Cattleman's Lament

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6-13 Available On

PLEASE NOTE: This is a preview of this novella. It is available for purchase in its entirety via

Chapter Three

Jonas, Buckshot and Peter arrived in Ute Canyon and located Sarah's trail. Had they followed Molly's tracks, they'd have arrived at the scene of Sarah's kidnapping much sooner, but Jonas had gone with his gut instinct. As a result, they were four hours behind Molly when they arrived at the place where she had met Bobby Rocklin. Unfortunately, the signs that Bobby had read were gone. Two or three hundred sheep had walked over them.

"Been sheep here." said Buckshot needlessly.

"Do tell?" commented Jonas sarcastically.

By then it was getting dark, and the sheep following Bobby and Molly had wiped out all trace of their tracks. Buckshot rode wide, to the East, toward the Collins ranch, and located Molly's tracks coming into the disturbed area. Those tracks were lost where the sheep had wiped them out. He rode back up to Jonas.

"Found Molly's tracks coming in. She's riding Vixen, and leading Tulip." he said. "Nothing going back to the ranch, though."

"What the hell is she doing here?" Jonas' voice was heavy with worry.

"Same thing you are, I imagine," said Buckshot.

They ranged through the mess of tracks, finding prints of three other horses, all strange to them. Two were hard to read because the shoes were worn down and left little detail. The third had the distinctive bumps on it that indicated they were winter shoes, made to grip ice better. Most stockmen took them off in the summer because they were expensive and it was no use to wear them down in routine conditions. That horse was also a big, heavy animal too, with large hooves. All that told them was that there had been strangers in this place, along with Sarah and Molly.

Had there been a little more daylight, and had they ranged wider, they might have picked up some of Molly's tracks heading toward the mountains, or the small cairn of stones with two large one piled on top of each other, and a smaller one set to the side. Bobby had left that sign for anyone who might be following them. The smaller rock pointed in the direction he thought he'd be headed for a while. But, while Charley would have known instantly what that meant, the cattlemen weren't used to following that kind of trail, and that wouldn't have made sense to them. In any case, darkness caught them, and they had no idea where to go next.

"What do you want to do, Boss?" asked Buckshot.

"Damned if I know." said Jonas. I thought to ride out here, find her and then get home. We didn't bring supplies to camp overnight."

"Maybe they went over to that sheep farmer's spread." suggested Peter.

"That sheep farmer doesn't have a spread." said Jonas angrily. "He's a squatter."

"Now Jonas, the way I heard it, old man Johansen said he sold his ranch to the man." said Buckshot. He immediately wished he hadn't said anything.

"Johansen didn't know they were bringing sheep here." said Jonas. "If he'd a known that he wouldn't have sold."

Buckshot didn't want to argue. His arthritis was acting up. He idly thought that it must be going to rain soon. "Boy could be right Jonas" he said, ignoring the outburst. "Mebbe they did go over to ... Johansen's old place."

"Let's ride." barked Jonas. Jonas never apologized, but if he recognized a proper course of action, he took it.

The three men headed for the ranch now owned by a man named Rocklin. It would be the first formal meeting of men who, as the world saw it, were neighbors. Jonas Collins didn't think of it that way at all. He loosened the rifle in it's scabbard by his right knee.

In the house now owned by Brad and Amanda Rocklin, there was a serious conversation going on. It was almost dark, and supper was on the table, though no one seemed interested in eating it except Enid. She was fourteen years old and had a healthy appetite to go with the stocky body she'd inherited from her father, much to her mother's dismay. The only thing Enid had inherited from her mother were a pair of proud, thrusting breasts that, according to her, were a bother because they always got "in the way", whatever that meant. Amanda often looked at Enid, and then her other daughter, Elizabeth, and wondered how they had both come out of the same womb.

Beth was tiny, like her mother, almost delicate, with thin wrists, and a narrow waist to match. Like her year-younger sister, she had the same large, lush breasts that Amanda had, but Beth's figure was more proportioned to that of a woman, with swelling hips to match. Enid's hips were slim and boyish. Beth worked hard too, but it didn't show on her like it did on Enid. Beth's skin was milky white, while Enid had freckles and darker skin that was darkly tanned by the sun.

