Montana Hearts - 6. Chapter 6 - The Work Begins

-- Chapter Six --

The first thing Carter heard was the sound of somebody banging on the side of the horse trailer, which was quickly followed by, 'Rarse an’ shine, ya lazy bastards!'

He opened one eye. It was still dark. Or near enough. He could still see stars.

'Jesus Christ,' he muttered, pulling his blanket over his head. The banging came again.

'Come on ya pair of princesses! Cattle ain't gonna brand themselves!'

The voice wasn’t deep enough to be Rip.

Teeter! Of course it was Teeter.

Beside him, Tate stirred beneath his own blankets.

'What time is it?' he mumbled.

'Too damn early.'

'Ah heared that!' Teeter called from somewhere beyond the trailer. 'Git yer skinny asses outta them thar beds afore ah come in there an' drag ya out by yer hairless balls!'

Carter groaned.

Tate started laughing.

'She's always been like this, hasn’t she?' he asked.

'Pretty much.'

'Jesus.'

'Yeah. You'll get used to it.'

A moment later, the sound of Teeter's boots crunching across the gravel faded into the darkness.

Carter lay still for another few seconds, staring up at the stars.

The fire from the previous evening had burned down to a bed of coals, and the air had that sharp, biting chill that came with early mornings in the mountains.

He could hear horses moving about in the corrals. Somewhere in the distance – probably down at the main house – a truck engine turned over, coughed twice, then settled into a steady rumble.

Tate sat up and rubbed his face.

'Well, I guess we're awake now.'

'Apparently.'

The two boys climbed reluctantly from their bedrolls, pulled on their boots and jackets, and headed toward the smell of coffee drifting from the chuckwagon.

***

By the time the first light began to creep across the eastern horizon, and the valley was glowing in that distinct early morning shade of gold, the Lazy D was already a hive of activity.

Cookie had breakfast underway, and cowboys were gathering around the chuckwagon, balancing tin plates piled with bacon, eggs, beans, and fried potatoes.

Rip stood near the corrals with Kayce and Hank, studying a rough map spread across the hood of Hank's pickup.

Lloyd was already saddling his horse.

Teeter was drinking coffee from an enormous mug, looking entirely too cheerful for that hour of the morning.

Carter and Tate collected their breakfasts and found a place to sit on the tailgate of a nearby truck.

'You sleep alright?' Tate asked.

'Yeah. You?'

'Pretty good. Except for somebody snoring.'

Carter looked at him. 'Wasn't me.'

'Didn't say it was.'

'Well, it wasn't.'

Tate grinned. 'Alright.'

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the yard come alive around them.

The two J-Bar cowboys were leading horses toward the hitching rail. Across the yard, the Bitter Root crew were sorting ropes and checking their saddles, while Hank's two younger hands were already opening gates and preparing the holding pens.

There was a sense of anticipation in the air. The roundup was about to begin.

***

'Alright everyone, good mornin’ and listen up!' Hank's voice carried across the yard.

When Hank spoke, everyone listened. He wasn’t a man to waste words, or drag the language down with slang, like the hands were apt to do. He was old school – much like John Dutton was – and everyone looked up to, and respected them.

The conversations going on around him quickly died down, as the cowboys gathered around.

'We've got a fair number of cattle already down here in the lower pastures. We'll bring those in this morning and start with them. Get the calves vaccinated, marked and branded, and get as much of that work out of the way as we can.'

He pointed toward the corrals.

'We've got the holding pens ready, and the branding irons are heating up. I want the calves worked clean and quick. No foolin' around, no showboatin', and nobody getting’ themselves hurt.'

He looked directly at one of his younger hands.

'And that includes you, Billy.'

A few of the cowboys laughed. Billy rolled his eyes.

'Yes, sir.'

'Good.'

Hank turned toward Rip.

'You want to run the branding?'

Rip nodded. 'Yeah. Kayce and I'll keep things moving.'

'Fine by me,' Hank replied, while looking around the group. 'We'll need ropers, flankers, somebody working the gate, and a couple of hands on the irons, the tags, the knife and the vaccinations. We'll rotate people through as we go.'

He paused.

'And before anybody asks, yes, there's more cattle up in the mountains than we've got down here. A hell of a lot more.'

A few cowboys exchanged glances.

'We'll start sending teams out once we see how the morning goes. Some of those cattle are close enough to bring in today, so we can sort through those tomorrow. Others are scattered across the higher pastures, and we'll need riders to go gather them. That might take a few days, so while we work with what we have here, those we send out will need to sleep rough and take your bed rolls with you, and anything else you’ll need.'

He folded the map.

'Alright. Alright. Let's get to it.'

