Rowdy came up to sit beside Emily, a cup in hand. He went off earlier saying he had to go get something, a mischievous glimmer in his eye. He wouldn't tell her what it was he was getting, so Emily finally gave up and went to work helping prepare breakfast. But now she could see what it was.

Rowdy offered her the cup. "First time's free," he said, smirking.

Emily looked into the metal mug to find it filled with milk, still warm.

Emily slapped his leg with her hat, before dropping it back on her head. "You think you're real cute, don'cha?" But she was smirking, and after wiping her hands off took the cup and started working on it's contents.

Gil, who sat off to the side, raised an eyebrow.

An inside joke.

The men nearby had no idea what that was all about, which for some reason he could not explain gave Rowdy great satisfaction. As he sat down next to the girl, however, his eyes paused on Pete. He could detect the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes?

Well, maybe there's one other person in on it...

Good-nights may have been exchanged, but that hadn't stopped the two younger people chattering on through the night in quiet whispers. They had both enjoyed themselves very much, rattling on about a lot of nothing in particular. They had been far away enough from the others that the drovers had not been disturbed.

But then there had been Pete, laying on the other side of Rowdy. He'd had his face covered with his hat, consistently taking long, heavy breaths. But Rowdy knew better than to think he was asleep, and Emily didn't seem to mind either way. Neither of them paid him any attention.

Pete, for his part, was surprised that he was not sleepy like he thought he was going to be. The two must have went on for hours. Some interesting trivia had come up. He knew that they knew he wasn't sleeping, but that hadn't seemed to bother them and so he didn't let it bother him. It was good for the girl to have someone to talk to. Heck, maybe it was good for Rowdy, too.

"I've been thinkin'," Emily took the empty plate from the last drover, and went to set them on the wagon table,"Maybe it'd be better if y'all just called me Emily, or Carter. No more miss." She looked over the faces to gauge their reactions.

"Any particular reason?" Gil asked, adjusting his hat as he got to his feet.

"Well, I know this is a drive 'n all," Emily said slowly,"we still have a good ways to go and y'all aren't really used to havin' a girl around. So I think it might be best if the men just started... well, trying to think of me as more of a boy, instead of a lady. Hard to do that when y'all 'er always callin' me miss." She paused. "You... sorta see where I'm comin' from?"

Gil rubbed his jaw, considering her words. "Yeah, I guess..."

"It'd be sorta hard to do that, ma'am,"came Clay Forester's smooth voice,"I don't think any of us has seen a boy as purdy as you."

Emily pursed her lips. "Well, maybe if I cut the hair...?" She waved the end of her braid.

"No, no," Pete quickly spoke up, loudest among the protests from the other drovers. He looked from Emily to Gil, then quieted the men with a glance. "That won't be necessary. Right, boys?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Sure."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Carter."

Gil raised an eyebrow. "I guess you're one of the boys now... Carter." He gave her a wink. "Now, you wanna get your horse saddled?"

"Whatever you say, boss," Emily replied, giving him a playful salute before heading off to get a saddle.

Emily proved adequate when saddling a horse. I wasn't long before she and Gil were once again riding out toward point.

"By the way, what did you do on the drive?" Gil asked,"Cook or something?"

Emily laughed. "Nah, I rode - " She stopped abruptly, as if a sudden realization just hit her. "I rode drag. All those years, I rode drag." Her eyebrows scrunched together as she thought back to all those mini drives she accompanied her father on.

Gil raised an eyebrow, amusement showing in his blue eyes. "Drag?"

"Drag! All that dust I ate, and I didn't give daddy half as hard a time as I shoulda." She huffed. "You'd think a man would show some favoritism to his own daughter..."

Gil chuckled. "I guess he had his reasons..."

"'It's 'gainst my better judgment ta bring you alawng, anyhow,'"she pulled her chin in, mimicking a low voice in a very exaggerated fashion,"'ya better pull yer weight, missy.'"

Gil shook his head, still amused by the uncovering. "You father must have been a very objective man."

Emily let out another snort. "Probably just thought I would be least in the way back there, to be honest."

"Or maybe he did it because it's the safest place," Gil said, shooting her a glance.

Emily hadn't thought of that. Drag was where there was consistently most men, which would meant more protection on her part. Riding drag was easiest and safest, save for all that dust you swallow. She had never given this much thought, but already this trail boss had showed his many similarities to her father.

