Читать книгу Lone Star Bride - Jolene Navarro - Страница 13

Chapter Four

The sun started peeking over the hills and highlighted the details of the rugged camp. Several cowboys walked outside, their boots hitting the old wood of the porch. They gathered around Jackson. After a few minutes, they started heading directly toward her as a group.

She wanted to find a place to hide. She hadn’t really thought what it would mean to live as a boy for the whole trip.

“It’s a kid. Where’d you come from?” She had never heard that cowboy’s accent before, and she wasn’t sure what he looked like because she kept her eyes down, focused on the sizzling bacon.

“I could use someone to polish my boots.” Laughter followed.

Someone pulled her hat off. “Not sure I’d trust him. He has the look of a scamp who would steal everything he could and sneak off in the night.” The new one speaking had a very strong Southern accent.

“Give me back my hat.” She grabbed for the black felt hat that belonged to her brother.

The cowboy laughed and held the hat high above his head. Even if she jumped, she wouldn’t be able to reach it. All she could do was glare.

“He looks more like two bit of nothing than a cowboy.”

“Boss, we running an orphan camp now?”

“Hey, Two Bit, you gonna stare at your boots or actually pass out the bacon?”

All the excitement she felt earlier drowned under a wave of doubt. She had been stupid to think that putting on her brother’s pants would immediately help her fit into the world of men. These cowboys would never talk to her like this if they knew she was a De Zavala. She was tempted to tell them, just to see the look on their faces.

The closest cowboy to her spat on the ground by her feet.

Jackson joined the group. “That’s enough, Will. This is Santiago. He goes by Tiago. He’ll be helping Cook and only answers to him.” He took the hat from the man named Will and handed it to her. “You stay with Cook. We’ll be heading out to the cattle station as soon as these yahoos finish eating.”

Standing as straight as her spine allowed, she used the knife to pass the bacon onto their plates, along with a ladle full of gravy and a biscuit.

Under the mesquite trees, she made a resolution. No matter what they threw at her for the next few weeks, she would ride and learn with these men.

As they sat on the ground to eat, they joked and harassed each other. Jackson stood in front of her.

“You sure about this?”

She couldn’t back out now, just because the cowboys teased her. That would only prove she didn’t belong here, and she knew she did. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She added a shrug to make sure he knew she could be one of the cowboys.

“Okay. Once you get everything packed, you and Cook will head out first thing in the morning. The horses, then cattle will follow the wagon.” His eyes narrowed. “This is it. There is no way out once we start moving the cattle.”

She hesitated. To the core of her soul, she knew the next step would decide the direction of her life. Independence she never dreamed possible would be hers, along with all of the dangers.

Could she move back into the safe world her father had created for her? Where he also had an unknown groom waiting.

The men who worked for him, the business, the family...everything would be better off with her being a true partner of the ranch. In order to prove it to her father, she had to first prove it to these men. And herself.

Looking around the bare bunkhouse and outside cooking area, she knew this was easy living compared to the trail. She’d be sleeping on the ground, surrounded by wild animals.

Jackson looked at her expecting an honest answer. He didn’t rush her, just stood waiting. He didn’t know it, but she just put her life in his hands.

With a quick nod, she ran to the spot she had dropped her things.

The minute she walked back to the wagon, carrying her saddle, rifle and lasso, laughter erupted from the wranglers on the porch.

“That there’s some pretty fancy equipment for Two Bit of a cook’s helper.”

“Two Bit, you going to be riding the big stew pot over hills and hunting down our dinner?”

“Naw, he’s going to use his papa’s rope there and saddle the biggest bull. You going to lead us all the way to New Orleans.” They laughed at their stupid jokes.

They weren’t even funny.

Cook put dirt over the fire. “Toss your gear in the wagon. And start hooking up the mules.”

If Cook ignored the cowboys, so would she.

Jackson grabbed a saddle off the porch railing. “We’ve got work to do.” All the men went to the round pen and picked a horse to saddle.

The wagon was the biggest one she had ever seen. Usually, they used one with two wheels. This monster had four large wheels and siding that was taller than her. De Zavala was painted on the side. Leave it to her father to make a grand statement.

The mules for the wagon grazed nearby with long ropes attached to their leather hackamores. There were six. One of her jobs would be hitching them to the wagon that carried all the food supplies. Cook told her the placement was important to keep everything balanced.

She bit her lip and put her hands on her hips.

For years, she rode with her father, learning how to handle a horse, rope and brand cattle. Not once did she wonder how it all came to be. That had been someone else’s job.

Now she was expected to harness mules that didn’t look very cooperative. She could do this. Really, how difficult could it be? She knew tack and how to...she lifted the pieces of leather.

Long lines, straps, loops and the large collar with loose pieces that she didn’t have any knowledge of.

When Jackson realized she didn’t even know how to do her first job, he would leave her behind.

Maybe if she got the mules in line, the pieces would come together. The mules ignored her when she tried to move them. “Boys, this would be a great deal easier if you would stand in front of the wagon.”

After pulling and pushing, coercing and urging, she stood with her hands on her hips. It appeared that figuring out how to arrange the tack was not her biggest problem.

The creaking of leather warned her she wasn’t alone. “It helps if you attach the mules to the wagon.”

At the sound of Jackson’s deep voice, her shoulders sagged. She was caught. With a deep breath, she turned, making sure to stand tall.

Confidence was all about how the world saw you. Leaning across the saddle horn, the grim set of his mouth was at odds with the merriment in his eyes.

Everything about Jackson confused her.

He dismounted and let the reins drop to the ground. “Here.” From his pocket, he pulled wedges of apples. “Make friends with them, and they will do whatever you want. A good wrangler can get his mules to line up in order with one signal. They like routine and treats.” He laid his hand flat, and the dark gray mule followed him to the wagon.

“Cook wanted oxen, but the mules move out faster and are easier to train.”

She approached the one closest to her. It reached for the apple with its large lips and nudged her. Taking the rope, she placed him next to the gray mule in front of the wagon.

As they moved the six mules, Jackson explained the importance of their order. Step by step, he walked her through attaching the collars and lines.

“Make sure to use the pads, and that all the straps are lying flat. If they develop sores, they can’t pull and we can’t move.”

“How does this look?” She stepped back and watched him check her work.

Testing the cinches and traces, he nodded. “This is good. You want to make sure they don’t get tangled. Once you get this down, it will go by much faster. You’ll be doing this on your own from now on, so make sure to do it correctly.” He went on to explain all the things that could go wrong if she messed up.

Not that she didn’t already have enough to worry about. This was it. Now it was her responsibility.

Once the mules stood ready, Jackson leaped onto his horse with one swing of his leg. He tipped his hat and left for the cattle station.

Alone, she turned to the gray long-eared mule. “I can do this.”