A Cattle Drive Is Not for Greenhorns

Andi has just turned twelve and can't wait to join her brothers on a cattle drive. Little does she know just how much of a greenhorn she really is. 

CHAPTER 1

Circle C Ranch, June 1880

Andi Carter had always wanted to go on a cattle drive. A real dust-in-your-face, gone-for-weeks, eat-on-the-trail cattle drive. With at least 2,000 cattle. But no matter how many times she begged (and promised to take a bath at least once on the trail), Mother said no.

“But why can’t I drive cattle, just once?” she asked Mother one evening at supper. “You brought the herd down from the high country, remember?”

Andi had turned twelve a couple of weeks before, and she figured it wouldn’t hurt to give the cattle drive idea a go one more time. After all, Chad and Mitch were getting ready to drive a herd to Los Angeles.

“That was over thirty years ago, Andrea,” Mother said. “Before any of you were born. Your father and I waited too long in the fall to go after the cattle in the high country. We were young, and we didn’t count on an early blizzard.”

She shuddered. “Your father and I nearly froze to death. If it hadn’t been for that old prospector’s cabin—” 

“—that you two stumbled across in the nick of time”—Chad cut in—”none of us would be here.” He grinned.

Mother frowned. She loved to tell stories of the “old days,” when it was only she and Father working hard to make something grand out of their new ranch. Father had bought the Circle C with the gold he’d found in the early days of the gold rush. But even with gold, ranching was a lot of hard work. And cattle cost money.

Without cattle, Father and Mother had no ranch. So, they had to risk their lives to bring their tiny herd down from the high country to winter in the valley.

Andi let out a breath. She’d heard this story many times before. “But Mother! The trail drive is going to Los Angeles, nowhere near a snowflake. Besides, it’s June, not October. And—”

“Snow is not the problem,” Mother interrupted. “The reason I’m telling that well-worn story is to remind you that no matter what we do, there is the unexpected. Cattle are ornery and unpredictable. But more importantly, a girl on a cattle drive is unseemly.”

“Are you worried about my safety, or about what folks will say if they learn that a Carter young lady went on a cattle drive?”

“Both,” Mother and Melinda said at the same time.

“Stay out of this,” Andi told her older sister. “Please,” she added just in time.

Mother might be concerned about her young daughter’s safety, but there was little doubt about what worried seventeen-year-old Melinda. Her little sister might disgrace the family name and come home with a dirty face and messy hair.

Heaven forbid! Andi slumped and picked at her food. She imagined herself on the trail, eating beans, biscuits, and bacon—and drinking coffee—rather than chicken and dumplings and milk.

She let the supper conversation swirl around her like circling hawks and paid little attention. It was the same old thing. Big brothers Chad and Mitch were arguing about who would be the trail boss of the upcoming cattle drive.

The trail boss was the fellow in charge of the cowboys, the cattle herd, the paperwork . . .  on and on. And who always ended up being the trail boss for the Circle C ranch? Yep, Andi thought. Chad Aaron Carter.

Chad had been the ranch boss ever since Father had been thrown from his horse and killed six years ago. And boy, did Chad ever like to boss folks.

Especially me. Andi sighed.

Clink! She glanced up from her plate. A silver dollar had landed on her knife. She slammed her hand down over the coin before anyone saw how it landed.

“So?” Chad demanded from across the table. “What is it? Heads or tails?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Andi lifted her palm slightly and peeked at the coin. Heads. Chad and Mitch must have decided to flip a coin for trail boss this time.

“Andi!” Mitch hollered from where he sat next to Chad. He held out his hand “Cut it out and hand it over. We’ll toss it again.”

She shook her head. Chad lunged for the coin. Andi snatched it up, out of his quick grasp.

“I think we need an attorney to mediate this,” Mother put in. She sipped her water and smiled.

“Not this lawyer,” Justin said, winking at his sister. It was his good-for-you-Andi look, the one that meant for once she might end up having the last word.

It was hard been the littlest sister. “Let me keep the dollar, and I’ll tell you how it landed,” Andi said, smirking.

“You can keep it,” Mitch said.

Chad smacked him on the arm. “It’s my dollar.” Then he turned to Andi. “Yeah, you can keep it. Now, tell us if it was heads or tails. Then I’ll tell you who called it.”

“All right. It was heads.”

Mitch shouted, “Yee-hah!”

CHAPTER 2

Mitch and Chad shook hands. “All right, little brother,” Chad said, “you can boss the outfit this time. I’ll be your humble ramrod and boss everybody else. I hate keeping records, anyway.”

The brothers bantered back and forth a few more minutes, while Andi stared at her plate. By now, the dumplings were cold and mushy. She had just about decided they were too cold to eat when she sniffed the aroma of hot peaches. Luisa was carrying a big pan of peach cobbler to the table, made from an early crop of Circle C peaches.

A minute later, those cold dumplings were in Andi’s belly and she was scooping a huge helping of cobbler onto her plate.

Between mouthfuls of hot, sweet peaches and crusty cobbler, Andi listened to the trail boss ask his new ramrod a few questions about the dozen or so hands they’d be bringing along, as well as who they should hire on as wrangler to care for the remuda—all those extra horses they had to bring along.

After all, a cowboy couldn’t wear out his only horse chasing cattle all day long. He’d ride three or four mounts during his long, dusty shift. “I can probably get Josh to sign on as wrangler,” Mitch said.

Andi’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Josh Hadley, the new hand? Are you loco? Why, he’s as green as a—”

“Andrea,” Mother warned. Stay out of this flashed from her eyes.

Andi couldn’t stay out of it. “I can handle horses better than Josh. I can rope and ride a lot better too. Did you see what happened the other day when he . . .” Her voice trailed off when everybody at the table looked at her.

Andi gulped. Then an incredibly bold idea hit her. “Why don’t you hire me as wrangler?” she burst out before changing her mind. “You wouldn’t even have to pay me. Think how much money you’d save.”

“Josh is young,” Chad agreed, ignoring Andi’s outburst. “But this is a good first run for him. I think he’ll do fine.”

“What about Cook?” Mitch asked. He looked like he was crossing off names on a mental checklist. 

I sure wish my name was on his list, Andi thought.

“I’m wondering if he should stay home,” Mitch said, “what with his bum knee and his getting on in years. We wouldn’t want to overwork the old man.”

“You do that, little brother, and Cook will walk off this ranch. Then where will we be? You know he’s the most experienced hombre on the entire crew. He’s cooked for this spread since you and I were knee-high to a bumblebee.” 

Chad scooped cobbler onto his fork. “I’m not loco enough to insult Cook like that. But hey, boss, you go right ahead and do what you think best.” He popped the cobbler into his mouth.

Mitch elbowed him. “Shouldn’t we at least hire a boy to fetch and carry for him? Cook will need water and loads of firewood to keep the chuck wagon supplied.”  

He furrowed his brow. “Let me think. If we don’t push the cattle too hard, we can get to the City of Angels in about two weeks. Surely, there’s a boy around who’d like to go on a cattle drive and earn a few dollars.”

Mitch turned to Andi. “Say, Sis, do you know any of your friends at school who might want to—”

“No.” Andi glared at Mitch. Hire a boy? Some strange kid from town, who probably didn’t know one end of a steer from the other?

Then Andi’s heart fluttered at a new idea. Forget wrangling. What about Cook’s helper? She’d wanted to go along as a cowhand or wrangler, but if a little boy could be Cook’s helper, then it must be safe. “Say, Mitch, what if—”

“Why don’t you let Andi go along as Cook’s helper?”

