Free Dark Canyon (1963) by Louis L'amour

Wyoming. Anyway"-and there was obvious satisfaction in his tone-"you'll find no cowhands. You can't move that herd without hands, or without a cavvy."
    Riley merely lifted a hand in farewell and, opening the gate, allowed the cattle to drift out, with Cruz pushing them a little. As the grass was gone in the fenced pasture, the cattle were only too pleased to leave it. A few hundred yards off to one side, the two riders watched.
    To the east there was open country with no fenced areas or tilled fields, and there was sparse grass. For that matter, there were few fenced areas to the south, and it was obvious that some of the local people had hoped to have those cattle for themselves, and no doubt still expected to get them.
    Slowly, the herd strung out. Riley rode a good horse, and he needed it, for here and there a steer started for wider pastures to sight or left, and both he and Cruz were hard put to keep the herd pointed, roughly at least, toward the wide spaces.
    The herd had moved scarcely a mile when suddenly a rider emerged from a draw and fell in on the opposite side of the herd. There was a flurry of dust and two more riders appeared. Riley saw Cruz standing in his saddle to stare at them, but they worked steadily, ignoring him. The herd moved east and a little south, following the banks of the stream. The two men to whom Riley had talked were now standing in their own stirrups, staring at the strang e riders as if unwilling to believe what they were seeing.
    The herd moved on steadily, falling easily into the movements of the drive, for they had been driven here from Oregon and were well broken to the trail. A big Durham cow had moved into the lead, and she stayed there.
    At dusk, several miles out from Spanish Fork, they suddenly saw a thin column of smoke ahead of them, and one of the strange riders moved to the point and began to swing the herd.
    Cruz, who had ceased to be astonished, glanced toward the fire as they drew near. Nearby was a cavvy of at least sixty horses, and while there was no chuck wagon, this was o bviously a trail-drive camp. Cruz waited for Riley as he came around the herd to join him, and the two of them rode off toward the fire.
    A slight man with a narrow, tough face was drinking coffee at the fire. "Riley?" he asked. "I'm segundo. Everything all right?"
    "Couldn't be better."
    "Me an' the boys will ride night guard," he said. "You'll have company, come daylight."
    "Thanks."
    Cruz accepted the plate of beans and beef that was handed him, and glanced quickly at Riley. But Riley had settled down to eat, and Cruz, with a shrug, did likewise.
    Where the camp had been made the stream ran clear, and tall trees were close about. Riley liked the crackle of the fire, and the smell of woodsmoke. The coffee was good, and the grub even better. Occasionally a rider rode up to the fire, drank a cup of coffee, and rode away.
    At daylight the herd was moving again, and from out of nowhere a dozen riders had appeared, all top hands, judging by the way they handled themselve s and the herd. And so it went as the herd headed south from Castlegate, finally making the swing on the fifth day out.
    From time to time a new rider would appear and there would be a brief conference, and then the herd would change its direction. Each change led them to water, though there was little enough, in any case. Often there were just pools from the rain, and occasionally a seep or spring. Sometimes there were low places in the river beds where water remained. Once Cruz joined Riley to watch the herd amble past. "They look good, amigo," he said. "We have been fortunate."
    "The rain saved us-and the other rains before that. It has been a wet spring, and there was snow left from the winter. Ordinarily you couldn't bring a dozen horses the way we will be riding, and to bring a herd of cattle would be out of the question." "Especially," Cruz added dryly, "with only two cowhands."
    Riley grinned at him. "Pays to have friends." Cruz