"Finish your coffee. Then I want Bones and Nikola to start rounding up any'a those walkin' money bags that might have wandered from the herd," Fred said, pointing. "Al, Clayton, will you two water the horses? Mason, James, and I are gonna rest our cantankerous selves for a minute."

Mason tutted. "I hardly resemble that remark, but sure, let the younger men do some work for a change."

"Thank god," James grumbled as he hung the black coffee pot back above the fire. "If I wanted to be a regular nursemaid to a bunch of cows, I wouldn't have become an outlaw."

"Too much like honest work for ya, James?" I caught the twinkle in Mason's eyes as I swallowed down the rest of my bitter breakfast and stood. Bones, Nikola, and Clay did the same.

"Noticed you're still favoriting that other leg," Bones said as the four of us headed towards the geldings ground-tied near an old oak. "Want me to take another look at the one I stitched up?"

Nikola waved him off. "Nah, it ain't nothin'."

I may have been staring...because I sure as hell didn't notice Clay stop in front of me. He pitched forward as I collided with his back.

"Goddammit," I blurted.

"Woah there, kid," Clay said, regaining his balance.

He probably thought I'd had one too many nips from the whiskey Mason was passing around in the early morning while we made camp.

Nikola was already in his saddle, grinning, as he kicked his horse into a trot. Bones trailed him on his palomino with a poised smile.

My face was burning hotter than the sun overhead. "I ain't-a damned kid."

"Too early in the day for joshing, I see," Clay replied, collecting the leads of his and Fred's horses.

I took two as well--my Kentucky Saddler and Mason's Appaloosa. James' mare and the wagon horse could wait till we were back. "It's nearly noon."

"Friendly and observational."

"What?"

Clay shrugged. "I was tryin' to give you an excuse for your sour disposition."

I gave him a flat stare and started toward the river.

It wasn't that I was in a nasty mood or nothin'. It was just... Nikola. We'd made fast friends since I joined Fred's gang. But Freddie'd been splitting us up for jobs or chores as of late.

He hadn't said anything, to me at least, but I was convinced Fred knew...Knew about the way my insides bucked like a spooked nag when Nikola's gaze held mine for too long... Knew about the way my senses buzzed when we'd brush arms on accident...or how I couldn't get to sleep when he'd throw his bedroll down next to mine on account'a my heart goin' like a damned jackrabbit.

It was making me sick with worry.

I chewed on the thought more than I probably should have as we walked. By the time I came out of my head, my buckskin was yanking for more slack in his lead. The one in my offhand had already bent his neck to drink.

We'd gone upstream quite a ways from where the cows were drinking. One of the horses nipping or kicking would be all it would take to get the dumb animals worked up into a stampede. Here, there was nothing but a few small hills and the occasional spotting of trees for as far as the eyes could see. I glanced at Clay.

"You know, I ain't got a sour dispa..." Something in the distance caught my eye--something off to his right, and I trailed off. Switching both leads to my right hand, I lifted the other to shade my brow. Had I not been so concerned about what I was seeing, I might have thought to curse myself for losing my hat last week.

"...Disposition," Clay said smartly just before turning and spotting what had stopped me mid-sentence. "....Oh, shit."

My blood felt cold in my veins. A group of riders looked to be heading our way, sending trails of dust miles into the air.

"C'mon!" I gave my gelding's girth a single hard tug and mounted up, clicking and kicking before I'd even got fully seated. A whistle was all it took to get the attention of the Appaloosa, and I urged both him and my buckskin into motion. "How many was that?"

Clay looked from the gelding following his horse to me. "Enough."

We lit a shuck the short distance back to camp.

"Fred!" I stopped my horse nearly on top of where I'd been seated earlier. Fred jumped to his feet, looking pale.

"Al? What's wrong?"

"We got a problem," I rasped.

"Boy's got a gift for understatement," Clay interjected. "We're about to have company."

"Company?" Fred balked.

James wrung his stubby hands. "How close was they?"

"We ain't gonna get these steers moving fast enough to outrun em," I said.

"No..." Fred looked like he was focused hard on something, moving his fingers as if he were physically twiddling a thought. "No, we certainly wouldn't..."

"Boss?" Mason said, shifting his weight.

Fred's face grew stern. "Put the fire out. James, get our wagon hitched." He took his bay's lead from Clay as the dying fire hissed--smothered by the remains of the coffee Mason dumped on it. "Clayton, you help him. Allen, go roundup Bones and Nikola. And all of you," Fred raised his voice. "Make sure you got yer irons and extra ammo on you."

"In case these fellers don't mean to be friendly?" Mason said with a half-smile that held no mirth.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it did me no good as I listened to their exchange a moment longer.

