Chapter One

Post–Civil War Texas

1875

Ace Carter listened to Finn Hayes and Clyde Morris joshing each other as they got a cookfire going. The evening was dry and hot. The heat burned through thick trees with enough brush to hide a good rattler or two.

The heat didn’t bother Ace. He was sitting on a log resting close to the Washita River. The river was shallow, but flowing pretty steady. Small islands of dirt protruded out of the water here and there. Wasn’t likely many fish were around waiting to be caught. Still, being near the river tempered the heat some.

“You ain’t ever fought a Comanche hand to hand, Finn,” Ace heard Clyde exclaim as he fussed with the cookfire. “Your backside would be darker than my whiskey bottle if you had!”

Finn was a scrawny man with straggly red hair, but he could handle a horse well enough and had worked a few good years as a swing rider before being hired on, a decent position.

He ain’t as smart as Finn. He rode drag. He’s good on horseback, though, and he’s honest enough. Just looks plumb dumb. Reckon he is, in a lot of ways. At least he’s got Finn to watch after him.

“Done so!” Clyde shouted, his voice thick and slow. “I was riding alone, Finn. Two of them injuns came at me! Scared me awful bad. Shot one dead… Scared myself half to death doing it, too. The other one rode off.”

“Is that so?” Finn asked. “Where at?”

“Near White Deer Pass, way outside of Fort Worth, when we were riding for Mr. Mayberry. The boss sent me to track some cattle that got free from us, remember?”

Finn looked up at Clyde with eyes that had a good bit of patience and compassion in them.

Yeah, Finn watches after Clyde pretty good. They ain’t brothers, but they might as well be. Reckon Finn would die for Clyde if needed.

“Now that you mention it… reckon I do. You were gone a good day. But wasn’t Harry Green supposed to have been riding with you?”

“Aw, Finn, Harry done stopped in Fort Worth and got himself a whiskey bottle. I wasn’t wanting to get the boss man mad at me, so I rode on alone.”

Finn finally got the cookfire going. “Well, I’ll be a pile of turnip greens, Clyde! How come you never told me this before?”

“’Cause I probably messed up my britches and felt ashamed to say so,” Clyde laughed—a silly, clumsy, laugh that was innocent. “Only reason I’m tellin’ you now is because we might run into some injuns. Tell you what, injuns sure scare me something fierce. I ain’t never draw my gun out so fast… surprised even myself. I ain’t fast on the draw like you.”

“Aw, we ain’t gonna run into no injuns, Clyde. Besides, railroad is about to shut down this trail. Probably be the last time we run cattle on the Chisholm Trail.”

Ace listened. Finn is right. Railroad hauls cattle much better and faster than a man can. Cheaper, too… and safer.

“Hey Ace, you want some coffee when I get some going?” Finn called out.

“Nah.” Ace wasn’t in the mood for coffee.

Dallas is watching the herd downriver with that new guy, Brandon. Strange fella. Keeps his head low all the time. Dallas vouched for him, though. We can drive the cattle with just the four of us. Wouldn’t hurt to have another hand. Henry is tight, though. Don’t like to pay out for extra hands.

Sitting alone came naturally to Ace. Finn and Clyde were tighter than ticks. That was good. A fella needed a pal that he could trust with his life. Trusting didn’t come easy for Ace. Not at all. He made it a point to keep folks at a good distance. Deep in his heart, though, he cared about people. ‘Work hard and do right by folks’ was his motto.

At times, he wanted to be more like Finn and Clyde—just a regular guy who could sit around a cookfire, joking around and drinking coffee.

Just ain’t my way. War changed me. Saw too much death.

Ace locked his eyes on the river. Dallas would be moving the herd upriver in a bit.

I’ll ride down and help. Herd is tired from the heat. Needed to ride on ahead and find a good spot to camp for the night. Dallas can handle the chore. They ain’t too far away. All he has to do is fire off a warning shot if he gets into trouble. Water is deeper down that way. Herd is cooling off.

