shrapnel carried by soldiers and survivors.
Running her fingers up and down the mug he’d drank from, she wondered what she could do, if anything, to ease his suffering. More importantly, was it even her place to try?
###
Following the tracks wasn’t easy. The morning rain had revived the beaten down grass and smudged the hoof prints. When the trail came to a gully, it disappeared altogether. But Callum had seen enough.
He turned Butter back the way they’d come as his thoughts circled back to Banner Payne and those golden brown eyes of hers that looked right through to his troubled mind and broken down heart. How was she able to put into words the feelings that he could hardly understand himself? She was a rare woman. Pretty and smart. Strong and sweet. He waved away a horsefly that buzzed too near his face and imagined that he could still smell Banner’s flowery fragrance where her hand had rested on his sleeve. Her touch, so tender, had startled him. Stirred him.
A hawk flew above, its wings outstretched as it sailed over the pasture land in search of rabbits and field mice. He was reminded of when Harrison had tried to tame a hawk, thinking he could be like the kings of old with their hunting birds.
“Those are falcons, dumb butt,” Maxwell had pointed out. “A chicken hawk ain’t going to sit on your gloved hand, pretty as you please.”
“I don’t know why not,” Harrison had insisted. “I’m good at training animals.”
As if on cue, his horse had reared up, then bucked, sending Harrison flying before landing hard enough to knock the breath out of him.
“Yeah, you sure know how to train animals, Harry! You surely do!” Max had said between bursts of laughter.
Callum had laughed so hard his ribs had been sore the next day. Even now, he felt a lightening of his dark mood. But it was fleeting. Always fleeting. He scanned the gentle sway of the trees, their leaves turning yellow and brown, and the fat, scudding clouds that promised rain. Winter would be calling soon. Another cold, lonely winter. Melancholy, his old friend, rode with him as he shut out the memories that entertained him even as they twisted in him like a knife.
Nearing the area of the Payne ranch where he had last spied Johnson and Baines, he went over what he would say and the likely reactions he might get. He checked his Springfield rifle and Colt sidearm just to be sure they had bullets chambered.
Topping a small ridge, he caught sight of the two cowhands, who were now with Eller and Hollis. Just as well. He didn’t mind that audience for what he was about to do. They needed to know what he would and wouldn’t put up with. As Butter approached them at a lazy trot, they all turned in their saddles to face him. Shadows played across them, but Callum was fairly certain that Johnson and Baines shared a quick and telling eyeball-to-eyeball exchange.
Yes, boys, time to reap what you’ve sown. Callum slowed Butter to a walk and then reined her to a stop near the semi-circle of cowpokes. He looked toward the mooing herd, some grazing and some lying down to chew their cud. They were all Payne cattle. He could tell because they were underweight by his standards.
“They’re sure on the puny side,” he said, swinging his gaze back to the men and zeroing in on Johnson. He figured that Jeb Johnson was the ringleader and Russell Baines followed along like a faithful hound. “Long way from bringing top dollar at market.”
“We’ll get them fattened up by market time,” Eller said, all puffed up with confidence he sure as hell hadn’t earned.
“We will, huh? That’s good to hear. I’ll hold you to that, Eller. If they’re not, maybe you’d be so kind as to let me dock your pay.”
Eller grinned. “I ain’t that kind, cousin.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“But we will get these cattle up to a decent weight.” Eller gave him a wink.
Callum switched his attention to Johnson again. “Any of you know what happened
Running her fingers up and down the mug he’d drank from, she wondered what she could do, if anything, to ease his suffering. More importantly, was it even her place to try?
###
Following the tracks wasn’t easy. The morning rain had revived the beaten down grass and smudged the hoof prints. When the trail came to a gully, it disappeared altogether. But Callum had seen enough.
He turned Butter back the way they’d come as his thoughts circled back to Banner Payne and those golden brown eyes of hers that looked right through to his troubled mind and broken down heart. How was she able to put into words the feelings that he could hardly understand himself? She was a rare woman. Pretty and smart. Strong and sweet. He waved away a horsefly that buzzed too near his face and imagined that he could still smell Banner’s flowery fragrance where her hand had rested on his sleeve. Her touch, so tender, had startled him. Stirred him.
A hawk flew above, its wings outstretched as it sailed over the pasture land in search of rabbits and field mice. He was reminded of when Harrison had tried to tame a hawk, thinking he could be like the kings of old with their hunting birds.
“Those are falcons, dumb butt,” Maxwell had pointed out. “A chicken hawk ain’t going to sit on your gloved hand, pretty as you please.”
“I don’t know why not,” Harrison had insisted. “I’m good at training animals.”
As if on cue, his horse had reared up, then bucked, sending Harrison flying before landing hard enough to knock the breath out of him.
“Yeah, you sure know how to train animals, Harry! You surely do!” Max had said between bursts of laughter.
Callum had laughed so hard his ribs had been sore the next day. Even now, he felt a lightening of his dark mood. But it was fleeting. Always fleeting. He scanned the gentle sway of the trees, their leaves turning yellow and brown, and the fat, scudding clouds that promised rain. Winter would be calling soon. Another cold, lonely winter. Melancholy, his old friend, rode with him as he shut out the memories that entertained him even as they twisted in him like a knife.
Nearing the area of the Payne ranch where he had last spied Johnson and Baines, he went over what he would say and the likely reactions he might get. He checked his Springfield rifle and Colt sidearm just to be sure they had bullets chambered.
Topping a small ridge, he caught sight of the two cowhands, who were now with Eller and Hollis. Just as well. He didn’t mind that audience for what he was about to do. They needed to know what he would and wouldn’t put up with. As Butter approached them at a lazy trot, they all turned in their saddles to face him. Shadows played across them, but Callum was fairly certain that Johnson and Baines shared a quick and telling eyeball-to-eyeball exchange.
Yes, boys, time to reap what you’ve sown. Callum slowed Butter to a walk and then reined her to a stop near the semi-circle of cowpokes. He looked toward the mooing herd, some grazing and some lying down to chew their cud. They were all Payne cattle. He could tell because they were underweight by his standards.
“They’re sure on the puny side,” he said, swinging his gaze back to the men and zeroing in on Johnson. He figured that Jeb Johnson was the ringleader and Russell Baines followed along like a faithful hound. “Long way from bringing top dollar at market.”
“We’ll get them fattened up by market time,” Eller said, all puffed up with confidence he sure as hell hadn’t earned.
“We will, huh? That’s good to hear. I’ll hold you to that, Eller. If they’re not, maybe you’d be so kind as to let me dock your pay.”
Eller grinned. “I ain’t that kind, cousin.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“But we will get these cattle up to a decent weight.” Eller gave him a wink.
Callum switched his attention to Johnson again. “Any of you know what happened
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