***

The Lazy D boys, Billy and Trey, were quickly dispatched to gather the closest herd of cows and calves, with Maddie tagging along as well on her favourite little Paint mare. Lloyd, Teeter and Beth were sent to bring in the other herd that was close by, and with a combined total of about two hundred cows with calves, that would keep the branding crews busy for a good part of the day.

Tate and Carter decided to make themselves useful, so they figured they may as well tag along with the Lazy D team. A quick nod from Rip, when he was asked the question, was all that was needed for them to head to the corral to catch their horses.

They quickly saddled their horses and shortly afterward Carter swung into the saddle on his stout Quarter Horse gelding and gathered his reins. Across the pen, Tate was already preparing to mount his Appaloosa filly, just jogging her around in small circles on the end of the reins.

When he glanced up at Carter, who was studying him with a curious expression, as if he wasn’t sure what Tate was doing, Tate grinned back at him.

‘She can be a little cold-backed on mornings like these,’ he said to Carter, who instantly knew just what he meant. Some horses can be a little fresh when first saddled on cold days – even older horses – and will often react with a few crowhops, or small, half-hearted bucks, until they are sufficiently warmed up.

Of course, some horses could be a lot more serious than that, and might even give their riders quite a workout before they were ready to go to work. Carter was curious as to what type of horse this filly might be.

When Tate was satisfied, he pulled Tah-hy into the centre of the circle, giving her a pat on the forehead when she came to a stop in front of him.

She stood quietly, ears flicking backward and forward as she watched the movement around her, while Tate gathered up his reins, then moments later he stepped up onto her and settled into the old slick-fork saddle that his grandfather had once owned.

Carter studied her for a moment. She was showing no reaction so far.

Tate stood in the stirrups and jiggled his body a bit in the saddle, shifting his weight from side to side, before then settling back down in the saddle.

‘You good, Tate?’ they heard Kayce call out from the other side of the rails.

Tate flashed him a grin. ‘I’ll tell you in a second or two,’ he said, as he threw his hands forward slightly and squeezed with his legs. The filly took a step . . . and then another . . . and for just an instant Tate looked worried, as he felt her tense up, but by the time she had taken a couple more steps he knew that she would be fine, as she began to move out a little more freely.

‘Does she do that often?’ Carter asked as he rode up beside the filly.

‘Only when she’s nervous. She’ll be fine now. Let’s go find some cows to chase.’

By the time they reached the corral gate, Kayce was swinging it open for the boys.

'She done much of this kind of work?' Carter asked as they crossed the green pasture.

Tate nodded. 'Some. But not a whole lot. I can rope off her . . . but so far not moving targets! Hopefully we’ll check that off today.'

Carter gave him a grin. 'And you reckon she'll handle it?'

'Guess we're about to find out soon enough.'

Carter laughed. 'Fair enough.'

Rip strode past them. 'You two done talking?'

'Just about,' Carter replied.

'Good. Then get your asses moving.'

They exchanged a quick smile before turning their horses toward where Maddie and the two boys were already heading.

***

The first bunch of cows and calves had been brought into the holding pastures the previous afternoon, so it didn’t take long to gather these into the corrals, with the crews quickly beginning the process of sorting them through the gates toward the branding corral.

The air quickly filled with the familiar sounds of bawling cattle, horses snorting, men calling instructions and the occasional slap of rope.

A rider eased into the bunch, selected a calf and threw a loop around its hind legs. Once the rope settled, the horse turned and began pulling the calf toward the branding area, where the crew was waiting.

Two flankers would step in, control the calf and lay it on its side, holding it securely while the others worked.

The work was hard, but it was familiar to most of the crew, and they could usually carry out that work with a minimum of fuss or danger. To anyone not used to seeing it, however, it would appear brutal. But it was the way it had always been done, simply because nobody had ever seemed to have been able to come up with a better way.

Bawling calves would be roped and then dragged closer to the fire. Ear tags with identifying numbers would be added. Vaccinations administered. Testicles would be removed. And then a hot brand applied.

The air would be filled with the sound of animals and the smell of burning hair, then the calf would be released, scrambling to its feet and hurrying away toward its mother, and then a new calf dragged to the same place.

The whole process took only moments when everyone knew what they were doing.

And this crew certainly did.

Rip moved around the corral, keeping a close eye on proceedings.

'Keep that gate clear!'

'Watch your rope!'

'Alright, let him go!'

Kayce worked nearby, helping keep the calves moving steadily through the pen.

Lloyd sat his horse with the ease of a man who had spent most of his life in the saddle, his rope coiled neatly in one hand.

Teeter, meanwhile, seemed determined to make as much noise as possible.

'GIT THAT LITTLE SUMBITCH OVER HEYAH!'

A calf shot sideways.

'AW, HELL!'

She wheeled her horse after it, swinging her rope.

