Free From Hide and Horn (A Floating Outfit Book Number 5) by J.T. Edson Page A

calling for constant supervision
by the swing and point riders, with powerfully muscled bodies
thrusting and shoving in contests of domination.
    Led by Dusty, Billy Jack, Red,
Dawn and two more hands worked their horses in among the cattle
ready to halt any serious conflicts. While most of the disputes,
due to the press of advancing animals from behind, ended quickly,
the work was not without risks. Separating two steers about to meet
head-on, Dawn had her leg pinned between the saddle and the flank
of a third longhorn. Saying a few things a well-bred young lady did
not usually utter, the girl slashed at the steer with her rope and
it drew away. Then she turned aside the rivals by the same means.
Narrowly avoiding the stab of an angry steer’s horns, Billy Jack’s
horse was butted by a muley and let fly with both hooves against
the offender’s jaw hard enough to make it
allergic to butting for some time to come. In doing so, the horse
nearly threw its rider. Recovering his balance with masterly skill,
Billy Jack found fresh trouble. In passing, the steer stuck its
horn up the left leg of his pants. The material tore before worse
damage was done and the doleful cowhand spent the rest of the day
moaning about his misfortune in having a new—well, not more than
six months old—pair of levis torn to doll-rags.
    Finally one
steer, a ten-year-old heavyweight with a dark brown body and head
and shoulders of black seemed to be asserting its dominance over
all the others. Twirling like a flash, it met the challenges of
potential rivals with such force and determination that all were
scared off without fighting. At last it stalked off ahead of the
rest and none questioned its right to do so. Falling in on either
side of the self-appointed leader, Mark and Ahlen guided it in the
required direction.
    With the
leadership determined, the cattle continued to move with increased
ease and Dusty’s party withdrew to the sides of the lines. Riding
ahead, Dusty joined his uncle as Goodnight sat on a small rise to
one side of the route.
    ‘ What do
you reckon, Uncle Charlie?’ Dusty inquired, nodding towards the
point of the herd.
    ‘ I’ve
seen that big cuss around. He always lived close to the house, so
he’s used to folk being around him. He’s not mean, or snaky. Happen
he can hold on to the lead, we’ll be all right.’
    Like all
herd-dwelling animals, the longhorns tended to follow the dominant
male’s directions. So a steady, well-behaved, sensible lead steer
was invaluable on the trail drive. It would set the most suitable
pace, obey the point riders’ instructions without fuss and hold the
rest of the cattle together by the strength of its presence.
    Another day’s
hard pushing saw the trail herd thirty miles from the holding
ground on the Swinging G. There was some horseplay around the
campfire that night, but of a harmless nature. Dusty watched
Willock to see how the cowhand was accepting the bawling out. From
all appearances, Willock had decided to forget it, for he made no
trouble and acted pleasantly enough in Dusty’s presence. Yet he
displayed a veiled hostility towards the entire D4S contingent,
ignoring them completely. Nobody else seemed affected by Willock’s
attitude, so Dusty said nothing.
    The events of
the morning had prevented Dusty from suggesting to Goodnight that
they should tell Ahlen of the change in their route. At nightfall,
Dusty had put the matter from his mind and it was not raised.
    The start of
the third day’s drive went off somewhat more smoothly and ended
with the big brown and black steer even more firmly established as
the leader. Due to its colour, the trail crew started to call it
‘Buffalo’ and it rapidly justified Goodnight’s faith in it. It had
all the qualities needed to lead the herd, being of a tractable
nature where human beings were concerned and having the size, speed
and bulk to handle dissidents or challengers, without being
aggressive or bullying.
    On the fourth day