she repeated. “It means appalling. Disgraceful.”
“I know what it means.” Holding back a few choice words that she probably didn’t know the meanings of, he glared at JoJo with one eye. “Where’s the calf?”
“Brad is...” JoJo gestured with his chin. “Was looking for its momma. Looks like he found her.”
Garth spun around and made out the blurry sight of a rider climbing off a horse. There was a cow behind the horse, and sure as hell, a calf beside the cow.
Sucking in air hot enough to blister his lungs, Garth walked past the woman, heading directly towards Brad. The young cowhand was probably shaking in his boots. As he should be.
“What part of my order didn’t you hear this morning?” Garth asked as he strode forward.
“No part of it, Boss. I—I was ready to shoot it when this woman’s husband—”
“He’s not my husband,” she interrupted.
Garth didn’t bother looking over his shoulder. Feeling her following was enough.
“The boys ain’t had eggs since we left Texas,” JoJo said. “It sure would help their morale. The green beans, too.”
Garth spun to glare at his cook. He had expected JoJo to stay behind. Cooking. That was his job. “I know how long it’s been since we had eggs, and there’s nothing wrong with the morale around here.” They’d traveled dang near six hundred miles since heading out. Six hundred grueling miles of dust and dirt, and wind and rain, and sun hot enough to fry a man’s brains in his head. Every man here knew that before they headed out. If any one of them was pissing and moaning about it now, it was their own fault, and they damn well better be keeping their complaints to themselves. His hornet-stung face was their first injury.
“If’n you say so, Boss,” JoJo said. “It’s your call, but it’s a mighty fine deal. A mighty fine one. Eggs and green beans. A mighty fine deal.”
“You’ve. Said. That,” Garth growled, emphasizing each word. His head hurt, and what he wouldn’t give to have two good eyes right now.
“I sure enough did,” JoJo answered.
He didn’t need to see JoJo, there was a grin in his tone. The old coot never questioned authority, because he knew in the grand scheme of things, he was the only one who could share his opinion without fear of repercussion. Turning back to Brad, Garth asked, “Why didn’t you shoot that calf?” He expected orders to be followed at all times, and the kid better have a good reason for not doing as told.
Brad shifted from foot to foot. Watching the movement made Garth’s eye water more, and his temper flare.
“I—I was about to, Boss, but this man rode up and asked if he could have the calf.” Still shifting from foot to foot, Brad continued, “I—I figured that was as good as shooting it. Knew it wouldn’t live long without its momma.”
“So you’d rather it suffered than putting it out of its misery?” Garth asked.
Brad took off his hat and then put it back on.
Garth balled one hand into a fist. Fidgeting was a sure sign of weakness, and he was close to losing his patience with this kid. He’d fired a man for fidgeting before, and probably should have again. He hadn’t because he’d hoped Brad would grow up during the trip, and hadn’t wanted to be wrong.
“I didn’t think of it that way,” Brad said. “I guess I thought the man had a cow it could nurse on.”
Holding his temper was difficult. If the woman hadn’t been there, he might not have kept it in control. That might not be true. If his face wasn’t on fire and if he could see, he would have already lost his temper. Completely. As it was, it just boiled inside him. “I told you that’s rare.” Garth growled. “It takes a lot of work to make a cow take on a calf that’s not her own, and that’s hard on a calf. Smelling milk and not getting any.”
Shifting again, Brad shook his head. “I didn’t think of that, Boss. I didn’t know that.”
Garth wasn’t sure what increased his irritation more. Brad’s constant fidgeting and lack of knowledge, the pain throbbing in his head, or how the woman had stepped forward to pat the cowboy’s arm consolingly.
As much as he didn’t want to have to order it again, there was a lesson Brad needed to learn here for future reference. “Take that cow back to the herd,” Garth ordered. “And then shoot the calf.”
“He most certainly will not!” the woman bellowed as she stomped forward to put herself between Brad and him.
Damn, she was uppity. And full of herself. She had a lesson to learn, too. “Fine.” He’d had enough and pulled out his pistol.
She launched forward, grabbing his arm. “You can’t shoot it.”
“Like hell I can’t.” Except he couldn’t see the animal very well. Good thing he was a good shot.
“Like hell you will!”
She had gumption, and that reminded him of Bridgette. They’d both been kids, but he’d never forgotten how she’d stepped up to his defense all those years ago. “I thought you didn’t take to cursing,” he pointed out.
Ignoring his statement, she tried pushing his arm down. “You will not be shooting this calf, nor will anyone else.”
She was stronger than she looked, but not strong enough to move his arm or change his aim. “It’s not going to survive without its mother,” he said.
“I know that,” she said. “That’s why I brought the eggs and beans, to trade for the mother and the calf.”
“The mother is worth a lot more than a few eggs and some green beans,” he said.
“How much more?”
He wished he could see her better. She smelled clean. Like clothes did after being hung on the line. Though blurry, he could see her dress. It might smell clean, but was well-worn and the same dull gray as her bonnet. Even a poor man has scruples, so he didn’t judge a person’s character by their clothes, but he did use their appearance to judge the size of their pocketbook. Hers was empty. “You don’t have enough money to buy that cow.”
“What do you need besides money?”
When Brad had called the man who’d taken the calf her husband, she’d quickly pointed out that he wasn’t her husband. But how then had she got the calf? Her uppity stance didn’t fit with a loose woman, but Garth’s instincts said if that man had been her brother or father, even an uncle, she’d have supplied that information. She hadn’t. That left one thing. Aggravated, he twisted out of her hold. “Get on your horse and go home.”
“No. Not until I get what I came for. What do you need for the cow and the calf, besides money?”
“Nothing.” He pointed his pistol toward the calf. His stomach churned at the idea of shooting the calf, but his point had been made.
She jumped in front of his gun as he pulled back the hammer.
He