Carter laughed as she finally got her loop on the calf and started dragging it toward the fire.

'You still got it, Teeter!' he called out.

'NEVER FUCKIN' LOST IT, PURDY BOY!'

***

Carter watched Tate's filly, and could see she was doing well. At first, she'd been a little uncertain about the noise and movement, particularly when a calf bawled loudly just a few feet from her nose.

But Tate kept his hands quiet and his seat steady, allowing her to watch what was happening without forcing her into the middle of it.

Carter noticed, impressed by the young man’s calm demeanour and the way he went about things. With Tate’s heritage of Anglo-American ranchers on one side of his family, and Native American ancestry on his mother’s side, Carter could see that he was born to this role. Tate was a child of this land. It was bred into him. He was a part of this world, while Carter himself, was a relative newcomer.

Of the filly, Carter had expected the young horse to be considerably more nervous than she was. Instead, she seemed to be taking everything in her stride. When Tate threw a rope at a calf – and caught it – the filly stood her ground, preventing it from getting away, before then dragging the young beast to where it needed to be. Then later, when Tate eased her forward to help move a small bunch of calves toward the gate, she responded willingly, stepping sideways when asked, blocking and turning the lead calf, and holding her position without fuss.

Carter rode alongside. 'She's doing good.'

Tate smiled. 'Yeah. I'm pretty pleased with her.'

'How long you had her?'

'About a year.'

'You break her yourself?'

'Mostly. Dad helped some.'

Carter nodded appreciatively. 'Nice job.'

Tate looked across at him. 'Thanks.'

It was a small exchange. Nothing particularly remarkable. But Tate felt a quiet satisfaction at the compliment.

Carter appreciated a good horse. And coming from him, it meant something to Tate.

***

By midmorning the work had settled into a steady rhythm.

Calves were roped, dragged, branded, treated and released. The ground crew rotated through the harder jobs, and the riders took turns moving cattle through the pens.

Dust hung in the air. The smell of hot iron and singed hair drifted across the corral. Occasionally somebody would call for a break, and the crew would pause long enough to drink some water, stretch their backs and catch their breath.

Hank stood near the fence, watching with satisfaction.

'Good crew,' he remarked to Rip.

Rip nodded. 'Yeah.'

'Your boy's coming along.'

Rip followed his gaze toward Carter, who was easing his horse around a small bunch of calves.

'He's doin’ alright.'

Hank chuckled. 'That's high praise coming from you.'

Rip didn't answer. But the faint smile beneath his moustache said enough.

***

By lunchtime, the cattle in the lower pens were well on their way to being finished. The crew broke for food, gathering in the shade beside the bunkhouse where Hank's cook had laid out sandwiches, cold meat and plenty of water.

Carter dropped onto an overturned bucket and stretched his legs.

'Well, that was fun.'

Tate sat beside him. 'You got a strange idea of fun.'

'You complaining?'

'Nope.'

'Then quit ya whining.'

Tate laughed.

Across the yard, Rip and Kayce were talking with Hank. The old rancher had unfolded his map again. This time Lloyd and Teeter were standing with them. And from the look of things, plans were being made.

Carter and Tate wandered over and joined them.

'We've got a bunch up here,' Hank said, his index finger following a trail marked on the map that led into the mountains. 'North pastures. Maybe seventy or eighty head, depending on how many have drifted in from the next ridge.'

Rip studied the contours. 'How's the trail?'

'Good enough. Gets a little steep past the creek, but nothing your people can't handle.'

Kayce leaned over the map. 'You reckon they'll all be in that one pasture?'

'Fair bunch of 'em will be near the trail head, maybe,’ replied Hank.

‘And what’ll they find?’ asked Rip.

‘The trail splits. There are two valleys, but each has its own draws and patches of timber where the cattle like to hide. Will be worth looking through those.'

‘And how do you want to handle it?’

‘I’m thinking four riders . . . two for each valley, then bring everything together and back down the trail, where we can send up a few more riders to help bring ‘em home.’

'What about water, and camps?'

'Creeks run right through both valleys, and there are springs farther up if you need ‘em. I’m thinkin’ ride up this afternoon, camp near the creek, round 'em up tomorrow and start bringing 'em down. They'll probably make it back late tomorrow if everything goes right, otherwise they might need to camp out for a second night.'

Rip glanced around him at the gathered hands. Lloyd and Teeter. Carter and Tate.

‘You four think you can handle it on your own?’ Rip asked them.

'Yeah,' Lloyd answered.

Teeter grinned. 'Well, hell. This oughta be fun.'

'Carter? Tate?' asked Rip.

The boys looked at each other and grinned.

‘We’ll be fine,’ Carter answered.

Hank nodded. ‘Sounds like a plan, then.’

Rip folded his arms.

