Lone Star 01 by Ellis Wesley

Author:Ellis, Wesley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2010-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

They rode in silence through the murky hills, hearing the bawling of cattle and the shouting of rustlers receding behind them.

Jessica hunched despondently in the saddle. Daryl was beside her and a bit ahead, leading the way back to the Spraddled M. As they dipped down across a fingerling valley, he noticed on the right a craggy outcropping. Bluestem grass appeared to be growing in foot-high tufts there, an indication of a spring or brook. He pulled alongside Jessica, gesturing, and angled toward the boulders. She headed after him, the horses speeding up as they smelled water.

The outcropping proved to encircle a small patch of bottom, with a thin trickle of water oozing from the ground. A few small animals fled as they approached, but otherwise the area seemed deserted. They dismounted, stiff and exhausted, and knelt in the grass, cupping their hands to drink. The horses lapped thirstily.

“Well, we lost them this time,” Jessica said with irony.

“We better have. The horses are too tired for any more fancy prancing. We should give them a short breather.”

She nodded wearily. “No argument from me.”

Leaving the saddles on, they picketed the horses by the water and went to the outcropping, where the grass was dryer. Jessica sucked in her breath, grimacing from pain, as she slowly sat down. Frowning, Daryl hunkered beside her and tentatively touched her back.

“Bend forward a tad,” he said. “If you can.”

She leaned over, biting her lip to stifle a moan, feeling him gently peel away the ripped fabric that was stuck to her coagulating blood. The long gash opened up again, a line of warm moistness seeping out and rivuleting down her back.

“Doesn’t look too deep,” Daryl said, still frowning with concern. “My guess is, with a cleaning and bandaging and a good smear of ointment, your cut should heal up right fine.”

She tried to make light of it. “Nary a scar, doctor?”

“Probably not, if we treat it right soon. I ain’t any doc, though; I’m just going by how I tend my cows.”

Shortly they were up and riding again, across the range of wooded slopes, stony ridges, and brushy draws. Jessica fell to following Daryl again, more than willing to let him find their way through. He did, competently. And as fatigued and aching as she was, Jessica made sure to memorize the route he took.

When they cleared the hills and entered his ranch yard, the buildings dozed dark and still, appearing abandoned, as if the rustlers had not only made off with a small bunch of Spraddled M stock, but with all the hands as well.

Inside the house, Daryl lit a glass stand lamp and ushered Jessica into the kitchen. “Stay here,” he said, and then made two trips outside, one for wood with which to stoke the cast-iron Duchess stove, and the other for water to fill the washtub he placed on the stove’s burners. While the water was heating, he hauled out a heavy tin bathtub, and placed it near the stove.

“This ain’t the height of modesty,” he said, beginning to redden around the ears.

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