The Omaha Trail by Ralph Compton

Author:Ralph Compton [Compton, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101656044
Publisher: A Signet Book
Published: 2012-08-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Dane watched as Joe Eagle rode well ahead of the herd and finally disappeared from view. He was riding point for Len, nearly a quarter mile from the lead cow with its clanking bell. The cattle were on good grass and foraging along the trail as they headed toward Sweetwater.

His face was wan and haggard from lack of sleep, and the furrows in his forehead seemed deeper and more wrinkled. He had patrolled the far outskirts of the place where the herd had bedded down for the night, riding with slowness and caution, listening to every sound, from the mournful songs of the whip-poor-wills to the wild yips of coyotes and the yap of farm dogs and the hoot of barn owls.

He knew Concho and his men were somewhere out on the prairie. But they were invisible. He did not know where they had gone, except he knew they had left town. Were they following Paddy with the first herd? More than likely. But he couldn’t chance any of those outlaws sneaking up at night and cutting out part of the herd or shooting his men as they tended the cattle or slept in their bedrolls.

And where now, he wondered, was Joe Eagle? For the past two days, Joe had just disappeared, ridden away without telling either him or Crowell where he was going. Was he also looking for Concho? Unlike Dane, Joe was sleeping at night. Dane was out like some owl-hooter, hunched over in the saddle to present as little silhouette as possible, looking, listening, riding wide circles over uneven ground, careful not to let Reno step in a gopher hole or stumble into a prairie dog town and break a leg.

Dane rubbed his eyes. He knew they were red from lack of sleep. The land ahead shimmered under visible waves of heat, and he saw puddles of water shining like small lakes. Mirages, of course, but they seemed real, and sometimes he could see what looked like a man on horseback in the middle of the phantom mirror, a rider that evaporated after a few seconds and left an empty view of land stretching to the distant horizon.

He looked back, just to erase the dancing images of watery roads and tilting ponds. The herd was far behind him, still moving, the cattle snatching grass or chewing on their cuds as they plodded blindly behind the leader. He thought he caught a glimpse of Crowell on his horse, riding just ahead of the brown waves of cattle in a long, wide line behind him.

He put a chaw of tobacco into his mouth, hoping it would help keep him both alert and awake.

Moments went by that seemed like hours, and then he saw a rider in a distant mirage. At first he thought it was only an illusion, but this time the rider did not disintegrate into mist before his eyes. He kept coming on until Dane realized that it was Joe Eagle returning from wherever he had been.

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