Clash of Mountains Read online

  “Ain’t that what I’m doin’ now?” she asked. He put out an arm.

  “Come sit with me.”

  She raised an eyebrow, ornery in an impulsive way.

  “You know I don’t fit there under your arm, right?” she asked.

  “You do if you lean down,” he said, giving her an exasperated look.

  “Thomas told me he met Rhoda when her girlfriend brought her as an offering to try to get into your bed,” Sarah said. He shrugged, letting his arm drop.

  “If she says so, it’s probably true.”

  He didn’t look away. He was still with her. She hadn’t broken it, and she pondered if she wanted to.

  “Sometimes I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough for me, just bein’ the last one,” she said.

  “I don’t have anything else to offer you,” he said. “I never hid it.”

  They sat, waiting for one of them to decide what would happen next, when he turned his hand over, offering her the cigarette back again. She nodded, sliding over and down, letting her arm fall across his waist and putting her face up to his hand to take the cigarette. His clothing was hot to the touch, as was his skin where the firelight could reach it. His fingers were light on her shoulder as she put her face against his chest.

  Smelled the scent of him, four days out on a ride, horse and woodsmoke and leather and burnt gremlin, but himself, too, something she’d recognize anywhere, with her eyes closed.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  --------

  They slept through dawn.

  She hadn’t made a meal for them until hours after dark, as the fire finally started to settle down and burn right. She’d had to go get more water, because too much of it had cooked off, and they’d sat with their bowls, drinking stew as they leaned against the tree. He’d been content to sleep like that, but she’d brought over the bedrolls and the horseblankets and she’d built them a proper bed, for what it were, face to face, elbow to elbow, knee to knee, his hand on her hip. They’d talked.

  Sometimes it just came easy.

  Sarah finally roused at Dog’s insistence as the sun edged its way up overhead, diggin’ jerky out of a saddle bag and throwing it to get him to leave them for a moment, more, then gettin’ up and rousin’ the fire from ember, lookin’ ‘round for Jimmy’s stash ‘a wood.

  “You burnt all of it?” she asked as he sat up and rubbed his face.

  “Was I not supposed to?” he asked through a yawn, flashing her a wide grin as he stood and started packing things to head out again.

  “You want your hardtack breakfast, you save enough wood to cook it,” she said. “Else you’re just eatin’ solid lard and flour.”

  “You make it sound so appetizing,” he answered, lifting his head to whistle for Flower. Sarah was shocked when the white stallion appeared through the trees, picking his way slow enough to graze as he came, but comin’ all the same.

  She went out into the woods, findin’ a downed limb big enough to be dry in the middle and brought it back, crackin’ it over her knee and feedin’ to the embers and then kneelin’ to blow them back to flame. Wood were too wet - woulda been bone dry, if it had been sittin’ next to the fire last night - but it eventually caught, sending up a cloud of smoke that she shifted to get around. She set the pan out with the lard in it to melt, goin’ back to her saddle bags to get flour and stirrin’ that in with a spoon as the lard heated. Pan started to sizzle pretty good as she formed the biscuits, flippin’ ‘em with the spoon and slidin’ ‘em out of the pan onto quick fingers, handin’ one off to Jimmy as she ate her breakfast.

  She whistled Dog in again as Jimmy packed up the last of camp, then walked out to where the cows were stirred and ready, findin’ Gremlin with ‘em for company. She grabbed Gremlin and took him back to camp to load him up, and then they were movin’ again, chewin’ jerky as she rode. Rations were lookin’ fine without a need to hunt up food, and the cows were in good health for the trip in.

  A good trek, in all.

  They let the cows drink a fill ‘fore they crossed to the dry side of the mountains, goin’ round and over the last pass to the plain and stoppin’ short.

  Normal day, you could see more miles ‘n you could count, from here, but not today.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sandstorm from up this high,” Jimmy said. “I never knew how tall they were.”

  Sarah nodded, watchin’ the cows mull as Dog held ‘em up, waitin’ on a signal from Sarah.

  “Could go through the range,” she said, “but ain’t gonna save us much time, all told. I’d just head back up and wait it out.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” Jimmy said. She looked at the cows with a careful eye and shook her head.

  “Ain’t got many days left, none of ‘em,” she said. “Waited too long as it is.”

