White Moon Rising Page 24

  Chapter Thirty

  Ahead of the herd and with the sun rising toward its overhead peak, Cap pulled up at the banks of the Red River. The sluggish water was thick with red clay, the reason for its name. He sighed. They’d been on the trail for three weeks and still hadn’t left Texas, and wouldn’t until they crossed the river.

  They’d crossed the Colorado, both forks of the Brazos River and the Clear Fork of the Brazos. As he looked over the river, he smiled when he remembered the crossing of the Colorado. Berta had ridden forward with him and wondered if the cows could swim.

  He’d chuckled. “Like sea lions,” he said.

  As the longhorns went into the water, Berta asked, “What do you mean?”

  The longhorns looked strange in the water. The muddy water hid all of their big bodies except their heads and the sweeping rack of horns.

  “Texas has a cattleman by the name of Shanghai Pierce. He was one of the first in Texas to drive cows. He called them sea lions. “I’ve been told, except for the horns, they look like sea lions when swimming.”

  She nodded. “I’ve never seen a sea lion, but they seem to swim like fish.”

  Now, taking his hat and bandana off, he attempted to swipe away the dirt, but all he did was move it around. His head where his hat sat, and the lower half of his face, were the only parts of him not covered in dirt.

  Cap dismounted and let the horse drink as he dipped his hat in the water and then poured it over his head. The warm water soothed as it ran over his clothes.

  Kneeling beside the water, he sucked in a breath laden with fish. As bad as the odor was, at that moment it was better than dust clogging his nostrils. Cap drank some of the water, dipped one more hat full, and poured it over his head.

  Reluctantly he stood and led the horse up the bank on the Texas side overlooking the river. Looking all around, all he could see was prairie. He wanted to cross at Doan’s Crossing because it would give him a chance to buy supplies. He’d bypassed Fort Griffin on purpose because the place was usually full of troublemakers, and they were high on the things they sold.

  He wasn’t exactly sure if they should go east or west to hit Doan’s, but usually people and cows, too, had a tendency to drift to the right and that would be east.

  As he put the bandana he’d washed out, back on, he chuckled. The thing was almost dry. He glanced up at the sun and blew out a breath. It was hot enough to fry eggs on a rock and it wasn’t even noon.

  At a canter, he angled his horse back towards the herd. He needed to reach the cows and guide them west before they could smell the water. Once they had, there would be no turning them away.

  An hour later, he spotted the herd ambling toward him. Slightly ahead of the cows and off to the right, a man sat his horse waiting for Cap. He couldn’t tell who it was because the dirt made them all look the same. It wasn’t until Johnny Meadows took his hat off, revealing the bright red hair, that Cap recognized his foreman.

  Pulling up, Cap pointed back the way he’d come. “The river’s four hours that way, but I couldn’t see Doan’s.”

  “You reckon we drifted too fur east?” Johnny croaked out.

  “Yeah, but podnar, I’d hate to turn west and find out I’m wrong. Those cows ain’t going to want to go back the way they just come from.”

  Johnny glanced at Cap’s horse. “That hoss of yours is done in. Why don’t you turn them west and I’ll take a look that way?”

  They turned the cows and an hour later, Johnny loped back. He’d spotted the buildings that had become known as Doan’s Crossing in the distance.

  As places go, Doan’s wasn’t much—new and raw, but James Doan had built his trading post on the best place on the river to cross and sold goods to the cattlemen on drives.

  Cap had rested the herd and men for two days at Doan’s. The cows feasted on the rich grass along the river and the men rested.

  Berta took the time to clean and mend clothes for not only herself and Cap, but the men, too. At the beginning, Cap had worried about the hardships of the drive she would have to endure. After so much time on the trail, he now figured she was holding up as well or better than the men. She helped the cook clean up. He wouldn’t allow her anywhere near to prepare food. She sewed for everyone.

  The biggest problem Cap had found was when they had sick or injured men. Berta would help Flapjack take care of them. Because she tended them, and in some cases held their hand while Flapjack administered to them, they didn’t seem to heal or get better as quickly.

  It wasn’t long until Cap put a stop to her helping Flapjack doctor the men, and miraculously, they seemed to get back to work faster.

  The drive from San Antone to the Red was tedious. The rolling prairie seemed endless and monotony set in. Although dangers existed in cattle drives, it faded in the men’s minds. One day was little different from another: up at dawn and a quick meal at dark and fall exhausted into their bedrolls at night.

  When they crossed the Red, everything changed. People called the land between Texas and Kansas Indian Territory, but most people referred to it as outlaw heaven. Every kind of thief and cutthroat known would at one time or another find residence in the territory. Of course, that was just the whites. The Indians didn’t like cattle drives through their land.

  None of that potential trouble materialized. Instead, it came from an unexpected source. A week after crossing the Red, they crossed the Canadian River with no problem. Another week took them to the Cimarron River—often called the Red Fork of the Arkansas because of the water's red color, and one of the safest rivers they would have to cross.

  James Crowley, a long, lean Texan, was on the herd’s west flank. As it happened, he was one of the most experienced hands, and for that reason, Johnny Meadows was riding ahead and Cap brought up the rear with the inexperienced drag riders.

  For some reason the herd began to bunch and several were milling and trying to turn back in the center. By the time Cap rode from the back to where the problem was, several cows were down, drowned, along with Crowley’s horse.

  An hour after crossing, they formed the herd and began the search for James. At that point none of them thought they’d find him alive, and they were right. They found James downstream caught on some limbs in the water. They buried him on the banks of the river, but none of them had any idea what caused the problem, or what had happened to James.