She looked over at him, studying his face. "You know, you remind me a lot of my father."

Gil hadn't expected this.

"The way you act, sometimes it's almost like watchin' him..."she paused, before going on, raising her eyes to the sky as she pictured him. "He was tall and dark-haired, too. Had a low voice... real handsome." She smiled, glancing over at the trail boss.

So that was it. He knew he should have been flattered. And maybe he was a little at her last statement. But she thought of him as a father figure. That's why she always seemed so warm towards him. Gil wasn't sure how he felt about that.

The smile he now offered her seemed almost tight, hesitant.

I just made a fool of myself! Emily silently lamented her impulsive attempt at a flirt.

She now focused her attention to the trail ahead. Her body had heated up several degrees, it could have just been from the sun. But Emily knew what the real reason was. She had tried to change tracks with him, maybe up it a little bit, but he didn't seem interested.

Since when has talking to men been so hard?

A pang of pain shot through her all of a sudden. She pressed her hand to her side, putting pressure on the injury in attempt to ease the hurting.

It really was a cruel thing. It seemed that whenever she was with the trail boss, her wound was determined to remind her of it's presence. This time was worse than usual, though. After several moments of gritting her teeth, she finally decided she had better check on it. Easing her shirt up, she looked over her bandage. A spot of red about the size of a bean showed against the white cloth.

"Hey, you alright?" Gil noticed her checking her side, and saw the red blotch. The previous episode was forgotten.

"No, I think it'll be fine..." I'm just glad it don't hurt as much as my pride does, she thought grimly.

Gil watched, not quiet convinced. The red spot slowly grew, though it wasn't too bad.

"Are you... sure?"

"Ah, yeah, I just..." she started looking around, as if searching of something.

Two lines formed as Gil's eyebrows scrunched toward each other. What was she looking for? His eyes followed her gaze when she seemed to have found it, until they fell upon the approaching young man.

Rowdy was already galloping up towards them.

Has he been stalking us this whole time?

"Are you alright?" the ramrod asked, slowing to keep pace beside her.

"Yeah, it's just bleedin' out a little bit," Emily replied, with what Gil thought sounded like relief.

Rowdy looked down at the bloodied wrap, examining it for several moments. But his eyes soon travelled up to Gil's.

"Hey, boss... maybe I should keep her company..."

Instead of you, Gil finished Rowdy's sentence in his head. He didn't really appreciate the uninvited presence of the ramrod, nor the suggestion of taking over with the girl.

Rowdy had been hesitant to even ask, knowing the boss as well as he did. But for a reason he didn't quiet understand, he just had to.

Gil's first, most obvious thought was to flat out tell him no. He could, after all, take care of a girl just as well as the younger man, if not better. But something stopped him from it.

Wishbone had a told Gil about his theory. When the girl had been unconscious and suffered from whatever it was that caused her spells, it was Rowdy alone who could calm her. The trail boss had been skeptical at first. But as he continued observing, it became easier to consider it a possibility. Maybe it was true, she had some sort of connection to the boy.

Gil looked at Emily, who had not protested Rowdy's suggestion.

"Alright. I gotta go check on Pete, anyway," he finally answered, though he didn't sound particularly pleased.

His hesitation gave Emily some hope. He enjoyed her company. That was the first step, right?

She reached out and nudged his shoulder, offering him a small smile. "I'll have a hot cup of coffee waiting for you when you get back."

Gil felt himself lighten a bit. But with the girl smiling up at him, it wasn't long before he finally caved in and returned it. "I'll be countin' on it."

He gave the two a nod, before he sent his horse ahead.

The girl weighed on his mind as he made his way over the next hill. He was having a hard time deciding on things regarding her. He found that he was allowing things that he normally would never let happen. Keeping the herd going slow just so that they could keep her for a few extra days, allowing her to sleep on the ground instead of in the wagon... And then there was the way he felt when she compared him to her father. He couldn't decide if he had felt proud or disappointed. Could both be even possible at the same time?

He shook his head. There was one thing he couldn't help but be sure of, though. Despite what had been said back at camp about her "being one of the boys", there wasn't anybody in the camp fooled. He would go along with it and call her Carter, but there was no mistaking her for a boy.

He would just have to do some hard thinking, and right now, without the girl around to distract him, was the best time.