Enid was already taller than Amanda, and had the sturdy look of a young pioneer woman, with callused hands and short, usually dirty fingernails. Not that she didn't appear to be a female. Her long strawberry blond hair, not quite so red as Amanda's, was tied back with a ribbon. Her young, but already large breasts pushed at the soft buckskin shirt she was wearing, above pants made of the same material. Beth had on a proper dress. Amanda would rather have had both girls wearing dresses, but the only ones Enid owned were two or three years old and had been made for a much smaller girl. Amanda hated sewing, and, come to think of it, Enid had inherited that from her too. Beth, on the other hand, had probed to find what sewing skills Amanda possessed, and had pulled them from her on cold winter nights beside the fire. Beth made her own clothes. Amanda could spin wool into thread that made the finest cloth, like most women of that day, and Beth was fast on her way to becoming just as good with a spinning wheel. But the weaving and cutting and sewing of that fine wool cloth was something Amanda had no patience for. She'd just as soon buy ready made dresses. That happened infrequently, though. It was rare to get to town, and even more rare to have the money to spend on things like that. The only proper dresses Amanda still owned were the one's she'd brought with her from Oregon, and one that Beth had made for her.

On the other hand, the Rocklins had good relations with the local wandering tribe of the Batcinena, or Red Willow Men of the Arapaho Indian tribe. In the uneasy peace between former enemies, enforced by the infrequent appearance of soldiers, the tribe traded with other tribes who wove wool into beautiful blankets, and the Rocklins were able to trade good wool thread for both good will, and fantastically well made clothing of animal skins. Elk skin made the best clothing, thick and almost indestructible, and as long as you didn't wear the same outfit too long without airing it, the leather maintained its sharp, pleasant smell.

As a result, Amanda's children often dressed in clothes that were more suited for a wild Indian than a civilized sheep farmer. For that matter Amanda herself owned two sets of sturdy Indian garb. Her husband refused to wear leather clothing, preferring jeans and cotton or wool shirts, depending on the weather. His chaps, though, were Indian made. They were a gift to him by an Indian woman who had showed up on foot at the ranch, handing them over and saying her son's name. Brad had found the boy with a broken leg and had splinted it and carried him to where the tribe was located at the time. At that time, that had been thirty miles away, and the woman had made the chaps and walked the whole distance ... round trip ... to thank him.

The other nice thing about leather, Amanda had to admit, was that it stretched as the body grew into it. She glanced at Enid's swollen breasts, pushing the leather away from her chest, and sighed. Her worried mind was drawn back to the issue at hand as her husband spoke.

"I shouldn't have sent him out there." he said.

"Nonsense." said Amanda. "He's a grown man. Well, almost. And he should be back by now. I'll tan his hide good for making us worry like this!"

"He's probably dead." said Enid. She had argued with her brother that morning about whose job it was to clean the chicken coop. Being two years older he had simply informed her that he had other things to do, and it was her job, and if she didn't do it he'd tell their father. She realized it had gotten very quiet at the table, and looked up. Her mother and father, along with Buckshot and Xian Bai, their other lead shepherd, were all staring at her.

"Why would you say that?" asked her mother, her face darkening. "Why in the WORLD would you say that, Enid Rocklin?"

Enid knew that tone of voice, and knew she'd made a tactical mistake. But the odor of chicken manure on her hands ... the odor she couldn't get off no matter how much she washed them ... made her compound the mistake.

"Well? He's just so STUPID!" she said forcefully.

Oddly enough, Amanda relaxed and sat back in her chair. She recognized that tone of voice. Sibling rivalry. She glanced at Beth, who had her eyes on her food, like she was trying not to get involved in the conversation.

Charley tried to defuse a situation that really didn't need to be diffused any more. Of course he didn't know that. He was a man, and didn't recognize those tones of voice.

"Your brother is not a stupid man." he said patiently. "He should be back by now and your mother is worried."

Xian Bai spoke from the other side of the table. "Your Brother is very smart, Missy." he said, grinning. Xian Bai had somehow attached himself to the party as they moved from Oregon to Wyoming, herding five hundred sheep along the old Oregon Trail. He had been walking alone, with only sack hanging from a six foot long pole as he was surrounded by sheep. He had just kept walking until the Rocklins caught up to him. Queen, their lead dog, had ambled up to him, sniffed him and then ambled off. That, in itself, was an endorsement. Amanda had been exposed to Chinese immigrants, and invited him to eat with them when they camped. He'd been with them ever since. He picked up sheep ranching as if born to it, and he had an almost magical way with the dogs, as if he could speak to them somehow. He took his pay, when they had money to give him, but often Amanda found it back in the big clay jar she kept loose cash in. He was also a wizard with the weaving of rope, and made all the rope they used on the ranch.

