Chapter 5

Frank rode into the old Johansen ranch yard when the sun wasn’t quite at the noon position. The place was deserted. Based on what his father had said, he figured they had gone to find their sheep. He knew roughly where they had last been, also compliments of his father’s sparse comments from the night before, and headed that way at a canter. His horse was still in good shape. He hadn’t rushed, knowing he’d need a lot more out of the animal before he was done. He was amazed at the width of the trail once he found it. Cattle followed each other, mostly, when they moved naturally, making relatively narrow trails. But this was as wide as he could see. He frowned at the grass, so short that the sun would burn it if it didn’t rain soon.

He set his horse in the direction the sheep had gone, and found the flock three hours later. There were dirty-white animals everywhere.

He was greeted by a dog, who ran around him in circles barking.

His horse didn’t much care for that and danced, almost unseating him. Running his horse didn’t help. The dog was able to keep up easily, though it left off barking mostly. He saw people and horses up ahead, and a wagon that looked something like a Conestoga, but shorter and lower to the ground. He rode up fast, and skidded the horse to a stop, raising dust.

“I’m Frank Collins,” he announced. “I’m here to find my sister and my mother. Do any of you know where I could do that?”

A woman was standing on the front of the wagon, holding the reins to a team of horses pulling the wagon. She had on a bonnet, but her flaming red hair spilled out of that onto her shoulders. The dog had set to barking again. He realized now it was just an adolescent, just grown out of its puppy stage.

The woman shouted at the dog. “Hush now, Zeke.” The dog continued to bark. “Enid!” she yelled. “Shut that dog up!” A girl came around the wagon and jumped over the traces like they weren’t even there. She was dressed in buckskin, like an Indian. Her hair was red, though not so red as the woman’s, and it was done up in pigtails, while the woman’s was pulled back under the bonnet. She tried to catch the dog, but it ran from her, thinking they were playing a game. The girl suddenly wilted to the ground, as if she were, without reason, unconscious. The dog immediately ran to her, sniffing at her face. She grabbed the dog in a lightning move and closed her fingers over its muzzle as it wiggled.

“Gotcha!” she said triumphantly. “You’re so stupid,” she said to the dog, cuddling it, her actions giving lie to the sound of her voice. She obviously loved this dog, even though she called it stupid. It subsided and went limp as she scratched its belly, splaying its legs open and showing it was a male.

The woman spoke. “Do all the Collins men ride around like chickens with their heads cut off?”

Frank had tried to impress these sheep farmers with his riding skill and the control he had over his horse. But the woman didn’t seem all that impressed. He didn’t know what to say.

He fell back on his original statement. “I need to find my mother and sister,” he repeated.

“I had hoped she was already home by now,” said the woman.

“No, Ma’am,” he said automatically. It rankled him to show respect to sheep people, but respect for others had been hammered into him, oddly enough, by his father.

“Then I expect they’re up ahead,” said the woman. “My husband says there are horse tracks up the trail, heading higher.

He says there are five sets, one of which belongs to our son’s horse. It appears he is following your sister too, and has someone with him.”

She looked at Frank and he felt like he was being inspected. Then she went on.

“That might be your mother with my son. If she was looking for your sister they may have met up and are traveling together.”

Frank blinked. His mother, traveling with a sheep herder’s boy? That didn’t make any sense at all.

“I’d like to see these tracks you speak of,” he said, for lack of anything else to say.

“I’ll take him up to Papa,” said the girl, dumping the puppy on the ground and letting him scamper off.

The woman looked at the girl, and then at Frank. She took a deep breath, which made her breasts push at her shirt in the most distracting manner, at least to Frank’s way of thinking.

“All right, Enid,” she said, though it looked like she meant to say much more.

Frank looked at the girl, who now had a name. Enid.

What a strange name. She smiled at him.

“Come on, Mister Cowboy.” She took off at a run, and Frank was startled. Not only did she not ride a horse, she ran like the wind. He had a sudden image of her as an Indian girl, running across the plains. He kicked his horse with his heels and the startled animal jumped, almost unseating him again before he got his seat firm again. He flushed, knowing that the woman had to have seen that, and blamed it on being tired. He caught up to the girl in only a few handfuls of seconds, but she only ran harder, jumping over rocks and darting between stands of brush that Frank had to ride around. He was astonished at how much ground she covered with those two puny legs.

