Chapter 9
Themonotonyofthetrail was almost unbearable for Kate. Wake before dawn, fix breakfast, pack up and head out, trek for countless hours, a brief respite at noon. Trek endlessly again, make camp as the sun is setting, supper, and then fall into an exhausted sleep, all repeated day after day after day. Her dreams of adventure had come crashing against the drudgery of this arduous journey, and she could barely manage her disappointment. She had thought every day would be filled with excitement, never knowing what was beyond the horizon, nothing but open sky and rolling hills as far as the eye could see.
But it was terribly crowded. Hundreds of trains had started out from St. Joe at the same time as theirs, and they were constantly jockeying for a place at the front of the pack, trying to outpace the others, claim the best grazing, make the most miles. There wasn’t even the wonderment of trying to find their way in the wilderness. Even if there weren’t a thousand other wagons out there, one could simply follow the cast-off furniture and abandoned supplies that lined the well-worn ruts of the trail.
And the noise! The clanking tug chains and creaking wagon beds as they jolted over the rutted ground, the braying mules, bellowing oxen, and shouting men hurling curses at each other and their animals combined to raise such a racket it gave Kate a headache by noon. It was like traveling in the midst of a mobile city, a vast shanty town creeping along the beaten ground, with all the filth and deprivation that came with it.
Then there were the graves. At first Kate had wanted to stop, to pay her respects to her fellow travelers who hadn’t made it to the paradise that awaited them in Oregon. But they were barely out of St. Joe and the tally of freshly turned mounds had already reached thirteen. Kate realized that death would be another constant on the trail. So much sorrow. The only thing she could do was ignore the graves, often dug in such haste that the poor soul’s boots were visible above the dirt. It felt so calloused. But they lined the trail like mile markers. She had to keep her eyes ahead, looking to the future still bright and untouched by grief, or she would drown under the weight of it.
The only thing that kept Kate sane were the times when she relieved one of her brothers at the back of the train, where the herds of livestock were being driven through the dust. Accompanied by her mother’s looks of great disappointment, she would don her wide-brimmed hat and a pair of Danny’s cast-off trousers—she hadn’t even needed to hem the pants, though they were a little snug across the hips—then saddle up her mare to join the cacophony of sights and sounds of a hundred animals.
Kate loved the feeling of partnership with her horse, the wordless ask and response. She loved the thrill of going after an animal that decided to break from the rest, cutting it off and pushing it back into the herd. What an exhilarating challenge! The only thing that would dampen her spirits were the odd looks she’d get from the other travelers as she rode astride her horse in a man’s trousers and hat, and the tight-lipped look of disapproval on her mother’s face. Why was it so strange for a girl to work with her hands, to use her skills where they were needed, no matter how odd they may be?
The other cowhands didn’t take too kindly to a girl coming to work alongside them. Kate knew they thought she’d get in the way and cause all sorts of trouble. It was rather unorthodox for her father to let her wear trousers and ride astride, let alone teach her the finer points of roping and herding cattle, but what had started out as an indulgence to a bitof a wild child had turned into an outright apprenticeship as her father saw the natural skill with which she took to the demanding position of cowhand.
And her body was built for it. She was almost as tall as Danny, and she had inherited a portion of her father’s broad shoulders and strong arms. She could handle her own. Sticking close to her father and brothers, working in tandem with an ease born out of years herding together, Kate set out to prove the world wrong.
They each knew their place: Pa driving from behind, Kate and Ian working the sides. As the other men observed her skill, Kate earned not necessarily their acceptance, but at least their begrudging respect. Besides, being taller and broader than would be expected of a young lady, and with a kerchief over her face to block out the persistent dust, most of the time you couldn’t even tell she was a girl. No porcelain skin over here; her hands and face were as tanned as her father’s.
As she walked her mare alongside the herd, occasionally slapping her rope against her leg to encourage them along, she imagined what it would have been like if she had started working the herd with her braid coiled into her hat, chewing tobacco and dropping her voice half an octave. She wouldn’t have had to endure the derision of the cowboys, would’ve been accepted based on her skill alone. Then she would pull down her kerchief and whip off her hat, letting her lustrous hair tumble down her back, revealing her true identity and showing the world that a girl could rope and ride with the best of them. The look on their faces! Kate snorted a laugh and immediately regretted it when dust filled her lungs and threw her into a coughing fit.
“Katie, watch the steer!”