Enid, knowing that she had gotten off easily, started eating again.

Buster, who had been lying in a corner of the room, suddenly lifted his head, his ears up. A soft growl issued from his throat. The three puppies who had been sitting patiently under the table, hoping for scraps, began yapping loudly. Brad kicked one and Amanda shushed at them, picking two of them up and holding their muzzles closed. Xian Bai grabbed the third and did the same thing.

Buster was standing now, rigid and facing the door. His growl continued, but he did not bark.

Brad and Charley stood. Charley went to the wall and took down the double barreled Damascus twist black powder shotgun. He knew it was loaded. Brad went to the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a Navy Colt .36 caliber pistol. Charley headed for the back door of the house while Enid, all business now, turned the kerosene lamp down until it gave off just a dull glow. Xian Bai had disappeared without a sound.

"Halloooo the house" came a faint yell from outside.

Brad opened the door, but stood to one side.

"Who's there?" he yelled out into the almost dark. He could see the dark forms of three men sitting horses, out away from the house.

"It's Jonas Collins" came back the reply. "I'm lookin' for my wife and daughter. They've gone missing!"

Brad frowned. He hadn't met the cattle rancher. That had been on purpose. When he'd moved onto an old cattle ranch with sheep he'd known that he would not be welcome. Cattlemen he saw in town wouldn't even speak to him, shooting him hostile looks instead. He'd decided on his own to try to lie low and keep the flock away from his closest neighbor's range, to avoid conflict. While surveying his new ranch he'd found grass that cattlemen wouldn't want to use, and had capitalized on that. He had four or five times as many sheep now as he had when he'd first arrived, and the operation was just beginning to make some money. He intentionally left a broad piece of free range untouched between him and the Circle C ranch. Brad was trying hard not to get caught up in the general trouble between cattlemen and sheep men. The last thing he needed right now was trouble with Collins. He was uneasy about this "visit", but when kinfolk were missing, it was a serious thing.

"Come on in." yelled Brad, and he stepped out onto the porch. He put the pistol in his pocket, but did not let go of the grip. He knew Charley was at one corner of the house, covering the three riders.

The three horses stepped slowly toward the house. It was too dark to see the men's hands, and that made Brad more nervous. As the men got closer he spoke to them.

"We haven't seen any strangers." he said, suddenly wishing he'd said "people" instead of "strangers".

Jonas sat his horse. He hadn't been invited to step down. "Found sign of your sheep where her trail disappeared." he said. "Over by that dry creek bed that comes out of Ute Canyon."

"That's impossible." said Brad firmly. "We don't graze the flock over there.

"Well, somebody does." said a gravelly voice of one of the other men. The grass had been eaten to the roots, and there's sheep tracks all over the place."

"I don't graze my sheep that way." insisted Brad.

"Where's your flock?" asked Jonas.

"They should be on their way to the high meadows." said Brad. I sent my son out to tell the men to start them that way this afternoon. He's not back yet. We were just talking about that at supper."

Brad suddenly remembered his manners. "You men eaten yet?"

"No SIR!" came a young man's voice from the three.

"Shut up Peter." growled Jonas, turning his head.

Brad had heard that tone of voice before. He'd never talked to Jonas Collins, but others had shown their contempt for him and his sheep.

"Well, we've got plenty. You may as well come on in and have a bite. If nothing else tell me what you've found. Maybe we can figure out what's going on. My son should have been back by now and we're a little worried about him too."

Jonas sat there silent, thinking. He didn't want to act friendly in any way toward this man, but his daughter and wife were missing. At least he should get a look inside the house. He didn't think the man would just lie outright, but he'd like to look around a little ... just in case. His saddle creaked as he put his weight on his left leg and he swung down. The two other men followed suit.

When his booted feet hit the boards of the porch, Jonas smelled the food and his stomach growled. He hadn't had anything except jerky since morning. He thought a curse to himself, but kept quiet. He didn't want to take the hospitality of a sheep farmer.

