Thickwood by Gayle M. Smith

Thickwood by Gayle M. Smith

Author:Gayle M. Smith [Smith, Gayle M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781989398357
Publisher: Shadowpaw Press


Chapter 22

Thickwood Hills, July 1950

Salt blocks, bacon, biscuit mix, a coffee pot, and a fry pan lay scattered about Willo’s feet. She worked methodically, adjusting pack boxes, saddle pads, and cinches. Her father helped her lift the load onto Rawhide. She arranged her sleeping gear and spare clothes as a top-pack. Rawhide swung his head around to inspect the burden out of his seeing eye. Next, they prepared Jewel. Packing a load through the bush would be valuable training for the mare.

Willo looked to the road for Clint, thinking he might see her and Rawhide off. Maybe he would give a goodbye to warm her?

Her father interrupted her daydream. “A few blocks could go up on the ridge to the east.”

“Yes, Dad.” She had thought of that area already.

“You’ll be riding a big loop and placing the salt in different spots from last year.”

Willo nodded. “I’ll place them so the cattle spread out their grazing.”

“You know what you’re doing. I’ll give you that.”

They worked methodically until the horses were loaded like ships ready to sail through the forest.

Her mother marched out with lunch. “I don’t, for the life of me, understand why you insist on doing this alone. I wish you’d go to town or call up one of the girls.”

Willo replied, “We have nothing in common. They’re reading Ladies’ Home Journal when I’m reading Farm and Ranch.”

“I can’t stand the thought of a bear invading your camp. Hang your food in a tree. You know which cows are the headhunters. Careful of the bulls.”

“I’ll be fine.” Willo hugged her mother, then checked her cinches one more time.

Her father tipped his head in the direction of the horses. “Quite the outfit you’ve pulled together.”

“The horses are handling it well. Even Jewel. They’ll keep me company.”

“What if that stud is still running around?” her mother queried.

“Don’t you think he’s hightailed it out of here? After all he’s been through? I bet he’s gone back north to his mustang mares,” Willo reassured her.

“Leo, you should be going.” A breeze lifted her mother’s apron and tousled the hair peeking out from her headscarf.

Willo looked directly at her mother. “Dad’s busy. The salt needs to be dropped. I have reliable horses, and I’ll only be gone for two nights. I’m looking forward to time alone.”

“That’s what bothers me. You should be socializing in town. Not heading to the bush.”

“I’ll go to town when I get back. The rodeo and dance are in a few weeks.”

“Work first, then play,” said her father. “You have the doctoring kit for sick cows?”

“I’ve enough penicillin to treat the whole herd and food to last four days.”

Willo tied Rawhide behind Jewel, then mounted Ghost. A hawk screamed and lifted off a poplar tree, flapping its wings with a predictable swing. Ghost stared into the distance, watching the bird disappear.

Willo led her string west toward the aspen parkland, bogs, and spruce forest. The horses settled into a swinging walk. They passed the stretch of new barbed-wire fence where the bulldozer growled and smoked, Nesteroff working at scraping down bush for another stretch of fence.



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