Read Texas Drive for Free Online Page B

get, and count ourselves lucky to have it.”
    “I wish …”
    “What?”
    “Nothing …” He turned in the saddle and waved his hat to the drovers down behind him. He cut loose with a shout, and the men picked it up. The beeves started to push themselves a little faster, gaining momentum even on the long up slope. As they got closer, they could smell the water and drove themselves even harder.
    Johnny rode on down to the river, leaving Rafeon the hilltop. The old man watched him urge his pony into the water. It was shallow for the first twenty yards, then grew suddenly deeper. Rafe could see by the swifter current in the center that the cattle were going to have a struggle getting across. Johnny was hanging on as his horse swam for the far bank. It was a good hundred yards before the pony touched bottom and another fifty before he climbed up on the grass across the river. Johnny was nearly a quarter mile downstream from his point of entry.
    Every drive had a few steers who led the way in river crossings, and Rafe wheeled down to meet the herd. He collared Dan Harley and told him to cut the swimmers and get them up front, then made a wide sweep to the left. They were down to somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-eight hundred head. But a loss of two hundred had to be considered a success. If the cattle brought anything like the prices they’d been hearing, they’d be in good shape as soon as they found a buyer.
    Rafe found the tail end of the herd, a long, thin line of stragglers, and fell in behind them, shouting and waving his hat to force them up into the herd. If the cows were allowed to hang back, it would complicate the crossing and maybe cost them a few more head.
    As the last of the reluctant beeves started up the incline, he heard gunshots. He strained to hear where they’d come from, but heard nothing overthe cattle’s hooves. Rafe charged up the slope, pausing just long enough to send Ralph Dalton back to drag ride. As he broke over the ridge, the leading edge of the herd was already in the water. The swimmers were out front a few yards, about to break into deep water. On the far side, he spotted Johnny, surrounded by a good dozen men.
    Three hands had already started into the water, urging their horses across the river and drawing their guns. Rafe charged down the slope, afraid of Johnny’s temper. All of them were frazzled, and it wouldn’t take more than a wet match to light the fuse.
    At the water’s edge, Rafe leaned forward clinging to his pony’s neck and braced himself for the water. He had closed the gap between himself and the other three, but once in the water, he had to be content with keeping pace.
    Halfway across, he shouted to Johnny, but the bellowing cattle drowned out his voice. The first of the drovers was already in shallow water and Rafe shouted again. If they heard him, they showed no sign. Rafe drew his gun and fired into the air. The hands turned and he waved at them, shouting for them to hold up.
    He couldn’t tell whether they heard him or not, but they were confused enough to stand still until he was able to get to them.
    “What in the hell’s going on?”
    Harley shook his head. “Dunno. A bunch ofdamn farmers come up out of nowhere. They fired a few times, and then Johnny started talking to them.”
    “You wait here,” Rafe said. “No use spookin’ them. Me and Johnny will handle it.”
    He dug in his spurs and his horse spurted up the bank. He dismounted ten yards behind Johnny and let the reins dangle while he joined his boss.
    “What’s the trouble, Johnny?” he asked.
    “No trouble. Gentlemen, here, tell me we can’t bring our herd across. Told them there was no way we wasn’t. That’s about where it stands.” He looked at the farmers, several of whom were armed with rifles, the others with pitchforks and ax handles.
    One of the farmers, a big, rawboned Irishman with hands like freckled grappling hooks, shook his head. The way the other farmers watched