Read From Hide and Horn (A Floating Outfit Book Number 5) for Free Online

demanding
attention and keeping the trail hands fully occupied.
    Horses spurted, twisted, pivoted
and galloped into a muck-sweat, cutting off would-be bunch-quitters
and turning the departing steers back into the marching column.
After the resting mass had been converted into a mobile line, there
was a continuous changing of positions. The better travelers shoved their
way by the slower, less fit, or plain lazy remainder. Already some
of the steers, particularly those from the Mineral Wells area, had
teamed up with ‘traveling partners’. Finding themselves separated,
the partners would shatter the air with their bawling and try to
balk against moving forward until reunited. They added to the
confusion, as did the ‘lone wolves’. These steers appeared to have
only one aim in life, to amble up as far as the point, cut across
before the leading animals, make their way down the other flank to the drag
and repeat the circle. More than one cowhand started to chase a
lone wolf, thinking it was trying to escape, and retired cursing on
discovering its harmless purpose.
    Yet the drive continued.
Following the cattle came the remuda, available for when a hand
wanted a f resh horse from his work-mount. viii Bringing up the rear were the chuck-
and bed-wagons, driven by Rowdy Lincoln and his tall, lanky,
freckle-faced and excitable louse, Turkey Trott. Towards evening
they would speed up their teams, pass along the side of the drive,
find a suitable camping-ground and prepare a hot meal—the first
since breakfast—for the crew.
    Throughout the day Dusty and
Goodnight seemed to be everywhere. Sometimes at the point, then
among the swing or flank men, or back with the drag, either the
rancher or the segundo would materiali ze wherever he was needed most.
    Two hours after moving the herd off its
bed-ground, Dusty heard a sound that called for investigation. Two
steers faced each other in menacing attitudes among the bushes to
the flank of the herd. Pawing up dirt, throwing back their heads
and cutting loose with as masculine bawls as their castrated
condition allowed, they prepared for hostilities. It was a
situation which demanded an instant attention on the part of the
nearest trail hand. Like some human beings, longhorns could not
resist the temptation to watch a good fight. So other steers would
attempt to quit the herd as spectators.
    Yet stopping the contestants would not be
without risks, as Burle Willock well knew. When one of the fighting
steers decided to quit, it would not linger. Twirling around, it
would leave like a bat out of hell, giving all its attention to its
rival and oblivious of anything ahead. Only by such tactics could
the loser hope to protect its vulnerable, unprotected rear from a
severe goring by the victor. Not even a cutting-horse—most agile of
the equine breed—could equal the turn-and-go prowess of a longhorn
under those conditions. Nor did the flight necessarily follow a
fight. Should one of the steers be bluffed out by the other’s
aggressive mien, it would take just as drastic evasion
measures.
    So Willock hesitated before
going in too close to the animals. Not so Dusty Fog. Charging up,
he made straight for the steers. Dusty sat a buckskin gelding,
noted through the Rio Hondo country for its cattle-savvy, and it knew
just what to do. Ignoring the chance of a fear-inspired charge, the
horse rushed forward, slammed a shoulder into the nearest steer and
knocked it staggering. Seeing its rival at a disadvantage, the
second steer attacked. Letting out a squeal, the buckskin’s victim
fled for the safety of the herd.
    ‘ Stop it!’ Dusty roared, guiding his
horse after the triumphant assailant.
    While Willock chased and turned the fleeing
steer, preventing it from rushing among the other cattle, Dusty
caught up with the victor. Knowing only rough treatment would calm
the beast, Dusty rode alongside its rump. By catching and jerking
at the steer’s tail, he caused it to lose its balance and crash