Andi clamped her mouth shut and stared at Justin. Her oldest and favorite brother hadn’t said much during supper. She knew he had no plans to go on any cattle drives, and he’d been quietly enjoying his meal.

Now, however, Justin was asking the very question Andi wanted to ask. From long experience, she knew it was best to keep quiet. If Justin thought it wouldn’t hurt his baby sister to go along as Cook’s helper, well, he was one fine lawyer. He could convince the trail boss—and Mother—that Andi could go.

For a full minute, nobody said a word. Melinda gaped at Justin as if he’d lost his mind. Andi didn’t look at Justin. The only person who counted in all this was Mother.

Justin finished his last forkful of peach cobbler, wiped his mouth on the linen napkin, and said, “It’s a small herd—what, about a thousand? And a short run through the valley. Plenty of water in Tulare Lake, and there should be enough grass, even this time of year. The only difficult part of the trip will be that last bit over the Tehachapi Mountains, just before the City.”

He shrugged and dropped his napkin next to his plate. “I don’t see a problem with letting Andi get this cattle-drive idea out of her head once and for all. Cook needs the help, and he’ll keep a better eye on her than Chad and Mitch combined.”

This was true. Cook had eagle eyes.

“She’s safe enough with the chuck wagon,” Justin finished. He turned to Andi. “Then maybe you’ll learn firsthand that a cattle drive is not a holiday, but a lot of dirty, hot, long days . . . and even longer nights. I bet you never ask to go again.”

Andi didn’t say anything. We’ll see about that. 

Mother didn’t look happy, but Justin’s words had their effect. After what seemed like hours—but was really a minute or two—she nodded. “I am not thrilled with the idea, but Justin is right. If you must go on a cattle drive, Andrea, then the chuck wagon is the place to do it.” She sighed. “I suppose a trip to Los Angeles on the seat of a chuck wagon is no different from traveling there in a stifling stagecoach.”

Andi leaped from her seat and threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “Thank you, Mother!” She kissed her cheek then rushed over to Justin, who had risen from the table to take his leave. “And thank you, Justin!” She squeezed him hard.

Justin hugged her back. “I doubt you’ll be thanking me a week from now.”

Andi was too excited to worry about “a week from now.” I’m going on a cattle drive!

CHAPTER 3

So much to do! So little time! The cattle heading for market in Los Angeles had already been cut out of the herd and rounded up into a quivering mass of mooing, unhappy steers a mile or two from the ranch house.

 Andi didn’t see much of them. Cook kept her busy from dawn till dusk getting ready. It was clear he was not happy about being saddled with the littlest Carter.

For the first time in her life, Andi wished she couldn’t speak or understand Spanish. Cook complained all day long. “No necesito ayuda,” he mumbled under his breath.  

Well, it looked to Andi like he needed help, even when he insisted that he didn’t. His left leg had collapsed when he was hauling a big sack of flour, and he was using an old deadwood tree limb as a crutch.

Mitch had taken Andi aside earlier in the week. “Help Cook as much as you can but try not to make it look like you’re helping him. He’s old and he’s proud, and I have it on the best authority—even though he’ll never show it—that he likes you. He’ll accept your help more than that of a strange boy.”

Andi nodded and tried her best to help without “helping.”

Cook must have known there was nothing he could do about the situation. Mitch was the boss, and Cook would accept the help . . . or else.

****

A few stars were twinkling the next morning when Andi pulled on a pair of Mitch’s outgrown britches, a shirt, and a vest. She braided her hair, jammed a wide-brimmed hat on her head, and scrambled downstairs. 

Nila and Luisa had prepared a scrumptious breakfast and served it with a firm, “This will be your last decent desayuno for many weeks.”

“No, just for two weeks,” Andi corrected Luisa.

The housekeeper scowled and shook her head, clearly disapproving of Mother’s decision to allow Andi to go on the drive. “You will see,” she muttered.

Andi had helped Cook load up the chuck wagon, so she knew exactly what they would eat on the trail. Lots of beans, bacon, biscuits, and coffee, along with stew and maybe some steaks, if Cook had a steer butchered along the way. 

Andi had also hauled lard aboard the wagon, and baking powder, and a heavy Dutch oven, pans, and fry pans. She was pretty sure she’d heard the word “doughnut” in Spanish at least once.

Maybe Cook planned to surprise the hands sometime during the trip.

Andi shoveled her breakfast down and gave Mother a hurried goodbye kiss before she had a last-minute change of mind. She smiled, hugged Andi, and told her to mind Chad and Mitch and Cook.

Andi rushed outside and barreled into Justin. Oof!

“Easy does it, honey. What’s your hurry?”

Andi frowned. What was Justin doing up so early? “I don’t want to be left behind. What if they sneaked away before dawn?”

“Nobody sneaks a thousand cattle anywhere.” He pointed southeast. “You’ll hear them before you see them, I guarantee it. Cook told me to point you in the right direction. Then he said”—Justin lowered his voice and scowled like Cook—”‘You tell the señorita this is her last day of sleeping late.’”

Andi laughed. “I’ll saddle Taffy and be on my way.”

Justin snatched her shirt sleeve. “Taffy stays home, Andi. She’s not cut out for this kind of work, and besides, you don’t need her. You’re riding up on the chuck wagon with Cook.”

Was Justin crazy? “Taffy and I go everywhere together!”

“Not on this drive, you don’t.” He pointed toward the hitching post, where a dirty brown horse, saddled and ready, was tied up. “Josh left you a mount. When you ride out to the herd, turn it over to him. He’ll keep it with the remuda. If you need a horse, you can ask Josh, and he’ll take care of it.”

“But—”

“I know just what you’re thinking, young lady,” Justin said. “Riding up with Cook on the chuck wagon will get old after a day or two. If you think you’re going to leave the chuck wagon, mount up, and blend in with the others, think again.”

“Shouldn’t Mitch be telling me this?” Andi huffed. “He’s the trail boss.”

“I’m telling you,” Justin said, frowning. “I want your word that you’ll do as you’re told.” He paused. “And that you will stay with Cook.”

Andi scuffed the dust with her boot toe. Ooh! How long had Justin been planning this big-brother talk? Probably right from the start. And what better time to make his sister promise than on the morning of the drive, when everybody else was already out with the herd, and he knew she was in a hurry?

“I’m waiting,” he said patiently.

Andi looked east. The sun was just peeking over the foothills. The herd might be miles away by now. She jerked her head around. Justin’s expression told her he wasn’t fooling.  

“Yes, sir,” she promised. “Now, can I go?”

”Yes,” Justin said and accompanied her to the horse.

“Does this horse have a name?” Andi asked.

He sure had an attitude. His ears flicked back when he heard Andi’s voice, and he snorted.

“I’m not sure.” Justin slapped the horse’s rump. “Call him whatever you like.”

“Dusty.” Andi circled the horse and stopped when she got in front of his face. “You are Dusty.”

Dusty snorted and pricked his ears forward in obvious interest. Then he nickered in a friendlier way.

“Don’t get too friendly,” Andi warned. She mounted in one quick motion. “We won’t be friends for long. Just until I get out to the herd. Then it’s back to the remuda you go.”

Justin chuckled.

Dusty was no doubt a good horse for a cattle drive, but he wasn’t much to look at. No matter. Andi leaned out from the saddle and hugged Justin.

“Take care, honey,” he said. “See you before the end of the month.”