  “We were busy,” Jimmy said. “We’ll get ‘em in.”

  She nodded, not so much as agreein’ as not arguin’, then gave Dog a short whistle, lookin’ back over her shoulder at the sand swirling up dozens of feet in the air over the flats, headed for Lawrence. A strong gust of wind tore through the pass and moments later the storm shifted, twistin’ round and spinnin’ cyclones of dust into the air. Sarah pushed her hair back over her shoulder, then whistled again, pointin’ Dog back the way they came.

  Eight years of long, slow time, and now there weren’t never enough time to go ‘round. She realized she shoulda seen it before: Jimmy’d already brought Intec to Lawrence. Pace ‘a life had picked up the likes ‘a which Lawrence hadn’t known, to Sarah’s memory.

  Maybe Lawrence were already gone, and she was just gonna be the last to know about it.

  She watched Jimmy’s back, ahead of her, and nodded to herself.

  Well, that were the way of things. No sense in fightin’ it from horseback here, now. Best she were ever gonna do was finishin’ the thing she had in front of her, now, then lookin’ forward to the next. No point lookin’ back or missin’ out what might ‘a been.

  --------

  They stayed close to the water line, up higher than the cows woulda liked, but with a stream to drink out of and a small stand of trees for shelter at night, if they wanted it. Fine grazing, and closest Sarah was gonna get, for the ride out to check the progress of the storm. Could be a day, could be a week, just no tellin’.

  “This is how it went, last year,” Jimmy said, reclining against his saddle as she ported up an armload ‘a wood. “Caught out in a sandstorm.”

  “Last year, it caught me by surprise,” Sarah said. “I ain’t never got stuck underground like that, before, and I reckon I won’t again.”

  Taking the cows back up to graze, they’d been out on the plain when a storm this size had gone through, forcing them for days into a cave they’d dug as children. They’d had supplies enough, but they’d nearly gotten buried in.

  She took the afternoon to look over the cows more carefully, Dog splittin’ ‘em off on their own one at a time and Sarah gettin’ a rope on ‘em. Cows weren’t much trouble; they weren’t in no mood to fight her off or dodge about a bunch, but the pair ‘a heifers and the feeder made a game of it, shakin’ their heads at her and kickin’ out. Bull weren’t a joke and when she got to him, she took out her bull whip for him.

  Startin’ with the cows, Jimmy held the line while Sarah went to check each animal, goin’ over legs and listenin’ to their bellies. Calves were active and healthy and the cows looked good. Sarah mixed up a salve for one of ‘em what’d got gouged on a stick or a rock, recent, just a wet spot of blood on her side where the flesh had cut through, but weren’t nothin’ for an animal what was used to livin’ up here like this. Just somethin’ to do.

  One ‘a the heifers had a hot spot in a hind hoof, mark of an infection, and Sarah took an hour to carve open the hoof and let it drain, then packin’ it in and bindin’ it. Was a small thing, but Sarah were glad to catch it ‘fore they went across the plain. Heifer didn’t seem to mind it much, either way, once she
had Jimmy sittin’ on the other end of the rope to keep her calm.

  Lettin’ the feeder off the rope, Sarah went to her saddle, pullin’ the bullwhip off the pommel and tossin’ it out to length.

  “When was the last time you worked a bull?” she asked Jimmy.

  “Teenager,” Jimmy answered. She nodded.

  “You reckon you still got the touch?” she asked.

  “Big angry animal who’s going to try to put a hole in me, if I get careless?” Jimmy asked. “Go ahead.”

  She whistled at Dog and he went diving into the trees. Sarah waited, the whip trailing on the ground off to her side and the rope coiled and draped on her shoulder. There was a bellow, and the trees shook. She glanced at Jimmy, who was alert but relaxed. There was more grunting, and Dog barked twice, then the bull came running, halfway to sideways, out of the trees, lookin’ outrage back at Dog, who followed at a full-speed crawl. Sarah rustled the whip through the grass, feelin’ the weight of it as the bull charged up the hill toward her, still more concerned with Dog than with her. Dog stayed low, growlin’ and talkin’ at the bull, fast in any direction he wanted as the bull feinted back at ‘im, now threatenin’ with his horns, now goin’ as to kick. Sarah took one more step away from Jimmy, lettin’ the rope slide down her arm to land in her hand and drawin’ the whip back.

