(A Short Story from the Old West)
© 2018 Michael Leonard Jewell
PART V OF VIII
One of the cowboys who had just come in off his watch accompanied Juan to a grove of trees along the creek below. Soon they returned, each man pulling a large, dead tree branch behind him to be chopped up into fuel.
“Hans,” Juan said, out of breath from sawing up some of the larger logs. “The weather is changin’. I can feel it in the air. Smells like rain!”
Hans stopped his sorting and picking through the sack of dry beans on the back of the wagon and sniffed the air. “You might be right. It’s getting dark towards the North. Well, that’ll be a fine kettle of fish if it does. The one thing we don’t need out here is more ice.”
Early next morning was Christmas Eve Day and it had indeed rained most of the night, covering everything with a crackling layer of ice, including the herd, the men and their horses. The upside was that it had melted a lot of the snow, exposing the precious grass to the cattle.
The sleeping cowboys rose early to breakfast, slipping and sliding as they went out to take their turns riding the herd. The men coming off their watches wearing their rain slickers were cold and miserable. Quickly removing their saddles, they handed their horses over to the young wrangler who returned them to the rotation of the remuda.
Grabbing a hot biscuit or two, and a plate of fried onions and potatoes mixed with sop, they quickly slipped into their bedrolls in the shelter of the chuck wagon’s canvas tarpaulin. Their slumbers, however, would most likely be abbreviated for they were scheduled to move out later that morning.
Mr. Swinson finished his last gulp of black coffee, slinging the bitter dregs out onto the ground before him. Raising his voice so that all could hear, he spoke. “Boys, we’re movin’ out in a couple of hours. This rain has melted a good deal of the snow, so I plan makin’ eight or ten miles or more on the herd before we make our next camp. Cookie will make enough food to take along with you on this day’s ride. You’d better fill your canteens with coffee. Your next hot meal won’t be until we set up camp sometime this evening. That’s all,” he said as he turned to get on his horse to make his own assessment of the herd and to let the other men know of their imminent departure.
(Part VI coming next week)
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