Showdown at Widow Creek Read online

  7

  WATER CROSSING

  FRANK

  WELL, THIS BEATS ALL I ever saw.” Wally stood high in his stirrups to get a better look at the swollen creek. “It’s never been this bad.”

  Joe had been the first to spot the unusually high creek. After he reported the news to Sarah, she had Dusty, Ned, and the guests keep the cattle on the other side of the hill. That left me, Joe, Sarah, and Lucky to check out the creek firsthand. Even Wally had saddled a horse and joined us. Now, we all sat atop our horses looking at what was supposed to be a small creek. Except it looked like a wild, uncontrolled river. Water swept past us, forming little rapids and whitecaps.

  “It hasn’t rained lately,” said Sarah. “So it can’t be the result of flooding. Maybe the dam broke.”

  “I don’t see how,” said Lucky. “I swung by Rogers’s lake when I scouted the trail on the way up to Bayport. Everything looked fine then.”

  Sarah turned to Joe and me. “We’re at the back of Earl Rogers’s ranch. He has a huge lake, but this creek is usually just the runoff from when it rains.”

  “So, I take it that this isn’t normal?” I asked.

  “Not even close,” Sarah replied.

  “We could take the herd off property,” Lucky suggested. “Drive them onto County Road 4240 and use the bridge to cross.”

  Wally rubbed the back of his neck. “That would put us more than half a day behind. We’d have to spend another night out. Put us at the ranch midday on Monday.”

  “I don’t mind missing Mr. Wilkins’s calculus class,” said Joe.

  Joe wasn’t kidding. Even though he was a pretty good student, I was the math nerd of the family. Besides, I could tell he was having way too much fun out here. I was sure that any amount of extra homework and makeup tests would be worth it if he could spend more time on the cattle drive.

  “Sarah, check the crossing,” Wally instructed. “See what we’re dealing with.”

  Sarah turned Hondo and galloped down to the creek. She pulled him to a stop at the water’s edge, then nudged him in. The water swirled around the horse’s legs as he carefully moved farther in. We all watched with anticipation as he trod deeper; I realized that I was holding my breath. I exhaled just as Hondo reached the halfway point. The water churned violently around his belly.

  Sarah gave Hondo another kick, and he trotted the rest of the way. Water splashed high around her as he reached the other side.

  “Well, that’s good news,” said Wally. “It’s moving fast, but it shouldn’t reach much higher than the wagon’s bottom. I think we can make it.”

  “You sure, boss?” asked Lucky. “The bridge would be safest.”

  “I think it’s scarier than it looks,” said Wally. “We should be fine.” He smiled at Joe. “And I don’t want to ever stand in the way of a young boy’s fine education.”

  Joe sighed. “Thanks for that.”

  Wally waved Sarah back; she made the return crossing much faster. Hondo’s hooves splashed water everywhere. She galloped up to us and pulled to a stop.

  “We’re going for it,” Wally announced. “Lucky, you rope Buford and tie him to the back of the wagon. We’ll cross first.”

  “Excuse me,” I said. “But who’s Buford?”

  “That’s our bull,” Sarah answered. “With him leading the way, the rest of the herd will be more likely to follow.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Wally. “Lucky, I want you and our guests riding drag, driving them forward.” He pointed to Joe and me. “I want the Hardys on one side and Ned and Dusty on the other. Sarah, round up any strays.”

  With our marching orders given, everyone rode back to the herd. Just as instructed, Lucky tossed a lasso around the horns of a big red bull. I hadn’t noticed him before, but he was quite different from the rest of the cattle. Bulging muscles stretched his hide; he looked as if he could easily pull away from Lucky and his horse. However, the bull obediently followed as Lucky led him to the wagon. Once he was tied, Wally got the wagon going with the big bull in tow.

  With the riders surrounding them, the cattle followed the wagon down the hill. Wally shook the reins and urged his mules into the wide creek. Buford seemed a little reluctant to step into the swift water, but he was no match for the large mules pulling the wagon. Soon, both wagon and bull were up to their bellies in water. Buford kept his nose up the rest of the way as they safely crossed.

