I finally found out where to put my Warnings, Disclaimer and such, so... here you go:

Spoilers: None

Genres: Western, Adventure

Sorry, no Romance in this at all

Warnings: Might be a bit of violence and blood, nothing too bad, I promise

Disclaimer: I don't own nothin', but I sure would like to :).

Review is appreciated!


„Say, ah, Clay, don't you think we oughta tell Mr. Favor where we're going?"

Clay Forrester turned in his saddle to pointedly look at Rowdy, who had tamed his own horse and looked back at the hills, behind which the drovers had set up camp and where their more than 2000 head of cattle were supposed to be grasing peacefully.

„Are you outta your mind, Rowdy? What with that foul mood the boss's been nursing all week, I'd rather be fighting a wild cougar with my bare hands than ask him for permission. He'd say No anyway."

„Yeah, he sure would."

Thoughtfully, Rowdy gave a flick to the reins and his sorrel turned obediently, following Clay's horse into the canyon.

.

The same morning

As the morning sun announced a new day early upon the hills, a covered wagon, drawn by horses and flanked by two men on horses, came riding into the small town of Clarke's Creek.

Clarke's Creek really didn't deserve to be called a town, for it consisted of little more than a stable, a grocery store, a saloon and a sherriff's office. The people of Clarke's Creek lived in small ranch houses scattered about the surroundings and only seldom came into town to run their errands, therefore it really was a pleasant surprise for the owner of the grocery store, that said wagon came to a halt just in front of his door, and the driver, a stubby old man with white whiskers, noisily announced that he'd be needing enough supplies for 25 men to last for at least two weeks time.

Mr. G.W. Wishbone had been chief cook and general drudge on cattle drives for as long as he cared to remember. He had been on more drives than he could count and he prided himself on the knowledge of what was needed, when, and how much of it. So, naturally, it fell in his field of duties to pick up the supplies.

This time, due to dried up waterholes in the upper mountains to the east, Mr. Favor, the trail-boss, had decided to take a longer route through the valley of Hollow Springs, where their Scout had promised lots of water and green grasslands, but no town whatsoever, meaning they'd be needing as many supplies as they could get.

Wishbone sighed. He sure could use a break.

He had been accompanied into town by Rowdy Yates and Clay Forrester, which had meant endless talk of fame, fortune and women. It seemed like those two had their heads so high up in the clouds they were bound to waft away with the next breath of wind. Wishbone grimaced. Oh, the sweet bird of youth!

.

Rowdy Yates was the ramrod of Mr. Favor's outfit.

He was young, he was hot-tempered, and he had an uncanny talent for attracting trouble, but he was also the most confident and dedicated man of them all.

When Wishbone had first laid eyes on him, back in St. Antonio, where Mr. Favor had been looking for new drovers to hire, he'd seen nothing more than a braging kid with a big mouth and a self-assured smile to go with it. No experience, no notion, no nothing. He had just wanted a job and Mr. Favor had given him one. Wishbone'd given him no more than a week on the trail. That had been over a year ago.

The kid had pulled his weight. He had worked hard and he had learned fast. Soon he had become a trusted and well-liked colleague to the other drovers rather than a wet behind the ears kid they had to look after.

Well, Wishbone thought dryly, they still had to look after him, because his loose tongue and bad temper seemed to always get him in one kind of trouble or another, no matter how hard he tried to stay out of things.

On their next drive, Mr. Favor had made Rowdy ramrod.

.

Clay Forrester was another story altogether.

Clay was what one would call a well educated young man with a smart mind and a fancy way of talking. He was some years older than Rowdy, came from a wealthy home and nobody really knew why he had wanted to work cattle in the first place. But here he was.

From his first day on Clay had never really made a secret of his desire to become ramrod himself, and so a distinct rivalry had started between him and Rowdy.

Clay had proved himself, too. He had turned out to be a good drover, an outstanding scout and a reliable addition to the crew. He was less stubborn than Rowdy and more likely to think things through before shooting his mouth off, but, truth be told, Wishbone was wary about him. Clay just had a way of getting everybody else to do what he wanted them doing, and that was not always a good thing. When he set his mind to it, he could talk circles around the others until they thought his were the brightest and best ideas they'd ever heard. He could be manipulative and sneaky, when he wanted to be, and Wishborn thought anybody'd be well advised to always double-check his schemes.

Apart from that, Clay was a nice enough guy, and him and Rowdy got along just well.

.

Wishbone took the time to look over at the pair and couldn't help a little shake of his head.

They'd be staying in town until morning, provided all the supplies were in stock.

Plenty of time for those two to find trouble!