Sarah came to again, and through the fuzziness in her head she realized she must have passed out again. The terrible pain in her middle was gone and she realized she was lying on the ground. Her wrists still hurt and as she tried to flex shoulders in fiery pain, she realized she was still bound. The first odor to get past the burlap bag still covering her head was smoke. She heard voices.

"Keep it small you idiot. We don't need no smoke and flame giving us away."

"Damn it Buford, I want hot vittles!" complained Chaps' voice.

"You won't get any vittles at all if'n they find us before we're ready." snarled Buford's voice.

"'N that's another thing." went on Chaps' whiny voice. "Why'd you take her like that? They's gonna be mad Buford. Real mad."

"I already told you Chaps! That there pretty little slice of pussy's gonna get us the stake we need to light out to better parts you fool. They'll pay gold to get her back." said Buford, trying to be patient. He couldn't pull this off without Chaps' help. He couldn't manage the girl by himself. She was too damn heavy.

"What if she's dead?" whined Chaps. "She ain't moved in a long time Buford."

"She ain't dead." grunted Buford. "Least wise she'd better not be. She ain't worth nuthin' dead. Plus I aim to get me a piece of that pussy. I'm tired of fucking sheep."

"That ain't right Buford." said Chaps, his dim mind settling on sheep ... and what Buford sometimes did to sheep ... and forgetting the girl. "You shouldn't ought to be doin' that anyways."

"You shut up. If you want to live with blue balls, fine. But I'm a real man and I need some real pussy once in a while. That there little filly's gonna feel real fine wrapped around my dick."

"I don't like this Buford." insisted Chaps. He was simple minded, but he was no fool. He knew the code of the West just like every man in that part of the country. He knew what was likely to happen just for carrying the girl off, if they got caught. If she was raped they'd swing from a tree for sure.

But Chaps was scared of Buford. He'd seen Buford do terrible things to a sheep, things that hurt it ... sometimes even killed it. And the way he was unnatural with them. It scared Chaps a lot. So Chaps subsided into unhappy silence as he stirred the beans over the tiny fire Buford had allowed him to build using only squaw wood - small dead sticks pulled from the lower trunks of trees, or found lying on the ground. While Buford wasn't looking he added a few sticks to the flames. Beans needed to be hot to choke down in his opinion.

Sarah heard all this as though it came through cotton stuffed in her ears. Her head hurt horribly, and her face felt hot. She knew she should be frightened, listening to Buford's plans to rape her, but she couldn't concentrate. Her eyes closed as her bruised brain cut off her consciousness once again.

Molly sat her horse in the dark, next to the boy. They hadn't talked much. The boy's attention was all on tracks and bent twigs and flattened tufts of grass, or scrape marks on rock. Molly knew a little of tracking, though she wasn't much good if the trail was faint. But it was obvious this boy knew what he was doing. Whenever he lost the trail, he found it again within minutes. He seemed to have an instinct for it, or knew his men well enough that he knew what they'd do. The trail had not gone straight, like she thought it would. It often turned, for no clear reason at all. She realized that each time they came to rock that the trail would turn and go in a different direction. She wasn't stupid, and it didn't take her long to understand that the people they were following didn't want to be found. That made the pit of her stomach lurch, and a sour taste come to her mouth. Her baby girl was with men who didn't want to be found.

"It's too dark to go on." said the Rocklin boy softly.

"I didn't come prepared to camp out." she said irritably.

"Neither did I." he said. "Still, that's what we're going to have to do. We'll pick up the trail in the morning."

"We can't camp out here!" said Molly firmly. "It gets cold at night up this high."

They had left the plains after a three hour ride, and had been climbing ever since.

"Yes, Ma'am it does." he agreed. "We'll just have to build a fire and live through it, I guess."

"That's insane." complained Molly.

"You can't go back in the dark, ma'am." said the boy. "And if you did you'd lose hours on the trail. I thought you cow people were supposed to be tough." he said mildly.

Molly bristled. "You watch your mouth boy." she grumped. But there was no heat in her voice. She realized she sounded soft and pampered to be complaining about a single night out in the open. She'd done that when she was younger lots of times. She'd show him tough!

Three hours later she wasn't so sure she was tough at all. He had some food in his saddlebags, which he shared with her. Then, finding a rock face, he built a fire right up against it. He dragged in two respectably sized logs and lay them next to the rock face, forming a V, and then built a fire filling the void between them. He added wood until the blaze was uncomfortably hot and she complained.

