The Trail to Abilene: Crossed Trails

By Lachlan Hazelton

Trail to Abilene: Crossed Trails follows a ragtag family of cast offs and mischief makers as they team up with their neighbors and a few unexpected characters to take their stock in for sale. They meet all kinds of obstacles along the way. Ma Rose deals with trouble in town and protecting the ranch while being left short handed. Then there's Lucy, the newest adopted daughter is determined to make her mark on the trail and show everyone this girl can stand toe to toe with the men and match them every step of the way. All this makes for a great frontier western yarn with twists and turns thrown in. So saddle up and enjoy the ride as you're swept along in this new western series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lachlan Hazelton
• Release date: Aug 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9780994589323

Lachlan Hazelton

Lachlan has been writing about anything and everything since he was given his Mum’s old Royal typewriter as a gift when he was 13. Now he tries to balance his energy between his writing and his family. It is a work in progress. When he’s not writing or spending time with his family, he’s probably trying to catch up on all the reading or movies he has been missing.

Book preview

Trail to Abilene: Crossed Trails

by

Lachlan Hazelton

Smashwords Edition

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Trail to Abilene: Crossed Trails

© 2017 by Lachlan Hazelton

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is purely coincidental. Some of the language in this book is used to illustrate attitudes when the book is set. It is for narrative purposes only. This language does not in any way reflect the opinions or attitudes of the author or publisher.

Chapter 1

Lucy, for the love of ... What's the darned brand on this one? Nate jabbed a finger towards one of the female longhorns that was eyeing the four of them - Nate, Casey, Lucy and Pat - with great suspicion. While not overtly aggressive, it was stamping and fidgeting around enough to ensure that it was always between itself and the young calf that it had not long since given birth to. This was immensely frustrating to the three of them who were trying to establish who the dam and calf actually belonged to - and this was just the first of hundreds.

It ain't my fault if y'all's as slow as molasses in January, she protested, secretly enjoying the casual banter that now ran easily between them. Imagining that she was in a knife fight, she feinted first one way and then the other to allow herself to get on the far side of the cow and read off the brand that had been burned into the rump of the animal when it had itself been a calf. It's one of ours, she announced triumphantly. By now she had become as much a part of the Circle R as the rest of the family and no-one thought to correct her about the statement.

Git it, Nate! Don't teach it to dance - she don't look the romantic kind! Pat shouted encouragingly as his adopted brother raced around the front of the 700-pound cow, carefully avoiding the viciously pointed horns that extended over five feet from tip to tip. The calf, sensing that what was to come was not likely to be anything as pleasurable as suckling his mother's milk - his principal experience of life to date - whimpered in trepidation.

While considerably less bulky than its mother, even at only a few days old the calf still weighed in at around 80 pounds - and right now it was getting ornery as hell to boot. Not naturally belligerent towards humans, longhorns were a far cry from being domesticated animals and this one wasn't about to let itself be manhandled without a fair degree of resistance first.

Stand still, you damned critter, Nate grumbled under his breath while readying his rope. This close up it was an easy shot even if the calf was doing a pretty darned good dosado at the same time. Being that easy also made it extra important that he didn't muff it: Pat and Casey would be merciless in front of Lucy, and the boys from the neighboring Jenkins spread were standing around too.

Nate span the rope around his head a couple of times, getting a feel for its weight and handling as its momentum swiftly increased. Fixing a bead on the calf's hind legs, he let the rope fly. Bingo! It landed a fraction in front of the calf who reflexively responded by giving a stuttering movement which culminated in it stepping neatly into the noose. Nate yanked on the other end of the rope, pulling it taut so that the hondo clamped firmly on the calf's leg, just above its hoof.

The calf bellowed in fear and panic and its alarmed mother instinctively lowered her head and began shaking it even more vigorously in an attempt to protect her infant from this human onslaught. As any marauding wolf foolish enough to come too close might have discovered, her horns represented formidable weaponry that could severely maim or impale anything careless enough to get in her path. Four hundred years of her ancestors having to fend for themselves against packs of such gray wolves and all the other dangers that lay out on the open prairies had led to the evolution of a beast with a combination of cunning and the wherewithal to defend herself and her calf. She and her kind were creatures whom you ignored at your peril.

As soon as Nate had lassoed the calf from the rear, Casey got busy grabbing hold of its head while Pat and Lucy tried to keep the cow's attention away from what was going on next to her. The calf struggled in Casey's strong grip but his strength, combined with that of Nate who was acting in synchronicity with him at the rear, was just too much for the beset animal. It tumbled clumsily to the ground where it lay wriggling under the weight of the two men.

Go git the brandin' iron, Lucy, Casey grunted.

Lucy ran to the fire that they'd lit nearby in the center of the corral and pulled out one of the iron bars that had been heating up while the boys had been wrestling with the calf. She was careful to take the Circle-R one, as it wouldn't do to pick up their neighbor's, even if they were friendly folk and working alongside them. As she had learned from The Colonel, the etiquette of cattlefolk and how they viewed rustlers or anyone else tampering with their property was complex. She hurried back to the boys carrying the 3-foot long bar with the unmistakable circle with an 'R' in its middle glowing red at one end.

Come on Lucy, this calf's lost weight in all the time you've been gone, Casey teased.

