Long Road Out of Eden
Chapter 13 – A Stroll in the Moonlight
The days and nights settled into a routine. After a few days of driving the herd forward, Bret and Bart had their point riders and all of their drover positions pretty well set. They tried to rotate the drovers so that nobody got stuck riding drag more than two days in a row, and Bret was able to find enough drovers with experience to keep the wagon out of Bart's hands. That still didn't have a significant effect and the coughing continued, getting worse instead of better.
Cookie was a real character, and she provided most of the entertainment around the fire. She'd been doing this job for a while and was open and willing to talk about anything; she became a real friend to most of the drovers. She got particularly close to Ned and Will, and just kind of took them under her wing. She assumed a mother role to Ned, and Will used her as a sounding board for all of his hopes and dreams for the Walker Ranch. The drovers passed the evenings trying to find a naughty limerick that Cookie didn't know, and so far no one had been successful.
Poker was regularly played, with the understanding that if you wanted to bet it you had to put it on the table. No betting on next week's pay allowed. Bret and Bart stayed out of the poker games for the most part; it was difficult to beat a man at poker at night and tell him how to run a herd the next day. In desperation Bret taught Althea to play poker, and on occasion Cookie joined them in a game. She was a worthy opponent, and even though the trail bosses won most of the time, Cookie was more than capable of holding her own. Althea couldn't remember the hierarchy of the hands, but at least Bret got to spend time with her without running the risk of overstepping his bounds.
The two potential lovers found their own routine, taking walks when they didn't have a poker game going, and Bret discovered her to be quite knowledgeable and charming. He made sure their walks were always in full view of the drovers, using them as visual chaperones. He knew he shouldn't encourage her to spend time with him, but he enjoyed her company and found himself actually discussing things other than poker with her. The enormous problem he could foresee was the fact that he was falling in love with her.
This night he tried to ignore that turn of events and have a serious talk with Bart about his health. Bart wanted nothing to do with a discussion on that particular topic and preferred to take a walk alone down by the river they'd bedded down next to. Bret watched his brother drift further and further downstream, coughing almost every step of the way. Althea was standing next to him before he even heard her.
"He's not getting any better, is he?" she asked out of concern.
"Nope," Bret answered her and began to walk back to the fire.
"Bret, wait," Althea pleaded, and he stopped in his tracks and turned around. "Why are you in such a hurry to get away from me? Do I repulse you?"
There was hurt and anger in her voice. He wanted to gather her in his arms, hold her close and tell her how he felt about her, but he knew that was still a bad idea. Instead he just said, "No." She could draw her own conclusions.
"Then what is it?" she persisted. "You avoid me most of the time as if I'm somehow diseased. Have I said or done something to offend you?"
"No," he answered again and walked to the back of the second wagon, pulling his bedroll out of the pile.
She followed him. "Why don't you want to be with me unless we're around everybody else in camp? Please give me an answer. I can't stand any more of this."
He could ignore her next to him no longer and set the bedroll back in the wagon in the spot he'd pulled it from. Without a word he turned back to her and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in such a passionate kiss that it took her breath away. He let go of her as quickly as he'd held her and resumed possession of the bedroll, then walked away and left her standing alone. She wasn't sure that she'd ever been kissed so completely in her whole life.
She finally reached into the wagon and extracted her own bedroll, taking it back to the fire and Cookie, who was snoring placidly. She made her bed and laid down, nothing running through her mind but the kiss. What did she do now? For lack of anything better, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
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Bart walked on down the riverbank, stopping now and again to look out across the water. There was still an occasional steer drinking from the river, and Bart watched the massive beasts wander in and out of the liquid. He coughed again, and it was beginning to wear on him. Bret had wanted to talk to him tonight, or lecture him as the case may be, and he'd been in no mood for it. He knew the cough was never going to get better until the cattle drive was over and he could stop breathing the dust and dirt of forty thousand hooves on a daily basis.
What he couldn't understand was why Bret seemed to pursue him so relentlessly. He knew as well as anybody what havoc a drive could impose upon even the best of lungs, and Bart's certainly wasn't the best. It was almost as if he was focusing all his attention on Bart so that he didn't have to face any other problems. Then it came to him. Bret was trying to avoid dealing with something. Everything seemed to be going well with the cattle and the drovers; the food was excellent; they were making good time, and that left only one thing. Althea.
Had his brother fallen for the lovely widow? The most likely answer seemed to be 'yes,' and he was using Bart's coughing as a focus, to draw his attention away from the real problem.
Bart was delighted and dismayed at the same time. Bret knew the risk he was taking, but it had been much too long since there was a woman in his brother's life. Althea had been someone's wife; Bart had no doubt she'd want to marry again. And Bart assumed that wasn't feasible at this point in his brother's life. Which left the question unanswered: Where was this going to end up?
When Bart finally looked up, he realized how far down the river he'd walked. At least Bret wouldn't follow him here, but maybe it would be better if he had. It was time they had a long talk about the Widow Taylor and the potential for disaster that rode with the drive. What had started out as a favor for a dead friend had turned into a money-making opportunity with a black cloud hanging over it.
Better get back to camp and get some sleep. Without paying too much attention, he turned around and began walking the way he'd come. Something caught his eye and he took a closer look, to be sure he'd actually seen it and not just imagined it. A lone figure wove in and out of the brush that surrounded the campsite. The only reason he could be seen was the full moon that shown brightly in the night sky. It appeared to be a Comanche brave, but not a warrior. This was a boy of ten or eleven, and he carried a bow and wore a quiver across his back. A dead rabbit hung from his waist; he was out hunting and appeared to have accidentally stumbled across the camp.
Bart stood still and within two or three seconds the young Comanche had disappeared completely. He'd been holding his breath and didn't realize it until he exhaled. Things had been progressing smoothly and he wanted nothing to disturb that. He looked out to the herd and the only Nighthawk he saw riding was Terry Ransworth, who was moving slowly up the south side of the group and watching almost straight ahead.
Good. The last thing they needed was someone panicking at the sight of a lone Indian and inadvertently starting a stampede. Especially here in northern Texas, where the terrain went from pleasant hills and valleys to long expanses of flat land, then back to rivers and rocky stretches where many a herd could be lost in a matter of minutes. Bart continued watching the cattle and saw no sign of anything amiss, slowly but surely making his way back to camp. He was beyond tired and probably should have saved his energy for things more important than trying to escape another argument with Bret about his coughing.
He'd failed to retrieve his bedroll from the wagon and had to climb up inside to get to it now, and that proved more challenging than he'd imagined. The constant coughing and difficulty catching his breath was beginning to take a toll on his strength and stamina. Another thing to keep from his brother's attention. Maybe he should go back to riding Nighthawk again; that way he could avoid Bret most of the time by overseeing the nighttime responsibilities and sleeping in the second wagon during the day. That was something he would consider and decided to give it more thought in the morning.
Still wary after spotting the 'lost' Comanche, he made his bed close to the rope line and Noble. The horse bobbed his head up and down but remained silent. Bart finally laid down for the night, worn out mentally and physically and wondering if he had enough endurance left to finish what he and Bret had started.