Dag didn’t reply. He caught up his horse and stepped into the saddle, but he didn’t move. He looked back down the trail from where they had come and scanned the sky. There wasn’t a speck of dust, just an emptiness that was like the hollow in the pit of his stomach.
No sign of Matlee and his hands.
Dag tilted his head and marked the passage of the sun in its arc. It was well past noon, well past the time when Matlee should have rejoined the drive.
He turned back and clucked to Nero. He tapped the horse in the flanks with his spurs and they were moving. He passed the chuck wagon and waved without looking at either Jo or Fingers. Then he started circling the tail end of the herd, heading for the right flank.
He felt the weight of all that was on his mind and wondered if he was making the right decision. He couldn’t go back now. Deutsch would foreclose on him if he didn’t come up with the money to pay off the mortgage and he’d wind up with nothing. Nothing at all.
And now another worry.
Where in hell was Barry Matlee?
Chapter 11
The drive continued along Palo Duro Canyon. Horton and the others brought in small bunches of cattle, but the herd never stopped. Fingers kept a fire going in a large iron bowl, and when it came time for branding, Jo gathered firewood, and Cavins brought out the irons. It was hot and dusty, and the hands rode through rugged country with little water. Finally, by midafternoon, Dag turned in the saddle and saw a cloud of dust to the south. He switched with Chavez and rode drag, falling farther behind as the dust cloud drew closer.
“Jimmy,” Dag called, when he could make out the pinpoint silhouettes of riders and horses far to the right, “ride up and tell Jubal to turn the herd in. I think I see Matlee comin’.”
Gough stopped the remuda and told Little Jake to hold them up while he rode to the front of the herd.
“Close ’em in, Manny,” Dag yelled. “Bunch ’em up. We’re going to call a halt for a while.”
Chavez started compacting the herd, but he did it slowly and carefully so that the cows wouldn’t be alarmed. Gradually, the rear of the herd began to slow even more and the cattle grazed contentedly under the watchful eyes of the outriders.
Several minutes later, Barry Matlee rode up, followed by his hands and their remuda. The cloud of dust thinned and evaporated. The horses were starting to lather, Dag noticed.
“Where in hell have you been, Barry?” Dag pulled his hat off and wiped his sweaty forehead. “You had me plumb worried.”
By that time, Flagg was riding up at a gallop, wondering why Dag had sent Jimmy up to call a halt to the drive.
Matlee waited until Flagg joined them before he answered Dag’s question. “Hellfire, Dag, that damned Deuce played hob with us right off this mornin’. Wouldn’t let us ride acrost his land. I mean he put guns out to stop us doin’ what we’ve always done.”
Matlee unleashed his canteen and drank several swallows. His shirt was plastered to his chest with sweat and his face tracked with grime. He looked tired, and so did his men, who were dismounting and leading horses over to Jimmy and the remuda.
“I thought Deuce was going to head out himself,” Dag said. “He’s taking his sweet time.”
“Oh, he’s made the gather, all right,” Matlee said, as he corked his canteen. Water sloshed in it as Matlee slung it over his saddle horn. “But he and his men blocked us every time we tried to cut a corner or cross a creek that ran across his spread. I mean, those boys were downright belligerent.”
“You were threatened?” Flagg asked.
“Yep, his segundo told us he’d shoot the first man who trespassed.”
“Any shots fired?” Dag asked.
“Several. Deuce has a bunch of trigger-happy gunmen on his payroll. They shot at the ground, but they shot real close too.”
“Son of a bitch,” Dag swore. “Well, Deuce is mad that Flagg hired two of his top hands. He’s carrying a grudge against me.”
“Meanness don’t grow overnight,” Flagg said. “Deuce was born plumb mean. He’s just got himself an excuse now to practice it on y’all.”
“It doesn’t take a big man to carry a grudge,” Dag said. “Deuce is a pretty small man to pull iron on you and your boys, Barry.”
“Well, here we are,” Matlee said. “Finally. We ain’t et nothin’ but dust for fifteen miles or better and I feel like I been in a horse stall gettin’ kicked to death.”
Dag laughed dryly. “Go on up and talk to Fingers, Barry. Maybe he can give you some hardtack and bacon. We’re stopped for now, but we’ll be movin’ on till nearbout nightfall. Right, Jubal?”
“We should make the ground while we can, Dag. This is the easy part. We’ve got rivers to cross and maybe hostiles waitin’ up ahead.”
“Oh shit,” Matlee said.
Dag stifled a chuckle, but Flagg’s face hardened to a bronzed mask.
“This ain’t no Sunday buggy ride, Matlee,” Flagg said. He turned his horse and rode back up to the head of the herd.
“Dag, why in hell did you hire Flagg to be trail boss? He’s meaner’n Deuce.”
“Wait’ll you count head, Barry. Flagg’s building our herd as we go.”
“How many men has he kilt so far?”
“Take it easy, Barry. Flagg will grow on you.”
“Yeah, like a hairshirt.”
“You’re worn down to a nub, Barry. Go tell Fingers to get you some coffee and vittles. You join up with us when you feel better.”
“Yeah, I got me something in my craw, all right: that damned Deuce. And now I got to deal with Jubal Flagg.”
Dag let it go. He rode back and relieved Chavez, who took the drag. Dag started the cattle moving, got the ones up that had folded up their legs to rest under the blazing sun. He sighed with something resembling relief.
At least Matlee and his men were now with them. That gave them more strength for the perils they might face in the coming days. He was perturbed that Matlee didn’t like Flagg but he understood the other man’s feelings. Flagg was not an easy man to like.
The herd roamed on at its slow pace as Horton and the other riders continued to lead or drive stray cattle to the chuck wagon, where Cavins and others branded the unmarked outlaws.
“I’d like to get in on that,” Matlee told Dag as they were riding flank together after helping rope and hogtie cattle so that Cavins could mark them with the hot irons.
“What’s that?”
“Send some of my hands out to bring in strays.”
“Do you have any hands who can beat the brush and bring in thirty or forty head?”
“Sure, Doug Hazlett, Billy Lee Grant, and some others, like Tommy Colgan.”
“Better check with Flagg. He took some of my men out and trained them the first night and then those boys taught others how to do an outlaw roundup.”
“I’ll do that. I notice all the stray ones are wearing D Slash brands. I’d like to see some Box Ms in the herd.”
Dag smiled to show Barry that he wasn’t trying to cheat him.
“That’s how we’re going to come up to our quota, Barry. You go right ahead. In fact, if you want, we can just let all the boys we don’t need to tend herd go out and split it down the middle.”
“Naw, Dag, that wouldn’t be right. We’ll get our cattle and your boys can get yours.”
“Fair enough,” Dag said. “I just don’t want no fights to break out.”
