Chapter 2 - One Supper Changed Twelve Men’s Minds
The rider disappeared before Walker reached his horse.
By the time Dusty and Perry came running from their bedrolls, Walker was already saddling.
“What happened?” Dusty asked.
“Rider on the ridge.”
“Indian?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
Walker looked toward Josephine.
She stood beside the wagon holding Sam.
“Because she knows him.”
Every eye shifted toward her.
Josephine’s face closed immediately.
“I never said that.”
“You didn't have to.”
Walker mounted.
“Perry, with me. Dusty, watch camp.”
Josephine stepped forward.
“Leave him alone.”
Walker looked down.
“That sounds like confirmation.”
“It's advice.”
“I don't remember hiring you to give me advice.”
“You hired me to cook.”
“Then cook.”
Her eyes flashed.
For the first time, Walker saw genuine anger.
But beneath it was fear.
That bothered him more.
He and Perry followed the ridge for nearly three miles.
They found hoofprints.
One horse.
Shod.
Large animal.
The rider had turned south.
No camp.
No fire.
No attempt to conceal the trail.
“He wanted us to see him,” Perry said.
Walker nodded.
“Or wanted her to.”
They returned before dawn.
Josephine was already making coffee.
She did not ask what they had found.
Walker did not volunteer.
At sunrise, the cattle moved north.
And Josephine Vance became part of the Boone outfit.
By noon, Walker regretted it.
Not because she couldn't handle the wagon.
Because she could.
Too well.
She reorganized Amos’s supplies before breakfast.
She discovered three sacks of flour Walker’s ledger said they didn't have.
She threw away spoiled bacon.
She repaired a torn canvas flap.
She made Ellis scrub every pot.
Then she informed Walker they were short on coffee.
“We've got forty pounds.”
“You've got twenty-six.”
“My ledger says forty.”
“Your ledger can't count.”
“My ledger doesn't need to.”
“Apparently neither can whoever loaded your wagon.”
Dusty nearly fell from his saddle laughing.
Walker began to understand something.
Josephine wasn't merely capable.
She was dangerous to a man's dignity.
By the third day, nobody wanted her gone except Walker.
By the fourth, he wasn't entirely sure he did either.
And that was precisely the problem.
Josephine was temporary.
Walker had learned long ago that temporary things were easiest when they remained temporary.
No promises.
No expectations.
No reasons to look backward.
Yet every evening he found himself watching her.
She sang quietly to Sam while cooking.
Nothing elaborate.
Old songs.
Sometimes hymns.
Sometimes melodies without words.
The cowboys pretended not to listen.
They always grew quieter when she sang.
Even Amos Bidwell improved.
On the fifth morning, he dragged himself upright inside the wagon and demanded breakfast.
Josephine handed him oatmeal.
Amos stared into the bowl.
“What is this?”
“Breakfast.”
“Looks like something my horse already ate.”
“Your horse probably has better manners.”
Amos looked at Walker.
“Who is this woman?”
“Your replacement.”
Amos ate every bite.
By evening he had declared Josephine tolerable.
From Amos, it was practically a marriage proposal.
But the mysterious rider remained.
Once, Dusty saw movement on a southern ridge.
Another time Ellis found tracks near the night herd.
Josephine denied knowing anything.
Walker stopped asking.
Instead, he watched.
Then came the seventh day.
The Cimarron lay ahead.
And Josephine's agreement was finished.
Walker found her beside the wagon before dawn.
She was packing.
He felt something unpleasant tighten in his chest.
“You're leaving?”
“Our seven days are finished.”
“You planning to walk?”
“I have the mule.”
“That animal can barely carry itself.”
“He got me here.”
“He won't get you to Caldwell.”
“I'll manage.”
Walker hated those words.
Perhaps because Josephine used them whenever she clearly should not have to.
He looked toward the sleeping camp.
“You can stay.”
Josephine stopped folding a blanket.
“Until when?”
“Kansas.”
She studied him.
“As cook?”
“What else?”
Something almost like disappointment flickered across her face.
Then disappeared.
“As cook,” she said.
Walker nodded.
Neither moved.
Then Josephine extended her hand.
He took it.
This time he noticed how small it felt inside his.
“Until Kansas,” she said.
“Until Kansas.”
Behind them Dusty’s voice emerged from a bedroll.
“Thank God.”
Walker released Josephine's hand.
“Were you listening?”
“No.”
“You answered pretty quickly.”
“I talk in my sleep.”
Josephine laughed.
Walker heard it for the first time.
A real laugh.
Warm.
Unexpected.
It stayed with him the entire morning.
By afternoon, the sky changed.
Walker noticed first.
A green-gray line formed west of them.
Wind flattened the grass.
The herd grew restless.
“Storm!” Walker shouted.
Men moved instantly.
Josephine pulled the wagon toward lower ground.
Lightning split the western horizon.
Thunder followed.
The cattle began shifting.
Walker felt his stomach drop.
He had seen this before.
Every drover had.
A frightened herd could turn six hundred animals into a single living weapon.
“Hold them!” he shouted.
Rain struck.
Sam began crying.
Josephine pulled the wagon to a stop.
The first cattle broke.
Then twenty.
Then a hundred.
“Stampede!”
The world exploded.
Hooves thundered.
Men screamed.
Lightning tore the sky open.
Walker drove his horse toward the herd.
Dusty raced beside him.
“Turn the leaders!”
They rode into darkness.
Behind them Josephine watched hundreds of cattle disappear into the storm.
Then she heard another sound.
