J. Allan Dunn

“ Strong was on one side of his bunch—about half the herd as near as he could judge in that wild flurry—racing to catch up with the leaders, to turn them. The vaquero he saw across the surging waves of maddened cows with horned heads for crests. His pony flew, extended at full gallop. ”

“ Strong wriggled through the long grass like an Indian, pausing to see that his guns stayed in their holsters, then gliding on up the slope between the stems. Now and then he raised his head cautiously to mark progress. There were some low bushes clumped at a spot that should command the draw and this he made his objective. His face was set, his eyes steely.
There could be no doubt of the character of the men once he caught sight of them. Their attitudes would instantly determine that. He was sure by now that they were not Apaches. Indians would not have alarmed the buzzards, but avoided them. ”

“ The riders loose in their saddles, yelled to get the cattle started and to keep them going, the ponies entering into the spirit of the race, tearing along with ears cocked and eyes protruding, dodging as the quarry dodged, whirling off at right angles through the mesquite that often masked the treacherous gullies, sliding down them and scrambling up again on the far side like cats. ”

“ Bramley and Strong passed the word to keep on riding, steadily round and round, and to keep singing. Once let one of the cows break through the cordon and the rest would follow for twenty, thirty, even forty miles over the broken country, unless the leaders were headed off. Many of them would surely be killed by falls, others would stray in separate bunches split up in the inky darkness. ”

“ Cattle and riders were one plunging mass for a few delirious moments. Then the herd divided, the leaders racing away at headlong speed with Strong and one of the vaqueros from the ranch after part of them, and Bramley with the other hand and the extra after the rest. What luck the young cocinero—little more than a boy—was having with the remuda, they dared not think. ”

“ They had water and good feed where they were camped, and Bramley hoped for a good night's recovery for cattle and horses after the exhausting chase. But the cold increased before the sun went down murkily, a glaring ball of crimson shrouded in dull-purple haze, and he shook his head.
“The cows know it,” he said as they ate supper and rolled their cigarettes. “Look at 'em. Bellies full but they won't chew their cuds or lie down. It's all hands to-night, boys, cook an' all. Cook'll wrangle the remuda.” ”

“ If they told Strong they recognized any one, he might want them to join him in a bid for vengeance that would surely end in disaster, or he might want them to swear to identification which would be just as bad.
There was no law between the Rio Grande and the Pecos except the law of the bullet. It was much wiser to shrug the shoulders and to say, “Quién sabe?”
They took what was worth while from the three bodies, got the herd together and then they started the slow drive. After a while Juan called to them from the wagon as it followed a curve in the trail toward the distant pass. ”

“ Flash upon flash lighted up the racing brutes, their horns clashing, crowding each other, their hoofs flinging up the sodden earth, charging through dense thickets, plunging down gullies headlong, bellowing or lurching on with their tongues lolling. ”

“ Mexican rustlers tempted by the chance to capture a herd on trail with the outfit of the herders; Indians who cared nothing for the cattle but much for scalps, the chance to torture and maim and the possession of the firearms and ammunition of their prisoners, besides their ponies and saddles. ”

“ Strong galloped on, wheeling to overtake the man making fan the wagon. His left gun had flown out of his fingers with the stroke of the bullet but he had his right, the roan answered to his knees. Then he saw Bramley's horse rear. He knew that trick to disconcert an opponent's aim. But the pony fell over backward, shot in its breast.
There was his partner caught by one leg, struggling to get clear, temporarily defenseless, with the raider shooting at him. ”

“ If thar's a bunch thar layin' fo' us they'll smell a mouse if we switch off. Trail runs straight fo' the pass. We're kind of short-handed. No tellin' how them greasers of ours'll fight, is thar?”
Bramley shook his head.
“They ain't been tried out none, to my knowledge. May bolt fo' it. If they fight they'll likely jest waste lead. Switchin' won't help us none, as you say. They'll come out to run off the herd yellin'. You're likely right, pardner. What's yore scheme?”
“Move right along. They'll think we ain't noticed the buzzards particular. We ain't goin' to give 'em the cattle, I take it?” ”

“ Let the cows graze along way they're doin'. I'll drop down into the next gully. Ought to be one by them trees. The grass is long and I'll snake through toward the head of the draw. You keep driftin' along with the herd. They got a lookout, sure, but it ain't likely they'll guess what I'm doin'. They'll figger I'm out of line of sight back of the trees. My pony'll stand in the gully. ”

“ Often the wild cows, worked into a frenzy, charged, almost as quick of hoof as the ponies. Every panting steer, once roped and thrown, had to be hog-tied and the road brand burned on its flank lest they stampede and stray on the way home or got mixed up with larger herds. ”

“ A lazy greaser—an' thet's their general nature—when they ain't got a strong-minded female like Maria to handle 'em is the mos' shif'less thing on two laigs, or four. There they go, damn 'em. I hope every last one of 'em wakes up with his head baked an' his pockets empty. I hope they git so derned drunk they all fall into a prickly-pear thicket, like Lopez did, an' can't find no one to take the needles out. I kin feel thet norther in my bones, same as Hurley does the rheumatiz. ”

“ One man had to stand watch nightly over the remuda. They had a hundred and fifty cattle at the close of the second day. Bramley bribed two of the local riders to do herding at night though Strong suggested that he and Bramley split the watch,
“Nothin' doin', pardner. We got to clean up to-morrow. These five greasers Martinez loaned us are loafin' on the job. They ain't workin' fo' nothing but the peso a day we give 'em. They're stringin' us along. If we knew the country half as well as they do we'd have had the whole bunch by noon to-day. An' we can't git along without 'em. ”

“ Bramley was coming in.
Strong touched spurs to the mustang's flanks and the pony leaped eagerly along. Soon he saw the loom of the herd, slowly advancing, the three riders, safe and sound, flanking it.
“I lost one little bunch of four or five, I reckon," said Bramley, “but they kin go plumb to hell fo' all I care. I'm in or out, take yore choice. Save yourn?"
“All but three. Lightnin' got 'em. Nigh got me. They kin go to hell, too. Reckon they have. They must have been crisped up some. Smelled like it. The kid's makin' coffee, Hen. Remuda's all thar. We owe thet cocinero five pesos." ”

“ Beyond lay the faintly blue peaks of the Sacramento Mountains.
“I reckon they're gittin' the greasers an' 'Paches whipped into line a bit,” said Bramley, biting off a corner of his chewing plug. “Took the military to do it an' the job ain't finished by a dern sight. We're goin' through between spasms, likely.
“We got a good bunch of cows, Sam. A few days of good feed an' steady water'll upholster 'em in fine shape. Thet's whar bein' able to git 'em at short range counts. They don't lose an awful lot the first few days on trail. ”