“And you are all right with that?” Clay asked. “I mean, I know that you’re pregnant, and I hate to leave you, but I think it will be less than two months.”
“I am all right with it, because I am going with you,” Maria told him.
“What? Oh, no, I don’t know, Maria, I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” Clay said.
“Please, Clay,” Maria said. “I do not want to be here for so long during my time of pregnancy without you. You will need a cook, and you will need someone to drive the chuck wagon. I can drive the chuck wagon, and I can cook your meals. I have done this before.”
“Yes, but you weren’t pregnant then. Now, you are pregnant.”
“Other women have made difficult journeys while pregnant. Think of the women who gave birth on the wagon trains. Think of the women who have given birth on board ship. Think of the Blessed Virgin Mother of our Lord. Did she not make a long and difficult journey while she was with child? Besides, the baby will not come until after we have returned home. And, wouldn’t you rather sleep in the wagon with me, than on the ground with the cowboys?”
Clay laughed. “Somehow, you have managed to make sense of that,” he said. “All right, I’ll clear it with Big Ben, and if he says he has no problem with it, I’ll take you with me.”
“Oh, thank you!” Maria said, laughing happily. She threw her arms around his neck then squeezed herself so close to him that he could easily feel the baby she was carrying.
CHAPTER TEN
Live Oaks Ranch, November 8
“I received a wire today telling me that the cattle would be in Dodge City on the eighteenth of November,” Big Ben said. “How long will it take you to get there to meet them?”
“About eight days, I would think,” Clay replied.
“Who will you be taking with you?”
“I’ve been thinking about it from the time you told me. I believe I’m going to take Tom Whitman, Dusty McNally, and Mo Coffey.”
“Yes, they are all good men. Who are you going to have for your Segundo? Dusty?”
“No, it’ll be Tom.”
“Are you sure about that? He’s been here for less than a year. I would think you would want someone like Dusty, or even Mo.”
“Dusty and Mo are both good men, that is true. But I want someone who can think on his feet, and Tom is good at that. In fact, he’s about the smartest man I’ve ever met. No, let’s make that he is the smartest man I have ever met.”
“Yes, well, that’s what bothers me about him. Why would someone that smart be content to be a cowboy for the rest of his life unless he either has no ambition, or is lazy, or he is hiding something?”
“He isn’t lazy, Mr. Conyers, I can attest to that,” Clay said. “Why, he works harder than any man on this ranch.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that a man like that chooses to be a cowboy?”
“I have chosen to be a cowboy, Mr. Conyers,” Clay said pointedly.
“Oh, yes, well, I didn’t mean it like that,” Big Ben said trying to recover. “Who are you taking as your cook? Coleman? It’s up to you of course, and I won’t interfere. But I think you should know that if you take Coleman, the boys back here won’t be all that pleased.”
“I’m taking Maria. She’ll drive the chuck wagon.”
Big Ben looked surprised. “You are taking Maria?”
“Yes. She is a very good cook, as you know. And this won’t be the first trail drive she’s made. She went with us last year.”
“Yes, but that was in the spring,” Big Ben said. “In the spring the weather gets better as you go. But this time I’m asking you to drive twenty-five hundred head of cattle through the dead of winter. And these aren’t Longhorns, either. They are Black Angus, and Lord only knows how they will take to the trail.”
“She wants to go, Mr. Conyers, and I want to take her with me, if you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. I mean, she is your wife and you will be right there with her. You are also the trail boss, so if you are all right with that, I suppose I can be too. I do have a favor to ask of you though.”
“Sure, what would that be?”
“I want you to take Dalton with you.”
Clay didn’t say anything, but he did suck air in through clenched teeth.
“He’s not that bad, is he?”
“He’s, uh, a little young for a trip like this, don’t you think?”
“Nonsense,” Big Ben said. “I’ve seen many a sixteen-, fifteen-, even fourteen-year-old cowboy on the trail. Hell, you have too.”
“Yes, but,” Clay started, then he bit off the sentence.
“Look, Clay, I know Dalton can be troublesome,” Big Ben said, his words soothing, cajoling. “Lord knows, this business with Ebersole cost me four hundred dollars. It made me want to just take Dalton back into town, throw him into jail and let him live with the consequences of his own actions. But I can’t do that. He is, as the Bible says, my only begotten son.”
“I understand,” Clay said.
“Clay, Dalton needs this. I think a drive like this—a wintertime drive that is going to be two, maybe three times harder than normal, would be just the thing to give the boy some seasoning. And how about this as an inducement? For every cow you get back here, I will give you twenty-five cents a head; half for you, and the other half to be divided out among the other hands.”
“Mr. Conyers, are you sure you want to do that? It’s going to cost you enough to get that herd down here as it is. You don’t need to be spending even more money.”
Big Ben put his hand on Clay’s shoulder. “I don’t need to do it, Clay. I want to do it,” he said.
“I appreciate that. But you don’t have to pay me extra to take the boy. I will take him just because you ask me to take him.”
“This isn’t just for taking the boy,” Big Ben said. “This is because I want the best personal care given for these cows. They are a very special breed. And once I get the herd established, it will be well worth whatever it cost me to get them here.”
“If we are going to get there in time to get back here for Christmas, we need to leave by the day after tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to go gather up Tom, Dusty and Mo. You might ask Dalton to come on over to my place in about half an hour so we can talk about it.”
“I will, Clay. And thank you,” Big Ben said. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
There were two clapboard bunkhouses on the ranch, both painted white. There were twenty bunks in each of the bunkhouses, ten on each side. The inside walls were of wide, rip-sawed, unpainted boards, papered over with newspapers. In the time he had been here, Tom Whitman had read just about every article and every advertisement on every wall. He had committed the one behind his bunk to memory.
W. GLITSCHKA
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL
GROCER
110 Houston St.
FRESH EGGS
GREENS AND VEGETABLES
FRUITS
PROVISIONS OF ALL KINDS
There were two wood-burning stoves in the bunkhouse, one at each end. Though it was cool now in early November, it wasn’t cold enough to keep both of them going, so for now only one was being used, and that was as much to keep the pot of coffee warm as it was to heat the bunkhouse.
At the moment, Tom was lying on his bunk with his hands laced behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. At the far end of the bunkhouse, Dusty McNally was playing the guitar and crooning a cowboy song, one that Tom had heard many times being sung to the cattle. Several of the other cowboys were gathered around Dusty.