 Andi slammed her heels into Dusty and they took off like a shot.

She gasped her surprise. Boy, can this dirty ol’ horse ever run!

CHAPTER 4

Andi sat up with Cook the first few days and let him tell her silly jokes in Spanish. She laughed, even when they weren’t funny. Cook seemed to like that.

Mornings, noon, and evenings, Andi scrambled after deadwood, dry brush, and water. Then she went back for more. There was no end to her one chore: firewood and water.

That was all Cook required of her so far, and it kept Andi busy when they stopped.  The two of them rode far ahead of the mile-long line of cattle, and everybody else followed. Andi was mighty glad she didn’t have to eat their dust.

About two hours ahead of the herd and out of sight, Chad rode as scout, looking for the next good place to bed the cattle down for the night. He practically had the trail-drive map memorized he’d looked at it so much. He studied it each morning before they left, and then he folded it up and kept it inside his vest pocket.  

Chad probably didn’t like the idea of being stuck in the heat and nowhere near water. His map showed the lakes, creeks, and watering holes from the Circle C to Los Angeles. Tragedy would befall the whole crew if big brother lost that map.

Mitch rode with the point riders at the front of the herd. Sometimes, the trail boss let the cows stop at noon to graze, but only if the grass was good.

Andi could turn around from the chuck wagon seat and see where the cattle were at any time. A huge cloud of choking dust hung over the whole herd. It reminded her of the “cloud by day” in the book of Exodus, when Moses was leading two million people around in the desert.

Andi shaded her eyes and tried to see the drag riders Henry and Bart. Drag was the worst job on the whole drive. They rode behind the cattle and made sure the stragglers were keeping up. Those two cowhands “ate dust” from dawn till dusk and came to the campfire looking like it.

But sitting up with Cook was no fun either. Andi’s eyes were gritty with dust. Her hair was full of it.

Andi’s spirits rose two days later, when Mitch decided to drive the cattle closer to Tulare Lake. Great idea, trail boss! she thought with delight.

Swarms of mosquitoes changed Andi’s mind. They descended on the herd in clouds like another Egyptian plague. The bloodsuckers couldn’t bite through the steers’ thick hides, but they found plenty of ways to make the cattle miserable. All that tender skin around their faces and their eyes were mosquito targets. Poor things!

No wonder they bellowed all evening. They weren’t on the move, where they could kick up dust to protect themselves.

The mosquitoes also descended on the cowhands, the wrangler, Cook, and on Andi. She wore gloves and wrapped a bandana around her face, but those pesky bloodsuckers managed to find the smallest crack in her protection and bit her cheeks and forehead.

Worse, Tulare Lake, the mosquitoes’ breeding grounds, stretched north and south for miles. “Will it ever end?” Andi asked.

“It’s the largest freshwater lake in the country—right after the Great Lakes back East,” Mitch said.

“It won’t be large for much longer,” Chad remarked. “Not after they suck all the water out for irrigation.”

Andi slapped another mosquito. “That’s fine by me. And the sooner, the better. Maybe the mosquitoes will leave too.”

The one good thing about driving cattle near the lake was that they were staying fat and sassy. Lots of grass and lots of water kept them from losing too much weight on the long drive. Twelve miles a day wasn’t too much of a hardship for them. Mitch would probably get his forty dollars a head and go home happy.

Andi did the math in her head. Forty times a thousand was forty thousand dollars. Yes, Mitch would be very happy. 

The next morning, Andi rolled over and buried her head in the scratchy blanket. It didn’t shut out the noisy cattle, but it did keep the mosquitoes away. She heard an annoying whine in her ear and sat up. With a frustrated toss, she threw the blanket from her head and slapped at her face. Not quick enough. Another mosquito bit her.

Let’s see, she pondered. That’s twenty-one. No, wait. Twenty-two?

“Levántate, chica.” Cook sounded like an especially loud mosquito droning.

Andi yawned. She didn’t want to get up. The nightguard hadn’t done a very good job keeping the herd quiet last night. The cattle were restless—probably miserable from the mosquitoes—and their bellowing had kept Andi awake long past midnight.

She took in the dawn through narrowed eyes. A crescent moon hung low on the deep-blue western horizon. To the east, the sky had paled to light blues and pinks. It wouldn’t be long before the sun rose.

Andi stretched then clambered to her knees. She rolled up her bedding and rose to her feet. Ohh! A wave of dizziness forced her to lean against the wagon wheel. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her balance. When the spell passed, she stashed her bedroll in a corner of the chuck wagon.

“Ven aquí,” Cook ordered brusquely. “Get over here.” He was slicing bacon and tossing it into two large frying pans. It smelled delicious.

Andi’s mouth watered. She pushed away from the wagon wheel and joined him.

Cook handed Andi a fork and told her to keep turning the bacon. “I’ll fry you if you burn it,” he warned in Spanish.

Andi bent over the two heavy pans and turned the bacon with a fork until her hands blistered from the hot grease that snapped and crackled and popped out to bite her every few seconds.

The only good part about frying bacon was how easy it was to snitch a cooling strip of the salty, greasy meat. She popped it in her mouth when Cook wasn’t looking. He was too busy baking his special sourdough biscuits in the two heavy Dutch ovens.

Feeding a dozen hungry men was not easy but Cook, in spite of his bum leg, managed it quite well. By the time he banged on the triangle and called the first shift to breakfast, Andi was ready to go back to bed. Worse, the bacon she’d snitched had settled in her stomach in a greasy lump. She felt sick.

“We should push through to Delano today,” Chad told Mitch between mouthfuls of beans, biscuits, and crispy bacon. He swallowed his coffee in three big gulps. “Then it’s only two more days to Bakersfield, and another week over the mountains and into the valley and Los Angeles. “What do you think?”

Mitch nodded. “I agree.” He poured himself another cup of coffee and sat back for a rare moment of rest. He grinned at Andi. “Seen yourself lately? You look like you have a bad case of chicken pox. Your face at least.”

Andi didn’t rise to her brother’s teasing. She sat quietly and hoped the sick feeling in her stomach went away. She didn’t dare stand up. Dizziness would overwhelm her.

A sudden worry pinched her thoughts. She prayed she didn’t come down with fever and ague. Nobody knew why, but people got real sick sometimes when they stayed around marshy, swampy places where there were a lot of mosquitoes.

There were a lot of mosquitoes here.

“Do you still like cattle drives?” Chad asked.

His question caught Andi drifting off. The smoky fire kept the mosquitoes away, and drowsiness had settled over her like a cloud. How many nights had the unhappy cattle kept her awake? “Huh?” she asked, jerking awake.

Chad repeated his question.

Andi nodded. Her face itched, her hands burned, and she felt like she hadn’t bathed in in a month, but yes . . . she liked cattle drives. She wasn’t sure why she liked them. Maybe it was the sound of the cowboys singing to the herd. The songs always quieted the cattle at night.

Andi liked the food too. It was salty and greasy and full of flavor. She didn’t have to eat with a linen napkin or take dainty swallows of milk. She could gulp hot coffee along with the hands, and nobody cared if she spilled some down the front of her vest.

Chad and Mitch got up, as did the rest of the first round of men. The next group began to straggle in.

Andi paused. She really should fill the water barrel and find more wood for the upcoming noon meal, but a heaviness engulfed her. Just a few more minutes.

Cook nudged her with his boot toe. “Go find some wood. Rapido.”  

Andi groaned but obeyed. She jumped to her feet before he yelled at her.

