"Well, I'll be god damned," Gil said, shielding his eyes from the brutal Midwestern sun. "You'd think we'd run across these people more often, since both our groups tend to wander around in circles without really arriving anywhere."

"Who is it?" Rowdy asked with his characteristic squint.

"That's the biggest wagon train that I know of," Gil said, grinning. "I haven't seen them in probably five years now. Come on, let's run on and meet up with them." He gestured his intention to his cowhands, and he and Rowdy swiftly caught up to the head of the long line of wagons.

"Hey—ho!" Gil called, waving his greetings. "Howdy!" a man in the front wagon called, and Gil caught up to him, riding astride.

"Hi there," Gil said, nodding his head. "Can I have a word with Chris Hale?"

"I'm sorry to say that he passed away two years ago," the man responded, and Gil felt a brief, respectful sadness, although he and Hale had only met a few times. "I'm the Wagon Master now. The name's Bill Hawks."

Gil shook the proffered hand. "I'm sorry to hear it, but congratulations on your new title," he responded. "You look familiar, so I guess you were promoted."

"That's right," Bill said with a smile. "And you drive quite a large herd of cattle, if I'm remembering correctly."

"That's what I wanted to speak to you about," Gil said, glad to come directly to the point. "I'd like for my herd to be on this road for as long as possible, since my scouts came back with the same report as yours probably did. Relatively flat terrain, good grass for the livestock, and few or no enemies, as far as we can tell."

"Right."

"I know your former master was an honorable man, and would only hire honorable men," Gil continued. "Since we might be on the same road for a while, I'd like very much if we learned to share."

Bill paused. "What would that look like to you?"

"Strict and equal rules about where the livestock can graze, so that one of us isn't stuck with the leftovers from the other group," Gil said. "And, even though our men might be working harder on their shifts because there's more people and cattle, maybe we can have some shifts off, too, since now we're doubling hands."

Bill paused. "Let me talk to my men," he said. Forty minutes later, there was a basic written agreement and a handshake.

"Come on, Rowdy," Gil said, distracted and excited by the prospect of different people and schedules for the next few days at least. "Let's tell the men." He waited for a response, frowning and turning around when he got none. Rowdy was significantly behind him, staring intently into one of the wagons. "Rowdy!" Gil called. Rowdy allowed himself one last lingering look, and dug his heels into his horse to catch up to his trail boss.

RWTH

Rowdy ordinarily wasn't a drinker, but he tipped back his head and swigged the last of his shot of whiskey, grimacing at the lengthy burn that followed it. A few more seconds, though, and he felt the slightly woozy feeling, along with more confidence and looser inhibitions. He had done his homework, and the common report was that she was single, and more friendly than not. It had been quite a long time.

He forced himself to wait the torturously length of time that it took for her to have a second to herself, then planted himself in front of her, putting one hand on the nearest wagon in what he hoped was a self-assured, casual lean. "Nice to meet you," he said, and winced at his choice of words.

The woman stopped abruptly, surprised, but recovered quickly. "I don't recall being introduced," she said, but had a mischievous gleam in her eye that gave Rowdy a flash of hope.

"Well, then, let's do it now." Rowdy grinned, grateful that his teeth were whiter and straighter than almost any other man on the trail.

"Cecelia Renale." She stuck out her hand.

"Rowdy Yates. Well, how about we go on a walk around these wagons and you tell me your story?" he asked. He wanted more privacy than not, but he didn't want her to think that he was going directly for the gold.

She hesitated, but her smile returned, fuller and more brilliant now. "As long as we make it short—"

"Ceecee, are you about ready for me to look at that cracked wagon axle?" A man a few years older than Rowdy appeared abruptly at Cecelia's right side, standing at exactly the right angle to send a strong warning signal.

Cecelia looked back and forth between the two men and, to Rowdy's disappointment, flattered this man with the same smile that she had just given to Rowdy. "Sure, maybe in fifteen minutes, Cooper?" she asked him.

Coop's jawline hardened almost imperceptibly. "I'm pretty tired, what with my work duties being doubled," he replied. "I'm going to bed soon, and it'll have to wait til tomorrow night if we don't do it right now."

"Oh, you have your own wagon, Cecelia?" Rowdy asked innocently. "No one else?"

"My mam and little brother," she replied.

"Well then! It looks like you don't have to be present while this good man does your family a favor," Rowdy said a bit too cheerfully, feeling the continued loosening effects from the alcohol. "Unless this man needs female help in checking or fixing a wagon axle."

Cooper responded with a menacing step forward, yet stopped when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. "Problem, gentlemen?" Bill asked, standing in the middle of their circle and looking at each of them in turn.

Cooper answered first, as he was in Bill's employment. "No sir," he said, a steely edge to his voice.

"Well then, how about we all go to bed now, huh? I know we're all tired from our new duties, and we want to be well-rested for the dance tomorrow night. Let's enjoy our brief time together, before each continues going the way that their group needs to go." Bill settled his eyes on Rowdy.

Rowdy bristled, but said nothing. Cecelia was the first to leave, with an endearing bounce to her step and a flip of her hair, but the two men backed up slowly a couple of steps, their eyes trained on each other, almost as if they were in a duel. Only when Cecelia had entered her wagon did the two men dare turn their backs on one another.