Henry Ashford had hired Ace to drive a herd of cattle to Wichita, Kansas. “Herd ain’t that big, Ace,” He’d explained, nodding toward a dry brown field standing under a thirsty sky. “About four men or so can take the herd up the Chisholm Trail. Railroad wanted to take every penny I got to haul that small herd.”

“About fifty head?”

“Seventy-eight,” Henry had clarified. He was a big man, like Ace. Gruff, mean as a bull, and stingy.

Ace stood two inches taller than Henry. He kept his black hair cut short but let his beard grow out some. Not much. He trimmed his beard every month or so. His body was lean and fit, always ready for a good fight if it arose, but he carried the look of a man who knew what a sore back was.

As rough as Ace was and had to be, he cared for folks more often than not. Henry was stringy with his money—but Ace understood. The man’s wife had run off on him. His son had been killed by the Comanche. Outlaws had attacked him on cattle drives. The railroad was taking over everywhere. At the age of fifty, Henry had to make sure he had money to live on.

“I can run the herd up to Kansas for you.”

“Heard good things about you. Wayne Slate said you were the best scout he ever hired.”

“Know the trail, is all,” Ace had answered, chewing on a piece of dry straw as he eyed the herd. “Moved most of ’em already?”

“Railroad charges by head. Moved all that I could pay for. Just got them seventy-eight stragglers left. They’re good beef, though. I’ll get a pretty decent price for them.”

Ace nodded his head. “I’ll give you a fair price to move them up the trail, then.”

“Figured you would. Got the look of an honest man.”

Ace huffed to himself. I didn’t charge Henry as much as I should have. No need to. He’ll put in a good word for me. A good word goes a long way… at least it did in the old days. Railroad is shutting down all the cattle trails. Not much need for scouts anymore.

Movement caught Ace’s eye. He was on his feet faster than a striking snake. “You there, in the trees—get out here before I fill you full of lead!”

When Ace whipped his gun out, Finn and Clyde drew their guns and ran down to him.

A dirty-looking man carrying a bag full of what looked like digging tools stumbled out of the trees, looking real hungry. “Ain’t no threat to you, mister. Just following the river down. Trying to find my mule. Rattler struck at it. Took off running on me.”

“We saw a mule about two miles down,” Clyde told the man in his slow way. “Animal was standing way off from the river, grazing.”

Ace scanned the man. No gun belt. No rifle. Just a drifter. Lot of them around. They come out here to find riches and end up eating dirt. “About to make supper, if you’re hungry,” he said, putting his gun away.

“Thank you all the same, but I best find my mule. Had some property… sold off. Moving back toward Arkansas. Got some family there. They’ll take me in and give me some work.”

“Ace, mind if I ride this fella downriver and help him get his mule?” Clyde asked.

“Thank you all the same, best not,” the stranger said quickly, shifting his bag of tools on his shoulder. “I ain’t worth the trouble.”

Ace eyed the man’s bag more carefully. He spotted two bulges in the fabric near the bottom of the bag—likely bottles of rotgut whiskey, judging by their rounded shapes.

He’s a whiskey hound. Probably spent more time drinking than he did working. Plenty of his kind around. He’s more anxious to fill his belly with whiskey than grub.

“Got some cattle downriver cooling off in the deeper water. Make sure you don’t cause no trouble,” Ace warned.

“Mister, about the only trouble I cause is with my singing when my gut is full of whiskey.” The man shifted his digging bag again and then walked on.

“Aw, he’s just a whiskey-rider,” Finn grunted as he put his gun away. “He ain’t heading to Arkansas. Most likely he’ll end up in Abilene. Why, we ain’t even to the Oklahoma Territory yet.”

Ace watched the drifter walk on downriver before sitting back down. “You two get to fixing supper. Dallas and Brandon will be hungry.”

“That new fella sure is strange,” Clyde told Ace. “Wears his hat all funny and never looks you in the eye. Talks real funny, too. Right, Finn?”

