Chapter 6 - The Bull That Wouldn't Eat
Banker Horace Bell denied everything.
The signature, he said, was forged.
Margaret watched his face.
He was frightened.
But frightened men could be guilty or innocent.
Nathan wanted immediate answers.
Margaret wanted evidence.
They brought the document to the sheriff.
The sheriff compared it with Bell's public records.
Similar.
Not identical.
Then another complication arrived.
Tillett returned voluntarily.
He claimed someone had paid him to keep Brooks Ranch dependent on expensive hay.
He admitted overcharging.
He denied poisoning cattle or setting fires.
“Who paid you?” Nathan demanded.
Tillett hesitated.
Then named a cattle buyer named Amos Cardy.
Cardy owned a large ranch east of the valley.
He had been quietly acquiring indebted properties for years.
Brooks Ranch sat between two parcels Cardy already controlled.
Margaret understood.
“He doesn't want your cattle.”
Nathan looked at her.
“He wants the land.”
Tillett nodded.
Cardy had expected the bank to foreclose.
Margaret's arrival disrupted everything.
The ninety-day clause had bought Nathan time.
Rotational grazing reduced feed dependence.
The curing shed increased revenue.
Brooks Ranch was becoming harder to kill.
Nathan wanted Cardy arrested.
The sheriff had insufficient evidence.
Tillett's word alone wasn't enough.
They returned home angry.
But Margaret refused to let anger dictate the ranch.
“Cardy wants us distracted.”
Nathan stared toward the road.
“I'd like to distract him with my fist.”
“That won't make the bank payment.”
“It might make me feel better.”
“Briefly.”
Nathan looked at her.
Then laughed despite himself.
“You ruin a man's revenge.”
“I improve his bookkeeping.”
The weeks that followed became Brooks Ranch's strongest since Nathan's father died.
Grass returned.
The restored spring filled a trough.
Calves gained weight.
Losses fell.
Margaret taught Pete to maintain inventory.
Cyrus redesigned cattle movement with her.
Nathan negotiated directly with buyers.
The ranch was no longer surviving by habit.
It was being managed.
One evening Margaret discovered Nathan building shelves in her room.
“What are those?”
“For your books.”
“I have one Bible.”
“You'll acquire more.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I've watched you read labels on flour sacks when nothing else is available.”
Margaret laughed.
Nathan smiled.
Then silence settled.
He touched a curl near her cheek.
“May I?”
Margaret knew what he meant.
She nodded.
Their first kiss was gentle.
Nothing like the desperate arrangement that had brought them together.
When they separated, Margaret's eyes were wet.
Nathan immediately worried.
“Did I—”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I had forgotten.”
“What?”
“That something good can frighten you.”
Nathan took her hand.
“You don't owe me anything because we're married.”
“I know.”
“I'll wait.”
Margaret looked at him.
“For what?”
“For you not to be frightened.”
She smiled faintly.
“That may take forever.”
“I own a ranch. I'm accustomed to long projects.”
For the first time since Thomas died, Margaret imagined a future that wasn't merely survival.
Then came the rider.
He arrived near sunset on a lathered horse.
“Fever!”
Every man in the yard froze.
Cyrus ran toward him.
“Where?”
“Cardy place. Strawn too. Cattle dropping everywhere.”
The rider struggled for breath.
“They're driving everything to the railhead tonight. Sell now or lose it!”
Cyrus turned.
“We load.”
Margaret's answer came instantly.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
Cyrus stared.
“Margaret, this isn't spoiled meat.”
“I know.”
“Fever can wipe out a herd.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Margaret had gone pale.
Nathan stepped closer.
“What is it?”
She looked toward the road.
Already distant dust rose against the horizon.
Herds.
Hundreds of animals being driven toward Cheyenne.
Margaret's voice became quiet.
“I saw this when I was a girl.”
Nathan waited.
“Neighboring cattle got sick. Everyone panicked. They drove animals together. Shared roads. Shared water.”
She pointed toward the dust.
“Those men think they're escaping disease.”
Cyrus's expression changed.
Margaret finished.
“They're spreading it.”
Cyrus swore.
Nathan asked, “What do we do?”
“Close the ranch.”
“For how long?”
“As long as necessary.”
“No visitors?”
“No.”
“Shipments?”
“No.”
Cyrus looked toward their cattle.
“And if she's wrong?”
Margaret answered him herself.
“Then we may miss the market and lose the bank payment.”
Nathan's eyes locked onto hers.
“And if you're right?”
“Brooks Ranch may be one of the only places in this valley with healthy cattle left.”
Nobody spoke.
The entire territory was moving in the opposite direction.
Every instinct told Nathan to follow.
Every neighbor.
Every experienced cattleman.
Every frightened voice.
He looked at Margaret.
The woman he'd hired because she could salt beef.
Then he turned to Cyrus.
“Shut every gate.”
Cyrus nodded.
Men moved.
Chains went around gates.
Signs were posted.
Water access from the road was blocked.
The Brooks herd was moved to rested interior ground.
Near midnight, Margaret and Nathan stood together on the porch.
Neither spoke.
Then a bell rang at the north gate.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Cyrus rode in from the darkness.
His face was white.
“Nathan.”
“What?”
Cyrus pointed behind him.
“There are cattle outside the gate.”
“How many?”
May you like
“Hundreds.”
“And Cardy's men are driving them straight toward us.”