Feeling slightly foolish, Frank let the horse drop to a quick walk, not quite a canter. Now they were going through what looked like a hallway between sheep on both sides of them. The sheep bleated and scurried out of the way. The puppy caught up to them and ran with the girl, barking happily and darting this way and that into the flock.

Enid looked over her shoulder at the puppy and stopped just as her foot contacted a rock she hadn’t seen because she was looking over her shoulder. She pitched forward and ducked her head, rolling onto one shoulder into a somersault and bouncing up into the air, laughing. Then, as if nothing at all had happened, she dashed toward the puppy and scooped him up in her arms.

“Bad dog!” she growled at the wriggling dog, panting. “You don’t know a damn thing about what you’re doing.” She looked up at Frank, who sat his horse with his mouth open. “He’s a pup and he doesn’t know anything yet,” she said, as if that made any sense to him at all. “Come on,” she said. Then she turned and, carrying the struggling hound, took off at a run again.

The sheep had closed in around them in the brief interlude, and Frank didn’t know what to do. He was afraid his horse would step on one of the animals. But as he nudged his mount forward, the sheep bleated and jumped to the side, making a path that opened magically for him. Cows sure didn’t act like this.

His horse would have been shouldering cattle out of the way unless he yipped and swung his hat, or a rolled up lariat at them.

The girl was almost a hundred yards ahead of him, still running hard, and he urged his horse faster.

Enid ran around a corner and saw her father up ahead. He was mounted, and leading Betty, the senior ewe in the flock. The rest of the sheep followed her. She saw Queen off to one side, bunching the flock toward the leader and preventing them from stopping to graze. She hazarded a glance over her shoulder and saw the boy coming around the corner.

She wanted to look at him longer, but didn’t want to fall again. That had embarrassed her, and she didn’t want to look foolish to this boy. That thought exploded in her mind. She’d never cared about what some boy thought of her in the past. Especially a cowboy! But when she’d seen this boy her stomach had felt all fluttery, and her mouth had gone dry. She’d felt like a little girl standing in front of a man years older, even though he was obviously about her own age. He had sounded so stern ... so serious ... so ... manly.

She saw her father look over at her and knew he’d be wondering why she was running so hard. But she also knew that he could see the mounted cowboy behind her. It never occurred to her that he might suspect she was being chased.

Brad did, indeed, suspect that something was wrong. He saw Enid running like her life depended on it, holding a struggling Zeke in her arms, and then a mounted stranger burst into sight behind her. Brad’s Winchester was out of its scabbard and into his hands, one hand working the lever automatically, and he started to bring the rifle up to his shoulder. Just then his horse decided to circle as Betty caught up to him and stopped.

The sheep following her wandered forward, beginning to graze and surrounding his horse.

“Noooo!” He heard Enid’s faint yell above the bleating of the flock. By the time he got back around and could draw a bead on the man chasing his daughter, she was within shouting distance.

“Don’t shoot, Daddy,” she yelled. “He’s looking for that woman.”

Enid ran up to her father and dropped Zeke, who ran full tilt toward his mother. Queen ignored everything except her job of keeping the sheep bunched up and moving.

“He’s ... one of ... those ... Collins ... people,” Enid panted, holding onto her father’s stirrup to steady herself.

She dragged in huge lungfuls of air, trying to catch her breath.

“What’s he doing chasing you?” asked Brad.

“He’s ... not ... chasing me,” she gasped. “He’s ... following ... me. Mamma sent him ... up here.”

Brad looked at the boy on the horse, and lowered his rifle, letting it rest across his lap. He had to admit the boy had sand, as he rode up to Brad and Enid. He hadn’t slowed at all, even though the rifle had been pointed in his direction.

Brad decided to just sit and see what happened.

Frank had, indeed, seen the rifle, and the electric feeling of having a weapon pointed at him had surged through his body. But as teenagers everywhere feel invulnerable from harm, he couldn’t believe that anyone would want to hurt him, and he rode on anyway.