“Yeah, but Dallas says he’s okay. We’ve known Dallas a good many years, Finn. He was around when we were learning to pee on the backside of a barn the right way.”

“Reckon so.” Clyde shrugged. “Well, let’s go get the beans to going. Sure wish we had a chow wagon. Remember how Ol’ Josh use to cook? Boy howdy, he could fry up some chicken livers.”

“Aw, Clyde, we’re running a small herd. Ain’t no needed to be worrying about having a chow wagon. We got plenty of supplies. Just hard pulling them packhorses behind us, is all.”

Yeah, we got plenty of beans and coffee and flour. Got some fruit and jerky, too. Should be an easy ride up the trail.

Ace tried to settle down a bit. He didn’t like drawing his gun unless he intended to kill. Fighting in the war had caused him a great deal of bad dreams. At times, he could still hear the cries of wounded men and the echoes of rifle and cannon fire. He could smell gunpowder and blood and raw earth being tore up by cannon fire.

Only thing that kept me going during the war was the thought of Belle. Only she wasn’t waiting for me when I got home.

Ace closed his eyes. The image of a beautiful redhead with a cute button nose gripped his mind. “I’ll be waiting for you, Ace. You come back to me alive, you hear?” she’d said, he voice as sweet and caring as spring honeysuckle.

And when I came back from the war, she was gone. I guess I can’t blame her. She didn’t know if I was alive or dead. Two years is a long time to wait without knowing. Two years of blood and death. And in the end, I know we were betrayed. We were whipping the Yanks. We had them beat.

Ace’s right hand began to shake. The sour, bitter rage that had carved itself into his heart during the war returned without warning. Drawing his gun did that. Every bullet he shot took his mind back to the war—to battlefields covered with dead and dying, some so thick with the dead he couldn’t walk across them.

Everyone I cared about is either dead or scattered into the wind. Fellas I fought in the war with…

Ace couldn’t finish his thought. He forced his hand to stop shaking and looked over his shoulder at Finn and Clyde. Yeah, they were good fellas, but he didn’t need them.

Don’t need nobody. Best to keep riding the trail alone. That’s my way. Only way I know.

“Finn!”

“Yeah, Ace?” Finn called back.

“Gonna ride downriver and check on Dallas and Brandon,” Ace told him. “That drifter ain’t likely to cause trouble, but I want to make sure he don’t.”

“Fire off a few shots if you need us, Ace. We’ll come running.”

Ace walked to a strong, dark brown Quarter horse tied to the line Clyde had run. “Come on, Fetch, let’s go make sure everything is good downriver.”

Chapter Two

Bonnie Thatcher leaned forward in the saddle, staring at a part of the Washita River that could drown a man, and eyed the deep water.

“River ain’t too deep here,” Dallas Griffin called out from the other side of the river. “Only up to a cow’s neck. Deep enough, though, if you’re scared of water‍—‍”

“I ain’t scared of no water!” Bonnie barked.

She was lying through her teeth. The truth was, she didn’t know how to swim a lick. Didn’t matter if the water was over her head, up to her chest, or just touching her hips—rivers scared her. If she couldn’t see the bottom, she didn’t want to get anywhere near it.

Never know what’s under the water… but at least the current ain’t moving fast.

Bonnie focused on the cattle. Dallas was across the river, preparing to move the herd out of the water. All she had to do was gently push the herd out from her end. Easy work. Nothing to it. The herd was enjoying a nice cooldown from the heat. Once they moved out of the river, they’d drive them up to the camp and settle down for the night.

Only, I ain’t wanting to go into that river.

She’d only been on the trail for a day. She had met up with Dallas after escaping from Roscoe Carver. Escaping had been dangerous. Dallas had quit working for him a week back. When Bonnie had seen him in Caldwell, she’d told him that she was one of Roscoe’s ranch hands. Not that pretending to be a man was easy. She’d had to chop off her hair, and she always kept her coat on, the collar pulled up over her neck, whether it blazing hot or not. She also wore a brown bandanna over her mouth.