  Dog pushed the bull up into range and Sarah cracked the whip, not touchin’ flesh, but cuttin’ the air and leavin’ the tip of the whip close enough for the bull to know it was there.

  He turned at her, lowerin’ his head and grunting. Dog were a nuisance, and one the bull’d like to get a foot on, one ‘a these days, but Sarah were the real nemesis. Hand-raised bull, one what was kept in a barn his whole life and fed dried hay, he’d still try to push you around, on account of him reckoning he were the biggest and most powerful thing he knew of. Wild-run bull like this one, much as Sarah valued him and respected him, only reason he weren’t huntin’ you, active, were cause he didn’t like the taste of meat.

  He turned his head to the side, just a touch, to get a clean look at her, and she rustled the whip again as Dog worried at the bull’s side, keepin’ his attention split.

  There was a low grunt and he dove forward, one giant push from his hindquarters and front legs that only just caught him ‘fore his chest hit the ground, he rocked up and over his forelegs, hindquarters closing in to the forelegs, standing to gallop in a single stride. Sarah cracked the whip, hittin’ him solid with it, but not with the force to split flesh.

  Not yet.

  She’d defend herself if she had to, but this were just still talkin’. He edged off to the side, away from the sting, shoulders poppin’ up as he changed direction, eye watchin’ her for an opening. She rustled the whip again, turnin’ to keep her shoulders facin’ him.

  Bull went ‘tween Jimmy and Sarah, buckin’ out at Jimmy as he went through, and Jimmy took a half step back, head up, just watchin’. Sarah cracked the whip at air again, drawin’ the bull’s head in toward her, and he rounded, front legs hoppin’ as he turned hard, droppin’ his head at her again. She sifted the rope through her fingers, findin’ the knot in it and the loop she’d throw over his head once she thought he were ready to be held. Dog kept pushin’, drivin’ the bull sideways in a circle around Sarah, and the bull charged her twice more, takin’ the whip each time as enough to keep him off. Once more he charged, and she stepped aside, lettin’ him through under her arm. She dropped the rope around his neck as he came, grabbin’ behind the knot as he went and pullin’ it snug, then lettin’ the rope feed through her leather glove as he turned, shakin’ his head in fury as Dog kept on the press.

  Jimmy was next to her, now, takin’ the rope into two gloved hands and settin’ his weight against it as Sarah took one step away. Dog’s pitch went up, and the bull turned his head to Dog, chargin’ hard as Dog backed just as fast, belly just an inch off the ground. Sarah stepped with Jimmy as he got pulled along, and she raised the whip, crackin’ it just for the noise.

  The bull turned in toward her again and she rustled the whip harder, off to the side where he’d see it, taking one more step away from Jimmy. The bull feigned an attack and she cracked him, leavin’ a white spot on his shoulder where she took the fur off ‘im, and he bucked, jerkin Jimmy forward half a step. She walked with Jimmy as Dog went ‘round, nippin’ at the bull’s hind knees and retreatin’ just as fast. The bull shook his head, pullin’ Jimmy up another step, and Sarah cracked him again as Dog worried him some more. A short jog sideways, and the bull turned his attention back to Dog, goin’ face to face with the smaller animal. Sarah gave Jimmy a look and he nodded. She started up along the taut rope, just restin’ her hand on it to feel the bull move if he did. Bull’s body was on the other side ‘a the rope, and Dog lay flat, still ready to move if he needed to, but letting the pressure on the bull go slack just enough for Sarah to get close.

  In the same moment, the bull dropped the tension ‘tween his body and the ground, standin’ natural as Sarah got closer.

  Sure, he’d still gore her if she got casual, but she ducked under the rope as Jimmy walked a slow arc around behind her, moving to be in front of the bull instead of alongside him. She put a hand out, straight-armed, and touched the bull’s shoulder, lettin’ him know she were there and gonna work him over a bit. He shifted, lookin’ back at her, and Jimmy held the rope firm. Dog edged, but the bull let his head drop a fraction, not submission, but relaxed. She didn’t worry him none. She ran her ungloved hand down his leg, pullin’ her glove off and shovin’ it into her pocket to feel his hoof with her thumb. He weren’t like to let her pick up his feet and look at ‘em, like the cows had done, but that were his right. He weighed most ‘a twenty-five hundred pounds, and he took good care ‘a his herd. He were allowed to live on his own rules. She found knobs under his skin, normal-type growths a cow’d get at this age, but weren’t nothin’ wrong with him anywhere she could find.

