“Long way.”
“Around five hundred miles, I hear.”
“Dangerous trip.”
“For a war veteran, you seem awful concerned with danger.”
“Veterans understand danger in a way most folks don’t. All this money you’re talking about isn’t worth a thing if we get ourselves killed.”
There was more to Will’s reluctance than just danger, however. He was a newlywed and hated the idea of being separated from Maggie.
Besides, he still had money left.
Of course, that money would run out. He could get by without it, but once you’ve had money, you’ll work extra hard and take on some risk to avoid going broke again.
He’d have to keep thinking about it.
“You have a point,” Rufus said. “But like I said, we could sell them at Fort Worth. Not for twenty a head, but we would still make some money.”
“Or tie in with somebody who knows the trail.”
“Beef business is booming right now. And folks don’t care if you’re Union or Confederate, white or black, so long as you do the work. About the only other job like that is the railroad, and I’d rather drive cattle than lay track.”
Will nodded. “Me, too. Even though I like building things.”
“You’re good at it.”
Will held up his big hands. “God blessed me that way. I can build anything. But I think laying track would get monotonous after a while.”
“And it’s just as dangerous as driving cattle.”
“Even worse from what I hear.”
“Well, you think on it, Will. You want to throw in together, say the word, and we’ll ride down into the Thicket and get us some cattle.”
Will nodded again, warming to the idea. “I’d need a cattle horse.”
“We’ll find you a cattle horse. There are folks around here, used to run big herds, got them all snatched up and never rebuilt. One of them would sell you a horse. But if we’re gonna do it, we gotta hurry. The cattle boom won’t last forever. You got this much money changing hands, this many hungry people, you’re gonna see everybody and his brother rounding up cattle. It’ll get a lot harder to make a buck. Now’s the time.”
Will chuckled. “You’re a persuasive fellow, Rufus.”
Rufus spread his calloused hands. “It ain’t me doing the persuading, it’s the opportunity.”
“Well, I’ll think on it,” Will said, and felt the seed of this idea already swelling in his mind.
He might even have kept talking about it more if a boy on a mule hadn’t come riding into view then, shouting Will’s name, his voice full of panic.
CHAPTER 22
It was Denny Smith, a boy from down the road, whose daddy, another veteran, had recently stopped for a visit one evening.
Will and Rufus walked out to meet him.
“Mr. Bentley!” Denny shouted as he drew close. “The law’s hunting you, sir!”
“All right,” Will said, and one hand dropped unconsciously to the Colt shoved through his belt. “Bluebellies or Rickert?”
“It’s Sheriff Rickert, sir. He said you stirred up some trouble in town and he’s gonna bring you to justice, sir.”