“Name’s Brandon. Got shot when I was young’un… lip is all torn up. Don’t like nobody to see,” she’d said in a voice that sounded like a sick boy rather than a grown man. “I quit Carver,” she’d continued, standing outside of the general store while her horse took a drink from a trough. “Where you riding to?”

“Ran into a friend, Ace Carter. He got work from Henry Mayberry. Know him?”

“Henry Mayberry owns a large spread over in Brown Hills, right?”

“Yeah, he owns a real good spread. Hired Ace to run cattle up to Wichita. Ace needs some hands. Didn’t see fit to be working for a snake like Roscoe Carver no more. Wish I’d never took on with him to start with.”

“Think he could use any more extra hands?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask. He’s got the herd up in North Rock. We can ride and catch up. Told him I needed a day or so to rest before I joined up. I ain’t no young bull no more.”

“I’ll ride on up to North Rock and wait for you, then.”

Bonnie had known Roscoe would be looking for her. He’d killed her best friend, Rosalind—shot her down when he found out she was hiding Bonnie.

He promised to kill me if I ever tried to escape again.

Bonnie stared at the river. She’d waited for Dallas to show up in North Rock. Ace hadn’t been there, but they’d managed to catch up to him yesterday in the northern part of the state. Dallas had vouched for ‘Brandon,’ and that had seemed to be enough for Ace, who’d told her to ride drag.

He barely said two words to me. Ain’t seen much of him since.

When Bonnie saw a man step out of the trees close to where Dallas was sitting on his horse, her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. “Dallas!”

Dallas went for his gun, but on the slow side. “Hold it, mister!”

The man raised his hands. “I ain’t no threat! Done ran up some fellas upriver. Just looking for my mule, old-timer.”

“Saw a mule some time back.” Dallas pointed in the direction he’d seen the mule with his gun.

“Mighty grateful. I’ll be moving on.”

Bonnie watched the man trudge on without making a fuss, her heart racing. She’d thought the stranger was Jack for a minute.

She struggled to calm down. Jack is Roscoe’s best hand—and he can track snake across a desert. If Roscoe finds me, he’ll kill me as sure as I’m sitting here.

“You sounded mighty worried, Brandon!” Dallas called across the river. “That fella ain’t nothing but a drifter.”

Bonnie’s eyes followed the man carefully as he drifted away. She was certain Dallas knew she was a woman, but he hadn’t let on yet.

He’s too old to be a fool. He knew from the moment we met up back in Caldwell.

He’d seemed surprised to find ‘Brandon’ waiting for him in North Rock.

I expect he thought I’d ride on.

“We best get the herd moving!” she called to Dallas.

Even as she said it, Bonnie felt her heart sink. She didn’t want to drown. Her clothes were dirty, along with the rest of her. She wasn’t as strong as a man, and riding in the saddle all day was hard on her. Keeping up with the rest of the men was a struggle, too, and sometimes, all she wanted was a pretty dress and a soft bed—not to mention a bath.

Pa might’ve raised me up like I was a boy—and I’m just as rough, too—but I’m still a woman, dagburnit.

Bonnie feared her attempts to disguise herself was futile at best. Dallas obviously saw right through her lies, clear as day, but what about the others? Did Ace suspect her? She made her voice as low and deep as possible, her full lips covered. She wore her dusty brown hat low over her eyes to hide her long lashes. Everything about a woman was different from a man: her face, the shape of her body, the pitch of her voice—even the way she walked could give her away if she wasn’t careful.

Yes, her trail clothes were baggy enough to hide her curves… but when she had to do her business, she couldn’t just go squat behind a tree the way a man did—goodness gracious, no—she had to slip off and take care of it without anyone seeing.

Soon or later, folks are gonna figure it out. I better worry about that later.

Right now, she needed to focus on getting the herd across the river without drowning.

