Across the Rio Colorado by Ralph Compton Read Free Book Online Page A

guilty.”
    â€œChance McQuade,” she said softly, “you are a compassionate and understanding man.”
    â€œComing from you,” said McQuade, “I take that as a compliment.”
    â€œI wish I could take credit for having said that,” she replied, “but I’m just quoting my father. I asked him … what you wanted me to, and he gave his blessing.”

    â€œI’m glad,” said McQuade. “Otherwise, I reckon I’d be taking my life in my hands, out here with you, and him likely under the wagon.”
    She laughed softly. “Not really. Since I’m helping with the cooking, he insists on doing his share. He’s out there with the first watch. He’s taken to these people, and they seem to like him. I expect he’ll be out there every night.”
    â€œThen I’ll take my turn after he calls it a night,” said McQuade. “While he’s away, don’t be surprised if I show up here, lookin’ out for you. There’s all manner of coyotes, wolves, and catamounts out here on the plains.”
    â€œI’m flattered,” she said. “I’m practically an old woman, and I’ve never had a man so concerned about me. I realize it’s the first week in May, but there’s a chill in the wind. Do you have a remedy for that?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, I do,” he replied. He slid closer to her, and in so doing, spilled the rest of his coffee in her lap.
    â€œDon’t mind that,” she said. “It’ll dry.”
    He took her advice, drew her close, and they were still there when the Reverend Miles Flanagan came looking for his blankets.
    McQuade’s people were up and about well before first light, and when the golden rays of the rising sun fanned out across the eastern horizon, the wagons were again on the trail. During breakfast, Ike Peyton had summed up their dedication.
    â€œWe’ll see just how long they can take it, raisin’ hell till the small hours, and havin’ us move out at dawn, without ’em.”
    â€œThere’ll be Indians and outlaws,” said McQuade. “Maybe not until we reach Indian Territory, but they’ll be coming.”
    McQuade rode ahead, seeking water. Reaching a creek, he decided to ride to a distant ridge beyond, so that he might see what lay ahead. There he was in for a surprise. Miles to the southwest was a rising cloud of dust.

    â€œWe need to know what in tarnation is stirrin’ up that much dust,” McQuade said to his horse.
    McQuade rode on, eventually reaching the crest of a ridge that allowed him to determine the cause of the dust. Several hundred longhorn cows trudged along, bawling their displeasure. McQuade counted ten riders, four of them riding drag. He was now only a few minutes away, and he trotted his horse down the slope to meet them. Nearing the herd, he could see four pack mules running with the drag steers. The point rider saw him coming, and waving his hat, signaled the riders to mill the herd. The point man then rode ahead to meet McQuade.
    â€œHello, the herd,” McQuade shouted. “I’m friendly.”
    â€œI’m Chad Guthrie,” the rider replied. “This is my outfit. We’re bound for St. Louis.”
    â€œI’m Chance McQuade, wagon boss for a hundred wagons bound for Texas. I rode on ahead, looking for water for the night.”
    â€œFind any?”
    â€œNice creek,” said McQuade, “maybe half a dozen miles ahead of you. That’s where I’ll be circling the wagons for the night. Why don’t you gents have supper with us, and tell us about all the interesting things we can expect between here and Texas? That is, if you are from Texas.”
    Guthrie laughed. “Pardner, where else you goin’ to find longhorned varmints such as them you’re lookin’ at? I reckon we’ll accept that invite to supper.”
    â€œWe’ll look forward to