Samantha and the Cowboy (3 page)

At the age of fifteen, when a mortar had blown his drum out of his hands, Matthew had picked up an abandoned rifle that he'd tripped over on the battlefield. From that moment on, he was no longer a drummer boy, but a soldier.

He'd fought in more battles than he cared to remember. Walked more miles than he wanted to think about. Been cold, wet, and hungry.

And so scared that even now the terror could creep up on him when he least expected it.

In the beginning, he'd been afraid that the war would end before he had a chance to fight.

Now he wished it had never started. And not just
because the South had lost, but because he felt as though he'd lost a part of himself as well.

No one else seemed to be aware of the truth that haunted him night and day.

The Matthew Hart who had returned home was not the same one who had gone off to war four years earlier. Carrying his dead friends off the battlefield had caused him to stop making friends. He'd rather bury strangers than someone he'd played cards with the night before. He preferred solitude, not getting close to anyone.

It made life less painful.

But the boy had looked so devastated after Jake's dismissal that Matthew had found himself trailing after him before he'd given much thought to what he was doing. He'd decided to reassure the boy that other opportunities to work a drive would come his way…not to be in such a hurry to grow up.

But then he'd seen the boy's frustrations as he'd kicked the crates…

Matthew understood the kid's feelings of helplessness, of having no control over his destiny. When the boy had turned around, tears welling in his eyes, his jaws clenched, he'd looked like a defeated soldier.

And Matthew had seen too damned many defeated soldiers, too many boys who were long past being helped.

So he'd offered the boy a place on the cattle drive. He could only hope that the kid wouldn't show up, but he doubted that was a possibility.

Matthew also knew the look of determination, and the kid had that as well.

Now all Matthew had to do was figure out how to break the news to Jake. And hope he wasn't fired in the process.

“Samantha Jane Reynolds, have you lost your ever-lovin' mind?”

Standing in the front room of the house, her pa's battered cowboy hat clutched in her hands, what was left of her hair curling around her face, Sam straightened her shoulders and squarely faced her mother. Cowering now would only give her mother ammunition that she could use to prove Sam had no business going on this cattle drive.

“It's a hundred dollars, Ma.” She made her eyes grow big and round. “A hundred dollars. Think about what we could do with all that money.”

“What I'm thinking about is what could happen to you on a cattle drive. You'd be the only young woman. It ain't right.” Her mother shook her head. “It just ain't right.”

“It's men and boys, Ma. And they think I'm a boy. I had a long talk with one fella. He was lookin' me over real close.”

Almost as closely as she'd been looking him over. She couldn't figure out why she'd been unable to tear
her eyes from him. Normally boys didn't hold her attention for long.

“He never figured out that I was a girl,” she continued. “And I never aim to tell anyone, so I'll be fine. Besides, you let Benjamin go off to war when he was the same age as me,” she pointed out.

“That's different.
He
was a
boy!
” her mother said.

“I can do this, Ma.” She took a step closer. “Please, let me go. I promise I'll be all right.”

“A promise is easily given, Samantha Jane, when you don't know what the future holds.” Her ma cradled Sam's cheek. “I know you mean well, but all you're going to do is make me worry.”

“Aren't you worried now, Ma? Don't you worry about how much more credit Mr. Thomas will give you at the general store? Don't you worry about the crops? How are you going to buy seed for next year? And Nate. He's growing. How are you gonna keep feeding him? By doing without enough food for yourself? Until you get sick, just like Pa?” She hadn't intended to be mean spirited with the reminder of her father, but she had to make her mother see the merits of letting Sam go on the cattle drive.

Her mother turned away. “We'll find a way.”

“How, Ma? Just tell me how.”

Her mother wiped her hands on the apron she
always wore. Patched now, it looked more like a tiny quilt. “I'll think of something.”

But Sam heard the desperation in her mother's voice. “Benjamin won't go on this cattle drive because he doesn't think he can. I not only
think
I can, I
know
I can. Nate would do it, but he's not old enough.
I'm
old enough. I want to do this so badly that my chest aches when I think you might not let me. I know how to take care of myself.”

Her mother faced her. Tears glistened in her eyes as she held out her arms. Sam stepped into her embrace, and her mother's arms closed around her.

“I keep forgetting that you grew up during the war,” her mother rasped. “The money would be more than welcome and would sure go a long way toward making life easier.” She leaned back and lovingly touched Sam's short curls. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Sam nodded briskly. “I wouldn't have cut my hair otherwise, Ma. I'm not scared. It's a good outfit. It'll be an adventure.”

Her ma hugged her close. “Then go with my blessings, and come home as soon as you can.”

 

“You did what?”

Leaning against the tree, Matthew cut a quick glance at Jake Vaughn. “You're gonna start a stampede with all that bellowing, Jake.”

