“You mean men who will stand up to you,” Maggie said.
Sully’s eyes snapped in her direction, blazing with fury. She had no doubt now what he would have done if Mama and Rose hadn’t come to her rescue.
“Like I said, this is the new Texas,” Sully said. “You’re going to wish you had accepted my proposal, Maggie. And you,” he added, pointing at Rose. “You’d better pack your bags. Mr. Pew wants his wife back.”
“Say his name again,” Rose dared him, stepping closer and aiming down the short barrel of her derringer. “Say his name again, and I’ll knock you out of that saddle, Sully.”
Chad pulled a revolver from his belt. “We got ‘em now, boss. That stupid girl stepped right into the path of that scattergun. The woman can’t shoot without killing her, too.”
Maggie’s blood froze. Chad was right. Rose had stepped so close to Sully that Mama wouldn’t dare to use the shotgun.
Sully grinned wickedly.
A shrill whistle sounded from across the field.
Everyone glanced in that direction and saw young Denny Smith standing at the edge of the property, holding a long-barreled musket that looked like it would have no trouble reaching across the hundred and fifty yards between them.
Coming through the trees behind him were his three towheaded brothers, each carrying a rifle of his own.
A second later, another whistle sounded from the other direction, and there was old Sam Waters and his son, both of them barefoot and wearing bib overalls… and holding rifles in their hands as well.
A third whistle sounded from the front behind them, and Maggie was thrilled to see yet another neighbor, Mrs. Johnson, walking this way, a baby on her hip and a revolver in her free hand.
Rose retreated, making the threat of Mama’s shotgun deadlier than ever. She swung its barrel from Sully to the man named Chad, having realized just as Maggie had, that he was the most dangerous of the trio.
“Drop that revolver,” Mama demanded.
Chad started to say something belligerent.
“Drop it or die!” Mama said, and everyone knew she meant it.
Chad, however, still hesitated, eyeing Mama with searing hatred.
“If she shoots,” Maggie said, addressing Sully, “our neighbors will shoot, too.”
“Drop the gun, Chad,” Gibbs said, his voice lilting with fear.
“Yes,” Sully said. “Drop the gun. These peasants are just stupid enough to shoot us.”
Cursing, Chad lowered the hammer and leaned in his saddle and tossed the gun into the tall grass.
“This isn’t over,” Sully said, glaring at the women. “Not by a long shot. The authorities are going to hear about what you’ve done!”
CHAPTER 32
It was a good feeling, driving cattle up the lane toward home.
They had delivered half the cattle to a very happy Charles Forester, who whooped like a madman when they rode onto his ranch.
Forester wanted to know every detail of the trip. For the time being, however, Will shared the basics and told him he wanted to get his and Rufus’s share of the herd home and check on his family.
They agreed to talk again later, and Forester said he’d get in touch with the cattle network and figure out the best way to drive all these cattle to market. Then the old rancher sent Fletcher and Hill along with Will and Rufus and the other hired men to drive the half-herd to Will’s place.
Now, with the sun in his face, riding at the front of one hundred and fifty head of longhorn cattle, thanks to those they’d gathered on the return trip, Will felt like a conquering hero.
No one really won the Civil War, but the South had lost it. Disbanding and coming home had filled Will and the troopers of the 5thwith the bitterness of failure.
This sensation, coming home after securing enough cattle to provide anything his family might need for a long, long time, was the exact opposite of defeat, and it filled him with triumph and optimism.
