A Dream Unfolding (32 page)

Owens and Whitten seemed to get along.
 
When one was riding point in front of the herd, the other was out-riding, looking for strays.
 
In the evenings, the two would convince Snake to pick up a game of poker—just playing for fun, as Will did not allow gambling.

The four Mexican
vaqueros
seemed inseparable as well.
 
That could be because some of them still spoke little English.
 
But that didn’t stop them from joining in the joking.

At the next bite, Will was reminded of the Mexicans’ good natured pranks, as fire burned through his mouth.
 
He willed his eyes not to water, but it was too late.
 
The heat was insatiable.

“Pedro, you got the boss today,” Miguel stated with his thick accent, nodding in Will’s direction.

All eyes turned to Will.
 
He reached for some water, downed it and stole Whitten’s water as well.
 
It had been much funnier when it wasn’t his mouth on fire.
 
Snake tossed him a biscuit and he hoped the blandness would counteract the heat.
 
He could see the men were uncertain if it was acceptable to laugh at the daily hot pepper joke when it was their boss suffering.
 
Ben couldn’t control himself.
 
He was laughing hysterically.
 
That must have been all the encouragement the rest of them needed for they soon joined in.
 
The burning gradually subsided and Will laughed at the clever prank.

“Good one, Pedro,” Will said slapping the man on the back.
 
He wanted to make sure they knew it was okay to have a good time, even if it was at his expense.
 
Too much of life was serious, as his father always told him.
 
Laughter was rare and should be encouraged.

“I think I’d be volunteering for night duty, if I were you, Pedro,” Whitten said.
 
“Don’t think I’d want to be on the other side of Boss’s scheming mind.”

Another round of laughter filled the room.

Following supper, Will took out his guitar and strummed out the notes that danced in his head since setting foot on this new land.
 
He found such peace and calm here, and those feelings came through the music he composed.
 
He already felt like this place was home in a way that Texas never was.
 
He loved this new land with its strange white boulders and miles of grassland.
 

Perhaps some of the peace came because his brother was not here.
 
He did not miss the constant tension with Reuben.
 
What a blessing to be far from his brother’s harassment and condescending attitude.

Then again, maybe the peace was coming from a stronger connection with his heavenly father because of this magnificent land.
 
No matter where the peace was coming from, he hoped it would last a good long time.
 
It refreshed his soul as never before.

As the cowboys around him grew weary and turned in for the night, Will put his guitar away.
 
Stretching out on the bunk, he felt his own eyes get droopy.

Sometime during the night, Will woke with a start.
 
Sitting up suddenly, he hit his head on the bunk above him.
 
What had he heard?
 
Rubbing his forehead, he waited for the sound to register.
 
Gunshots!
 
Grabbing his big fifty rifle, he looked through one of the small cutout slits in the wall.
 
The slit was not more than a few inches wide and tall, but it was enough to aim a rifle and defend his land.
 
Then he heard the blood piercing scream of the Apaches.
 
Other men jumped up armed and ready.
 
Peering through one of the slits, the full moon illuminated the corral rather well.
 
Seeing none of his men were in the line of fire, Will motioned the cowboys in the bunkhouse over to the west wall.
 
They began firing at the Apache bandits.

“I count about ten Indians,” Ben shouted over the rapid rifle fire.
 
“They have the cattle corral open and are leading the herd out.”
 
Pedro and his crew only had part of the herd in the field tonight, the rest were in the corral—an easy target for the thieves.

“Whitten, Owens, can you make it to the horses if we give you cover fire?” Will asked.

“Sure boss,” both men answered.

 
“First priority is securing the herd.”

The cabin filled with the smoke of spent gunpowder as Will and Ben provided cover fire.
 
Though few of their shots connected with the Apache thieves, they were able to distract them enough for Whitten and Owens to make it safely to the barn.
 
They mounted bareback and bridle free since there was no time to saddle the horses.
 
Owens aimed his revolver at the Indian holding the gate open.
 
The shot connected and propelled the raider into the path of the frantic cattle crushing him under their weight.
 
Owens, now having control of the gate, swung it closed.
 
The bulk of the herd was secure.
 
Whitten rode out toward Pedro, Miguel, Diego, and Raul to round up the remaining cattle.

Will and Ben darted from the safety of the bunkhouse, shooting the direction of the now retreating Apaches.
 
Hearing more than just horse hoof beats, Will knew he lost some cattle in the confrontation.
 
Hopefully that was all they lost.

“Whitten, did you see how many they got away with?” Ben asked.

“I’d say about twenty head, no more,” Whitten replied.
 
“Doesn’t look like any of the new breeders are gone.
 
None of the horses are missing either.”

