Morgan Thompson stood on the back of the chuck-wagon with his right hand clenching his vest lapel as he looked down at the men gathered before him, "We will be riding into Dodge tomorrow," he began as a wild whoop came up from the tired men – he paused. "I want to remind you that you are representing me and I will not tolerate any foolishness that lands you in jail like last year," his voice and tone were firm as his eyes scanned the group.
A slight mumble travelling through the drovers as they disliked like having restrictions placed on them as if they were still children.
"I've had my fill of nonsense over the years and I don't need anymore of Matt Dillon breathing down my neck," Thompson added knowing his words were falling on deft ears, but he had to make the speech like he did every year. It was one of Thompson's biggest cattle drives, and certainly he had hired more men than in previous years.
Again a grumble rippled through the small gathering.
"I will pay each of you your full amount upon arrival in Dodge," the old cattle baron said with authority, causing another wave of enthusiastic chatter among the men, who were anxious to get into Dodge and to wet their dry lips on whiskey and beer while eating anything other than Cookie's chuck-wagon food.
Campfires dotted the encampment where some of Thompson's men stayed, while others circulated through the cattle signing low to them, calming them in the dark night. It was cool and the smoke from the fires hung in the damp air.
Farley Sutton and Charlie Hayton sauntered back to their fire after hearing Thompson's lecture on how to behave once they reached Dodge, "If that old man thinks I'm going to just sit around when I get to Dodge, he's got another thing coming," Hayton grumbled.
"He just doesn't want us shooting up the town, is all," Sutton commented. "I sure as hell am going to buy myself a bottle or two despite what the old man says," he laughed.
"If I recall there are some pretty girls in town," Hayton said nudging Farley on the elbow with his own elbow.
"Be careful with them. If I recall," Sutton paused, "the red head at the Long Branch is the marshal's girl," he stated.
"You found out the hard way," Hayton laughed causing Sutton to scowl at him, "Shut up," Farley sneered at his friend as they approached their small camp to settle in before their shift started later in the night.
Farley poured himself a cup of hot coffee, then sat down near his saddle and leaned back, "I think one of the first things I'm going to do is find a bath house and scrape this dust off," he said before he blew on the black liquid to cool it down. The steam lifted into the dark, only being caught briefly by the flickering flame of the little fire.
"Just think, if we were rich we wouldn't have to drive cattle anymore," Hayton lamented aloud as he chewed on a piece of beef jerky that he had packed for such an occasion – he didn't want anymore of Cookie's food for the night.
"Well we weren't exactly born with silver spoons in our mouths," Sutton snorted.
"But what if we could get into a really good card game?" Hayton said as he sat up looking over to Farley. "You're good with cards," he smiled.
Sutton shrugged, "I guess I am," he said as he began to think of what it would be like not to ride a horse across the entre country to make a living. "If I was rich I would even ask Isabella Sibbald to marry me," he smiled.
Hayton snorted, "You'd need a lot of money to keep her," he laughed.
"One day," Farley smiled.
"Well, I hope I'm still alive to be your best man," Charlie said as he hoisted his tin cup of water into the night sky as a toast. Farley laughed and copied with his cup of coffee. The night grew longer and the two men would soon have to take their shift out with the cattle before they could turn in for the night.
Mitch Gonzalez was strolling past the little camp that Sutton and Hayton had, "You two have a shift in an hour," he said.
Both men looked up, "Yeah, we know, and in the mean time we'll just dream on," Farley chuckled.
Gonzalez was one of Thompson's foremen, and although tough outside, he had a hidden soft spot, "Dreaming about what?" he asked.
"Being rich enough not to drive cattle anymore for a living," Sutton answered.
Gonzalez laughed, "Right. That is a good dream," he snorted as he poured himself a cup of coffee from their pot.
"Without a dream, a man is nothing," Charlie stated from where he sat.
Mitch sipped his coffee, "When you get to town, don't get into trouble like you did last year," he warned the two men. "Mr. Thompson is still mad about that," he added.
"It was a mistake," Farley said sheepishly in self-defence. "I didn't know that she owned the saloon and was the marshal's girl," he spoke of his brush with Matt when he tried to seduce Kitty one drunken night that left him with a black eye and a few nights behind bars, until Thompson came to his rescue.
Mitch flicked the remainder of his coffee into the night, "Just say I've warned you," he smiled and handed the empty cup to Hayton. "I'll see you later," he said bidding the two a good shift out with the cattle.
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Jeff Mitchell tossed his cards onto the table, "Pay up, boys," he smiled, leaning forward with his upper chest on the table's edge, raking the money toward himself. Bruce Long patted his friend on the shoulder, "See! I told you that you were good with cards," he laughed.
The other men around the table leered at the two drovers, "I think you're a cheat," one of the men stated under his breath.
Mitchell paused and looked up from under his hat, "Care to repeat that?" he asked.
The cowboy stood up and grunted before he shoved the table hard into Mitchell's chest, "I've never seen anyone with luck like that, he snarled before he left.
Festus was witness to the incident and strolled over to the table, "What was that all about?" he asked the two drovers, looking over his shoulder to the door where the other men from the table left. His eyes slowly came back to the two men.
Jeff stood up from the table, "They just don't know how to play cards," he said as he continued to gather the money from the table, handing some to his friend Bruce.
Festus made a face, "Ol Will doesn't loose may card games," the deputy stated, while studying the two drovers.
"Well, I guess he's finally met his match," Jeff snorted, finishing packing the money into his pockets.
Festus frowned, "Jist don't go makin' enemies around here," he said waving his right index at finger at the drover.
Jeff Mitchell ticked his head, "Oh, no. Not me," he smiled as he stepped past the hill man to leave the Lady gay for the night. Bruce Long followed his friend, leaving the deputy standing alone in the middle of the saloon.