'Good chance for both of you to get some miles under your belts.'

The boys nodded.

Hank studied the map a moment longer. 'Alright. That's settled then,' he said, before pointing to another section. 'I'll send the Bitter Root boys along this trail. They can work the eastern pastures. J-Bar can take the west side.'

'What about us?' Kayce asked.

Rip nodded toward the corrals.

'You and me stay here with Hank's boys. Finish up what's left of this bunch, then get everything ready for the cattle coming down.'

Hank nodded. 'That'll work,' he said, then turned toward Lloyd. 'You know where you're going?'

Lloyd gave him a look. 'Been ridin' these mountains longer than some of these boys have been alive.'

'That wasn't the question.'

Lloyd grinned. 'Yeah, Hank. I know where I'm going.'

***

Carter was tightening the cinch on his saddle a short while later when Rip approached.

'You and Tate going to be okay out there? Lloyd and Teeter won’t be far away.'

Carter looked up.

'We’ll be fine. We’re not little kids any more.'

'No, I guess not,’ Rip replied, as a grin spread across his face.

For a few moments the silence stretched between them.

'You'll ride up this afternoon, make camp, then start gathering first thing tomorrow. Lloyd's in charge. You listen to him, you listen to Teeter, and you don't go wandering off doing anything stupid.'

'Got it.'

Rip studied him.

'And keep an eye on Tate.'

Carter frowned slightly.

'Tate?'

'Yeah. He's got a young horse. Don't need him getting into trouble up there.'

'Sure.'

Rip hesitated.

Then added, almost as an afterthought, 'And he ain't had the same experience you have with mountain cattle.'

Carter smiled.

'We'll be fine.'

Rip looked at him for another moment.

'Yeah,' he said. 'I reckon you will.'

***

By early afternoon, the four riders were making their final preparations.

Bedrolls were packed and tied behind saddles. Rain gear, spare clothing, food and basic supplies were divided between the riders and a packhorse.

Lloyd checked the horses, then checked the gear, then checked everything again.

Teeter watched him with growing impatience.

'Fer fuck's sake, Lloyd. We goin' on a roundup or crossin' the goddamn Rocky Mountains?'

'Little preparation never hurt anybody.'

'Nether did gettin' yer ass movin'! It’s one night, fer fuck sake!'

Carter grinned as he tightened the straps on his bedroll.

Tate was standing beside his filly, checking the fit of her saddle.

'You got everything?' Carter asked.

'Think so.'

'Bedroll?'

'Yep.'

'Rain gear?'

'Yep.'

'Food?'

Tate looked at him.

'You planning on checking my underwear too?'

Carter laughed.

‘Only if you want me to.'

'Well, thanks, mom.'

'Don't mention it, sweetheart.'

They were still laughing when Kayce approached. He rested a hand on Tate's shoulder.

'You listen to Lloyd, alright?'

'Dad,' Tate groaned.

'I'm serious.'

'I know.'

'And don't push that filly too hard. Let her find her feet on the steep stuff.'

Tate nodded. 'I will.'

‘Got your rifle? Just in case.’

‘Yup. Scabbard is strapped on.’

Kayce studied him for a moment. Then he smiled.

'Have fun.'

'I will.'

He gave his father a quick hug before swinging into the saddle.

Across the yard, Beth stood beside Rip, watching the preparations.

'Look at them,' she said quietly.

Rip followed her gaze.

Carter was already mounted, adjusting his reins while Tate settled his filly beside him.

'What about 'em?'

Beth smiled.

'Nothing.'

Rip glanced at her.

'Beth.'

'What?'

'You got that look.'

'What look?'

'The one that usually costs me money.'

She laughed. 'Relax, baby. I'm just enjoying the view.'

Rip shook his head. 'Jesus Christ.'

Lloyd swung into his saddle and gathered his reins. 'Alright, let's ride.'

Teeter was already moving toward the track. 'Bout fuckin' time!'

Carter looked across at Tate. 'Ready?'

Tate grinned. 'Yep.'

'Then let's go.'

They turned their horses toward the northern trail.

Behind them, the Lazy D slowly disappeared among the trees and rolling hills. Ahead lay a narrow track winding upward through the foothills, toward the higher pastures where Hank's cattle were scattered.

The afternoon sun was warm on their backs, and the air carried the scent of pine and dry grass.

For a while, the four riders travelled in companionable silence.

Then Teeter's voice rang out from somewhere ahead.

'HEY, LLOYD!'

'WHAT?'

'YA RECKON THERE'S ANY FUCKIN' SNAKES UP HERE?'

Lloyd groaned.

Behind them, Carter burst out laughing. And beside him, Tate laughed too.

The mountains rose ahead of them. And now the real gathering had begun.

To be continued . . .