was naked under

the sky. He gazed at the awful whiteness of her, loving and hating what he saw, holding her tight against the ground. She stared up at him, eyes wide with fright.

“I ain’t nobody’s prize fool,” he said harshly, “you hear?”

“Burt!”

He slapped her hard, then thrust into her savagely. She cried out and he stopped her with his’ mouth. He let his hands sink into her breasts. Her nails raked at his eyes, clawed his back. He tore into her again and again.

Aimie fought him. She bit at his mouth and flailed out with her legs. Her hands tore at his flesh. In a moment, though, he knew something strange and different was happening. Aimie still struggled against him, but it wasn’t the same. She pulled the pain from him, drank it in thirstily. And when she was certain there was no more there, she triumphantly drew the last he had to give and he exploded in her again. She threw herself up to meet him and he watched in wonder as her mouth opened slackly in a low moan of pleasure.

“Aimie. Aimie, I. I…”

Her eyes opened and a smile creased the corners of her mouth. “Burt, if you start in tellin’ me how sorry you are ’bout something or other, I’ll… I’ll….” She stopped, and her expression made him laugh with her. He moved down to take her up in his arms and she came to meet him.

He held her a long time, not saying anything. He didn’t want to talk and spoil the wonder of what had happened there. It was something you just couldn’t say right with words. Finally, he bent to kiss her and found her sleeping, a funny smile on her lips. Maybe she was thinking the same thing, he decided. Maybe…

The sound rolled up through the valley and climbed the low hills, cutting the chill night air like a knife. Aimie sat up, frightened. Howie held her close. He felt suddenly tired and empty; visions of riding off on a stolen horse— maybe even with Aimie, now—vanished and fell away. Someone had blown a warhorn at the river, and every driver who heard it knew Lathan was finally on their heels.

Chapter Seventeen

The rider who stumbled late into camp and started the war- horn wailing killed his mount getting there, but the warning he brought was worth more than a good horse. The rumor was true Lathan was definitely on the move. A strong element—nobody knew just how strong—had broken out of Colorado, streaked boldly through government territory, and was now less than two-hundred miles away in Old Missouri. Nobody doubted that the big herd was their target.

The news came as no surprise to anyone. Trouble had been expected all along, which was why the army was on its way across Arkansas Territory to meet them. The only real question was: who’d find them first?

“Don’t know any other way it could be,” Pardo observed stoically. “Lathan’s hungry, and there ain’t hardly nothing he can do but try an’ fill his belly.”

Everyone agreed that was so. But even if you knew for certain the river was high and flooding, you could always hope it wouldn’t get there.

When the drive began, most of the owners had said that no matter what happened, the herd would be kept together. There was, after all, strength in numbers. Pardo disagreed with this and had made him self heard since joining the drive. Why bunch up and make it easy for Lathan to get all the apples in one neat basket?

“I ain’t got no say in this maybe,” he told them, “since I don’t own anything and won’t lose nothin’ whether we make it or not. ’Cept maybe my hide, which ain’t likely worth much. But it appears to me that it’s a sight better to git something ’stead of nothing. Which is what you’re fixing to do.”

Pardo’s friend Jess argued violently against the idea. “What you’re figuring on is exactly what Lathan wants us to do,” he said. “Divide one strong force into three or four weak ones, strung out from here to nowhere. Hell, Lathan’d be herding us to the slaughterhouse same as if we was meat!”

Jess fought until he was blue in the face, but nothing came of it. Pardo had done his homework well. Owners and drivers alike respected his judgment. And the truth was, most everyone said, the herd wasn’t all that strong anyway—not against trained soldiers who’d all be mounted and carrying firearms and not worrying about fighting and keeping scared meat together at the same time. The only real chance they’d ever had was the one still open to them now. Don’t get caught by Lathan in the first place. Nothing had changed that.

At sunup the herd divided into three rough sections. One, loosely guarded, headed straight south, following the eastern bank of the Big River. The south was safe government territory and, though a long march would weaken it, the drivers could turn the herd back north and west as soon as the army made contact with the upper segments.

The other two elements headed west across the river. One of these, led by Pardo, would go straight and fast for the army. The other, with a large part of the herd, would move along a southwesterly route not too far away, with minimum protection, and would join Pardo’s group as soon as the army was sighted. This left Pardo with what amounted to a diversionary force: more guards and less meat. It was the section of the herd Lathan would have to hit first, the one with the most strength and the least to lose.

With much to be done, and no sleep for any man on the drive, Howie had little time to think about his aches or bruises, or bemoan the loss of his chance to get away from Pardo. Even Aimie was briefly forgotten. Once, while the herd was moving toward the river, he caught a questioning look from Cory. But Cory didn’t ask him what had happened and Howie was much relieved that he didn’t.

Near noon, he sat his mount with Pardo and Cory, watching the last of the herd cross the river. The job had taken most of the morning. The river was no more than waist high anywhere, but meat never did like the water. And this morning, the drivers were doing more harm than good, being in a hurry to get moving. Howie thought that meat was sometimes smarter than people gave them credit for; he was sure the herd was spookier than usual because they smelled man-fear all around them.

“Folks say it was some river once,” Pardo commented. He leaned over his mount and spit on the ground. “Split the country right down the middle.”

Cory shook his head soberly. “Sure ain’t much now,” he drawled.

Pardo looked at’ im. “Well, now ain’t then, is it? It was near the biggest there was anywhere once’t. Only the War done something to it.”

“The War did.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Must of been some War,” Cory grinned. “I haven’t heard much that ain’t been blamed on it.”

Pardo pulled himself erect and looked holes through Cory. Then he jerked his mount around and left them in dust. Howie watched him go, keeping his face straight as could be. Pardo wasn’t much for jokes, unless he was doing the joking.

Urging his mount through sluggish brown water, he followed Cory across the river. The herd was over and there was no more use watching for stragglers. The only job now was splitting off the last of the sections that would take the southwesterly trail below them. The drivers knew their jobs and the herd was soon on its way.

On the tail end of the drive were the followers they’d picked up along the trek. Most had decided to try the