Ralph Compton the Saltwater Trail by Jackson Lowry & Ralph Compton

Author:Jackson Lowry & Ralph Compton [Lowry, Jackson & Compton, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-01-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Unlike on most trail drives, whatever meat they ate had to be hunted. Clay hadn’t had a chance to take a potshot or two at rabbits and deer because they kept their distance. When the herd being moved numbered in the hundreds if not thousands, killing and butchering one to feed the trail hands was common. All too often a cow broke a leg or ran into some other danger and had to be put down. That made for steaks and stew for a week. These beeves were too precious for that. Clay thought the Hawaiians treated the cattle better than the men driving them.

Suárez swore a steady string of curses in English, Spanish and Hawaiian when Fred suggested putting just one heifer into the fire. The trail boss made it clear that the hundred head were sacrosanct.

“I’ve heard the other Indians, the ones from India, worship cows,” Clay said. “The Crown K cattle are expensive, but just one—”

He had dropped the idea when Vasques joined his partner in cussing a blue streak. They were both committed to each and every bull and heifer reaching the coast untouched. From what Clay had heard about the cost of the beeves, he didn’t blame them. The problem he had was who ended up with the cattle.

Barker or Warnock?

He shoveled in whatever Vasques had whipped up for breakfast. Some of the food carried a mysterious texture and the aroma wasn’t too pleasant. Trying to figure out what he had thrown in with the oatmeal was a fool’s errand. It tasted fine for a change and filled the hollow in Clay’s belly. He finished his plate of the sticky, almost solid lump. He stared at Suárez so hard, the man felt the inspection and looked up.

“What is it, Clay?”

“The cattle are fed and watered. When do we hit the trail? It’s still a ways to the coast.”

Suárez tried not to look uncomfortable as he answered. If anything, he was too nonchalant when he said, “Let us stay another day or two. This is a pleasant spot. We need the rest, and pushing the horses too hard is not a good thing.”

“We can walk the horses and not wear them down. The cattle aren’t running along at breakneck speed, after all,” Clay prodded the trail boss. He suspected Suárez wanted to stay near Idaho Falls until the answer to his telegram arrived.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking it easy for a few days,” Fred said. “It’ll give us a chance to get into town and spend some of our earnings.”

He eyed Clay. While Fred said nothing, Clay hadn’t made any secret of his last trip into Idaho Falls, at least to the man who had to cover for him. What Fred thought Clay had done that had to be hidden from Suárez hardly mattered, as long as he held his tongue.

“What do you think, Leo? Can we go into Idaho Falls and sample their whiskey? Just a drop or two?”

Clay continued to push Suárez, and he felt guilty about it.

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