Bonnie eased her horse forward. “Easy, boy… nice and easy…” Slowly and carefully, she guided her horse into the river. “That’s it… that’s‍—‍”

Bonnie’s voice was cut off when her horse stepped off a shallow spot and sunk down into a deep trench. River water rushed up over her lap.

Panic immediately set in. She let out a very unmanly shriek and yanked back on the reins so hard that the horse let out a high-pitched whinny and reared.

The next thing Bonnie knew, she was flying from the hot saddle and splashing into the river. She sank down to the muddy bottom like a rock before bolting upward. Her head broke the surface, but her mouth was full of water. She began choking.

“Help! Help me‍—‍!”

“Water ain’t even over your head—just stand up!” Dallas hollered.

But Bonnie was in a full-blown panic. In her mind, there was a watery abyss below her. She kicked her legs, convinced that she was dying. She felt her foot connect with something and vaguely realized that she’d kicked a steer when the steer bellowed and lunged away from her.

“Calm down, dern it!” Dallas yelled. “You’re panicking the beef!”

Her head went back underwater for a few seconds, but before she could cry out for help again, a hard hand grabbed her arm and yanked her up so hard, she shot out of the river like a bullet.

“Stand up!” Ace yelled. “Water is only up to your chest!”

Bonnie struggled to hold onto Ace’s arm as her legs fought to find ground. Her boots landed on a muddy platform that, to her relief, felt stable enough to stand on. Didn’t matter. She was still choking on water and gripped with panic. “Don’t let go‍—‍”

“Come on!” Ace dragged Bonnie out of the river as Dallas calmed the herd. “Can’t you swim?”

Bonnie stumbled over to a tree and began to retch, spewing water.

“Leave him be, Ace,” Dallas called. “Ain’t no shame in not knowing how to swim. Lots of fellas can’t get across a river when the water is deep!”

Ace was staring at Bonnie through narrowed eyes, obviously annoyed.

Bonnie fought to deepen her voice while checking the bandanna over her lips. “I’m okay…” Luckily, her hat had stayed on.

Mighty glad it’s got that strap that goes under my chin.

“We’re not even into the Oklahoma Territory yet,” Ace growled.

“We’ll get there soon, Ace. Just calm your bullets,” Dallas said. “I’ll get the cattle to the camp.”

Bonnie tried to hide her shock at hearing Dallas get tough with the trail boss. “I’m okay—just don’t like deep water, is all. I’ll help Dallas with the cattle.”

“See that you do,” Ace grunted and looked at Dallas strangely. “Camp ain’t too far up. Finn and Clyde got coffee and beans going.”

“Sure could use a good cup of coffee, Ace. Me and Brandon will get the herd moving. At least the river cooled them down good enough.”

“Yeah, coffee sounds good,” Bonnie mumbled as her horse stumbled onto the riverbank, shaking its head and sending water flying into the air. She rushed over and mounted up, murmuring to soothe the grumpy animal. Then, she set about pulling the herd together in the rear while Dallas took the front.

To her dismay, Ace didn’t ride off the way she’d expected.

“I best stay with the herd,” he said when he saw her looking at him.

What a mess. She’d nearly drowned. Her hat and bandanna might’ve stayed in place, but the wet fabric of her clothes was clinging to her body, showing far more of her curves than she’d like.

If Ace finds out I’m a woman, he’ll run me off for sure, and I need to stay with this pack for now. They’re a safe ride all the way up to Wichita. Roscoe won’t be thinking I hitched up with a cattle drive.

Bonnie struggled to calm her pounding heart, keeping any stragglers in check as Dallas led the herd up to the camp. When they finally arrived, she glanced over to see Ace wearing a deep frown. But he didn’t say anything else about the incident.

“Good clearing over there. We’ll settle the herd down,” Ace said. “Finn and Clyde will pull first watch. You and Brandon take the second watch, Dallas. I’ll handle the last.”

And that was that—at least for the time being.