Without warning, the world spun. She staggered backward. Then she crumpled to the ground and knew no more. 

CHAPTER 5

“Is she sick? She’s got enough bites.”

Mitch’s worried voice rang in Andi’s ears when she came to. Please, not the ague!  

Andi had seen cowhands with fever and ague. They were miserable for days on end with chills, fever, and headaches. When it finally passed, the men would be fine for a while and then bang, just like that, the fever returned, making them miserable all over again. It happened a lot in the spring and early summer—the same time the mosquitoes were breeding in the lowlands and around the creeks. 

Andi opened her eyes. Bending over her, looking frightened, hovered Cook’s dark, wrinkled face. When he saw Andi staring back at him, he sat back on his haunches and sighed in relief. “Está bien, Señor Mitch. Her eyes are bright. No fever. If she had the ague, she would look very sick.”

Andi felt sick. And dizzy. And exhausted. She didn’t tell Mitch any of this, though, for fear he’d load her up on the stagecoach in Bakersfield and send her home.  

Mitch and Chad helped her sit up.

“I’m all right,” Andi insisted, even though she felt lightheaded and woozy. A few minutes later, Cook brought her tin mug. Steam rose.  

Coffee? Ugh. “What I’d like is a tall glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice or—”

“Tómalo,” he ordered. “Drink it.” When Cook spoke like that, even the trail boss obeyed.

Andi took a sip of the concoction and made a face. It wasn’t coffee. It was worse. She gagged  

“Ginger tea,” Cook said with a toothy smile. “Loaded with sugar. It will help.”

He was right. In about two minutes, Andi started feeling better. She finished the tea and rose to go after the wood. 

“Hold on,” Mitch said. “Now that you can walk without keeling over, I want you to go wash up at the lake. You can cool down too. You have twenty minutes.” He motioned to the drive’s young wrangler. “Josh, you go after the wood this morning. Gather enough for the noon stop.”

“Mitch!” Andi protested. “I can carry my own weight around here. I’ll—”

“No.” Mitch grabbed her shoulders and yanked her around to face him. “You listen, and you listen good, Cook’s helper. When the trail boss gives an order, you do it quick, and you do it right.”

He pointed to a line of brush and trees on the western horizon, which marked the shallows of Tulare Lake. “You get to that lake and wash up, or I’ll have my ramrod pick you up and toss you in.”

Andi gaped at her brother. He never got after her like this. She peeked around Mitch and saw Chad, who looked ready to carry out the orders. In fact, he looked like he was hoping he got a chance to carry out those orders. He was grinning.

She gulped. “Sure thing, boss.”

“That’s better,” Mitch said. “You now have fifteen minutes.”

Andi darted around Mitch and flew past Chad. The lake was fifty yards away, a dark, still, shining expanse in the predawn. A few birds were chittering, but other than that, the lake lay quiet in the new day.

Andi pulled off her boots and stockings. She shed her hat and vest but kept everything else on. The thought of wearing wet clothes during the coming hot day sounded deliciously cool. Barefoot, she stepped through the thick, dark mud and into the lake. 

Brrr! It was chilly. Then splash! Andi ducked underwater, head and all.

The cold water soothed her itchy mosquito bites, and she ducked again. Why hadn’t she thought of this before?

The first rays of dawn broke over the foothills. Andi scrambled out of the icy water and onto shore. When she sat down and struggled to pull on her socks and boots, an idea hit her. A great idea.

She scooped up a handful of dark mud and smeared it on her face—forehead, chin, and cheeks. For good measure, she smeared some along the back of her neck, where a dozen mosquito bites were driving her crazy.

Ahhh! She sighed. The mud took away the itch. “It might keep the bloodsuckers away too.” When the mud dried, it would serve as a wall against the whining insects.

Andi headed back to the campfire feeling one hundred percent better. When the rest of the crew saw her, they broke into grins.

“Where did you find the stove blacking?” Mel asked, slapping his knee.

“My face is that black?”

“You’re a sight,” Mitch said. “Dripping wet from head to toe, and mud as thick and black as it comes.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I hope it doesn’t interfere with your work.”

“It won’t,” Andi quickly assured him, pulling on her gloves. She shivered when an early-morning breeze came up.

The wet clothes stuck to Andi like a tight pair of long johns, but she didn’t care.

“I dare any mosquito to bite me today,” she said softly when she climbed up to take her usual seat beside Cook.

The cool, fresh feeling from the soaking-wet getup lasted three hours. By mid-morning, Andi’s clothes and hair were dry as dust, and the mud on her face had caked to a stiff, dark gray. It kept flaking off in patches.

At noon, Cook stopped the chuck wagon and began to set up for the noon meal. Andi started off on her three-times-a-day quest for fuel, but there was nothing in sight. Not a twig. She shaded her eyes and saw the cloud of dust rolling along a mile or two in the distance.

Tulare Lake was quickly falling behind, along with the mosquitoes. The southern-most end of the lake lay too far away to walk to, but there would be brush and deadwood along the shore.

“May I use a horse to go back to the lake for fuel?” she asked Cook.

“Sí,” he growled. “Just don’t get lost.”

Andi laughed. “Get lost? How can anyone get lost with that kind of marker?” She pointed to the trailing dust cloud far away to the north.

Cook grunted his agreement. “Apúrate,” he barked.

He didn’t need to tell Andi to hurry. She was already running to the remuda. “I need a horse,” she told Josh. “I’m going after wood. Can I take Dusty?”

Josh nodded. “Sure.”

Dusty didn’t look excited to let a rider mount him, but Andi scrambled up before he could protest too much. She dropped a coil of rope over the saddle horn and headed out. She would tie up a nice bundle of firewood and let Dusty do the hauling.

“This is more like it,” Andi told the dusty-brown horse. “I hope I can keep this up all the way to Los Angeles.” She touched her heels to Dusty’s flank. He took off.

Despite the blistering sun, Andi began to enjoy herself. She came up alongside the long line of cattle, waved to the flank riders, and veered off to the west.

Deadwood was everywhere. Andi gathered two big bundles, tying them securely with the rope. She let them dangle behind the saddle on both sides of Dusty’s rump.

This is easy! I should have asked to use the horse right from the very first day.

By the time Andi had gathered enough wood for not only tonight’s meal but for breakfast also, she paused and looked up. The herd had long since passed her by. The drag riders were two slowly moving black dots mixed with gray dust.

Andi straightened and mounted Dusty. He flicked back his ears, like usual, but stood still. She gathered the reins and mounted, and that’s when she saw them. Three riders.

They looked innocent enough. Three men perhaps from Tipton on their way to Delano or Bakersfield.

But Chad was keeping off the main roads. It was easier on the towns not to have a herd of cattle barreling down their main streets and scaring the citizens. So, what were those three men doing here? Why were they not traveling on the main north-south road?

Andi glanced back at the herd. None of the cowhands probably knew those riders were here. Chad always scouted ahead of the herd, not behind it.

A chill went through Andi. Why were those three riders following the herd?

CHAPTER 6

Andi’s first instinct was to hightail it back to Mitch and the herd. Visions of thieves and night riders flashed through her head, one image rolling over the top of another.

Then a wave of common sense trickled over her. How long had they all been sharing the range land? Perhaps the strangers had been traveling this route for three or four days. How silly would it look if she galloped screaming into camp like a . . . well, like a squealing girl? 

Besides, if Andi took off like a shot, most of her carefully wrapped bundles of firewood would slide off Dusty’s rump and scatter all over the place.

