Texas Drive by Bill Dugan Read Free Book Online

him, he must have been the leader. Rafe decided to treat him that way and see where it went.
    “Gents,” Rafe said, “name’s Rafe MacCallister, from Baker, Texas. This here’s Johnny Cotton.” He stuck out a hand, but no one moved. Rafe shrugged, then continued, “We come a long way with them beeves. What do you expect us to do with them?”
    The big Irishman shook his head. “Don’t matter, as long as you don’t bring ‘em across the river. You can do what you want, otherwise.”
    “What’s your objection, Mr….?”
    “O’Hara, Kevin O’Hara. And the objection is them cattle are full of Spanish fever. You can lose half your herd without no problem. Most of us”—and he swept a hand out to take in his compatriots—“don’t have more than a few head apiece. We lose them, we starve. Can’t allow that.”
    “Listen, everybody’s got to eat. Folks back east need the beef. We got it. All we want to do is drive the herd on to the railroad. What’s the harm in that?”
    Johnny was getting fidgety, and Rafe talked faster to keep him busy. “Be out of here in a day, two at the most.”
    “Can’t allow it,” O’Hara said. “Fact, there’s a law against it. We can get the sheriff, if you want. He won’t tell you no different.”
    “Hey, look,” Johnny said. “This is a free country.”
    “No thanks to you, Reb,” O’Hara said.
    Johnny took a step forward, but Rafe grabbed his arm. “Now hold on, Johnny. Man’s right. Maybe we should talk to the sheriff, see can we work this out peaceable like.”
    “Sheriff won’t tell you nothing different,” O’Hara said.
    “Maybe not, but we’ll wait here, all the same. You can send him out tonight, if you want.”
    “Sheriff’s been in Abilene, won’t be back till morning.”
    “Fine. Then you bring him out in the morning.”
    “We don’t want any trouble.”
    “Neither do we.”
    “But we ain’t afraid of it, neither. Man’s got to protect what’s his.”
    “We understand that. But you got to understand a coin’s got two sides, Kevin. You got to look at our side, too. What’s ours ain’t dirt, it’s beef, and it’s swimmin’ the river right behind us. It’s what we got, same’s your farms are what you got. Seems like we can work this out so’s nobody gets hurt.”
    O’Hara seemed off balance, as if the unexpected proposition left him without options. “Wait here a minute,” he said. Stepping away about fifty feet, the farmers conferred among themselves. They whispered, but the violence of the conversation told Rafe at least a few of them weren’t satisfied with conciliation.
    “Johnny,” Rafe said, “you have to keep your pants on. These men are farmers, not Comanches. We can work this out, if you hold your water.”
    “I’m out of water, Rafe. All I got left is piss and vinegar.”
    “You want to get them steers through, you’ll bite your lip. Let me handle things, will you?”
    “This time. It don’t work out, though, Rafe, and it’s up to me from now on.”
    “Fair enough.”
    O’Hara returned with two or three of the other farmers. “You mind if we leave a couple or three men here with you? Make sure you don’t try nothing?”
    “You think we’re liars, farm boy?” Johnny snapped. He took a step toward O’Hara, who outweighed him by a good thirty pounds and stood four inches taller, at least.
    Rafe grabbed him. “Hold on, Johnny. The man don’t mean nothing. He just wants to see we play fair. He don’t know us from Adam’s all he’s saying.”
    “I know what he’s saying. I just don’t …”
    “Shut up, Johnny.” Rafe turned back to O’Hara. “Seems fair enough, Kevin. You leave whoever you want. You boys are welcome to eat with us, if you want.”
    “Now hold on, Rafe, we …”
    “Johnny, I said shut up.” To O’Hara, he said, “It’s been a long trip. We’re all a little short-tempered. But we’ll work it out. A day’s rest would do us all good, I reckon. Especially Johnny,