It scared him more than he wanted to admit. The cattle drive started at dawn, just like Garrett had promised. Two hundred head of longhorns, mean-tempered and stubborn, driven by a crew of 15 drovers who looked at Cole and the women like they were a bad joke waiting for a punchline. Garrett rode at the front, barking orders and setting the pace. Cole and the women were assigned to the drag, the back of the herd, where the dust was thickest and the work was hardest.
It was the worst position on a drive, reserved for greenhorns and troublemakers, and Garrett had made it clear which category he thought they belonged to. Lyra coughed into her bandana, eyes watering. "This is hell." "This is the job," Cole said, keeping his horse steady as a stray cow tried to bolt. Kaya rode up beside them, her face already caked with dirt.
"How long does this last?" "Weeks, maybe longer, depending on how far we're going." "And we're doing this for free?" "For one week. Then we get paid like everyone else."
Sani appeared on Cole's other side, moving her horse with surprising ease. "The others don't like us." "They don't have to like us. They just have to not shoot us." By midday, the heat was brutal and the cattle were restless, kicking up dust that hung in the air like fog.
Cole's throat was raw, his eyes burning, and every muscle in his back screamed from staying in the saddle. The women didn't complain, but he could see the strain in their faces, the way they moved just a little slower, a little stiffer. One of the other drovers, a tall, lanky man named Briggs, rode past, smirking. "How's it feel, ladies?" he called out. Lyra gave him a look that could have curdled milk.
"How's it feel being an ass?" Briggs's smirk vanished. "Watch your mouth." "Or what?" "Or I'll watch it for you."
Cole nudged his horse between them. "We got a problem here?" Briggs sneered. "Yeah, your girlfriend's got a smart mouth." "She's not my girlfriend, and her mouth's her business."
"Then maybe you should teach her some manners." Cole's hand drifted toward his revolver, not fast, just enough to make a point. "Maybe you should ride on before I teach you something." Briggs stared at him, jaw working, then spat into the dirt and rode off. Lyra watched him go, shaking her head.
"Thanks," she said. "Don't thank me. Just don't start fights we can't finish." "I wasn't starting anything. He was."
"Doesn't matter who started it if we're the ones who end up dead." Lyra fell silent, but Cole could feel her frustration radiating like heat. He got it. He did. But out there, pride got people killed faster than bullets, and he didn't have the energy to explain that to someone who already knew.
The days blurred together after that. Wake before dawn, saddle up, ride until your body gave out, then do it again. The women learned fast, faster than Cole expected. Kaya had a natural instinct for reading the herd, anticipating which cow would bolt before it happened. Sani was steady, patient, never rushing, never panicking.
And Lyra, despite her sharp tongue, had hands that could work a rope like she'd been born doing it. By the end of the first week, even Garrett was starting to look impressed. "They're keeping up," he admitted one night, sitting across the fire from Cole. "Told you they would." "Doesn't mean I like it."