She took a few deep breaths, gripped the reins, and headed back to the chuck wagon at a leisurely walk. It was about two miles away. As much as she pretended to be alone, she knew those riders were watching her.

They neither sped up nor turned off their route. A few minutes later, what Andi feared most happened. “Hey there, boy! Wait a bit!”

Andi’s heart skipped. Did she have a choice? She pulled Dusty to a stop and turned around in the saddle. She still looked a mess. Her braids were stuffed under her hat, and stiff, dry mud stuck to her face.

The riders loped up and reined their horses alongside Dusty. Up close, they looked friendly. All three sported a few days’ beard, wide-brimmed Stetsons, and normal cowboy getup. Their horses looked as dusty as they did. The men smiled and sat in their saddles in an easy manner.

Andi gripped the reins. Friendly or not, she wasn’t about to be taken in again, not like that awful night a few months ago, when Taffy had been stolen. That drifter had acted mighty friendly then too. 

She gave the men an icy-blue glare and said, “I gotta get back.” She jerked her chin in the direction of the herd.

The oldest of the three men nodded. “Sure thing, Little Britches.” He grinned. “You workin’ for that outfit up ahead?”

“Cook’s helper.”

The other men glanced at the load of firewood. “He’s makin’ you forage a mite far from the chuck wagon, ain’t he?” the man with dark-brown eyes said. He pushed his hat back and leaned over his saddle horn. “What happened to your face?”

“Mosquitoes. Mud helps.” Andi kept her words short and clipped. No use giving away that there wasn’t really a boy hiding under all the mud and dust.

“I’m Hank,” the older man said. “We’d be obliged if you’d sell us a bundle of your wood.” He pointed east, where a lone, giant valley oak stood with spreading branches. “We’re turning east in the morning, so we’re making camp over there for the night. We’re too dog-tired to scramble after fuel.” He shook his head. “That herd sure kicks up the dust.”

Then go find the main road! Andi wanted to shout, but she bit her lip and said nothing. Farther south, she could no longer make out the dust cloud. She’d strayed farther behind than she ought. It was time to leave.

“Well, what d’ya say?” Hank asked.

The fastest way to get rid of these three was to sell them some of the hard-earned wood. Andi slumped inside, thinking she’d have to scrounge even longer to make up for the loss, but she had to get back. Cook was probably ready to skin her alive for being away so long.

And if Mitch or Chad got it into their heads that she’d wandered off and gotten lost? Well . . . I sure don’t want them yelling at me. “How much?” she blurted.

“I’m feelin’ generous.” Hank fished a silver dollar from his vest pocket. “A dollar for both bundles.”

It was a lot of money for deadwood. They must be desperate, or desperately lazy. Andi shook her head. “If I do that, what will I take back to Cook?”

She reached behind the saddle and shoved one bundle over Dusty’s rump. The heavy load landed on the ground with a dull thud. “One bundle. One dollar.” She dallied the extra rope from the other bundle around the saddle horn—just in case they didn’t agree. She might have to make a quick getaway.

“Sure thing, boy. Here ya go.” Hank flipped the coin her way.

Andi caught it before it slipped through her gloved fingers. Without a thanks or even a good-bye, she stuffed the dollar into her pocket and nudged Dusty.

She was in a hurry to get back to camp, but Dusty wasn’t. The heavy bundle hung down and banged against his side whenever he went faster than a walk. “Too bad, fella,” Andi insisted. “We’re leaving those riders far behind. Let’s go.”

Snorting and complaining, he broke into a lope. Halfway back to the chuck wagon, Andi glanced behind her shoulder. Sure enough, the three men were halfway to the oak. They looked like large, black spots against the golden grass.

She let out a breath of relief. They’re gone. Andi’s relief didn’t last long. When she pulled into camp, three scowling faces were waiting: Cook, Chad, and Mitch.

“Did you go all the way back to the north shore of Tulare Lake for that load?” Cook barked.

Andi grinned. “Almost.”

Mitch eyed her with concern. Chad stood with his arms crossed over his chest—his usual I’d-like-a-word-with-you expression etched on his dirty face.

Andi recognized it even through his beard. “What?” she asked innocently.

Chad let out a breath, dropped his arms, and looked at Mitch, who shrugged. Both looked at Cook.

“Untie that wood and put your horse away,” Cook ordered. “Then get back pronto and help with supper. The men are hungry, and doughnuts are on the menu. Go. Now.”

Andi went.  

CHAPTER 7

Another couple of days brought Andi and her brothers closer to Bakersfield. “Halfway there,” she said. “Another week and we’ll be in Los Angeles.”

Cook grunted and slapped the reins over the horses’ backs.

Grumpy old Cook.

Andi was grumpy too. And dirty, tired, and snappy. I want to go home, she thought. I’m tired of the food I liked so much a week ago. I’m tired of listening to the cattle bellowing night and day.

She was tired of the hard, dusty ground and riding on a chuck wagon as slow as a turtle. But a horse would not be any different. The other horses plodded alongside the long line of cattle and looked as tired as Andi felt.

Andi finally realized what the boys and Mother had known all along: Andrea Rose Carter was a greenhorn.

If she hadn’t been riding on the chuck wagon, she would have dropped from exhaustion days ago. It was just like Chad and Mitch said. A cattle drive was a lot of long, hard days and sleepless nights.

Justin was right too. Andi was more than ready to get this cattle-drive notion out of her head. 

But she kept her complaints deep inside. Nobody must know, especially not Chad or Mitch. If Andi showed any sign of dropping, the boys would pack her up and shove her into the stagecoach at Bakersfield faster than she could say remuda.

Andi sat up straighter. She would show them she was just as hardy as Josh. So, she kept her mouth shut, picked up firewood morning, noon, and night, and sat on the chuck wagon seat next to Cook half asleep the rest of the time.

Whenever Mitch rode by, Andi smiled and waved. But deep down inside she was counting the days until she saw Los Angeles and the end of the drive. A hotel. A bath. A tall glass of milk and a plate of roast beef and potatoes and gravy.

“It’s really only one more week, right?” Andi asked Cook the next morning. “We’ve come through the worst of it. All that dust, and those horrid mosquitoes.” She took a deep breath. “I think I’m getting the hang of being your helper. It’s not so bad. And the drive gets easier from here on out, right?”

Cook rolled his dark eyes. “Señorita, the easy part of the drive is behind us.”

A hard lump settled in Andi’s stomach. The easy part? There was nothing easy about dust, mosquitoes, and hot days.

“The Tehachapi Mountains are a steep climb. Water is scarce. The weather is getting hotter.” He shook his head. “The hard part is coming up.”

Long about mid-morning, Chad showed up with a sour look on his face. He’d been scouting ahead. He pulled Mitch aside, and they rode together alongside the chuck wagon. “There must have been a pretty good storm up in the Sierras,” he complained. “The Kern is running mighty high for this time of year.”

Silence from Mitch, then a resigned sigh.

Andi strained to hear what her brothers were saying. The Kern River came just before Bakersfield. The herd had already crossed the Kings River, but that was way back on the second day. Everybody had been fresh and in high spirits. Even the cattle had been easily driven across.

It had been a high adventure. So much fun! The Kaweah and Tule Rivers later on had been easy crossings too, with plenty of splashing.

Andi didn’t feel as excited this time. The look on her brothers’ faces gave away the fact that the Kern River would not be high adventure. Everyone was tired, and the cattle balky. They would not want to ford the high water.