"The heat will soak into the rock and then reflect back out when the fire dies down." he explained. "Whichever one of us wakes up in the night will need to add wood to keep it going all night, but the fire will eat down into those logs, and it will be easy to get it going again."

"Aren't you going to stand watch?" asked Molly. It had been a long time since she'd slept out in the open. She'd been a girl the last time she'd camped.

"What for?" he asked. "The only folks around here are the Indians, and they won't be out in the dark. You can stay awake if you want to, but then you'll be tired in the morning."

"This is just ridiculous." moaned Molly. It was cold already. Well, her front was warm from the huge fire, but her back was freezing. She turned around to warm her backside. "Won't they see this fire and know we're after them?" She wanted to find something wrong with the way the boy was doing things.

"I picked this face because it's downhill." he said. They'll be up there somewhere. I think they might be headed for the high meadows. We have a shack up there, with provisions. That's where they were supposed to take the sheep."

When he mentioned the sheep Molly suddenly heard them. They were massed just below the ledge Molly and Bobby were on. Queen sat in the night, head up, watching over them.

"Doesn't that dog ever eat?" she asked. "Or sleep?"

"She'll sleep later, when the flock is quiet. She's probably been eating all day. She's a good forager. She probably caught her a rabbit or something along the way."

He got up and walked off in the dark.

"Where are you going?" asked Molly, more anxiously than she wanted to.

"I don't suspect you want to see what I'm going to do, Ma'am." he said. "There aren't any outhouses around here."

"Oh." said Molly, getting pink in the face. "Of course." She suddenly felt the pressure of her own bladder.

He was gone a long time, and when he came back it was from a different direction than the one he left in.

"I climbed up on the rock." he said as he walked silently into the light of the fire. "I can see their fire. It's maybe four and a half or five miles ... straight line. They probably have eight or so miles on us by the lay of the land."

"You saw their fire?" asked Molly amazed.

"Buford's not the smartest guy I ever met." said Bobby wryly. "But he's all we could get to work sheep. Cowboys won't touch them, and that's about all there are around here ... cowboys."

"That's because no decent man works with sheep." said Molly without thinking. She realized her insult as soon as it was out of her mouth.

"My father's a decent man, and I will be some day." said Bobby with dignity. He recognized the cowman's mantra when he heard it. He also knew it was ingrained.

"I'm sorry." said Molly, not sounding very sorry. "But sheep ruin the range."

"Sheep don't ruin the range if they're properly herded." said Bobby. That was the shepherd's mantra, and he knew it. But he also knew it was true.

"We haven't ruined the range on our land, and we've been here three years." he said.

"If your range is so good," questioned Molly, "then why was your herd on our land?" She was a stubborn woman.

"First of all it's open range, and not your land. At least according to the register of deeds and the land office. My ma checked that before pappa bought our place."

"Your mother! Why in the world would she get involved in man's business?" asked Molly.

"Are you saying you don't herd cows? Or help birth calves? Are you saying you don't have anything to do with your husband's cattle, Mrs. Collins?" Bobby could feel his face getting red. Why was this woman so hard headed? He was glad it was dark.

"Of course not." snapped Molly. "But that's different."

"How is that different?" he asked. "Around our place it's a family business. We all take part." he said.

"Well ... I mean ... " Molly trailed off as she realized she sounded silly. She was an integral part of the ranch. Any woman was. Jonas barked at her whenever she interfered in ... She thought about that for a minute. The last two times Jonas had argued with her had been times when she knew she was right, but he was so stubborn. HE was the one who kept saying she was meddling in man's business. She realized she had just accepted that ... for years.

"Let's talk about something else." she said suddenly.

Bobby chuckled. "OK, but it's been a long day and I'll admit I'm tired. I need some sleep if we're ever going to find out what your daughter did with our men."

He had meant it to lighten the mood, but her face in the firelight frowned. He could see how upset she was, and she didn't even know Buford. He tried to reassure her, even though he wasn't reassured himself.

"They won't hurt her, Ma'am." he said quickly. "They know what would happen to them if they hurt her."

