at patching up wounds and he made a poultice of herbs of some kind which he packed on my shoulder. He cleaned the wound by running an arrow shaft through with a cloth soaked in whiskey, and if you think that's entertainment, you just try it on for size.
On the fifth day I was back in the saddle but I fought shy of Sate, reckoning he'd be too much for me, feeling like I was. So I worked Dapple and Buck to a frazzle, and ended up riding Montana horse who was turning into a real cow horse.
This was rougher country than before. We combed the breaks and drifted the cattle into a rough corral. It was hot, rough, cussing work, believe you me.
Here and there we found some branded stock, stuff that had stampeded from trail herds further east, or been driven off by Indians.
'Maybe we should try Abilene this time,' I suggested to the others. 'The price would be better. We just happened to be lucky in Santa Fe.'
Seven hundred head of cattle was what we started out with, and seven hundred head can be handled by four men if they work like dogs and are passing lucky.
As before, we let them graze as they moved. What we wanted was fat cattle at selling time. In that box canyon they had steadied down a good bit with plenty of water and grass and nothing much to do but eat and lie around.
First night out from the Purgatoire we bedded down after a long drive with the cattle mighty tired. After awhile Orrin stopped near me.
'Tyrel, I sure wish you and Laura cottoned to each other more'n you do.'
'If you like her, Orrin, that's what matters. I can't be no different than I am, and something about her doesn't ring true. Orrin, the way I see it, you'd always play second fiddle to her old man.'
'That's not true,' He said, but there wasn't much force in it.
After awhile we met again and stopped together. 'Ma's not getting younger,' he said, 'and we've been gone a year.'
A coyote made talk to the stars, but nothing else seemed to be stirring.
'If we sell this herd we'll have more money than any Sackett ever heard of, and I figure we should buy ourselves an outfit and start ranching. Then we ought to get some book learning. Especially you, Orrin. You could make a name for yourself.'
Orrin's thoughts were afar off for a minute or two, gathering dreams somewhere along tomorrow's road. 'I've had it in mind,' he said finally.
'You've a talking way with you, Orrin. You could be governor.'
'I haven't the book learning.'
'Davy Crockett went to Congress. Andrew Johnson was taught to read and write by his wife. I figure we can get the book learning. Hell, man, if youngsters can learn we should be able to throw it and hog-tie it. I figure you should study law. You've got a winning way with that Welsh tongue of yours.'
We drove through Dodge on to Abilene, and that town had spread itself all over the prairie, with saloons side by each, all of them going twenty-four hours to the day, and packed most of the time.
Everywhere a man looked around the town there were herds of Texas cattle. 'We came to the wrong market,' Cap said dourly, 'we should have sold out in Dodge.'
We swung the herd into a tight circle and saw several riders coming toward us.
Two of them looked like buyers and the other two looked like trouble. Orrin did his talking to the first two, Charlie English and Rosie Rosenbaum. Rosenbaum was a stocky man with mild blue eyes, and I could tell by the way he was sizing up our cattle that he knew beef.
'How many head have you got?' he asked Orrin.
'Seven hundred and forty, as of last night,' Orrin said, 'and we want a fast deal.'
The other two had been studying our herd and sizing us up.
'I should think you would,' one of them said, 'those are stolen cattle.'
Orrin just looked at him. 'My name is Orrin Sackett, and I never stole anything in my life.' He paused. 'And I never had anything stolen from me, either.'
The man's face shadowed. 'You've got Two-Bar cattle in that herd,' he said, 'and I'm Ernie Webb, foreman of the Two-Bar.'
'There are Two-Bar cows in that herd, and we rounded them up in the Colorado country along with a lot of wild cattle. If you want to claim them get your boss and we'll talk a deal, but he'll pay for the rounding up and driving.'
'I don't need the boss,' Webb replied, 'I handle my own trouble.'
'Now see here,' Rosenbaum interfered quietly. 'There's no need for this. Sackett is reasonable enough. Get your boss and when the matter is settled, I'll buy.'
'You stay out of this.' Webb was staring at Orrin, a trouble-hunting look on his face. 'This is a rustled herd and we're taking it over.'
Several rough-looking riders had been drifting closer, very casually. I knew a box play when I saw one. Where I was sitting Webb and his partner couldn't see me because Sunday was between us. They'd never seen Orrin before but they'd both seen me that day on the plains of east Kansas.
'Cap,' I said, 'if they want it, let's let them have it.'
'Tom,' I wheeled my horse around Sunday which allowed me to flank Webb and his partner, 'this man may have been foreman for Two-Bar once, but he also rode with Back Rand.'
Cap had stepped down from his saddle and had his horse between himself on the oncoming riders, his rifle across his saddle. 'You boys can buy the herd,' Cap said, 'but you'll buy it the hard way.'
The riders drew up.
Rosenbaum was waiting right in the middle of where a lot of lead could be flying but there wasn't a quiver in him. For a man with no stake in the deal, he had nerve.
Webb had turned to look at me, and Orrin went on like he hadn't been interrupted. 'Mr. Rosenbaum, you buy these cattle and keep track of any odd brands you find. I think they'll check with those in our tally books, and we'll post bond for their value and settle with any legitimate claimant but nobody is taking any cattle from us.'
Ernie Webb had it all laid out for him nice and pretty, and it was his turn to call the tune. If he wanted to sashay around a bit he had picked himself four men who could step to the music.
'It's that loudmouth kid,' Webb said, 'somebody will beat it out of him someday, and then rub his nose in it.'
'You try,' Orrin invited. 'You can have any one of us, but that kid will blow you loose from your saddle.'
We sold out for thirty-two dollars a head, and Rosenbaum admitted it was some of the fattest stock brought into Abilene that year. Our herd had grazed over country no other herds travelled and with plenty of water. We'd made our second lucky drive and each of us had a notion we'd played out our luck.
When we got our cash we slicked out in black broadcloth suits, white shirts, and new hats. We were more than satisfied and didn't figure to do any better than what we had.
Big John Ryan showed up to talk cattle. 'This the Sackett outfit?'
'We're it.'
'Hear you had Tumblin' R stock in your herd?'
'Yes, sir. Sit down, will you?' Orrin told him about it. 'Seven head, including a brindle steer with a busted horn.'
'That old devil still alive? Nigh cost me the herd a few times and if I'd caught him I'd have shot him. Stampede at the drop of a hat and take a herd with him.'
'You've got money coming, Mr. Ryan. At thirty-two dollars a head we figure--'
'Forget it. Hell ... anybody with gumption enough to round up those cows and drive them over here from Colorado is entitled to them. Besides, I just sold two herds of nearly six thousand head ... seven head aren't going to break me.'
He ordered a drink. 'Fact is, I'd like to talk to you boys about handling my herd across the Bozeman Trail.'
Orrin looked at me. 'Tom Sunday is the best cattleman among us. Orrin and me, we want to find a place of our own.'