His mind ran over what the man had seen, and he understood immediately what had happened. He’d have done the same thing. He rode on, stopping a few yards away from the girl and her father.

“I’m Frank Collins,” he said. His prepared speech jumped into his mouth without him thinking about it. “I’m looking for my mother.”

Brad was astonished to find that he immediately liked this boy. He couldn’t be a day over fifteen, but he rode and acted like a man. He seemed serious beyond his years.

“There appears to be a lot of people looking for your mother,” said Brad.

Frank was still hopped up from the adrenaline running through his veins from realizing he was in danger. “Your ... wife ... she said there were tracks,” he said.

The man looked off to one side and whistled. Another dog, a bigger one, and the same puppy that the woman had called Zeke came running over.

Brad got down off his horse.

“Queen,” he called. The larger dog ran up to him, tail wagging. “Hold!” Brad commanded. The dog turned as if she’d been shot and bounded off, the puppy trailing. Frank could see that she started circling the part of the flock that was all around them, as if there were some race she had suddenly entered. She disappeared behind a pile of boulders and Frank looked back at the man, who was standing, looking at him.

“Up ahead,” the man said, turning his back on Frank and walking off to leave his horse standing. The girl followed her father.

Frank, not knowing what to do exactly, decided to ride, and he nudged his horse through the sheep that again surrounded him, and followed the two sheep farmers. As they left the flock behind, Frank looked over his shoulder to see the big dog running back and forth, between them and the flock, keeping the sheep from following their shepherd. He was amazed that one dog could control so many sheep.

The man stopped several yards away and looked down at the ground. Frank stepped down off his horse and let the reins drop. He knew the horse wouldn’t move again unless he called it or remounted.

Frank saw the tracks easily. He recognized Tulip’s tracks instantly and took a breath. Then he walked up to the man and bent over to look at the others. They were on a well-defined path that wound its way through small trees and rocks, some as big as a horse.

The man pointed. “Those are from Bobby’s horse - my son,” he said, pointing. “And those over there,” he pointed a few feet to one side, “I believe are from horses belonging to my men.”

Frank could see it now. Now that he was closer he saw the tracks of the horse named Vixen. Three sets of tracks were together, to one side. The Circle C horses’ tracks, and those of another horse with winter shoes on it - this man’s son - were together to the left of the first set. Frank could see that some of his mother’s tracks, and the tracks of the winter shoes, were on top of the others occasionally, meaning they had followed. But he couldn’t tell whether they had all been riding together or not. He got down on his knees and looked at the right hand set. They didn’t look quite as clear as the others, with grains of dust crumbling from the edges into the deeper impressions. He saw that one of the horses was more heavily loaded than the other, but that might only mean a bigger man rode that horse.

Then he looked at his mother’s tracks. They were cleaner, with less dust in them. Vixen’s tracks were deeper than those of Tulip, which was his mother’s horse.

“My mother was following those two,” he said, pointing to the tracks Brad had identified as his men’s tracks. “Your son was either with her, or she was right behind him.” He based that on the fact that his mother’s tracks sometimes were on top of the winter shoed horse, which were just as clean and clear.

“I was thinking the same,” said Brad. “What I don’t know is why she’d think your sister was with my men.”

“See how your son’s tracks go mostly beside the others?” Frank pointed. “And how my mother’s seem to follow his?” Frank pointed to one of Tulip’s prints on top of the one left by a winter shoe. “I think your son was tracking those two, and she was following him. I can’t tell if she was riding Vixen or Tulip, though. I think maybe she brought a horse along for my sister to ride when they found her.

“Then Bobby must think your sister is with my men too,” said Brad. “He left the flock alone with just the dog, and he wouldn’t have done that unless he thought your sister was in some kind of danger.”

“My sister’s horse was shot,” said Frank heavily.

Brad knew it had been wounded, but not how. There wasn’t much to say about it, so he didn’t say anything. “Well they’re up ahead somewhere,” said Brad. “And so are my men. They shouldn’t have left the flock either. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it one bit.” Brad looked at Frank. “Where’s your father? You aren’t out here alone, are you?”