Fred stuck a few fingers under his animal's girth and tugged on his saddle horn before climbing up. "In case we need not be friendly."

"If we start firin' off shots, we could lose the whole herd if they scatter," Mason warned.

A short chuckle left Fred. "I'd rather lose a bunch of steers than any of you."

It came as a surprise to none of us when three riders approached the head of our drive. Fred met them along with James on his left.

I strained to hear what they were saying over the sound of hooves, as the bunch slowly ambled to a near standstill. I couldn't make out much from where I was positioned, but I could imagine the conversation well enough.

The lawmen were probably asking Fred and James how some cattle rancher was doing... they'd know the cattle rancher's name, though, of course. Fred would say he don't know any such man, which wouldn't sit well with them.

It wouldn't sit well at all, cuz it would only confirm what they already knew. These longhorns belonged to that cattle rancher... and somewhere between here and just north of San Antonio, his hired hands had the misfortune of running into us.

Fred had assured the gang it would be an easy payoff--stealing the cattle--despite us lacking any driving experience. Said the punchers would've had the beasts trained by now, and it would be smooth riding north to Missouri. All we had to do was keep our heads low.

The middle one of the three strangers shifted in his saddle and the tin on his vest caught the mid-afternoon sun like it was ablaze with hellfire.

That familiar aching seized my chest that always came along with seeing lawmen. I still didn't know where the rest of em' were.

"Rustling is a serious crime, and Mr. Reed would like his property back. Now, ya'll listen up," the law dog shouted as my hand brushed my Colt. "You can either forfeit these stolen longhorns, or you can make peace with the idea of swinging. S'up to you."

Fred raised his hands in a sign of surrender, then James drew on them.

The first bang sent the lead steer charging, bawling all the while, and the rest quickly followed suit. I only watched long enough to see one of the lawmen slump off the side of his horse as it ran, leaving the others to rear and scream amidst more gunfire.

"Keep close to the herd until we can get some distance," Mason hollered as he cut his riding horse free from the wagon.

"Easy boy, eeeaasy! C'mon, boy." I only rode as close to the thundering stampede as I dared. This was a far cry from running down a wagon or a train, and my buckskin knew it. But the very same animals that threatened to gore us were also providing our only cover.

I craned my neck to look for Fred in the haze of dirt and dust, but I only spotted more of the lawmen. As soon as they were close enough, I drew my Paterson and cocked back the hammer with my off hand. The trigger dropped, and I fired.

My shot caught one of them, and he dropped back. The other two law dogs were still breathing down my neck. One raised his pistol and it roared, nicking my gelding. He kicked and swerved towards the Longhorns.

My heart nearly escaped through my throat. I threw my weight left, drifting us away from hundreds of pounds of steer and horns.

A boom made me flinch and twist in my saddle to see Nikola. He'd rode up on the pair and treated them to a close-range shotgun blast. Gunpowder and dust bit my nose and eyes.

While some had split off, the majority of the cattle were heading downhill towards a patch of thin trees.

Hope flared in my gut. Our animals were rested. Theirs weren't. If we could keep them off us long enough, we could get away. We could lose the posse.

But as the herd rolled into the trees, some of the Longhorns at the front bunched up too tightly. Their horns stuck each other, dropping some and further panicking the rest.

I clung to my saddle horn, narrowly navigating the splintering herd.

A rifle cracked, and I looked over my shoulder. Nikola's horse went down. Like a madman, I pulled back on my reigns harder than I ever had in my life.

My gelding's ass dropped as he reared. My Paterson barked at the rifleman, but the shot was bad. I was on my back, and my buckskin was washed away in the clouds of dust and flashes of cowhide.

I couldn't breathe, but I got to my knees. The dog with the rifle dismounted. Two more silhouettes were closing in, but I didn't care. I could taste copper and needed to see that lawman's blood. For Nikola, the gang, and for me. I fired again.

Nikola raised his shotgun but was peppered before he could shoot. Fire exploded in my side, and my fourth shot failed me. I only had one more.

"Drop it, boy!" I heard someone yell, but I couldn't take my eyes off Nikola's still form. My vision tunneled to black.

It took me a spell before I recognized the sounds around me as voices, creaking wood, and faintly squealing metal. The jostling was doing plain awful things to my gut.

I opened my eyes to find myself in the back of our wagon bed, sprawled uncomfortably atop our effects. Mason was driving it, and Clay was beside him. There wasn't a single lawman in sight, but we were down three men.

The realization caught in my throat and made the nasty mess in my side feel like a skinned knee. I knew damn well we weren't getting them back.

Bones leaned over me, checking my forehead. "No fever yet."

Clay snorted. "Told you that kid's got a deal with the devil."