She whipped her head around, jolted back to reality with her father’s bellowed call. She searched frantically up and down the side of the herd through the billowing dust, trying to spot the escapee. There! An ornery two-year-old had decided to lead his friends clear of the dust and off tothe hills of beckoning grass. Kate kicked her heels into Sadie’s side and leapt after them, hissing and whipping the ends of her reins to urge her mare forward. The others were following that blasted steer! If she didn’t head them off soon, they might have a stampede on their hands.
Kate angled Sadie to cut off the leader and readied her rope. The sound of pounding hooves spurred the steer onward, and he broke into a run. Kate cried out in frustration. She drove alongside the running cattle, yelling and slapping them with her rope. They veered to the right, away from her fury and back toward the safety of the herd. All but that loco steer. As she neared him, Kate could see the whites of his crazed eyes. If she could just get in front of him …
As she pulled ahead and turned in to cut him off, he swung his head in rage, his vicious horns aimed directly at Kate’s stirrup.
Fear washed over her, and she fell into the space between the seconds. Every agonizing moment stretched while she watched in horror as the steer’s momentum drove him directly toward Sadie’s flank. She couldn’t avoid it. No matter the course of action she took in the next moment, blood would run. She imagined the steer’s horns sinking into flesh, the blood and gore spurting as Sadie fell, her own leg breaking as one ton of horseflesh fell on top of it, the searing pain, the horrifying conclusion. Her ears roared with the ominous thudding of her heart.
Then the steer’s head jerked back and away, and the moment snapped back into clear reality.
Kate quickly pulled Sadie to a stop. They were both heaving for breath, dirty as all get out, and streaked with the foam that lathered her horse’s neck. Kate gently unclenched her hands from the reins. “Good girl, Sadie.” She patted her mare’s shuddering neck, the motion calming them both. “You done good today. I know, girl, that was a close one, the way he swung right at us and then—” Her eyes widened as she remembered. Jerking around, she saw the steer struggling at the end ofa rope lassoed around his horns and held taut by a buckskin and his cowboy.
Kate urged Sadie into a tired jog. The danger had passed, but her job wasn’t quite done. “You need any help?” she called to the cowboy obscured by the dust kicked up by the writhing longhorn.
“Naw, we’re fine,” came the grunted response.
The steer bucked and pulled. She hesitated, rope primed for a throw. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure! Now just—blast it all!”
The steer did an incredible jackknife, and Kate heard the sound of slipping rope and a string of curses. She swung and barely caught one of his hind legs in her lasso. Quick as lightning, she wrapped her rope around her pommel, pulling Sadie back to get tension. Finally caught, the steer heaved on the ground between two quivering ropes. He kicked a few times then stopped struggling and lay there, breathing hard. Kate let out a relieved sigh. She could feel Sadie trembling.
With the steer finally subdued and the dust drifting away on the welcome breeze, Kate looked up at her unknown partner. Well, if it wasn’t Mr. Jacob Munroe himself. She didn’t know why, but it made her immensely happy to have rescued this big, charming young man, even if he had just saved her and her horse from a gory disaster. She couldn’t help rubbing it in. Grinning, she pulled down her kerchief and called out, “Yousureyou don’t need any help, Mr. Munroe?”
Jacob stared, his mouth open, mystified at the cowboy sitting opposite him. Or cowgirl,more accurately. Kate McGrath grinned at him like the cat that got the cream, her face covered in dust and streaked with sweat, and a man’s hat with a perfectly braided hatband settled firmly on her head. What was she doing out here, herding cattle of all things? Did shereally just tease him about his roping skills? He didn’t know whether he should be upset, offended, or throw his head back and laugh. With a disbelieving smile he called back, “What were you thinkin’?”
Still grinning, she asked, “When? When I turned the stampede or when I saved you from losin’ this steer?”
“I was referrin’ to the time this here steer just about tore off your leg and killed your horse.”
Her grin slipped a bit. “Yeah, I thought he would get us for sure. I owe you a thanks, I guess.”
Jacob scoffed. “You guess? How ’bout definitely! You were inches away from bein’ a bloody mess!” Her smile faded completely.Darn it all.He hadn’t meant to upset her. What do you say to a girl wearing trousers, of all things? He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I was concerned for your welfare, and I didn’t think you could … I mean, I didn’tknowthat you could …” Her smile hinted at returning with his stammering.Stop making a fool of yourself!“Well, next time, just … rope him real good.” He stopped abruptly.Idiot.
Amazingly, her smile blossomed. “Thank you kindly, Mr. Munroe, I will take that under advisement.”
