mount forward. Cory put out an arm to stop him. Howie gave him a puzzled glance, then understood. Klu and Jigger had spotted the commotion too, and were cutting toward the trouble spot.
It was a common enough problem. Several young bucks had edged a ripe mare into their pack, and the inevitable fight had started, spreading like ripples in a pond. In a few minutes, meat fifty feet off were brawling and grunting away without even knowing why.
Jigger plainly knew little about handling stock, but he knew what he wanted done. Using his boots and his big mount to scatter bodies, he cleared a rough path for his companion. Howie knew Klu hadn’t the slightest idea which creature had started the business and that he didn’t much care. He rode straight into the bunch and right to his choice, like he’d been thinking about it all winter.
The first crack of his big driver’s whip dropped the meat to its knees. It tried to rise once, but Klu was good with his weapon. He slashed again and again, keeping his own rhythm, a high, whistling loop from left to right, right to left. Long red stripes patterned the buck’s body. Its eyes rolled blankly to the sky; a mouth opened to cry out, but nothing came.
Long after it was dead, Klu kept the carcass hopping about in the dirt—catching an arm or a leg in his thongs, faster and faster all the time, until the whip near disappeared and it looked like the dead thing was crawling bloodily across the ground on its own. Then, as quickly as it started it was over, and Klu and Jigger cut a dusty path back through the herd.
Other creatures passed the body, looked at it vacantly and moved on. A few tried to reach down and dip their fingers in fresh blood, but a driver steered them away. Soon, a butcher from the back of the herd pulled up with his cart and helper to slit the buck’s throat and bleed him. The helper tossed him in the cart and the two pulled the meat away; a red trail followed the rattling wheels back to the rear.
Cory sat his horse and studied the situation thoughtfully. “There wasn’t no call for that,” he said flatly. “Just pure meanness, and waste. A dead stud ain’t good for nothing. Tougher’n hell to chew, and he sure isn’t goin’ to breed no more.” He looked straight at Howie. “You asked, Burt, and I’ll tell you I heard some about Pardo all right, but no more’n you hear about a lot of fellers.” He glanced back at the herd. “Don’t guess you need to hear much, though, seein’ what he runs with… .”
Chapter Eighteen
When the Big River was four days behind, even Cory had to admit there was some good to be said for working. If nothing else, it kept you clear of Pardo. That was something worth doing, and more than one driver learned the truth of this, the hard way.
What the trail leader had in mind was anyone’s guess. And if you thought you had him figured, ten minutes later you were guessing again. The first day out he kept the herd going so fast drivers and animals alike were dragging belly by noon. Then, he’d slow to a snail’s pace and break every hour or so. Or he’d drive everyone to exhaustion for the next eighteen hours and give ’ern two to rest up.
If you had complaints or suggestions you mostly saw Klu and Jigger; Pardo had cut himself off from nearly everyone else. Even old Jess, who still seemed to respect Pardo in spite of their differences, was hard pressed to get along with him now.
“It just appears to me we’d fare better,” he explained patiently, “if we kept movin’ at a
Pardo eyed him like he’d crawled out from under something. “It does, does it? Well, it don’t to me.”
Jess tried to swallow his irritation. “This ain’t my first drive, you know,” he said darkly.
“I been out once or twice before.”
“Figured you had,” Pardo said absently.
“Well, you’d best figure on it good,” Jess flushed, “’cause if you haven’t got some reason for what you’re doing…”
“You’ll what, Jess? Get yourself a new driver?” “By God, that ain’t impossible!” Jess fumed.
“It ain’t likely, neither.”
Jess studied him curiously, like he was trying to read what might be going on in Pardo’s head. All the anger was out of him, now. He simply wanted to know what in all Hell might be going on, and why.
“I guess maybe I better talk to the rest of the owners,” he said plainly, “arid get back to you. We’re going to have some answers, Pardo. You might as well figure on that.” He walked away, feeling the younger man’s eyes looking after him.
Not more than an hour later Pardo rode up to him grinning, like nothing had happened between them. “I guess I got off wrong back there, Jess,” he said. “There’s a couple of things you ain’t thinking on, and maybe I should’ve gone into ’em some.”
“Might be you should have,” Jess agreed.
Pardo bit a corner of his beard and looked at the ground. “I don’t mean to offend none, Jess, but it doesn’t matter much how many
“I know what it means.”
“Uhuh.” Pardo squinted at the sun, so all the color went out of his eyes. “Well ain’t real sure you do. ’Cause when you raised all Hell back there about stoppin’ and startin’ and going this way and that I seen real clear you ain’t got much of a head for army thinking.”
Jess’ brow clouded. He shifted on his mount impatiently. “Pardo, just git on with whatever it is you’re trying to say.”
“What we’re trying to do,” said Pardo, “is get from one place to another without meeting Lathan in the middle. Only you’re forgettin’ Lathan wants this here meat pretty bad an’ is willing to go some to get it. He knows exactly where we started from, Jess, where we’re going, and how long it takes to get there. And if we git there your way, he’s going to be
The old man looked down his chin and swept the hand off his jacket. “All right. I see what you’re gettin’ at. Only…”
“Only I don’t figure on being where Lathan wants us to be. Where we’ll be is ahead—or behind—the spot he’s got in mind.”
“Which?”
Pardo grinned sheepishly. “Now that I ain’t saying. There’s too many long ears and noses in this drive for my liking.”
Jess frowned. “You think we got spies?”
Pardo let out a breath. “’Course we do, Jess. You think Lathan ain’t covering ever’ bet he’s got down?”
“Well it ain’t me!” Jess snapped. “So you can damn well tell me what you got in mind!”
“I will,” Pardo said soberly. He jerked his reins and let his mount skitter away. “Right soon, Jess.”
Jess bit off words after him, but Pardo pretended not to hear.
Jess kept grumbling, but mostly to himself. And while he didn’t feel much better after Pardo’s explanation, he decided there wasn’t any use talking about it, either. They were a week into the drive and, whether he liked it or not, they were committed to Pardo’s erratic plan. It was too late now to get the herd moving at a regular pace. And, he told himself, if Pardo irritated the Hell out of him, what of it? They’d hired him because he had a name for outslicking greased eels. If they’d wanted a polite-talking storekeeper, why, they should have got one sooner. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too long before they met the army’s troopers coming out of Badlands. Jess decided he’d feel a lot better when that happened.
At dawn the next morning a driver came in fast from the south. He announced that the lower herd was turning to join them as quick as they could. That farmers along the way said Lathan had troopers thick as flies nosing through the hills there.
And that, Jess told himself sourly, is all the Hell we need.
Pardo seemed to take the news in stride. “It’s your meat, not mine,” he told Jess and the owners. “Maybe
