Capture the Sun (Cheyenne Series) by Shirl Henke Read Free Book Online Page B

angular face.
           Carrie never had seen such a dazzling set of teeth. Frank gave his full attention to the beautiful young woman seated at the table, almost ignoring Noah. Flourishing his hat in one hand, he bowed in a rough facsimile of chivalry.
           “Ma'am, welcome ta Circle S country.” His wide smile was infectious, and Carrie found herself returning it.
           “This is my general foreman, Frank Lowery, Carrie. Frank, meet·my bride, Mrs. Sinclair from St. Louis.” Possessively, Noah rested his hand on her shoulder as he made the introductions.
           Forgetting the weight of his grip, Carrie found herself drawn to her husband's contemporary. Unlike the majority of people on their long journey who were openly curious about the May-December honeymooners, Frank's shrewd but kindly gaze reassured her and asked no questions.
           As she rode on the bumpy supply wagon to the Circle S, Carrie listened attentively while Noah and Frank discussed the operation of the ranch. Before they left town, Frank and four Circle S hands loaded up the big rig with what seemed to Carrie enough food staples and seeds to supply an army garrison. One of the young cowboys, Hank Allen, was assigned to drive the wagon on which Carrie was a passenger. Noah and Frank rode close alongside and the other three men took up the rear. Were they guards? Nervously she asked the shy youth who drove if there was any danger from Indians.
           He grinned. “Nope, ma'am. Nearest Cheyennes is over ‘cross th' basin now. They move around a mite, but they's peaceful. Onliest one's givin' trouble lately is Sioux, and they's north mostly, in Canady.”
           His answer, rather than reassuring Carrie, alarmed her, since it was obvious the territory was swarming with various tribes, all of them in a state of perpetual migration. I f only Montana were not so big, Carrie thought in awe. The limitless sky stretched off the far horizons in every direction, its blinding azure melded into the fresh-kissed green of the prairie grasslands. There seemed no shelter, no place to hide in the thin clear air of the high plains. It was utterly alien to Carrie, who had been brought up in the mud-rich humidity of the Mississippi River Basin. The vegetation here was as different from Missouri as the topography. Buffalo grass grew tall and wild, incredibly thick and hearty despite the extremes of heat and cold, drought and flood. Even the sparse outcroppings of coniferous trees stretching to reach the dome of heaven were taller and starker than those back home. It seemed as if everything in nature here was larger than life, as if all the hilly, gentle greenery of the lower Midwest was merely pretty stage scenery compared to the titan landscape of Montana.
           Bunches of fat cattle grazed randomly, sprinkled across the undulating plains. Carrie noticed that they were short-horned and thickly built, not at all like the wild, stilt-legged longhorns she had seen pictured in books. She decided to put her feelings of misgiving aside and learn something of her new home. “Are these cattle longhorns? They don't look like the drawings in my books.”
           Hank turned to her and grinned. “No, ma'am, them's scraggeldy tough critters, pure mean, 'n' all horns 'n' tails. Texas's where they run. Montana cattlemen mostly raise good shorthorn breedin' stock, lots o' it from Oregon, some from as fer east as Ohio.”
           “I've never seen so many herds of cows, all running loose. There must be a lot of ranchers around here, although I've not seen a barn or house since we left Miles City.” Carrie scanned the horizon. ‘‘How soon until we reach Circle S land?”
           Hank looked mildly surprised, then considered that she was a tenderfoot. “Been on it fer th' past couple o' hours, ma'am. All them cows is Mr. Noah's. Hisn's th' biggest spread in th' eastern part o' Montana Territory. We'll be at