“Should we wait?” Mitch wanted to know.

“I say we press on,” Chad advised. “The river might go down by tomorrow, but it might stay high three or four days. What then?” He shrugged. “But you’re the boss.”

Mitch pressed his lips together before deciding. “No use putting it off and hoping the river goes down by tomorrow. Let’s cross.”

Chad nodded and spurred his horse toward the herd.

Cook shook his head. “Una idea mala.” He urged the horses into a trot. The chuck wagon lurched.

“What’s the rush?” Andi managed. “And what’s a bad idea?”

“Never mind,” Cook snapped. “Everything must be secured for the crossing. You, señorita, will not cross the Kern River on horseback.”

What? No horseback? There was a dozen mean things Andi wanted to tell Cook right then. “You’re not my boss,” was one of them. She held her tongue.

It was no use appealing to Chad or Mitch. Not when they both looked worried about the crossing. So, Andi sat silently next to Cook and thought how dull it would be to float across a river on a boring ol’ chuck wagon. Everybody else would be riding.

An hour later, Cook and Andi arrived at the Kern River. It stretched east to west but didn’t look all that deep. “Get busy,” he ordered.

Andi jumped off the wagon and lent a hand tying everything down so it wouldn’t float away. The dry goods were stored well above the wagon bed, just in case. The cover was on, the canvas flapping in the breeze. Cook tied it down tighter.

It was noon by the time the herd drew near. The men planned on crossing with the cattle about a quarter mile downstream. The hands took turns eating dinner, wolfing it down as quickly as they could before going back to the cattle.

Cook and Andi scrubbed the dishes fast and stowed them aboard the wagon. “Arriba, ándale!” (Get up, let’s go!) Cook ordered.

Andi clambered up onto the wagon seat and held on.

Cook took the reins and urged the horses forward. The wagon jolted and bumped its way down the bank and into the Kern River. It may have looked shallow, but it wasn’t. Not like the King’s River, where Andi had trotted Dusty across. He’d only gotten wet up to his withers. He never even had to swim. The Kaweah and Tule Rivers had been even shallower.

Cook’s wagon had not gone more than a dozen yards when Andi’s heart dropped to her stomach. It was a strange, scary feeling. The wagon was floating. The horses were splashing and swimming for the opposite bank.

Cook sat calmly, gripping the reins. Andi clutched the wooden supports. This river was deep.

Then crash! Something banged against the side of the chuck wagon. Cook swore in Spanish and said it was debris from the storm upriver.

Andi caught her breath. I want off! Please, God, make the horses go faster!

But the horses were confused, and the wagon was heavy. Another bump from a big, dead log sent the wagon into a slow spin.

Wrong way! Andi shouted silently to the poor horses, who were working as hard as they could to get back on course.

Then she realized the chuck wagon was out of control. It was heading downstream, straight for the rest of the cattle, who were just beginning to cross the river.          

Cook saw the cattle too. He jumped into the water and swam to the horses.

Andi gasped. She had never seen anybody swim so fast or work so hard as Cook. Even with his bum leg he looked at home in the swift river current. The horses seemed to like that somebody was taking over. They settled right down and let Cook lead them back toward the opposite bank. When he yanked the horses in the direction of the southern bank, Andi let out a sigh of relief. Thank you, God!

Just then another, bigger chunk of debris struck the wagon. Something snapped, and the wagon listed to one side. Andi flew from the wagon seat and splashed into the river.

CHAPTER 8

Andi could swim a little, but the river was cold, and the idea of heading straight toward 1,000 cows threw her into a panic. She didn’t yell for help. Nobody could hear her over the rushing water and bellowing cows. She struck out toward the nearest bank. North bank or south bank made no difference. Only dry land.

Andi stroked and stroked, but she was getting nowhere. Her fear rose a notch. She was getting somewhere, closer and closer to the cattle herd. They were bellowed and complained and swam for all they were worth toward shore.

Andi’s eyes and ears filled with water. Where was Cook? Had he seen her fall in? Did he know she was close to being pulled underwater by churning hooves? Her heart pounded. What if nobody knew she was in the river?

If it weren’t for those horrible cattle, she could have floated down the river until she bumped into the shore. But not now!

Then she blinked. A black horse was swimming toward her. He carried a rider. “Mitch!” Water filled her mouth. She flailed her arms, choking and gagging.

Mitch didn’t waste time finding a gentle way to rescue his sister. He grabbed her vest by the shoulder and hauled her aboard his mount. Then he slid off and snagged the black’s bridle. “Hang on.”

Andi gripped the saddle horn and did what Mitch said. Her shaking fingers clutched the horn. She leaned over the horse’s neck and closed her eyes.

Half swimming, half tugging, Mitch led them toward the south bank. By the time he and the horse touched the river bottom, Andi felt as if she’d swum the mighty Mississippi River. 

When Mitch was sure of the horse’s footing, he let go. “Get up there,” he ordered.

Andi hung on while the black finished his climb to the top of the riverbank. She did not look or feel like a member of the Carter Cattle Company cattle drive. She slid from the horse and crumpled to the ground. This cattle drive is getting worse and worse!

Before returning to the herd, Mitch squatted beside Andi and pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s all right, Sis. That could have happened to anybody. It’s not your fault. You did what Cook told you. Just a freak accident.” He grinned. “At least you didn’t lose your hat.”

Half-crying, half laughing, Andi looked up. “The mud’s washed from my face.”

“Yep,” he agreed with a quick nod. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to the men. Only half the herd’s across. Will you be all right on your own?” He looked ready to stay for as long as she needed him. 

She wanted to beg him to stay, but she sucked up her courage and nodded. “Sure. I’ll be fine. I’ll help Cook put the chuck wagon back in order.”

“Good girl.” Mitch sprinted toward his horse and threw himself on its back soaking wet. He jammed his heels into the black’s sides and raced downriver. 

Andi had every intention of going back and helping Cook, but she couldn’t move. She was so tired. She scooted back against a half-dead tree trunk and rested. 

A few moments later, her head lolled forward, and she drifted off to sleep.

****

Andi woke with a start to a sharp crack, then yelling and shouting. Cowhands scurried in every direction. What in the world? Was that a gunshot?

She sprang to her feet and started to make her way back to the chuck wagon. Six cowhands nearly ran her down in their eagerness to plunge back into the river. “Where are you going?” she shouted.

They didn’t answer, but their faces looked grim under their week-old beards. Cody pulled out a pistol and let off a couple of shots. 

Andi’s heart flew to her throat and stuck there. She shaded her eyes to see what the men were after on the other bank.

Crack! Andi hit the dirt and crawled into the brush to hide. 

Heart hammering, she followed the sound of familiar voices until she broke into camp. She expected Cook to grab her arm and sear her in Spanish for disappearing.

That’s not what happened. Cook was too busy to notice her. He was making his way toward a man lying in the grass next to his horse. 

Andi gasped. “Chad!”

CHAPTER 9

No crying! Andi gritted her teeth and bolted toward her brother. He lay on the ground, out cold. His horse stood quietly nearby, as though waiting for his master to remount.

Chad would not be remounting anytime soon. Cook hovered over him, mumbling in Spanish, cursing whoever had done this to Señor Chad.

By the time Andi dropped beside him, Mitch had arrived on the scene. His face was chalk white. “What happened?” 

Mitch had never spoken like that before. Cold shivers raced up Andi’s spine.