Twenty head.
 
Not bad considering they could have gotten a whole lot more.
 
The full moon had been his ally tonight, allowing the night herders to spot trouble and sound the alarm quickly.
 

Will asked Whitten to stand guard tonight near the stables.
 
The Indians had been bold enough to ride right into the heart of the ranch and Will was not taking any more chances.
 
Starting tonight, he would post someone near the stables or outside the bunkhouse in addition to the men in the field with the cattle.
 
Again he was starting to feel they were being stretched thin.
 
Tomorrow they should be able to finish up the barn then they could concentrate on ranching—and their own safety.

Chapter
17

Drew’s palms grew sweaty as he concentrated on the target before him.
 
This was a bad idea.
 
I can’t shoot a gun.

“Hold steady,” Harrison reminded him, “and look through the site.
 
When you’ve got your mark lined up, just pull the trigger.”

With jerky movements, Drew tried to line up the target.
 
It always seemed to move more than he wanted it to as he adjusted his position.
 
Sighing in frustration, he lost the target completely—and it was a stationary target.

“Patience, Drew,” Harrison encouraged.
 
“Don’t let your frustration get the best of you.”

“It shows that much?”

Harrison let out a deep belly laugh.
 
“Yes.
 
Tell me, how do you keep steady when you remove a bullet from a man’s gut?”

Drew smirked, lowering the rifle to his side without taking the shot.
 
That was a hard question.
 
How did he keep a steady hand in surgery?
 
“Practice I suppose,” he admitted, remembering how shaky and nervous he had been the first few times he operated on someone.

“Well, that’s how you’re going to learn how to shoot,” Harrison said.
 
Picking up the rifle, he thrust it towards Drew.

Slumping his shoulders, he took the rifle.
 
This seemed far more difficult than medical school.

“What’s that?” Harrison mock scolded.
 
“Sagging shoulders is horrible form.”

Drew straightened his back and shot his friend a woeful look.

“You still want to go through with this, right?”

Hesitating, Drew wanted to back out.
 
He could not shoot a gun.
 
He could not take a life.
 
Could he?

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Harrison gave him a shake.
 
“What will you do if Mrs. Anderson needs you to protect her from the Navajo?
 
Will you slump your shoulders in defeat then?
 
Let her fend for herself?”

Remorse lodged in his throat as he remembered his motivation for asking Harrison this favor.
 
“Of course not.
 
I will give it my best attempt.”

Raising the rifle to his shoulder, Drew closed his eyes.
 
Slowly he opened them, looking through the site.
 
Seeing the target he squeezed the trigger.
 
The gun fired, jamming hard against his shoulder, almost causing him to drop the weapon.

“You did it!” Harrison exclaimed.

Rubbing his sore shoulder, Drew propped the rifle against a nearby tree.
 
He walked toward the target, amazed that he actually hit it, though not exactly in the spot he expected.
 
Perhaps he would do well enough in an emergency—just as long as he did not think about his target being a man.

Maybe this wilderness living was toughening him up.
 
Within the last month, he finally felt comfortable around the oxen.
 
He was no longer the last one ready when the wagon train pulled out.
 
His arms were bulking up, probably from heaving all those full water barrels into the back of the wagon.

Even though he felt more at ease, he still missed doctoring.
 
He would be more than happy to settle down in Granite Creek and start living a normal life again.
 
He would build a quaint house with attached clinic.
 
Paul already agreed to help him with the furniture.
 
Hannah would have her kitchen, likely smaller than before, but he was certain she would be happy in it.

Thanking Harrison for the lesson, Drew headed back to camp.
 
Turning his face towards the sun, he closed his eyes.
 
An image of a small log cabin filled his vision.
 
Hannah smiled at him, a little boy propped on her hip.
 
Bounding in from outside was a little girl, perhaps a bit older than the boy.
 
She had the same lovely deep blue eyes as her mother.
 
They all smiled at him, love bursting forth.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the circle of wagons.
 
The beautiful image faded too quickly, followed by a rush of disappointment.
 
He never shared with Hannah how incredibly sad he was that they had no children yet.
 
He did not want her to feel worse than she already did.
 
He knew she thought about it often.
 
The way she would gaze longingly off at nothing in particular.
 
Or the way she followed the movements of each of the children on the wagon train.

She would make a wonderful mother with her kind heart and her eagerness to take care of others’ needs.
 
He remembered the way she would take time to teach the young children that came into the clinic.
 
She always spoke to them in a way they understood, easing their fears of what Drew was doing to set their broken arms or stitch their gashed foreheads.

A smile erupted from the love overflowing his heart.
 
Hannah truly was an amazing woman and he loved her dearly.