Chapter 11
Abby worked on the house, disgusted by the time that was wasted wiping away perfectly natural dust. Didn’t the land have a right to be part of every home? Strange people, these whites.
Obeying Gertie’s orders, Abby ignored the shouts she’d heard from the weakling tied to his bed—or he might as well be—as she finished her assigned tasks.
Turning to her own needs, she found a whetstone and sat at the kitchen table sharpening her knife.
The roaring from the bedroom finally got on her nerves to the point she slapped the whetstone on the table, returned her knife to its sheath, and stormed into Mort’s room.
His face was bright red. He lay on his side reaching for the strange contraption Wade had called a wheelchair, which, since it was a chair with wheels, was a fair name. His ruckus stopped and he glared at her. “Help me get into that chair.”
Sneering with contempt, she said, “And will you need me to bring you warm milk and a baby’s bottle to suck?”
Mort’s eyes narrowed. “Get out of here. Get off my ranch. You’re fired. Fired, I tell you.”
“I do not work for you. Wade offered me the job, and only he can fire me.”
“He’s paying you with my money, and he has no right to spend it.”
“He spoke of this money. I told him I would need food, and I accepted the roof over my head—a room next to Gertie’s, even though it is a roof held up by your monstrosity of a house. I refused any other money. It would be just something to carry around, another burden.”
“Money isn’t a burden. It makes life easier. You can buy your own roof.”
“I’ll build a bow and arrow and shoot a deer or two, skin them, and make a tepee. I need no money for that.”
“What about food?”
“The deer that provides my home will also give me food.”
Mort waved a fist at her. “What about when you need clothes? Your deerskins are on your tepee.”
“I will shoot another and dry the meat into jerky so I can survive for a long while before I have to hunt again. For the cold months, I will find an animal with fur for a warm coat—a buffalo or bear. What good would money do me for that task? Why did you come to this wild, beautiful land, overrun with food, clothing, and all the things you need to live, then shut yourself away from it inside these ridiculous walls?”
Mort snorted like an enraged buffalo. “Help me up. Come over here. I try to keep the chair from moving, but it won’t stay put.”
Abby narrowed her eyes at him. Their gazes locked. As if they were in a fight, neither of them broke the contact. Abby’s temper rose, and her patience shortened.
Finally, when she’d decided to just walk out, Mort looked away. “Please.”
“What?”
“Please. I’m asking you please to help me get in my chair.”
That word, please. It went with thank you. Wade had reminded her of these white men’s manners. Mort said it as though the word was painful to force from his lips. To a stubborn tyrant like Mort Sawyer, saying please was an act of humility. And a tyrant hated to ask for anything.
Her Wild Eagle had been like that. He didn’t ask—he ordered. Abby was used to it, but Wade’s kindness had been a surprise and a delight to her. Was this man like Wild Eagle? Would Wild Eagle have been any better if life brought him so low?
“Fine.” With a deep breath, Abby rolled the chair to the side of Mort’s bed.
They made several attempts to get Mort transferred to the chair, and finally, using his arms and with Abby supporting him almost completely, they made it.
Gasping, Mort finally caught his breath enough to say, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The words came almost as a reflex, without thought.
“Can…can you push me to the kitchen? There’s a window there. I’d like to look out over my ranch.”
“Use your arms. Push the wheels. Can you not do a thing for yourself?” Disgusted and ashamed that she’d had a moment of sympathy for the weakling, she stalked out of the room.
Before she’d gotten her knife’s edge to suit her, Mort was in the kitchen studying the huge piece of the earth he so foolishly claimed as his.
The earth was the Lord’s, given to everyone, teeming with food, fuel to burn for warmth, and beauty to soothe the soul.
White men seemed to understand none of that.
“What’s that idiot son of mine doing?” Mort punched the arm of his chair.
What were these idiots doing?
Wade saddled up and met the first bunch of cattle the men drove into the yard.
They’d been at it for hours, and Wade should have gone out to help, but he’d made a quick trip to town instead to arrange for the lumber to make some changes to the house that would make his pa’s life easier.
Sam Jeffreys, one of Libby Jeffreys’s mule-skinner sons, usually had a few days between hauling loads.
Wade needed to focus on the spring roundup, so he’d asked Libby to have Sam ride out next time he was in Divide.
With that in order, he’d returned home to find his men bringing in the first herd. It quickly became apparent why it had taken so long. The herd milled and broke away.
Wade charged his horse into the fractious cattle. Chewing on dust, he cut this way and that to force the critters forward. It was almost as if the men had no idea how to handle cattle or run a ranch. Or if they knew how, they didn’t care enough to break a sweat trying.
The bawling cattle and the thundering hooves of Wade’s horse kept him from thinking too much about his incompetent cowhands.
When he got the herd headed in the right direction, he drove them with the help of about three of the old hands.
A dozen other men spent their time making the day harder for everyone.
They got the longhorns into the lush valley. A few of them found the gushing spring. The rest waded into the belly-deep spring grass. They settled in quickly, as Wade knew they would.
He waved his drovers in. He’d seen his father operate long enough to know what he needed to do. Run most of these men off, including the foreman. But that wasn’t what God wanted from him. Wade saw some laziness but mostly incompetence.
“I want you, you, you, you…” Wade jabbed a finger at ten of the men.
He skipped Sid Garver for now. The man had to go, but not in front of the whole crew.