“A couple o’ would-be cattle rustlers, boss,” Jake spat out. “Some o’ the boys went after ’em.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the river. “Chad barely made it out of the river before they bushwhacked him from the other side. Maybe they think shooting him will keep everybody too busy to go after them.”

Mitch shoved the onlookers aside and dropped down beside Andi. Chad groaned and tried to roll over. Mitch stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. “Lie still. Cook’s here. He’ll fix you up.”

Cook doubled as the trail doctor during the drive, but could he tend a gunshot wound?

Andi blinked back tears. A pair of helping hands reached down to pull her out of the way, but she twisted free. “Leave me alone!”

“Let her be,” Mitch said. His attention was focused on Chad.

It took a bit of work but Cook and Mitch got Chad to roll over so they could see the damage. His shirt was wet with dark, sticky blood. His face contorted with pain at the movement, but he didn’t utter a word. He let Cook pull away his shirt to reveal a shoulder wound.

“Gracias a Dios,” the Mexican cook said. “There is little doubt the Mighty One has you in His sights.” He went to work with a will now that the shock was past. His wrinkled face formed a smile. “A flesh wound. Painful, yes, but not life-threatening.”

Chad let out a long, shuddering breath. “Good. Because there’s no time to dilly-dally. We’ve got 1,000 ornery steers to get up the Pass and down to Los Angeles.” He looked up, and his blue eyes turned icy. “Who shot me?”

The young wrangler, Josh, piped up. “Just as I was leading the remuda across the river, I caught sight of three scruffy strangers trailing us. Before I could holler, two of them went after a dozen steers, and another took aim.” He shook his head. “Cody and the others took off after them to bring our beef back.”

Mitch stood. “Josh, you . . . you . . . and you,” he jabbed his finger at the men standing around. “Get out to the herd and keep them under control.”

“What about the remuda?” Josh asked, eyes wide. 

“You’re a cowhand now,” Mitch said. “Get going.”

He ran after the others.

Andi sat frozen. Three strangers? Cattle rustlers? They shot Chad? The chance meeting of those scruffy men last evening slammed into Andi’s head. Why hadn’t she told Mitch and the others about meeting them. If she had, maybe—

“Andi,” Mitch yanked her from her dismal thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” she moaned. “I saw three men the other day trailing the herd. I should have told you. But I didn’t. I—”

“Stop it,” Mitch ordered, all business. “You’ve just been promoted to wrangler. Go find the remuda and look after those horses.”

Andi gasped. “What?”

“You heard me,” Mitch said. “Without the horses, we won’t be driving any cattle.” He glanced down at Cook, who was applying a compress to Chad’s shoulder. “Cook will take Chad into Bakersfield to see the doctor. He’ll be back in time to cook up some supper for us, right, Cook?”

The old man grunted his agreement.

Chad frowned. “I don’t think so—”

“You’re no good to me here,” Mitch cut in. “You’re going to see the doc in town, then you’ll stay there until we come back this way. Got it?”

Chad sagged. “Yeah, boss, I got it. But just wait ‘til we get home . . .” He let the threat go unfinished.

Mitch turned to Andi. “What are you still doing here?”

Andi jumped up, startled.

“See to those horses and do it quick. If you lose so much as one of those jugheads, I’ll take it out on your hide. Now, get going.” Mitch’s words energized Andi and drove away her fear and weariness. She ran.

She had no idea what she was supposed to do with the remuda. But Mitch was counting on her, now that he’d put Josh in charge of herding cattle. With Chad out of action, the drive was down a man, and an important one too. Everybody had to pitch in, and that meant Andi too.

I better figure out double-quick what I should do with this lot of dusty, tired horses we’re stringing along.

By the time Andi figured out her job of trading out fresh mounts for weary horses and keeping the horses grouped together, the six cowhands had returned. They turned in their tired horses for new ones and didn’t bat an eye to see Andi tending the remuda. 

“How’s Chad?” Cody asked.

“He’ll hurt for a while,” she replied, “but he’ll be fine.”

“Thank God,” Bret said, clearly relieved.

“Did you catch the no-good cattle thieves?” she asked Cody.

He shook his head. “No, but we recovered the dozen head they made off with. I think we winged one of the men, but they were riding off at a pretty good clip by that time. They left the beef behind, so we rounded them up and herded them across the river.”

“I reckon the nightguard will be doubled from now on,” Bret put in, shaking his head. “As if we’re not tired enough.”

Supper was a somber affair. Even with Cook’s humorous account of how Chad had griped about “being fine” during the hour-long trip to Bakersfield, nobody seemed in especially good spirits.

Cook had also returned with a boy about nine or ten years old. “Mi sobrino,” he grunted when Mitch raised his eyebrows. “My sister’s grandson. A good boy and used to hard work. Carlitos will take the señorita’s place.” 

Nothing more was said. Young Carlitos, a scruffy, serious-looking boy, went right to work.

Andi wondered if Cook would pay him, or if Carlitos was expected to drop everything when his Tio Manuel showed up on his doorstep in Bakersfield. She didn’t ask. 

Mitch sat quietly, drinking coffee and staring at nothing.

Andi found herself wide awake and not the least bit sleepy. How could that be? She should be exhausted after her dunking in the river, but she sat around the campfire and listened to Mitch hand out nightguard duty, give instructions for the next few days, and assign Cody to take Chad’s place as scout.

“Here’s the map.” Mitch slapped it into the young man’s hand. “Find water and grass. That’s all I ask. Other than that, the route is up to you.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Cody replied. “Do I have night duty?”

Mitch shook his head. “You have to be up at the crack of dawn and on your way.” He turned to Josh. “You’ll take Cody’s night duty.”

Josh seemed kind of green to be tossed headfirst into the cattle-guarding side of the drive. But then, Andi had just been tossed headfirst into being a wrangler. She winced. This was the job she’d begged for at supper nearly two weeks ago. “You wouldn’t even have to pay me,” she remembered. 

Well, here was her chance. Green or not, Andi would wrangle those horses the best she could. And not because she wanted to have fun on a cattle drive.

Nope. It was because her brother was counting on her, and Andi wouldn’t let him down.     

CHAPTER 10

The next morning, Andi watched Cook drive off with the wagon. Carlitos sat beside him. She sighed. The chuck wagon looked like a haven of rest. She was stuck with “the orneriest remuda of horses on God’s green earth.”

Those were Josh’s exact words, which he’d tossed at Andi when he rode off for nightguard the evening before. He looked green but glad to be elevated to a position of responsibility with the herd.

The only good news about the whole thing? Andi was on the back of a horse at last, even though her mount was Dusty. He nickered at her, like Andi was his best friend. She let him nuzzle her, then she slipped him a lump of sugar she’d snitched from Cook’s coffee supplies.

Cook made a heaping batch of hot, sizzling doughnuts for breakfast an hour before dawn. Those doughnuts really hit the spot with Mitch and the hands, and with Andi too. It was just what the crew needed to get over the horrible afternoon the day before and dig into the new day.

The Tehachapi Mountains loomed near by late afternoon, but Cody was a good scout. He found plenty of water every day, and the Pass was not as dreadful as Cook had warned. After what had happened to Chad, nothing during the rest of the drive even measured up.

Mitch set a double guard at night and two rear scout riders during the day, but the three two-legged snakes never came back. They probably figured the rear guard would shoot them on sight.  

Andi was the sole caregiver of forty horses. They had to be fed, watered, and herded all day long. It was exhausting work, but Dusty proved worth his weight in gold. The dirty gelding was a hidden treasure.  He was a bossy fellow and kept the most troublesome, half-green mounts in line. The rest of the remuda followed his lead.