Molly slumped. She'd run off without thinking, chasing off after her daughter. Jonas was probably tearing his hair out looking for them both. Now she was freezing, and all she had with her was a boy. Well, almost a man. Well, she hated to admit, almost a man who was also smart as a whip. She thought about what she'd seen him do that afternoon. He'd gotten them ten times farther than she'd have gotten by herself. And now he knew where they were out there, only miles away. What was happening to Sarah right now? Was she all right? Was she alive? Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She scrubbed at them furiously, ashamed to cry in front of this boy.

Bobby reached out and touched her elbow with his fingers. "Really, Ma'am, it will be all right. We'll find them. We'll get her back to you."

Molly looked at his fingers where they touched her elbow. She wanted a hug. But she couldn't hug this boy ... this shepherd.

"We'd better." she said softly. "I don't know what Jonas would do if something happened to her. I don't know what I'd do."

"We'll catch them tomorrow." said Bobby seriously. "Now, get some sleep. We're going to have to ride hard tomorrow."

It was tense in the Rocklin house, as the three strangers sat down to eat. Beth was suddenly animated, with the exuberance of youth seeing strangers for the first time in months, and one of them a boy not much older than she was, at least to her thinking. She smiled at Peter and served him first. Amanda saw and blushed at the insult to the older men.

"Beth, mind your manners." she said shortly.

Beth looked up, confused, and realized what she'd done. "He was closest." she said. It sounded weak, even to her. Enid giggled. She knew her sister well, and could understand her sister's interest in the boy.

Peter had never seen either of these girls before, and he was just as interested in them. Enid was strange looking. He'd never seen a girl wearing buckskin, but she looked like a girl for sure. While Beth looked more like other girls he knew, she was different too. Most of the girls he knew were simpering things, fawning on the boys, pretending to drop their hankies so the boys would pick them up. This was a girl who had a self possession about her. That, and her beautiful loose brown hair made him stare at her. When she looked back with wide brown eyes, he felt his stomach lurch.

Jonas ignored the byplay and got right to facts. He described what had happened, the bullet wound on the horse, the tracks and obvious evidence that a lot of sheep had been there and wiped out the tracks. He mentioned that his wife had chased off before him, and he didn't know where she was either.

"We found her tracks going into the mess, but lost them where your herd of sheep wiped them out. "

"Flock." corrected Brad.

Jonas frowned. "Only other tracks we saw were a few of my daughter's and two sets of worn down shoes. There was also a big horse there, with winter shoes still on."

"That would be my son's horse." said Brad. "He rides a stallion he caught and trained. It's a big horse. He likes those shoes for when he has to go over rock. The others probably were the horses my two men were on. They weren't supposed to be that close to your place. I sent Bobby up there to tell them to start the move to the high meadows."

"Well, your son, and your men were where my daughter and wife were, and now we don't know where any of them are." said Jonas heavily.

Charley came in the front door with the shotgun. "Chores done Brad." he announced, as if he were coming in from work. He stood the shotgun in a corner near where he pulled a low bench up to the table. "Xian Bai should be coming in any minute."

Sure enough Xian Bai came in the back door. He had a rifle in his hands.

Jonas looked at Xian Bai, and then Brad. There was surprise on his face. Lots of people had seen Chinese workers, but not on a ranch. And not armed with a rifle either.

"Got wolf troubles?" he asked, surprise spilling over into his voice.

"You never know." said Brad.

Both men knew what had just happened, of course, and that the cowmen had been covered by weapons in the dark, but neither felt inclined to admit it.

Charley and Xian Bai sat down as if nothing strange was going on, and began to eat.

Brad held a piece of bread in his fingers, but didn't eat. "Like I told you, the thing is my boy should be back. All I told him to do is go find the flock and tell the boys to move them toward the mountains."

"Well, the tracks of your herd ... flock ... went off in the direction of the mountains. It got too dark to follow them. But I can't think of any reason why my wife and daughter would throw in with your men. Something must have happened out there. You had any Indian trouble since you've been here?" asked Jonas.

"None." said Brad firmly. "We do some trading with them, but that's all. Hardly ever see them. They seem to keep to the north of here for the most part."

Amanda spoke for the first time. "Is it possible, Mr. Collins, that your wife found your daughter and took her home?"

Jonas looked surprised, as if he hadn't thought of that possibility.