He watched while Jake wore a path in the ground with his agitated pacing. Matthew had purposely waited until they'd returned to the herd to break his news. He hadn't wanted Jake to have time to track down the boy and inform him that Matthew had given him a false promise.

Jake stumbled to a stop. “He's a scrawny kid.”

Matthew shrugged. “Just looked hungry to me. I've been hungry.” More times than he cared to think about, when the Union had cut off their supplies. He didn't want to remember the things he'd eaten when nothing else was available. “Besides, he's got spunk.”

Matthew thought about how the kid had jerked up his chin defiantly. Beneath the dirt, it didn't look like he was even growing whiskers yet. Heck fire, he'd probably lied about his age, too. He figured Jake had noticed that as well.

“He knows nothing about herding cattle,” Jake pointed out.

“He can herd a milk cow.”

“
A milk cow?
We've got two thousand head of cantankerous longhorns. Your pa hired me to get them to Sedalia.”

Matthew rubbed the side of his nose and peered at Jake. “
My
pa, which in a way sort of makes this
my
herd.” Even though his father had made it clear that Matthew wasn't to give orders; he was only to follow them. “Can't have two bosses,” his father had explained.

This drive was the first one that they'd embarked on
since the war. Matthew had been raised around cattle, but he'd only been a kid when he'd helped his father herd them before the war. Trail bosses were paid well because they knew all there was to know about the cattle, the trail, and more important, about handling men. Matthew was still learning. He wasn't foolish enough to think he wasn't.

“Reckon I ought to have a say in who works for us,” Matthew added. Although in truth, he knew he had no say whatsoever. If it came down to it, Jake could send him packing just as easily as he could the next man.

And considering the way Jake was glowering at him, he wouldn't be surprised if he did dismiss him right then and there.

Jake slowly nodded. “All right. We'll give the kid a chance to show us what he's made of. But if he lies to me one more time—”

“He won't,” Matthew rushed to assure him. “I already warned him about your dislike for liars. You won't be sorry.”

Jake took a threatening step toward him. “I promise you this, Matthew Hart. If I am? You'll be even sorrier.”

Jake trudged off with his warning lingering in the air.

Matthew shifted his stance, wincing as he put unexpected pressure on his right leg. He'd taken a bullet at Gettysburg. His limp was barely noticeable now, although he found the twinges irritating.

But not as irritating as letting his father down by doing
something that would stop them from getting these cattle to market. He could only hope that he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life by offering the boy a place on the drive.

He was still having a hard time believing that he'd interfered with the hiring. He'd always been one to follow orders—not interfere with them. Even when he disagreed with the man in charge, he did what he was told.

The boy would have to learn to do the same thing—without any help from Matthew.

He'd done his good deed for the day. From now on, the kid was on his own.

As the sun eased over the horizon, blanketing the sky in various shades of orange and pink, Sam heard the cattle lowing as she urged Cinnamon off the main road and toward the rise. She was as nervous as a long-tailed cat curled up beneath a rocking chair. She'd stuffed a few precious belongings into a burlap sack and a saddlebag. She'd hugged her family good-bye before the sun had hinted at a new day. Since she hadn't slept a wink last night, she had been anxious to be on her way.

She guided her horse over the rise and the herd came into view. Cattle dotted the landscape, bathing it in shades of brown, russet, and chestnut. She tried not to contemplate what damage the steers' long horns might accomplish without much effort. These cattle were completely different from Old Bess. They looked fearsome and fearless.

She swallowed hard, trying to draw comfort from the knowledge that the cattle probably weren't that hard to manage, since the trail boss had apparently hired only a handful of cowboys to watch over them.

Sam guided her mare toward the wagon she spotted
in the distance. She wondered where Matthew was. As large as the herd was, she imagined the hands would have to spread out to keep the animals in line and stop them from wandering off. That tactic would work to her advantage. The more distance between her and the other hands, the better her chances of not having her secret discovered.

Of course, the harder it would be to learn all she needed to learn to carry her weight on this drive, and she was determined to do her part. The quicker she learned, the less dependent she'd be on anyone.

Matthew Hart had made it clear that he had no interest in teaching her, which was fine with her. He'd been kind to her yesterday, but she didn't want to be any more beholden to him. Besides, she needed to keep her distance to protect her disguise.

She brought her horse to a halt. A frumpy-looking man with white whiskers and a soiled apron was stacking pans in the back of the wagon. “Howdy!” she called out as she dismounted.

The man turned and glared at her. “You're too late. You want vittles, you git yourself here at five-thirty.” He turned back to his chore.

He obviously thought she was already one of the cowhands—a fact she supposed boded well for her disguise. “Can you tell me where I'd find Mr. Vaughn?”

“I ain't his keeper,” the grump tossed over his shoulder.