"Then he says, 'well maybe I'd should be ramrod', so I said, 'If you shoulda been ramrod, Mr. Favor woulda made you ramrod'. So then he starts shootin' his mouth of about - "

Emily was listening intently to Rowdy's account of how some cocky drover had tried to 'walk all over him'. He had spent the past hour or so offloading all kinds of stories about messes he had been in, while she sat and soaked it up. And she was perfectly fine by that. Liked it that way, actually.

" - so finally Mr. favor sent him packin' like a dog," he concluded, a smile that showed satisfaction at the memory glowing on his lips,"but not before I taught him a thing or two. Maybe now he'll think twice 'fore he goes pullin' guns."

She finally came to a conclusion about all these things he had been telling her: Either he was the biggest liar this side of the Mississippi, or he was some kind of trouble magnet. Rowdy didn't strike her as a liar. He did, however, remind her of a person she once knew very well who never could seem to stay out of trouble.

Emily smirked, shaking her head. "Rowdy, will you take some advice from me?"

He looked over at her, his grin growing. "What's that?"

"Never become a bounty hunter."

He scoffed. "A bottom feeder? That's not for me," he assured her.

Emily huffed, unconvinced. "Heard that before," she said distastefully.

Rowdy tilted his head, curiosity kindling inside him. "You wanna tell me?"

Emily turned, only to eye him up and down critically. Rowdy shifted in his saddle slightly.

"Yeah, I'll tell ya." Her reply lacked the playfulness that had previously been present in her voice.

There was a pause as she gathered her thoughts and words. Rowdy waited patiently. She looked upset, even contemptuous at whatever it was that was going through that pretty little mind of hers. But then Rowdy started to notice her eyes softening into the distance.
When she finally turned back to him, there was a sadness in her face. Sadness and something else he couldn't quiet place.

"I guess I'd have to start way back when I was little," she started, her voice now soft, tender. "Growing up, there were only two other ranches nearby. S'only natural that I'd be best friends with the kids that lived in 'em. Sam Cassidy and Logan McArthur."

Emily took a moment to smile at the two significant names, and Rowdy could feel the love that radiated from her. He gave a small nod. She had mentioned Luke last night when they were talking.

"Logan was a few years older 'n me, but that never made any difference. Never minded that I was a girl, neither. His daddy, an old buddy 'o my daddy's, died when he was still little. His momma couldn't bear to leave his father's dream behind, but we were there to help 'em out. He couldn'ta been more that fourteen when he started drovin' with daddy. And he was good. He made ramrod after the third drive, 'though I think there might'a been a little bias on daddy's part."

Rowdy listened quietly. She smiled slightly at that last part, but a longing to fierce filled her eyes that it almost pained Rowdy to look at her. He already knew this story didn't end well.

"The last drive he went on with us was about a year ago, he just happened to run across a man that was trying to rustle a few of our steers. Logan brought him into town, turned out the guy had a bit of cash on his head."

It was at this point that Emily's eyes fell, and she let out heavy breath.

"Logan... he'd wanted to marry this... girl." The way she had drawled out the last word gave Rowdy the feeling that Emily was not exactly pleased with the boy's choice in women.

"She wouldn't marry anyone who didn't have... a certain amount of money. Apparently a person is only worth the amount of money he has. I told him she wasn't any good, but he just couldn't get over her. He knew the stories, and we'd always told him that bounty huntin' was no way to live. But after they handed him that money, I guess he just suddenly realized that he could make money hunting down men a lot quicker than he could pushing cattle..."

Her voice drifted off as she became lost in the memory. There was a long, heavy quietness, but Rowdy realized that the silence was not between him and her. Because she wasn't really there beside him right now. She was off in a place far from the present.

"I guess things didn't go the way he had planned," Rowdy finally said softly.

Though the words had been quiet, they were enough to bring Emily back into awareness. She sighed, shaking her head.

"He was good at everything he ever set foot to doing. Raised right 'round 3 thousand in the first five months, working day and night. Wore him out." She straightened slightly in her saddle, anger now subduing her features. "That should have been enough for her, but it wasn't. She threatened to get married to some banker's son if he didn't come up with at least seven thousand by her 17th birthday. Four thousand in three months. Logan got desperate, but I didn't know just how desperate." Emily's knuckles whitened as she clutched the reins of her paint. Her normally dark complexion had paled slightly from the intensity of her growing rage. "If I woulda known what he was going to do, I would've tied him up, or hit him over the head, or - or shot him in the leg or something," her voice raised now, causing her horse's ears turned back towards it's rider. "He went out of his league, chasing after the big outlaws."

