OverTime 03: Slipping (First 70 Chapters)

Chapter 58: Letters (Garrison)

Garrison weren't with the herd when the riders first approached. He'd scouted two miles north, plotting the edge of yet another prairie dog village to take the herd safely around the danger of multiple holes and burrows.

He remembered Elizabeth's delight, the first time she saw the critters back in Kansas. He'd called them pests, and she'd defended the animals as cute. That was what she did. She rallied to the defense of anything she thought couldn't stand up for itself, from women of ill repute to newborn calves couldn't keep up with the herd to old, stove-up cowhands. And he'd married her anyhow.

Back at that first prairie dog town, he'd warned that Cute don't make a critter no less a pest.

Could be he'd been mistaken.

Now, watching the antics of the gophers as they popped up and down from their burrows, chirping and whistling various warnings and challenges before vanishing again, he wondered if he might ought to ride Elizabeth out here to see them. It might improve her mood.

A single gunshot from the herd caught his attention quick enough--and sent a score of gophers diving for cover, leaving an empty stretch of barren ground dotted with dark holes.

The absence of more shots eased his immediate fears. Real trouble, especially from an attack by man or beast, would likely require more than one shot.

He could tell just by looking toward the distant dust that this weren't no stampede.

Still, it was with some trepidation that he urged his mount into a trot, then a lope, then a gallop back toward camp.

He slowed only as he recognized Benjamin Cooper conversing with two surprisingly small people astride one big farm horse. Two of the other boys sat their mounts nearby, listening in on the palaver. Here came Elizabeth from the direction of the noon-camped chuck wagon, on foot, to investigate.

The horse's size alone marked the children as nesters. Garrison could even likely guess which cluster of soddies they hailed from, since he deliberately located and then avoided any homesteads on their route. Farmers wouldn't want cattle anywhere near their livestock or crops, especially this close to harvest. Garrison didn't want much to do with fence-building, deadline-passing farmers, neither.

Why any of them would approach the herd, after he'd troubled himself to keep the herd away from them, raised questions. And yet...

He rode past the pow-wow to where Elizabeth tromped across the uneven ground. She had carefully tucked her hair beneath her floppy hat and wore Murphy's old shirt over her suspenders, to better disguise her femininity. Any man who looked close would see what she really was, just from her walk, but it could be she might fool young ones.

He stopped in her path and held down a hand for her. "Offer you a ride?"

Unlike that day in Kansas, back at their first prairie-dog town, she had to consider it. She didn't want him touching her the night before, neither, which saddened him more than made sense. Then she nodded and held up her hand for a lift.

Even in the family way, she weighed next to nothing as he swung her onto the horse, behind him.

She held onto his waist extra tight as she arranged herself, swinging her leg over to sit straddle. That annoyed him, since it weren't proper, but he guessed she would look foolish wearing trousers and sitting side saddle.

"Who are they?" she asked toward his backbone, loosening her grip around his ribs. "Are those children?"

"Looks like." He rode back to the cluster of cowboys with the wife behind him.