  With us riders on each side, the cattle soon followed, bellowing the whole way. I had removed a coiled lariat from my saddle and waved it to keep them moving. I saw Joe doing the same. Of course, he had a crazy grin on his face the entire time.

  I was the first to reach the creek and was about to cross when Sarah stopped me.

  “Hold right here,” she ordered. “We’ll make sure all the cattle cross before we join them.”

  I sat atop Harvey and watched the cattle trudge through the wide creek. My horse’s ears pricked up as one of the cows tried to cut past us and run along the bank. Before I could react, Harvey’s training kicked in. He immediately sidestepped, blocking the cow’s path. The possible runaway thought better of her escape plan and turned to join the ­others as they crossed the creek.

  Soon, I saw the back of the herd stream down the hill. Lucky, Mr. Jackson, and the Muellers waved their hats and lariats, driving them forward. The herd was almost completely through.

  A blur of red and white caught my eye. It was the little calf we had chased earlier. It bawled as it zigzagged through the cattle. Its mother must’ve been somewhere near the front of the herd.

  “I forgot about him,” Sarah said as she opened a loop on her lariat. “He’s too small to wade across. Let’s see if I can rope him before he hits the water.”

  I didn’t see how she could. The calf was winding a path through the much taller cows, rendering him barely visible. Sarah had shown she was good with a rope, but no one was that good.

  Hondo trotted closer to the herd as Sarah swung her lasso over her head. The calf ran out for a moment, then, before she could let her lariat fly, ducked back into the herd. She moved her horse closer, but by that point the calf had already reached the water.

  “Keep an eye out,” she said. “I don’t know if he’ll be a good swimmer.”

  I moved Harvey closer to the bank as Sarah and I watched the little calf wade out with the rest of the cattle. It was so short, it was swimming while the rest of the cattle were up to their shoulders, wading.

  With a loud cry, the calf hit the swift center of the creek and was swept downstream.

  Sarah shook her head. “I knew it.” She turned her horse and trotted along the bank. “Stand in the center of the creek,” she ordered. “Make sure none of them follow him.”

  “Got it,” I replied, and kicked Harvey forward. Splashes of cold water shot up my back as the horse trotted in past his knees. Once we were in the center of the stream, I turned Harvey to face the cattle. None of them seemed interested in following the little calf. They kept right on crossing the rapids toward the bank on the other side.

  Hondo was galloping now as Sarah tried to outpace the little calf being swept through the churning water. Its bellow was cut off with a gurgle as its head dipped under the surface.

  I should have been paying closer attention to the job at hand. Harvey shifted under me, and I turned back to see one of the cows trying to get past him. The horse sidestepped so fast that the cow didn’t have a chance.

  Startled, I pulled back on the reins by mistake. Harvey reared, and I felt myself slipping backward.

  “Whoa, boy,” I said, reaching for the saddle horn.

  But my hand swiped through air. My arms flailed as I tumbled out of the saddle and splashed into the cold stream. I tried to call for help but got a mouthful of water instead. The current dragged me downstream away from the others.

  8

  MAVERICKS

  FRANK

  ONE MINUTE FRANK WAS SITTING on his horse in the middle of the churning water.
The cattle were behaving and the crossing seemed to be going smoothly. When I looked up again, Frank’s horse was still in the creek, but my brother was gone.

  “Frank!” I shouted. I kicked Norman toward the water, but my brother was nowhere to be seen.

  Norman plowed into the spot where I’d last seen Frank. I searched the stream and finally saw him being swept away. I knew my brother was a good swimmer. But between the swift water and his heavy cowboy boots, I wasn’t going to take any chances.

  I kicked Norman’s sides, and he crossed the creek along with the cattle. I didn’t think running downstream was an option. It would be too slow having Norman trudge through the deep water, or worse, I could end up like Frank. I had a better chance running along the shore.

  I urged Norman faster as he galloped beside the rapids, and I kept my eye on my floating brother as he bobbed along. I lost sight of him behind the thick trees lining the creek but picked him up again as we passed a clearing.

