“Your abuelo? Your grandfather?”
“Si.”
“Your grandfather is dead.”
“Even the muerto can visit you in your dreams,” Maria said as if it were something everyone should know.
“It would be good if it is a boy, but I will be happy no matter what it is,” Clay said.
A loud knock on the door interrupted their conversation and Clay went to open it. Big Ben was standing there, and he was obviously agitated.
“Have you seen her?” he asked.
Clay had a confused look on his face. “Have I seen who?”
“Rebecca,” Big Ben said, as if it should be obvious. “She’s gone. Have you seen her?”
“No, I haven’t. When did she leave?”
“She left in the middle of the night,” Big Ben said. “Turn out all the men, Clay. We have to find her.”
All work stopped while everyone searched for Rebecca. The mystery was deepened when they discovered that, while her saddle was gone, her horse was not, though it wasn’t in the corral. They found her horse cropping grass about half a mile from the Big House.
Clay and Tom rode into town to check the railroad and stagecoach depots, but neither of them reported that Rebecca had bought a ticket.
“Tom, is there something going on that I don’t know about?” Clay asked as the two men started back toward Live Oaks.
“What do you mean?”
“You have everyone on the ranch talking about you. None of us have ever known anyone as smart as you are. You are from back East, but you ride a horse like you were born in the saddle. There is something in your past, something that you don’t want anyone to know about.”
“I’m told there are a lot of men out here who have pasts that they don’t want to share,” Tom said. “That’s one of the reasons I came West.”
“So there is something in your past. What is it?”
“You said it yourself, Clay. It is something that I don’t want anyone to know about.”
“Are you wanted by the law?”
“Is Dusty wanted by the law?” Tom replied.
“Dusty? Well, I—I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you know?”
“Because I’ve never asked him.”
“Then why are you asking me?”
“Because it is different with you,” Clay said. “Maria tells me that Rebecca has set her cap for you. Now, I don’t know about such things, but Maria does, and if that’s what she says, then that’s the way it is. And if that is true, then sure as hell, it’s not something that Big Ben would approve of. So I’m going to ask you right out. Is there something going on between the two of you? Do you know where Rebecca is?”
“I don’t know where she is,” Tom said. “But I think it is my fault that she is gone.”
“Why would it be your fault?” Clay asked.
“I’m afraid I hurt her.”
“Clay stopped riding and glared at Tom. “Tom, did you hit that girl?”
“What? No, no,” Tom said quickly.
“You didn’t hit her, or—do anything to her? Because if you did, friendship be damned, I’ll have you fired off this place and run out of Texas.”
“It was nothing like that, Clay,” Tom said. “I promise you. I guess I just told her something she didn’t want to hear.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her that I didn’t love her.”
Clay was quiet for a long moment. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I can see how that could be more than she wants to deal with.”
“The thing is, I lied to her,” Tom said.
“Why did you lie?”
“Under the circumstances, I thought it might be best,” Tom said.
“Yeah, with Big Ben, I see your point,” Clay said. “I’m not sure how he would take it, his daughter being in love with one of his hired hands. She’s probably hurt now, because she’s young, and young people feel this more.”
The circumstances Tom was referring to were his own circumstances, not Big Ben’s, but it was easier to let Clay think that.
“All right, I believe you. But do me a favor, will you? Don’t say anything about this to anyone else. And especially not to Big Ben.”
Tom had no intention of talking about it to Big Ben, but as it turned out, he didn’t have any choice. When he and Clay returned from town, Big Ben was waiting there for them. And as soon as he learned from them that Rebecca had not taken a train or a stagecoach, he asked Tom to come into his house and talk to him.
Tom glanced over at Clay, but if he was looking for some support from the foreman, he got none, because Clay merely stared down at his own boots.
Tom followed Big Ben into the parlor. This was the first time he had been in the parlor since that first day when Big Ben hired him.
“I’ll get right to the point, Whitman,” Big Ben said.
Tom flinched at the way Big Ben addressed him. Clay had made it a point to call all of his cowboys by their first name. That he referred to Tom as ‘Whitman’ couldn’t be good.
“I want to know what has been going on between you and my daughter.”
“Going on? Mr. Conyers, nothing has been going on per se.”
“Nothing has been going on per se? That doesn’t tell me a damn thing,” Big Ben said. “What do you mean per se? That means something has been going on.”
“By per se, I mean that your daughter has not been compromised in any way.”
“Something is happening,” Big Ben insisted. “She told me that she loved you. Is that true?”
“Yes, she told me that.”
“And she told me that you said you didn’t love her.”
“That’s not exactly true,” Tom said.
“What’s not exactly true? Are you calling my daughter a liar?”
“No, I did tell her that. But I was lying, Mr. Conyers. The truth is, I do love your daughter. I love her more than I thought would ever be possible.”
“Then why did you tell her that you didn’t love her?”
“Because I am not deserving of her love.”
Big Ben blinked in surprise, for he had not expected that answer. Then he nodded.
“Do you have any idea where she is, Tom?” This time the words were soft, and non-accusatory. They were pleading. “I’m not asking you this as an angry employer, but as an anguished father. Do you know where she is? Did she say anything to you before she left?”
“No, sir, she said nothing to me before she left, because I didn’t know she was going to leave. And I have no idea where she is. Mr. Conyers, if it is your wish, I will leave the ranch.”
Big Ben shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, there is no need for that. Clay likes you, all the cowboys like you. Damn it, I like you. I just don’t think that a marriage between you and Rebecca would be for the best.”
“And on that subject, you and I agree,” Tom said.
On the trail
For the first several days, the Rocking H company pushed the cattle hard, not only to get them away from their customary range so as to make them less hesitant to wander away, but also too tired to run at night. By then, the trail was fairly routine with the cattle moving along by habit. The strongest steers had taken their place as leaders; others had positioned themselves somewhere in the long column, and they too, took their places every day, like soldiers with assigned positions.
Because Rebecca was the newest and greenest of the cowboys, she was given the job of riding drag. She came away from the herd each evening with a heavy coating of dust on her hat and eyebrows. That was because the thousands of cattle pulverized the ground into a fine dust.
A typical day began with the last change of guards before breakfast at four o’clock in the morning. Those heading back to their bedrolls for half an hour or so more sleep would awaken the cook, who would build his fire and start breakfast, mostly biscuits and bacon.