By the end of each day, most of the spunk had been worked out of the horses. Andi wasn’t sure why Josh called them ornery, unless Dusty had a grudge against the young wrangler. The remuda seemed like an ordinary bunch of horses. They gave Andi no trouble, so long as she was mounted on Dusty.

A couple evenings before reaching Los Angeles, Andi noticed that each time Josh changed out his horse, he gave Dusty a wide berth. She laughed when Josh grabbed a buckskin, tossed a saddle on its back, and swung up quickly.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You all that anxious to get back to the dust?”

“No, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “I’m anxious to get away from that remuda.” He shook his head. “Don’t know how you can stand ‘em.” He pointed at Dusty. “That jughead is the worst of the bunch.”

Dusty flattened his ears and squealed at Josh. He sidestepped, but Andi reined him in. “Easy, Dusty. Behave yourself.” 

Josh shook his head. “I’ve had it with those critters. Give me cattle any day of the week, and I’m much happier.”

Andi raised her eyebrows. Josh didn’t like horses? This was news to her, and it would no doubt be news to Mitch, as well. “Why did you agree to wrangle for Mitch?”

“Miss Andi,” Josh said with a snort, “are you kidding? When the boss asks you to wrangle, you wrangle.”

The light of understanding came on. Josh was wrangling for the same reason Andi had been Cook’s helper, because Mitch said so. Green or not, Josh knew enough to do what the trail boss told him.

“Your brothers pay top dollar and they don’t stint on the grub,” Josh went on. He smacked his lips, no doubt remembering the doughnuts from a few days ago. “They’re good company too, so long as you don’t try to slack off. And real God-fearing men. I’d be Cook’s helper to come on this drive.” He shrugged. “Wrangler wasn’t my top choice, but I reckon Mitch liked what he saw, or he wouldn’t have promoted me.”

True enough, Andi thought.

“Looks like he liked what he saw in you too,” Josh said. “You got promoted from a child’s job to a man’s . . . oops, sorry . . . a—” He suddenly looked flustered. “Oh, you know what I mean. Mitch is trusting that you can wrangle those nags, and it looks to me like you do it twice as good as me.”

With that, Josh jabbed his heels into the buckskin and bounded away, leaving a choking cloud of dust in his wake.

Andi didn’t care. By now, dust was her second skin. She would see the stockyards of the City of Angels by late tomorrow afternoon.

I can bathe then.

***

Los Angeles truly looked like the City of Angels. Andi laughed when Carlitos told her its real name: “El Pueblo de la Reina de Los Angeles,” he said in all seriousness. “¡En verdad!” he insisted when she rolled her eyes.

“The Town of the Queen of Angels?” Andi mumbled in English. “Who would give a town such a long, silly name? It probably will never amount to much with a name like that.” 

 When the cattle were gathered into the stockyards in a noisy, bellowing jumble, Mitch paid off the hands and told them to take the week off before returning to the ranch. They yelled their yippe-ki-yays and took off for the center of town faster than a rushing river.  

Cook would return to the Circle C with the chuck wagon in his own good time. He and Carlitos had kinfolk in the City of Angels, and Cook wanted to see the boy safely settled with relatives before heading home.

That sounded like a good idea to Andi. The only loose end was the remuda, which Mitch put into Cody’s and Bret’s hands and told them to get them home. Then Mitch and Andi were free.

Andi had a bath and an entire hotel room to herself. Mitch paid extra so she didn’t have to share it with a snoring grandmother or some other woman stranger. There was no Melinda crowding her out of bed either.

She stretched out under fresh, clean sheets and sighed her complete weariness. I’m gonna sleep for a week . . .

****

“Andi.”

The whisper and slight bouncing on the mattress brought Andi awake groggily. It was still dark. “Huh?” she mumbled and rolled over.

“The stage leaves in half an hour, and I don’t want to miss it. Get up and meet me in front of the hotel in twenty minutes or I’ll leave you behind.”

Andi nearly told him to go ahead, but she remembered they were picking up Chad the next day in Bakersfield.

Twenty minutes later Andi was dressed in the new clothes Mitch had bought her the day before. She held a cheap carpetbag in one hand, where she’d stuffed her trail clothes, and all the dirt.

Andi didn’t remember much of the day-and-a-half stage trip back to Bakersfield. She slept most of the way. That was some feat, considering how horrible the stagecoach rattled and bounced.

Chad was clearly chafing at the bit to get out of his forced rest and back to the ranch. He clambered onto the stage and fell in beside Andi. “Howdy, little sister,” he said. “You look clean for once.”

She wanted to punch him, especially since two strangers were sitting across from them. But seeing his arm tied up in a sling, she held back. She didn’t want to truly hurt him. “Howdy to you too, big brother,” she said instead. “You look like a trussed-up calf ready for the branding iron.”

“I feel like one too.” He held up his arm, which was wrapped in a tight sling. “As soon as I’m out of sight of Bakersfield’s doctor, this thing comes off.”

Chad kept his promise. Five miles out of town, he unwrapped his sling, rolled the cloth up, and pitched it out the window.

Mitch grinned. For a few minutes, nobody said anything.

Andi wanted to hug Chad and tell him how glad she was to see him alive and not bleeding. But with those other passengers, she kept her thoughts to herself. After all, it probably wasn’t seemly to talk about cattle rustlers and trail drives with two old ladies staring at her all day long.

Chad and Mitch engaged in boring small talk, and Andi soon grew drowsy. Mitch filled Chad in on the rest of the drive, what the hands were up to, and how smoothly everything had gone.

Andi’s eyes drooped and she felt herself falling asleep. The next minute, her head was resting in Mitch’s lap. It felt so good. Another wave of sleepiness overtook her.

Then she heard Mitch drop his voice to a whisper. Maybe he thinks I’m asleep and can’t hear him.

“She did great, Chad,” Mitch said in a hushed voice. “Josh and the remuda were not getting along at all. I watched ever since you mentioned it. I know you didn’t want her taking over, but when you went down, I had to do some shifting around. I needed Josh with the herd. Andi slid into the job as slick as you please. Josh did well with the herd too.”

Andi felt a gentle hand rest on her tousled head.

“Dare we tell Mother?” Chad asked with a low chuckle. “She made us promise to keep Andi with Cook.”

“The bigger question is”—Mitch paused—“dare we tell Andi? If she finds out how well she did with the wrangling, she’ll pester us day and night to go on another cattle drive. We’ll have no excuse to say no.”

A warm glow engulfed Andi. I did well? I carried my own weight? That felt good. But go on another cattle drive?

Her whole body went limp just thinking about it. Dawn to dusk, sleeping on the ground to the tune of bellowing cows, fighting mosquitoes and dust, nearly drowning, cattle, shootings, more dust, more cattle. 

Mother was right. A cattle drive wasn’t much fun after the first few days. She was about to open her eyes and assure Chad and Mitch that she would not be going on any more cattle drives, when Chad said,

“We’d best say as little as possible, so Andi gets this cattle-drive notion out of her head once and for all. We needn’t tell Mother anything if she doesn’t ask. Bringing Andi home safe and sound will speak louder than words.”

Mitch grunted his agreement. “But I do plan to pay her. Andi did the job; she gets the pay. But I reckon I don’t have to tell her how well she did.”

“Sounds like a plan, little brother,” Chad agreed.

Andi smiled sleepily. Yes, she would put this cattle-drive notion right out of her head. For now.

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