Читать книгу The Rocking R Ranch - Tim Washburn - Страница 11

CHAPTER 6

It had been a few hours since her argument with Seth, and Rachel was still concerned there had been a fundamental shift in their relationship. Deciding to walk down to the corral for some emotional mending, she stood, grabbed her short-brimmed sombrero off a peg by the door, and stepped out of the hot house into a furnace. The sun was merciless and, paired with the high humidity, it was suffocating. Rachel was drenched with sweat before she made it twenty feet from the porch. Gnats swarmed, cicadas hummed, and even the chickens had gone in search of shade.

Stepping into the shade of the barn, she nodded at two of the ranch hands who were busy mending saddles and walked on through to the corrals beyond. The stink of fresh cow manure hung like a blanket over the chewed-up dirt and a half a dozen horses stood, swishing their tails, in a skinny spot of shade at the far end of the corral. Trying to ignore the smell, which she’d always hated, she climbed up the fence rails and scanned for her son.

Her brother Eli had a calf snubbed to a post in the center of the other corral and, while two other ranch hands held it down, another stepped over with a red-hot iron and branded the Rocking R symbol on the calf’s left-rear flank. The calf bawled and snot flew as it swung its head, trying to get up while the mama cow stood on the other side of the fence, looking through the rails and bellowing. The scent of singed flesh reached Rachel’s nostrils as one of the ranch hands holding down the calf notched its ear then pulled off the rope. The calf lurched to its feet and stood on unsteady legs for a moment before moving off. Rachel walked over to the other corral, climbed the rails, and shouted, “Eli, where’s Seth?”

He took off his hat and used it to dust off his chaps as he walked over. He put the hat back on and propped a foot on a fence rail, his dirty shirt sagging with sweat. “I saw Seth ride out early this morning. He had his rifle, so I assumed he was going hunting.”

“Oh no, no, no. He didn’t go huntin’, damn it. He went chasin’ after his pa.”

“Why would he do that?” Eli asked.

“He was mad they wouldn’t let him go along with them. You have to go after him, Eli.”

“Why? I assume he’ll return home if he doesn’t find them or they’ll send him home if he does.”

Rachel said, “That’s a lot of assuming, Eli. And you know Seth’s never ridden across the river before.”

“He can follow a trail, can’t he? I presume even a twelve-year-old boy could follow the trail of a group of mounted men rather easily.”

“I’m sure he can. But if he doesn’t come home, how are we going to know he caught up to them and something else bad hasn’t happened? That whole place is infested with some of the vilest people to ever walk the earth.”

“Now who’s assuming?” Eli asked.

Rachel climbed down from the fence. “You know what? Forget I asked. I’ll go find him myself,” she said as she turned toward the barn, fuming. She wasn’t really surprised by Eli’s hesitation. Elias hated conflict and he fancied himself a scholar after going back East to college, thinking he’d leave ranch life behind. He got his degree, but then he floundered around for a couple of years until their father derailed the money train and he was forced to come home.

“Stop, Rachel,” Eli shouted.

Rachel whirled around. “What? You change your mind?”

“You’re not riding off by yourself.”

Rachel stomped back toward the corral. “I will if you won’t. I swear, Eli, you’re ’bout the biggest coward I ever seen.”

“Think what you will, but this is not an issue of bravery or cowardice. It’s simply an issue of time.” Eli sighed and looked off in the distance a moment before turning back to look at Rachel. “What if Seth arrives back home after I leave? I could spend all afternoon searching for something that isn’t there.”

“Well, Eli, I reckon a grown man could follow the trail of seven men and a boy on horseback.”

“Touché.” Eli looked down at the ground and nudged a dirt clod with the toe of his boot. As tall as Percy at six-two, Eli was much thicker and heavier, having gotten a good dose of his father’s genes. Not to be outdone, his mother had contributed her fair share, too, giving Eli her red hair and blue eyes and, with it, the pale skin that was so susceptible to the sun. Eli never left the house without his hat and kept his lower face shaded with a well-groomed beard and mustache. He looked up at his sister and said, “Perhaps I’ll ride out for a look.”

“Not by yourself. I don’t want to have to send someone out to look for you, too,” Rachel said.

Eli shot her an angry look. “I’m a fine navigator but I suppose Winfield Wilson could accompany me.”

“Good choice. One of you needs to be able to shoot a gun and Win can shoot the wings off a fly. Plus, he can read sign almost as good as Wilcox.”

“Your assumption that gunplay might be involved is based on what exactly?”

“I have no idea what you’re liable to run into but having Win along would ease my mind some. In fact, it’d probably be a good idea if you left your pistol home and took that scattergun of yours. Not much aimin’ involved with that one.”

Eli’s cheeks reddened with anger. “I’ll decide which weapons are best to take. And, I have to say, you are vastly underestimating my shooting abilities.”

“Maybe so but I’m not goin’ to stand here and argue your pistol prowess, Eli. Seth’s already been gone too long.”