  “Come on, Norman.” I kicked the horse’s sides again, and he gained speed. I had to get ahead of Frank. I also had to find another opening in the tree line.

  Finally I saw what I needed up ahead—a big gap in the trees. Norman and I raced toward it. When we arrived, I pulled the reins, jerking him to a stop.

  The sides of the creek were so steep that there was no way I could’ve grabbed Frank as he passed. I had to do things the cowboy way. I opened a loop in my lasso and swung it over my head.

  Norman paced nervously. “Steady, boy,” I said, spinning the lasso faster.

  Then Frank swept by. He reached out and grabbed a jutting log to catch himself but only slowed for a second before the wood broke away in his hand.

  “I got ya, bro,” I said to myself. “I hope.”

  As Frank neared, we locked eyes. He raised a hand, and I let my lasso fly. Unfortunately, the rope sailed in front of him, missing him completely. My lariat’s loop unwound and floated ahead of him. I didn’t have time for another shot, so I’d have to pull in the rope, gallop ahead of him, and hope to find another clearing.

  But just before I began to reel it in, Frank swam forward and snagged the rope.

  I laughed. “That’s my brother!”

  I wrapped the end of the rope around my saddle horn and steered Norman away from the creek. We slowly pulled Frank to shore. The pull against the current brought Frank’s head underwater, but his hands held firm on my lariat. He was almost to the shore.

  “Come on, Normy.” I nudged the horse again. “Almost there.”

  When my brother was in shallow water, he stumbled to his feet. He coughed as he used the line to pull himself closer to the embankment. I walked Norman back to him, reeling in the rope as we went.

  “You just had to go for a swim, huh?” I asked.

  Frank trudged toward the steep bank. “Not really,” he replied.

  I kept the rope tight while Frank climbed the steep bank. He sat on the ground, took off one of his boots, then turned it over. Water poured out.

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” he said.

  “I get it,” I said. “You just didn’t want me to feel bad for falling off a horse.”

  Frank shook his head as he emptied his other boot. “That’s what brothers are for.”

  I coiled my lasso and helped Frank onto Norman’s back. We rode double on our way back to the others.

  As we came around the bend, we saw that the entire herd had crossed the churning creek. Lucky spotted us and rode out to meet us with Harvey in tow.

  “Don’t you boys know the number one rule of horseback riding?” he asked. “Always keep the horse between you and the ground.”

  Frank slid off the back of Norman. “I’ll try to keep that in mind from now on.” He looked up at me. “Thanks for the ride. And the save.”

  I tipped my hat in his direction. “All in a day’s work.”

  Frank rolled his eyes and climbed back on Harvey. We quickly joined the rest of the cattle drive. Sarah splashed across the creek atop Hondo with a small brown-and-white calf draped over the saddle in front of her. She climbed down and brought the baby cow with her. After she set it on the ground, it bounded into the herd.

  “How did it go?” she asked Lucky. “Did any get away from us?”

  “They all made it across,” Lucky replied. “I’m going to untie Buford so we can get going again.” He grinned at Frank. “I’ll let Frank fill you in on the rest.” He trotted toward the chuck wagon.

  Sarah gave Frank a concerned look. “I saw you go down! By the time I got this little guy”—she nodded at the calf—“your brother had already fished you out.”

  Frank’s face reddened with embarrassment. I couldn’t let my brother go down like that.

  “Frank and Harvey kept one of the cows from chasing down the calf,” I said. “It was actually quite heroic,” I added.

  “The trouble is, Harvey zigged and I zagged,” Frank finished. “Good thing Joe caught up to me and threw me a line.”

  My brother was too honest. He just couldn’t leave the PR to me, could he?

  Sarah smiled at Frank. “Don’t worry. I can’t even count how many times I’ve fallen off or been bucked off a horse. You’ll get the hang of it.”

  “It’s been quite an experience.” Frank nodded in my direction. “But it’s my brother here who seems to be a natural.”

  “Says the guy who always moans when I suggest a spaghetti western marathon,” I said. “See, watching all those old movies paid off.”