  She slid a pair ‘a fingers under the rope, lookin’ a glance up at Jimmy and he let the rope play out as she pulled. Rope slid well enough along itself - designed just so - and she stepped out away from the bull, toward the front, where Dog were up on his paws again, teeth showin’. Bull weren’t interested in more to-do with any of ‘em, and shook his head, givin’ ‘em one final snort and then headin’ off toward the trees and the herd again. Sarah reached into her pocket, findin’ a strip ‘a jerky and tossin’ it to Dog.

  She looked to Jimmy as he wound the rope again, and she nodded.

  “Not bad, for a city boy,” she said.

  “Can’t imagine you up here doing that by yourself,” he answered, and she gave him a shrug and nothin’ more. “Everything look okay?”

  “He’s a good bull,” Sarah said, “but he ain’t got more’n another year or two in ‘im ‘fore I’ll make him into leather. I’ll trade for someone else’s feeders this year and see which of ‘em look to be the best to replace ‘im.”

  Jimmy handed her the rope and she looped it tighter, then started for the spot where they’d set their camp, bucklin’ the rope into the saddle.

  “You going to grow out the herd any?” Jimmy asked as she settled in against the saddle and crossed her legs.

  “Will some,” Sarah said. “More space and more hands means I can, but it means more meat every year, and while I got no issue sellin’ jerky to Granger every year, it ain’t like I need the money. Just doin’ it for pride.”

  “And tradition,” Jimmy said, lowering himself onto the ground next to his own saddle.

  “You’re movin’ like an old man,” Sarah observed. He glanced over.

  “I’m not going to lie and say I won’t appreciate a down day,” he answered. She shook her head, grabbin’ Gremlin’s reins from off of the bridle strung over his saddle and startin’ to unwind ‘em. Time on time, it were worth rebraidin’ the whole thing, swappin’ out the leathers what lived out their course. She’d go through the rest of his tack today, piece by piece, then she’d take
apart her guns and clean ‘em, what she could with what she’d packed, and then she’d go through her saddlebags bit by bit, check out what needed replaced or replenished. Weren’t no such thing as a day off, in Lawrence. Not when you depended on the work you done yesterday for survival today. Jimmy watched her, then nodded, takin’ Flower’s reins likewise.

  “Haven’t done this in forever,” he said.

  “Betcha it don’t come back like holdin’ a bull,” Sarah said. He smiled without lookin’.

  “Bet you’re right,” he answered, playin’ through the loose ends of the leather braid and workin’ out how it were done.

  Halfway through the afternoon, Sarah saw one of the cows wanderin’ up through the grass and she lifted her head to watch.

  “Dammit,” she said, standing. Jimmy looked over.

  “You just checked her,” he said.

  “She’s gone into labor,” Sarah said. “Or she’s gonna, soon.”

  He stood up and came over next to her, watchin’ as the cow picked her way through the knee-high grass ‘thout touchin’ none of it.

  “Well,” Sarah said. “Better up here than out in the middle ‘a the plain, s’pose. Get the cook-pot full ‘a water and get it boilin’.”

  “You expect problems?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, “but this’d be just the place they’re like to happen.”

  He nodded and headed off. Sarah shook her head, goin’ down to the cow and checkin’ her. She were early, but she were one ‘a Sarah’s most experienced cows. Wouldn’t be more’n a few hours ‘fore she’d drop her calf.

  Sarah found a dried root in her pocket, good stew-fodder, and she fed it to the animal, takin’ a hand under her jaw and leadin’ her up toward the fire. Dog lifted his head, but Sarah waved him back down. He wouldn’t do nothin’ but harm at this point. Worst thing to do with a cow in labor was upset ‘em. Like to take off runnin’ and not stop ‘till the labor put ‘em down, and that were a terrible way to try to deliver a calf. Good way to end up with a tangled pile ‘a nothin’ but meat.