Buckshot wiped his mouth and spoke. "Ma'am, that's a right nice thought, except I didn't see no tracks going back to the ranch. Only coming into that mess. If she'd a done that I'd a seen some tracks, don't you s'pose?" His voice had a hint of derision in it.

Amanda wasn't going to be looked down on. "You did mention it was getting dark. And you, Sir, are obviously aged. Perhaps your poor old eyes didn't quite catch the sign."

Brad's head snapped toward his wife. "Amanda, that will be enough of that. These men are guests."

Jonas laughed suddenly, his eyes on Amanda. "You'd get along fine with my Molly, that's a fact." He elbowed Buckshot, who was suddenly busy eating. He was smiling, though.

Jonas stopped laughing. "I guess we might as well go back to the ranch and see if maybe Molly DID find her. Maybe she found her someplace else and they went back from there. The sign doesn't support that, but we might have missed something. We can't do anything until daylight anyway."

"You sure you want to travel at night?" asked Brad. "We could put you up here."

Jonas stared at the man. For a sheep herder he was mighty neighborly.

"No, if Molly and Sarah are back there they'll be wondering where we are. Thanks for the supper, Ma'am." he nodded toward Amanda.

"You're quite welcome." she said sweetly. "It's nice to finally meet our neighbors."

It was Buckshot who snorted that time.

"You say the trail led off toward the mountains?" asked Brad. "In the morning we'll need to go up and find the flock. If my men, or Bobby had to leave them for some reason I don't want them wandering around up there with just the dog."

"That's your business." said Jonas. "If you happen to find my daughter or wife, hold on to them for me. If she's not home, then I suspect we'll be trying to find that flock of yours too."

The men stood to leave and got to the door when they realized Peter wasn't with them. They turned to find him and Beth staring in each other's eyes, oblivious to the rest of the people in the room.

Enid giggled again.

"Oh Lord." said Buckshot.

"PETER!" said Jonas harshly.

Peter jumped and then blushed, standing up and knocking his chair over backwards.

"Oh Lord." said Buckshot again, as Peter hastily picked up the chair and, blushing put it back in place. He scurried to stand by his father, looking at the floor.

"Bye!" said Beth, standing and waving. Her smile was beatific.

"Oh Lord." said Amanda, putting her head in her hand as the door closed behind the men.

"Bye mister big strong cowboy" mimicked Enid, her voice in a high falsetto, obviously teasing her sister.

She got an elbow in her ribs from her older sister, and a dark look from her mother.

It's interesting how something small can make such a big difference in a person's life. Something so small, say, as someone unexpected dropping by to visit.

Elizabeth Rocklin, at almost sixteen years of age, was almost an adult in that day and age. She had the knowledge of how to run a house, and the skills to cook and clean. Her body was ready to bear children, and had been for several years. On the other hand, her social development was more or less stunted by the fact that living on a ranch in the middle of Wyoming meant she didn't get much time with people outside her immediate family. While the hormones flooding her bloodstream were normal, her knowledge of men and what to do with those hormones was more or less ... deficient. Oh, she had seen both her father and brother naked many times. The family all used the horse trough to bathe in. Being isolated like they were, there was little modesty. Charley and Xian Bai generally bathed in streams or ponds while they were out tending the flock, and on bath night they took Chaps and Buford, if they were even around, and disappeared into the dark to check on the sheep so that the women could bathe comfortably without non-relatives seeing their nakedness.

Beth was quite aware of the change in her father that inevitably happened on bath night. The women went first, standing in line and assisting each other with back scrubbing or handing towels to each other. That meant there were three grown women, for all intents and purposes, standing around the horse trough naked. Brad's reaction was to take his wife behind the curtain that prohibited a view to their bed and make all kinds of noises with her. Brad and Amanda had told their children long ago that those noises were natural, and that some day each of them would understand what was happening behind that blanket. The term "Making Love" was not unfamiliar in the house, though the actions of what that meant were somewhat misty and undefined to the three teens. Of course all three teens had seen animals mating, but to try to visualize their parents that way just didn't seem real somehow.

Beth had looked curiously at both her father and brother when it came their turn to bathe. Amanda had bathed the children all together until they had set up house on this ranch, and had meant to establish some rules for privacy and modesty as the children entered puberty. Somehow she just hadn't gotten around to it. But for Beth it was mostly just curiosity. She didn't feel anything in particular when she looked at what hung between her father's and brother's legs. Her father had lots of hair on his legs and stomach and around that thing that hung down. She did notice that it didn't look much like what sheep or dogs or horses had. Her brother had much less hair everywhere, and his penis was pinker somehow. All these things were academic, for the most part, and she noticed them just like she would have noticed that the wind had broken a tree branch or something like that. It didn't "mean" anything to her.