  His death was a testament that danger lurked even when they thought they were safe.

  Two weeks after burying James, Cap was riding with Berta on the east flank when Johnny, who’d been scouting ahead, rode back to find him. The foreman removed his hat and doused his wild red hair with water from his canteen, then shook it like a dog. “Up ahead, an hour’s ride,” Johnny said, “is the Arkansas River and I saw the roofs of Dodge City.”

  Cap glanced at the sun. “Be almost dark by the time we reach it.” He blew out a breath. “We’re going to stay there and rest a few days. Load up on supplies and see if we can hire some more people.”

  He also wanted to get the men to file on land, and then buy the claims from them. All except Willie Barnes, who wasn’t old enough. After a moment of thought, he turned to Johnny. “Would you ride back and send the kid to me? Tell him to bring his stuff. I’m sending him with a message.”

  Several minutes later, Willie Barnes, who everyone called the kid, rode up with his bedroll behind his saddle, worried.

  “I have a very important job for you, podnar.”

  Willie’s chest puffed out like a toad frog.

  Cap gave him detailed directions on how to find Windsong and what Andy looked like. “Tell Bull, we are about six weeks south of Ogallala in Nebraska. From there we are two weeks from Windsong.”

  “Are we that close?” Berta asked after the kid wheeled his horse and took off. “I was beginning to think this was an endless journey.”

  “By the time the kid reaches Windsong, we should be at or past Ogallala, and the final leg to our home.”

&nb
sp; “Windsong. It has a beautiful sound to it.” She maneuvered her horse close and reached an arm around Cap. “Almost as beautiful as ‘our home.’”

  Assimilate had lost its unused feeling a long time before, but the sixth grave, with the cross, hump, and odor of raw dirt, made it look and feel crowded.

  With the sun dropping, Andy was leaning on the shovel as Abbey approached and wrapped her arms around him from behind. As she nuzzled close to him, she said, “I don’t understand the graveyard being called Assimilate, or what that’s about.”

  He paused trying to think of the right English words. He blew out a breath. “When the soldiers released me from their… jail they told me I had to assimilate back into the white world. I did not know the word. It sounded like I needed to get along with the whites. But the whites would not assimilate with me. I figured I might assimilate… better if I was not around them.”

  Turning, he placed an arm around her waist. A crow calling from a tree nearby caught their attention for a moment, and then Andy continued. “Cap told me there would always be people trying to take what is mine.” With his hand out, palm up, he indicated the land around them. “He was talking about all of this.”

  “I do not want to fight. I will not fight unless they make me. But if they come against me, I want…everyone to know what will happen.” He shrugged. “I want the people in Assimilate to see in the…afterlife what they tried to stop me from building or having.”

  “That’s why you hauled Lloyd here and buried him?” she asked.

  “Yes. He tried to take from me what I…value the most.”

  She snuggled closer. “That’s all over. What’re we going to do?”

  “No, no it is not over…not yet. First, we need to help Elijah.”

  The happiness disappeared from her face. “He was hurt because of me. I trusted JT.”

  “JT fooled…people, and I have some unfinished…business with him.”

  “He didn’t fool you.”

  “I do not know what it was,” Andy said. “He should have. I did not trust him because he…stood up for me. He was the only one, but I could not understand why.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks. “That’s sad you couldn’t trust him because he was nice to you.” Her voice trembled. “I guess that says a lot for the people in Heath.”

  Andy didn’t reply for a long time trying to think of the best way to say what he was thinking. Finally, he indicated the land around them. “All this land will be ours. Cows will fill the…meadows and supply us and others with food. Our children and their children will grow up here and love the land as we do. They will continue to build what we start. I do not care about the people of Heath. Only about you and our future. I will show them what they made fun of.”

  Abbey stepped back from him. She’d never heard him speak for that long, or with that much single-mindedness, conviction, and raw determination. Although it startled her, it also thrilled her in ways she couldn’t explain.

  She caught his huge hands with hers. “I have no doubt you will succeed, but you don’t have anything to prove to me. She smiled, looking up at him. “I’ve always known the kind of person you are.”

  Bending, he kissed her on the lips, and straightened. “We need to get to Elijah.”

  “I’ll gather our bedrolls while you saddle the horses,” she said.

  He swung into the saddle, but chuckled at Sunka. The dog stood in the doorway guarding it, but with his head cocked as if begging to go.

  “Come on boy,” he said.

  Sunka jogged on the flank of the horses as they trotted down the slope towards Owl Creek.

  At the top of the slope above the creek, Andy stopped and turned his horse. With Abbey close on one side and Sunka on the other, he gazed across the sparkling water at the home he was building. He breathed deeply of the fresh air with a tinge of crushed juniper.

  Even though darkness was descending on them, they had no problem seeing the home stretching high towards the sky. A huge white moon, one that appeared larger and closer than normal, illuminated the area.

  Andy swallowed hard at the beauty that would be his and Abbey’s home.

  Gasping, she pointed upward at the moon. “Look, it’s beautiful. And so big.”

  Beautiful. If only he had time to sit and paint it.

  “The white moon reminds me of you,” Abbey said.

  Andy blinked and forced his gaze away from the gorgeous sight. “I remind you of the moon?”

  She nodded. “Yes, big and with a beautiful spirit.” She paused a moment, then continued. “Like the white moon rising above our home, you’re rising above all the hate people have heaped on you. You are the white moon rising.”

  The end