He’d hoped she’d forgotten Jess’s mention and the previous conversation.
“The youngest of us. He was real hot-headed, worse than Andrew. Mean from the time he was a baby.”
“He’s dead.”
Bill nodded solemnly. “Last year. Even after I bailed him out of that jail, he went back to Cricket Bend. To do what, I have no idea. But there was a man, a wanted killer, and he left Theo lying bloody in a barn. We buried him about three days outside of town.”
Sparrow was silent for a long time before she spoke again. “Is Andrew like him? Is that why you protect him like you do?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Is it a crime to be curious about the man who saved your life?”
She had him there. “Theo and Andrew were two of a kind. I don’t want Andrew to wind up the same way,” Bill confessed. “But it seems there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I thought if maybe he came on one more drive, I could talk some sense into him, but it seems I was fooling myself. He’s hell-bent on gambling and drinking and fighting, and it’s likely to be the death of him.”
“You might be surprised,” Sparrow answered. “I’ve known men like him. Some of them, sailing on luck or stupidity, live lives far longer than you can imagine. Like cats and their nine lives. They’ll outlive a good number of sensible men, unfair as it seems.”
For the finery he’d found her in, she didn’t always speak like a refined woman. A hint of darker things lay just beneath her words. Yet again, he wondered about her past. “Seems to me you know a bit about it.”
“I’ve spent a good deal of my life in saloons and music halls. I have known a lot of people, and seen my share of trouble.”
“I look forward to hearing that story, when you’re ready to tell it.” When her eyes went down to her fingers, either from sadness or embarrassment, Bill quickly changed the subject. “Let’s run these two for a bit, see what’s up ahead and waiting for us.” He whistled loud to Jess, who moved into point position as Bill and Sparrow kicked their horses into gallops and crossed the grass side by side.
Bill watched her face go from scared to exhilarated as the horses ran over the flat land, up a small incline, and down into a valley. All of it would be fine for the cows to cross, with easy walking and no sharp turns or drop-offs to avoid. They rose up out of the valley, a few miles ahead of the drive, and Bill caught the sparkle of the sun off water out the corner of his eye. He turned Orion toward it. Sparrow and Maggie followed.
As Bill came over the incline of a hill, Orion jumped a bit.
Bill immediately saw why.
Death lay ahead. He rode closer to a tiny creek and wished he’d kept on going straight. The sun-bleached bones of a few cows lay on the rocky shore, cleaned by the vultures and the sun. Most of them had been small cows, probably underfed and overwalked, judging from the size of their bones. Bill got off Orion a distance back from the bones, and approached. He stepped over the bones and studied them until he reached something that made him stop. Kneeling, he picked up the perfectly-preserved skull of one cow. The cow had been magnificent in size, same as King. The horns were sculpted and dried with not a crack or missing piece.
As Sparrow arrived and took in the sight, she gasped and dismounted. “What happened to them?”
“We had the hardest winter I can recall, and it followed last summer, which was hotter than it’s ever been. We had a drought. Most likely, they got lost and starved, or got hurt. Hard to say for certain. They’re picked clean. Maybe coyotes.”
“I detest coyotes,” Sparrow declared. “I spent those nights in the woods listening to them howl, and I’ve never heard anything so frightening.” She hobbled slowly over to where Bill stood.
“How’d you survive?”
It was a simple question, one Bill had been desperately wanting to know since they’d met.
“I climbed up in a tree,”
“The youngest of us. He was real hot-headed, worse than Andrew. Mean from the time he was a baby.”
“He’s dead.”
Bill nodded solemnly. “Last year. Even after I bailed him out of that jail, he went back to Cricket Bend. To do what, I have no idea. But there was a man, a wanted killer, and he left Theo lying bloody in a barn. We buried him about three days outside of town.”
Sparrow was silent for a long time before she spoke again. “Is Andrew like him? Is that why you protect him like you do?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Is it a crime to be curious about the man who saved your life?”
She had him there. “Theo and Andrew were two of a kind. I don’t want Andrew to wind up the same way,” Bill confessed. “But it seems there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I thought if maybe he came on one more drive, I could talk some sense into him, but it seems I was fooling myself. He’s hell-bent on gambling and drinking and fighting, and it’s likely to be the death of him.”
“You might be surprised,” Sparrow answered. “I’ve known men like him. Some of them, sailing on luck or stupidity, live lives far longer than you can imagine. Like cats and their nine lives. They’ll outlive a good number of sensible men, unfair as it seems.”
For the finery he’d found her in, she didn’t always speak like a refined woman. A hint of darker things lay just beneath her words. Yet again, he wondered about her past. “Seems to me you know a bit about it.”
“I’ve spent a good deal of my life in saloons and music halls. I have known a lot of people, and seen my share of trouble.”
“I look forward to hearing that story, when you’re ready to tell it.” When her eyes went down to her fingers, either from sadness or embarrassment, Bill quickly changed the subject. “Let’s run these two for a bit, see what’s up ahead and waiting for us.” He whistled loud to Jess, who moved into point position as Bill and Sparrow kicked their horses into gallops and crossed the grass side by side.
Bill watched her face go from scared to exhilarated as the horses ran over the flat land, up a small incline, and down into a valley. All of it would be fine for the cows to cross, with easy walking and no sharp turns or drop-offs to avoid. They rose up out of the valley, a few miles ahead of the drive, and Bill caught the sparkle of the sun off water out the corner of his eye. He turned Orion toward it. Sparrow and Maggie followed.
As Bill came over the incline of a hill, Orion jumped a bit.
Bill immediately saw why.
Death lay ahead. He rode closer to a tiny creek and wished he’d kept on going straight. The sun-bleached bones of a few cows lay on the rocky shore, cleaned by the vultures and the sun. Most of them had been small cows, probably underfed and overwalked, judging from the size of their bones. Bill got off Orion a distance back from the bones, and approached. He stepped over the bones and studied them until he reached something that made him stop. Kneeling, he picked up the perfectly-preserved skull of one cow. The cow had been magnificent in size, same as King. The horns were sculpted and dried with not a crack or missing piece.
As Sparrow arrived and took in the sight, she gasped and dismounted. “What happened to them?”
“We had the hardest winter I can recall, and it followed last summer, which was hotter than it’s ever been. We had a drought. Most likely, they got lost and starved, or got hurt. Hard to say for certain. They’re picked clean. Maybe coyotes.”
“I detest coyotes,” Sparrow declared. “I spent those nights in the woods listening to them howl, and I’ve never heard anything so frightening.” She hobbled slowly over to where Bill stood.
“How’d you survive?”
It was a simple question, one Bill had been desperately wanting to know since they’d met.
“I climbed up in a tree,”
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