A pause.

"We didn't even have a body to bury, Rowdy," her voice returned as little more than a bitter whisper. Neither of them noticed that she had used his first name instead of the usual Mr. Yates. Both of them were intent on the story being told. "All they sent us was..." she pressed her lips together, trying to keep herself together before she went on,"was the arm that he'd scarred on the first drive, to identify him."

Silence settled between them. She sat in mournful reflection, fighting off tears, while Rowdy rode in grim contemplation.

The time dragged on in which neither of them spoke. It was not until hours had passed that the herd approached a small stream. The story of Emily's unfortunate friend was still what occupied both of their thoughts. When Rowdy veered away from the herd to follow up the stream, Emily made no comment and kept her place beside him. When he stopped, she followed suit, and when he dismounted she did so as well. Rowdy took down his canteen to refill it, and their two horses drank from the clear trickle. Emily simply stood beside the young man and stared blankly at the brook.

"Did you love him?" Rowdy finally spoke quietly just one of the many questions that had been plaguing his thoughts.

Emily slowly brought her brown eyes to meet his green ones, gazing up at her from where he squatted.

Her eyes softened. "Like a brother."

The ramrod nodded slightly. His canteen filled, he twisted the cap of it back on and stood up, his eyes still gazing at the lovely face in front of him.

"I guess you're wondering what all this has to do with you." Emily broke the gaze and turned away from him, looking off toward the line of cattle that was making it's way northward. She shook her head, exhaling sharply. "It's just that... I watch you tendin' to the cattle, I hear you talkin', see you givin' the men a hard time and losin' your temper and..." her voice faltered, and though he couldn't see her face he saw her hand go up to hold her forehead. "...And God, you're just like him, Rowdy."

The young man didn't have to see her to know that she was crying now. There were no whimpers, no sobs. No sounds at all came from the girl. But Rowdy knew.

He'd had no idea that she had felt so strongly about him. In a serious sort of way, he felt proud of it. But he also knew that with the loss of her friend, and now her family, she was probably having a hard time looking at anything that didn't trigger a memory of some sort. Her feelings for him might be a passing faze.

But she was a sweet girl, and he couldn't help but feel the need to do the best he could to help her in any way he could.

His feet brought him up closer behind her. He hesitated at first, but finally reached up to place a light hand on her shoulder. She didn't tense.

"Emily," for the first time he spoke her given name softly, though he didn't know what to say after that.

But that one word was enough, and then Emily was silently crying on his dusty chest. He held her tenderly while she let loose tears that made wet blots on his shirt. His thumb absently stroked her back, similar to the way he had done when he held her hand while she was unconscious.

Neither of them noticed how long they stayed like this. When she finally did pull away from him, the tears had stopped. Her eyes were no longer red from crying, but her cheeks were lightly flushed.

"Sorry... I sorta got your shirt wet," she wiped at the damp spots on his shirt.

Rowdy shook his head, rendering the girl a small smile. "You can wet my shirt any time."

This brightened her features, and it made him feel taller than a Georgia pine.

"I guess we should get back to the herd," Emily said, her eyes turning back to the moving cattle that had gotten ahead of them. "That is, if you think that ol' nag of yours'll make it."

Rowdy looked at his mount as if to say, Are you talking about my horse?

"Is that a challenge?"

"Only if you really want to bite some dust, drover," Emily replied smugly.

"We'll see who bites dust!"

This immediately triggered a wild scramble as both of them clambered onto their horses.

"Ha! Slowpoke!"

Hooves beat the ground as two young riders flew over the grass, past the drag riders, one flanking the other.

"That boy," one of the cattlemen shook his head.

What they saw when they looked at the two was the girl-crazy young ramrod and his latest love.

What Emily saw when she looked at Rowdy was someone who she had only met days ago, but couldn't help but love like her own flesh and blood. Rowdy knew this now.

So when he looked at Emily, he saw a beautiful girl who he felt very strongly about. It was a good feeling, but as to exactly what the feeling was... Well, he still had some figuring out to do.

For now, though, he was focused on winning the race.


Thanks to y'all who reviewed, I'm glad y'all like it so far. I hope to hear about what y'all think about how this is developing as a story, and how the relationships of the characters are developing.

Cheers!