She fought not to feel dejected. Obviously she was going to be completely on her own here. Matthew Hart had no interest in her, and now, neither did this man. She assumed that was the way of a cowboy's life—having to do for oneself by oneself.

She turned her attention to the herd. She could see the cattle beginning to mill around and cowboys riding up and down the line. There were a lot more than those they'd hired in Faithful. She'd hung around the general store to make certain they didn't hire anyone she knew, anyone who might recognize her.

Judging by the number of men she'd seen them hire and the number she could spot now, they must have brought a passel of trail hands with them. She wondered if some had quit before they'd arrived in Faithful or if they'd just decided they needed extra hands. Regardless, Matthew had told her to be here at dawn and the sun was barely up.

She heard pounding hooves coming up behind her. She spun around. Her stomach tightened as Jake Vaughn and Matthew Hart neared. Sitting tall in the saddle caused them to strike imposing figures. She told herself that she would not allow them to intimidate her as they pulled back on the reins and brought their horses to a halt.

“Told you he'd show,” Matthew said.

Mr. Vaughn reached into his pocket and tossed a coin toward Matthew, who caught it.

Matthew winked at her. “He bet me two bits you wouldn't come.”

She didn't know why his wink made her feel as though they shared an intimate secret or why she found the slight curve of his lips intriguing. He wasn't looking at her the way that a boy looked at a girl in whom he had an interest. But she suddenly realized that she might be staring at him as a girl would…because it dawned on her with unexpected clarity that Matthew Hart was as handsome as sin.

His features were hard edged, as though they'd been chiseled by wind and sun. The lines in his face spoke of character and strength. And his eyes were so blue that she could easily drown in them.

She gave herself a mental shake and reined in her errant thoughts. She had to look at every man here as though she was a boy, the way Nate looked at Benjamin. As though with the least provocation she'd spit in his eye. She furrowed her brow to give herself a more serious demeanor.

“Told you I would. I keep my promises.”

“Son, your voice hasn't even deepened its pitch. If you're sixteen—” Jake began.

“I
am
sixteen!” she interrupted, refusing to lose this opportunity to earn money. She swallowed hard. Too
late to change her voice, so she'd have to fib a little. She promised herself this would be the absolute last lie. “It's just that the menfolk in my family tend to mature later than most.”

Mr. Vaughn scowled. “Thought Matt explained to you about lying.”

“He did.” She drew an imaginary cross over her heart. “I swear I'm sixteen, Mr. Vaughn.”

“Boss,” he said.

“What?”

“The men who work for me call me boss.”

She couldn't stop the smile from blossoming across her face. She was working for him! He might not have said that, exactly, but he'd sure implied it.

He jerked his thumb toward Matthew. “You'll ride beside Matt.”

Her stomach dropped to somewhere around her knees with that declaration. She didn't want to ride beside Matt. He was too handsome, too distracting. She'd be better off riding beside some homely fellow and learning what she needed to from him.

Matthew obviously wasn't thrilled with the turn of events either, as his eyes widened. “Why does he have to ride with me?”

“Because you hired him, and you need to figure out what he knows and teach him what he doesn't know.”

That answer seemed to irritate Matthew even more.
The last thing Sam wanted was to cause hardship for the one who'd helped her. “Can't he just tell me what I need to do, and then I can be on my own?”

Jake looked at her as though she was too ignorant to know not to question his orders. “No,” he said in a voice that vibrated with warning. “Don't question my orders.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied meekly. She'd run the farm for so long that she'd almost forgotten what it felt like not to be the one in charge.

He looked at Matt. “You can both ride drag.”

Matthew worked his jaw from side to side before asking, “Why do we have to ride
drag?
”

“So you'll learn not to hire someone without running it by me first.” Jake turned his attention to Sam. “Cookie can store your gear in the supply wagon. Matt here will show you the ropes. I want you to stick to him closer than his shadow.”

Not exactly where she wanted to be. She didn't want to be that close to anyone. The key to her success rested in her keeping her distance. Still, Sam nodded her understanding of the order and her gratitude for the opportunity to be part of the outfit. “You won't be sorry.”

“You'd better hope I'm not, otherwise you'll be sorry as well. And Matt will be even sorrier.” He turned his horse and rode off.

Her stomach tightened with the double warning.
She certainly didn't want to cause trouble for Matt.

Discreetly she peered at him. He looked as though he wanted to draw his gun from his holster and shoot the trail boss. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes were narrow slits of anger, a stormy blue that reminded her of turbulent waters.

She was determined to learn quickly so she could save both their positions with the outfit. “Is riding drag hard?”

He jerked his gaze to her as though he just now remembered she was there. He draped his wrist over his saddle horn. She shifted her stance beneath his intense scrutiny. With his thumb, he shoved his hat off his brow.