What Frank wanted to say was that his father was wasting time back at the ranch, but he didn’t want to air any dirty laundry in front of this sheep farmer. He also felt the sting of another adult treating him like a child, but he bit off the retort that sprang to his mind. “He sent me on ahead to find the trail,” he said, trying to make it sound like he was important.

Brad heard the lie, but couldn’t figure out why the boy would tell it to him. “Well, there’s the trail. We can’t follow it as fast as I’d like with the flock along, but it doesn’t look like rain. I figure we’ll catch up with them sooner or later and find out what in tarnation is going on.”

“I’m not waiting,” said Frank. “I mean to find out what’s going on and I mean to find out soon,” he said defiantly.

“I’ll go with him,” said Enid suddenly.

Both men looked at her and she blushed.

“I mean he shouldn’t go by himself, right?” she tried.

“You’ll do no such thing,” her father said, staring at her.

“I don’t need a girl following along,” said Frank.

Enid almost cursed, mostly at herself for speaking in the first place. She had no idea why she’d said that. What they’d said made her mad, though and she opened her mouth to yell at them both.

“I said no,” her father said firmly. “You have no business going off into trouble.”

“Well ... well ... how do you know there’s trouble anyway?” said Enid, her face flushing red with anger.

Brad looked at her, amazed. She had always been more boyish than Beth, and she carried her weight like a man, but she was just a girl. It should be clear to her that there might be serious trouble afoot.

“I said no,” he said again. “You get back and help your mother. This flock is strung out and we need to keep them together.”

“But his mamma may need help!” insisted Enid, proving that she did suspect there was trouble after all.

“Am I going to have to tan your hide girl?” asked her father, getting angry now.

Enid was as stubborn as he was. “Well then ... what if he finds some kind of trouble that we need to know about? What then Pappa? We could be walking right into an ambush or something!”

Brad started to shout, but swallowed his words. He realized suddenly that he had been foolish. He was so centered on the flock, and getting them to their summer pasture that he hadn’t really thought much about anything else. He was certainly following his son’s trail, but he had never really thought about anything being bad wrong, or representing danger to the rest of his family. While he was just as stubborn as Enid, and just as unlikely to apologize for making a mistake as Jonas Collins was, he was also smart enough to recognize when he hadn’t thought things out as well as he should have too.

“Let’s just suppose there is some kind of trouble up there waiting for us,” said Brad as patiently as he could. “Wouldn’t you just walk into it first?” He was trying to show her that scouting trouble was no job for a fourteen year old girl, despite her boyish ways.

“Not if we were careful,” said Enid immediately. “I know how to sneak around, and besides, he’d be going first, and I could just watch him get ambushed and then come back and tell you about it.”

Enid nodded towards an astonished Frank.

“You’d let me get ambushed and do nothing to help?” he squeaked. That bothered him. His voice hadn’t cracked in a long time. He cleared his throat.

“Well?” she stuck out her chin at him. “You’re the one who said you didn’t need any girl along. So I won’t be along. I’ll just watch what happens from behind you. Then you won’t have to worry about a girl!“

“Enid, that’s crazy,” said her father. “I won’t have it.”

“Well I think it’s a good idea!” she said, now jutting her chin at her father. “But if you want to let our neighbor’s son get himself shot or whatever, I guess we’ll hear it, so I suppose I don’t really need to be there.” She turned around, putting her back to the two men.

Brad thought about that. Damn! If this boy did get hurt, and it turned out he was alone, when there was a full grown man not far away, it wouldn’t look good. Damn! But he couldn’t leave the flock. They were his livelihood ... his whole family’s livelihood. It was hard enough keeping the flock on track with his two daughters and the dogs. Amanda couldn’t do much because she had to bring along the sheep wagon, which had some of the lambs in it that were too small to put on the trail, plus all their supplies for the trip.

Damn!

Brad looked at the boy. “She could just trail along behind you,” he said. “Just so that if somebody jumped you she could come for help.”

Frank scowled. “I told you. I don’t need no girl to protect me.”

Brad wanted to smile. Instead he tried logic. “I’m not worried about you,” he said. “I’m worried about what your Pa would think if he found out you did get into trouble, and had turned down a little help.”