No use humiliating him. “Team up, each of you. Everyone needs to learn a few cowhand tricks.” Wade turned to the oldest hand.
“Chester, pick who you want to work with from the men I’ve pointed out.
” As Chester pulled a disgruntled face, Wade added, “Let’s head for the high pasture to the west. It’s next closest. I want to move at least three more herds today. ”
The men moved to ride out.
“Chester, wait a minute.”
Turning his horse with only the pressure of his knees, the old cowpoke dropped back to Wade’s side. “Well, you got part of it. You saw what a bunch we’ve got here. But instead of teaming them up with the older hands, you should have shown them the road.”
Taking a quick look around, Wade made sure no one was within earshot.
“I did it that way because not all of these men are no-accounts. Some of ’em are just new.
I don’t want to fire a man when I can teach him a skill.
If I’d have run ten men off, with rustlers in the area, they might have thrown in with outlaws.
They might have headed to Divide with their pay and a grudge and drunk all their money away.
That’d leave ’em mad and broke, and in some men, that adds up to dangerous. ”
“Some of these men are just bums. All the training in the world isn’t gonna help.”
Nodding, Wade said, “In a week, I’ll decide who’s a bum and who’s just new at ranching. The ones who don’t shape up will get run off my range. Fair enough?”
“A week is too long.”
Wade barked a laugh. “I’ll bet we know enough to tell who’s gonna at least try to work hard by the end of the day. So maybe I won’t give ’em a week.”
Chester scowled. “I always knew you were soft, boy. To my way a’thinkin’, you’re just provin’ it the first day.”
“I know how to handle a horse, Chester. And I know a cowhand when I see one. Have all these men been hired since Pa was hurt? I can’t believe he’d’ve been fooled by them.”
“Sid Garver hired them. So they’re loyal to him. And Garver ain’t loyal to anyone but himself. Watch your step, Wade.”
“Watch yours, too, old man, because I’m naming you the new foreman.”
“I’m doing the job, anyway. I sure had oughta get the title.
And if I’m the foreman, then you’d be better off listenin’ to me and just get the worst of these drovers off the property.
Instead, you’ve hurt their pride by askin’ ’em to pair up as though they were greenhorns.
Now you’ll have a bunch of cowboys carryin’ a grudge. ”
“Maybe, but that’s the way it’s gonna be.” Wade met Chester eye to eye. “That’s the way God wants me to handle it.”
A grizzled gray beard, lean and brown and tough as leather, Chester wasn’t a bad man.
Not much of a talker. He’d never joined in the harassment of Wade as so many of the hands had.
But there’d been plenty of contempt in the old coot’s eyes back then.
Wade had a lot to prove before the wrangler gave Wade any respect.
“I didn’t understand your pa, Wade. He rode you hard, held you up for a fool, and he was too ready with the back of his hand.
I have my own beliefs when it comes to the Almighty, and I can see that there’s been a change in you.
But I’ve lived long enough to be sure God ain’t gonna send lightning bolts to run off a bad bunch’a cowhands.
Without your pa here to rule the roost, we’re all looking to you.
But no one’s gonna hand you the reins. You’re gonna have to take ’em.
And the best way would be to run off the no-accounts and the malcontents. ”
“Which would leave us about fifteen men short for spring roundup.” Wade quirked a smile.
“Not really.” Chester looked around. “If all of ’em are worthless, we’re shorthanded, anyway.”
“I’ll give you that. I’ll decide soon who stays and who goes, and I’ll listen to your opinions when I decide.”
“I already know who I’d pick. I just hope you figure it out before it’s too late.” Chester reined his horse around and took off after the cowhands.
Wade rode up beside Sid, who was teamed with one of the men who’d been lazing in the barn this morning. Paddy. An Irishman, for sure, with that name, but nothing about him looked Irish. He was just another Montana cowboy.
“Paddy, mind ridin’ ahead? Sid and I need to make some plans.”
Paddy looked as if he was planning to refuse.
Something about his expression sent a chill up Wade’s spine.
It wasn’t anger but rather vicious amusement laced with a hunger to hurt.
Wade decided then and there, he’d watch his back whenever Paddy was around.
And if Paddy was friends with Sid, then Wade would keep an eye on Sid too.
Especially after Wade gave him the bad news. “I’m naming Chester foreman, Sid. He knows the way things work on the Sawyer range.”
Sid’s eyes flashed fire. For a second, Wade wondered if Sid would throw a fist, but he controlled his rage. “I’ve been running the Sawyer range to suit your pa.”
“You’re nearly a month late with the roundup.
That doesn’t suit my father. I’ll be interested to see if he knows when I get in tonight.
Maybe where you’re from, the winter doesn’t let loose of the land until now, but that just proves you don’t know how we work here on the M Bar S.
Stay on as a cowhand if you like. But if you have any influence on the men, you’d better tell ’em to pick up the pace because I’ll decide who stays and who goes by week’s end. ”
Sid’s brow arched. “You want me to push the men after you took away my job as boss?”
“I do. Because one of the men who may stay or go is you. And I can make decisions before week’s end if I need to.
I’m watching close.” Wade turned away from Sid and picked out an inept pair of cowhands who had paired up with each other.
Had they deliberately defied him, or were they just that stupid?
Wade rode over to find out, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sid and Paddy riding together, talking up a storm.