“It's not hard, but it's miserable. You end up choking down all the dust stirred up by the cattle. Hand your stuff over to Cookie, then mount up. The sooner we get started, the sooner you'll learn, and the sooner I can move back to point.”

He made it sound as though riding point was better than riding drag. He was right. She did have a lot to learn. Including who everyone was.

“Who's Cookie?” she asked.

He tilted his head toward the supply wagon. “The cook. Most outfits call their cook Cookie.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “They just do. Come on, now, we're burning daylight.”

She untied the burlap sack from around the saddle horn and cautiously approached the man who was now tying things into place at the wagon.

“My supplies,” she offered. Such as they were.

He harrumphed, took them, and stuffed her bag in a corner in the back of the wagon.

“Appreciate it,” she told him.

He grumbled something about “wet behind the ears” before turning away. Sam returned to her horse and pulled herself into the saddle.

Matt went to studying her again, making her feel like he might actually be wondering if she was a boy. She was confident that on the outside she resembled a boy, but on the inside she still felt like a girl. She didn't want to actually be a boy, but she needed to make sure she didn't act like a girl.

“Are we going or not?” she asked brusquely, knowing the less he looked at her, the less likely he was to figure out the truth about her.

“Have you got a bandanna?” he asked.

She noticed the red one that he'd tied loosely around his neck. She remembered that Jake had been wearing one as well. As a matter of fact, so had the cook. She shook her head. “No.”

He reached into his saddlebag, withdrew one, and handed it to her. “You're gonna need one.”

As soon as she took it, he pulled his own up over half his face, so his mouth and nose were covered. Following his example, she secured hers over her face and tied it behind her neck.

“You didn't want to ride drag?” she asked and her breath sent the bandanna fluttering over her face.

“No one wants to ride drag,” he told her.

“So you're being punished for taking me on.”

He shrugged haplessly. “Being reminded of my place in this outfit is more like it.”

Her heart sank. It seemed she couldn't avoid being trouble for him, causing him hardship before they'd even gotten started. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. Just become the best darn cowboy in the bunch so Jake will have to eat crow.”

With that, he nudged his horse forward. Sam did the same, her excitement mounting. She was going on an honest-to-gosh cattle drive. An adventure…that had her shaking clear down to her boots.

 

As far as Matt was concerned, the only thing worse than riding drag was marching into battle. The cattle churned up enough dust to bury a man if he stood still for any length of time.

The prickly dirt and the smell of hide heated by the sun didn't seem to bother his riding partner any. The kid still sat with his back straight, his green eyes large and round as he peered over the bandanna as though he feared he'd miss out on something important. The boy reminded Matt too much of himself when he'd enlisted and trudged off to war. Before he'd experienced the hardships. Before he'd learned that war wasn't a game or an adventure or exciting.

Matt was going to hate watching this kid wilt as the day progressed toward night and his dreams gave way to the harsh reality of long, monotonous days.

If the kid was telling the truth about his age, then Matt was only two years older than Sam was. But he felt twenty years older. He felt as though he'd grown up and grown old at the same time. As though his youth had disappeared down a bottomless well.

He certainly couldn't remember a time when he'd been bouncing in the saddle with eagerness—anxious to see what waited around the corner. It was wearing him out just watching the kid's energy.

“How many cattle are there?” Sam suddenly asked.

It occurred to Matt that the boy might have been sitting up so straight because he'd been trying to count the cattle, but they were stretched out for several miles.

“Little over two thousand,” Matt answered.

“What does the marking on the cattle stand for? It looks like the top and bottom part of a heart, spread apart,” the boy said.

The kid was observant. Matt had to give him credit for paying attention. But the kid's youth revealed itself with his eagerness, his questions.

“That's exactly what the brand is. A broken heart. These cattle belong to the Broken Heart ranch,” he explained.

“That's such a sad name for something. Why is it called that?”

Matt shook his head. Yeah, it was a sad name for a sad tale. Most cowboys just took the symbol of the brand and the name of the ranch at face value.

“I'll tell you the long, boring story later. Too much trail dust out here.”

His light green eyes sparkling with anticipation, Sam looked at Matt and nodded. Nothing seemed to dim the kid's enthusiasm. Not the heat, the flies, the boredom.

He reminded Matt of other boys he'd known. Maybe they were the reason Matt had gone after Sam the day before.

Because he'd reminded Matt of the friends he'd been unable to save.

And now he reluctantly had this kid in his care. What had he been thinking to take Sam on?

He'd thought Jake would be responsible for the young cowhand. He should have figured the task of teaching the boy would fall to him.

He'd followed orders, was so danged good at following orders—even when he didn't agree with them. And because of his dogged determination to obey commands during the war, the boys in his command had suffered. Many had even died.

It was now his goal to make sure Sam didn't join them.