A boy screaming.
Ellis.
His horse had fallen near the wagon.
His leg was trapped beneath it.
And the stampeding cattle were turning directly toward him.
Josephine handed Sam to injured Amos.
“Hold him.”
Amos stared.
“What are you doing?”
Josephine grabbed the wagon reins.
“Something stupid.”
She climbed onto the seat.
Cracked the reins.
The team lunged forward.
“Josephine!”
But she was already driving straight toward the stampede.
Ellis looked up from the mud.
The ground trembled beneath him.
Josephine could see the cattle coming.
Could see their horns.
Their rolling eyes.
Their steaming nostrils.
She had seconds.
She swung the wagon broadside.
Jumped down.
Ran.
Ellis screamed, “Leave me!”
Josephine dropped beside the fallen horse.
“Push!”
Together they fought against the saddle.
Nothing.
The cattle were closer.
Fifty yards.
Forty.
Thirty.
Then Josephine saw the knife at Ellis's belt.
She grabbed it.
Cut the saddle cinch.
The horse rolled.
Ellis pulled free.
Josephine dragged him toward the wagon.
The first steer thundered past.
Then another.
Josephine shoved Ellis beneath the wagon.
She followed.
The world became hooves and mud.
Wood cracked.
The wagon rocked violently.
Josephine curled around Ellis as cattle streamed around them.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the thunder moved away.
Silence came in pieces.
Rain.
Wind.
Ellis breathing.
Josephine crawled out.
The wagon remained standing.
Barely.
One wheel was broken.
Supplies lay scattered across the prairie.
And somewhere behind her, Sam was screaming.
Josephine ran.
When Walker returned forty minutes later, soaked and bleeding from a cut above his eye, he found Josephine sitting beside the ruined wagon.
Sam was in her arms.
Ellis sat beside her.
Walker dismounted.
“What happened?”
Nobody answered.
Dusty rode up behind him.
Ellis finally spoke.
“She saved me.”
Walker looked at Josephine.
Her dress was torn.
Mud covered her face.
Blood ran from her palm.
“What did you do?”
Josephine looked toward the damaged wagon.
“I may have broken your kitchen.”
Walker stared at her.
Then at Ellis.
Then back at her.
“You drove into a stampede?”
“He was trapped.”
“You could've been killed.”
“So could he.”
“You have a child!”
Josephine stood.
“And Ellis is somebody's child!”
The words hit Walker harder than he expected.
Nobody spoke.
Josephine's chest rose and fell.
“I know what I have to lose, Walker.”
It was the first time she had called him Walker.
Not Mr. Boone.
Walker.
“And I know what it feels like when somebody doesn't come home.”
Her voice cracked.
Just slightly.
She looked away.
Walker understood.
Amos.
Her husband.
The Washita.
A man riding back into a stampede because somebody else needed help.
Josephine had done exactly what Amos Vance had done.
Walker wanted to be angry.
Instead he felt afraid.
Not of her.
For her.
And that frightened him more than anything.
He reached for her injured hand.
Josephine almost pulled away.
“Let me see.”
She hesitated.
Then gave it to him.
The cut was deep but clean.
Walker wrapped it with his neckerchief.
His fingers were surprisingly gentle.
Josephine watched him.
Neither noticed that the entire crew was watching them.
Except Dusty.
Dusty noticed everything.
And he smiled.
That night the men repaired the wagon.
Nobody asked Josephine.
They simply did it.
Perry reset the wheel.
Dusty repaired the canvas.
Ellis cleaned every cooking pot without being told.
Even Amos crawled from his bed to supervise.
By midnight, the chuck wagon stood again.
Josephine walked around it silently.
Then looked at the men.
“Thank you.”
Dusty shrugged.
“You saved Ellis.”
Perry nodded.
“And you make decent biscuits.”
“Decent?”
“Don't let it go to your head.”
Josephine smiled.
Walker watched from the darkness.
Something had changed.
She was no longer merely their cook.
She belonged to the outfit.
Whether Walker liked it or not.
Later, when everyone slept, he saw Josephine sitting alone beside the fire.
He joined her.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Then Walker said, “Who was the rider?”
Josephine stared into the flames.
“You don't quit.”
“No.”
“Neither does he.”
Walker waited.
Finally Josephine pulled the folded paper from her pocket.
She handed it to him.
There were only six words written across it.
YOU TOOK SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO ME.
Walker looked up.
“Who wrote this?”
Josephine’s eyes met his.
“My brother-in-law.”
“Your sister's husband?”
“Yes.”
“What does he think you took?”
Josephine looked toward sleeping Sam.
Walker followed her gaze.
A cold realization entered him.
“Josephine.”
She swallowed.
“He thinks I took his money.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“What did you take?”
Josephine was silent for a long time.
Then she whispered:
“Proof.”
Walker stared at her.
“Proof of what?”
Before Josephine could answer, a rifle shot cracked through the night.
The coffee pot beside Walker exploded.
Men came awake shouting.
Walker threw Josephine to the ground and drew his revolver.
Another shot struck the wagon.
Sam began screaming.
Dusty shouted from the darkness.
“Rider!”
Walker looked toward the ridge.
A man sat silhouetted beneath the moon.
This time he did not ride away immediately.
He raised one hand.
Pointed directly at Josephine.
Then dragged a finger slowly across his throat.
And vanished into the darkness.
Walker looked down at the widow beneath him.
Whatever Josephine Vance had brought onto his trail, it was no longer following only her.
May you like
It had just declared war on all of them.
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