She was, therefore, completely unprepared to feel the things she felt when Peter Collins walked into her house that night, and sat down. She noticed literally everything about him. She noticed his eyes, with their long lashes, and his nose, and his chin and the way his hair fell to almost his collar, but wasn't greasy or stringy like that of the men who worked for her father. She noticed his shoulders, and had blushed when her eyes had been drawn to the rear of his tight pants as he pulled out a chair to sit at the table. When she served him, and he smiled at her, she felt her stomach doing flip flops, and a strange, tight heat in her chest. She was, on some level, aware that she was staring at him, but she couldn't help it.

As supper progressed, and the men talked, Peter looked at her too, with little darting glances that landed all over the parts of her he could see. She noticed his eyes landed on her chest frequently, and that made her feel funny inside for some reason. Buford stared at her too whenever he was around, but this was completely different from that. When Buford stared at her it made her feel dirty and she wanted to take a bath. But Peter's looks made her feel light enough to float away. Once, when his eyes slid from her chest up to her face, and locked with hers, he smiled shyly. Beth wanted to wiggle in her chair at how that made her feel. She had never been in love in her life, and she had no concept of love-at-first-sight.

But the fact was, that Elizabeth Rocklin was probably experiencing something very akin to that concept while she sat ... and occasionally put something in her mouth ... during dinner.

After it was over, and she tried to recall what had been discussed, she had a hard time remembering much of what was said. But Peter Collin's blue eyes were burned into her memory like they had been put there with a branding iron.

Peter Collins, riding slowly in the dark, couldn't see much beyond the ghostly shapes of bushes and the soft shimmer of moonlight on the tips of the grass as the wind moved it gently in the cool breeze. His eyes took that in, along with the sound of the clopping of horse's feet. He didn't pay any of that much attention. It was chilly, but he didn't notice that either. While his eyes saw, and his ears heard, they reported to a part of his brain that was on standby.

What Peter saw and heard in most of his brain were the smooth curves of a blue gingham dress, resting on the frame of a girl he'd seen only once, and the voice of that girl. He had only a few words to concentrate on, remembering that voice, because she hadn't spoken much. But he clearly remembered the timbre of her voice. He remembered her lips, dark and soft and lush. He remembered her hands, slim and white as they served him food. He remembered her eyes, locking onto his ... something no girl had ever done before.

It had made him feel like shouting at the moon.

He STILL felt like shouting, but he knew his father would yell at him if he did that. Not, perhaps because he was making noise in the dark, but because of why he made that noise. You couldn't just let loose with a howl and then not be able to explain what it was all about. Not only had her eyes stayed on his ... they had stayed on his after catching him looking where a boy wasn't supposed to look at a woman. He knew that because just a few months back his father had caught him looking at his mother one night, while she was in her nightgown. She had been standing in front of the fire place, pulling his father up out of his chair to take him to bed. The gown was thin, and the fire bright, and Peter Collins had been given his first view of what a woman's body looked like under all that clothing women wore.

Somehow his father had known what he was looking at, and had stood in front of his wife, staring down at his son. "Don't be looking at a woman like that." he had said gruffly. Then his mother had wanted to know what was going on. Peter had been ashamed. He knew women were supposed to be respected, but he couldn't tell his eyes not to see.

It had been a very uncomfortable moment until his mother realized what had happened and pushed her husband toward the bedroom. Then she came back and, standing with the fire to her back again, she leaned down to kiss Peter on the top of his head.

"You're normal." she whispered to him. "And I'm the only girl around, so don't let your father make you feel bad." she added, smiling at him. "We need to solve that little problem pretty soon I imagine. We'll just have to find you a girl you CAN stare at."

She had gone off to bed then, and Peter had been further ashamed to find that his penis was stiff.

Now, almost as if his mother was some kind of prophetess, he had stumbled upon a girl. He wondered what she'd look like standing in front of a fire in a thin gown. Then he was glad it was dark, because he would never have been able to either explain to his father or live down what was happening in his pants.

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>