  Sarah laughed. “Frank, why don’t you ride up to the chuck wagon and change into some dry clothes. I’m sure my dad’s ready to move them out anytime now.”

  “Thanks,” said Frank. He turned Harvey and trotted toward the others.

  “You up for another scouting mission?” asked Sarah.

  I beamed. “You bet.”

  • • •

  I helped the other riders get the herd moving again before peeling away from the group. Sarah had asked me to follow the creek up a couple of miles to the lake to check on the dam. If it had broken, as she suspected, then they’d have to let Earl Rogers know. Luckily, there was no way I could get lost. I just had to follow the creek, go through a couple of gates, and I’d run into the lake. After I checked it out, I just had to follow the creek back to the crossing and then follow the trail back to the herd. According to Sarah, I didn’t need to be an expert tracker to follow their trail. Between the wagon ruts and the hoofprints, I couldn’t miss it.

  I stood in the stirrups as Norman galloped across the field. Blaring horns and beating drums played in my mind as I rode.

  I passed through a couple of nearby gates, as expected, and continued to follow the creek as it snaked through the open fields. Sometimes I had to cut through some wooded outcrops, but the loud creek was easy to find again. I kept it on my right as I rode.

  After about an hour, I could tell I was nearing my destination. The field ahead rose into a gradual incline. The large slope was the side of the earthen dam. I leaned forward in the saddle as Norman climbed up the side.

  At the top, a beautiful lake spread out before me. It wasn’t as big as some of the lakes around Bayport, but it was way too big to be called a pond. The opposite bank was dotted with large trees. On my side of the lake, the raised dam had been built wide enough that a vehicle could drive along the top without a problem.

  I nudged Norman forward along the earthen dam. The spillway turned out to be nothing more than a large corrugated pipe jutting out of the side of the slope. If there was a lot of rain, the extra water would spill through the pipe and into the creek below. This controlled release would keep the earth dam from eroding over time. The rush of water grew louder as we approached, but no water spewed from the pipe. Instead water rushed out of a huge gash in the ground next to the large pipe.

  I climbed off my horse for a closer look. I saw tracks, two of them, crisscrossing in front of the breach. They were wide, with thick lines crossing them like the timbers of train t
racks; they looked like they were made by a bulldozer. As I inched closer to the gap in the dam, careful not to fall in, I saw that long tooth marks gouged the sides of the breach.

  Over the years, mysteries have taken my brother and me to many different places. So I had investigated enough construction sites to guess that a person had dug this trench with some sort of backhoe—a tractor with a bucket on the end of a long mechanical arm. They were used to dig large holes very quickly. Some of them even ran on treads like those of a bulldozer or a tank.

  There was no doubt about it. Someone had sabotaged the dam on purpose. Just one more piece of evidence that someone had it in for this cattle drive. The trouble was, we still didn’t know why.

  Or what they would try next.

  9

  IN CAHOOTS

  FRANK

  WALLY HAD HELD UP THE cattle drive just long enough for me to change in the back of the chuck wagon. I was thankful. It was hard enough pulling off wet clothes in the cramped space; I could only imagine how hard it would have been if the thing had been bouncing around as it moved down the trail. I tried to be as quick as possible, not wanting to hold everyone up even more than I already had.

  When I was done, I climbed back onto Harvey and rode over to meet Sarah. My saddle was still wet, but it would have to dry along the way.

  “You ride drag along with the Muellers,” she instructed, “and keep an eye out for Joe. He should catch up with us in a couple of hours.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Sarah explained Joe’s scouting mission. Then she rode off to get the rest of the team. Normally, I would’ve been worried about my brother riding alone. But with the way he had been handling himself this entire time, I wasn’t. If Joe could ever live without the comforts of Bayport’s shops, restaurants, and hangouts, he would make a fine cowboy.

  We continued our long trek back to the ranch. As we moved away from the creek, the land became less lush and more scrubby. This helped move the cattle along, since there wasn’t much on which they could stop and graze. Unfortunately, it showed me just how much of a drag riding drag could be. The Muellers and I rode in a cloud of dust kicked up by the shambling herd.