Damnation, you ain't asleep after all, she snapped back. I seen you lying down on the job an' I reckoned you'd stopped for forty winks already.

Give Pat the brand, Lucy, Nate interrupted.

You knows I'm perfectly capable of doing it. Why won't you give me a chance? Lucy demanded peevishly.

Because ..., Nate sighed - this wasn't going to be easy. Once Lucy had set her mind on something, it had to happen - or else. They'd already discovered that when she'd insisted that she accompany them on the Spring round-up. They, along with some of the hands from the Jenkins spread, had spent five full and very long days in the saddle, riding the expanses of the Circle R and the Jenkins lands, rounding up all the cattle they could find. At the end of each day, they'd all been plum tuckered out from the exceptionally hard riding and had just hungrily gobbled down their suppers before then retiring. Unbeknown to Lucy who would have had a hissy fit had she known, the boys had held a sweepstake guessing how many days she'd last. She surprised them all by not only completing the whole round-up but also by not grumbling in the process. Because ... , he repeated, taking a deep breath before continuing you ain't got the experience needed.

Lucy raised the brim of her broad-rimmed hat slightly so that she could stare straight at him. She folded her arms. Well then, how'm I s'posed to get the experience if I don't get to try in the first place? Sometimes, Nate, I gets to thinking you ain't dumb enough to be a half-wit.

While you two are whisp'rin' sweet nothin's, give me the brand before it's too cold to melt ice in a heatwave, Pat demanded, holding out his hand. Lucy passed the iron to him without saying another word. Pat quickly inspected the hot tip to ensure that it was the right temperature and then applied it to the rump of the calf who squealed in a combination of fear and pain from the sudden stinging sensation. The smoke of burning fur and the stench of scorched hide stung their eyes.

For a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, Nate felt sorry for the way in which they'd spurned Lucy's desire to get more involved. Lucy, we can't let you practice on live animals. He silenced her protest by raising his hand briefly from the calf's rear legs which he'd been pinning to the ground. If you really want to know more, I can explain what we're doin' an' why soon as we've finished with this one. Until then, just do as you're asked and quit bein' a whinin' tenderfoot.

While he was talking, Pat produced a knife and proceeded to cut a series of notches in the thin skin at the periphery of the calf's ear. He's marking the ear to identify the calf, Nate explained to Lucy who was looking on.

Why'd you do that if you've already branded him? Don't make no sense to me, she asked.

Because, if you need to see whose animal it is when they're in a pen together, it's much easier to see the head of the animal. Lucy looked puzzled. Because he'll be looking at you - he's a curious critter - and that means it's easy to see his ear and nigh on impossible to see his brand but the brand's a more certain way of telling others where he came from. That's why he gets both.

If you've both done with exchanging pleasantries, would Lucy mind getting me the burdizzo? Pat asked with mock courtesy.

When she'd returned with the iron clamp, Pat took them and dived straight down to the belly of the calf which Nate was exposing by having lifted the animal's left hind leg. Pat then took hold of the calf's testicles and pulled them gently but firmly towards him.

Pat's making sure that he's got both sacks out the way otherwise it'll not be done right and the animal could end up getting badly infected, Nate explained, nodding at what his brother was doing. Ain't that so, Pat?

Tain't no good bein' as lame as one of they city slickers here. Y'ave to make up yer mind to be doin' the job the way nature intended and just get on with it, Pat explained, while passing the burdizzos over the top of the testicles and then clamping down on the narrow tube of skin that lay between them and the calf's belly. He held the jaws tightly closed for about a minute before unhooking them. Both Nate and Casey let go of the calf at about the same time. It sprang nimbly to its feet, bellowing for the succor of its mother and full of irritation from the indignities it'd suffered at the hands of the unwelcome human interlopers.

Don't it hurt none? Lucy asked as they went to fetch the next calf.

"Not if it's done proper. That's why I asked you to be passing me the clamp."

Lucy was fixing to bridle at the slight but Nate stepped in before she could voice her thoughts. It was early in the morning and it was all set to be yet another very long day: it was a lousy idea to begin it with internal strife. Lucy had only been allowed to tag along under sufferance and because no-one had dared tell her otherwise after she'd survived the round-up without grumbling. The idea is to make sure you only pinch the tube. Nate interrupted, After that and the branding, he ain't called a slick no more, he's now a steer.

If you'm goin' to be taking him to Abilene, why you bother with castrating him first? Lucy pressed. Seems like a lot of extra work for nothing.

Makes the meat taste nicer, Casey interrupted.

It's not as simple as that, Nate corrected. Because you've castrated a calf, it means that it puts on less muscle than a bull and that makes the meat less tough. Unfortunately it means it weighs less but people prefers to eat it and the critter's a darned sight less ornery once it's been done.

They carried on working their way through the cattle, sometimes summoning over the crew from the Jenkins ranch when it was their Bar-J brand and sometimes receiving cattle from them when they'd found a mother who bore the Circle-R brand. It was hard graft and they soon got into a rhythm, working together in companionable silence broken only by the odd request.

After about three hours, Sam, the youngest of the Jenkins' boys came over to speak to them. We're stopping for a break. Will y'all be joinin' us? he asked.

Nate looked around at their team. Their faces were reddened from their efforts and they were all beginning to look a bit done in. I reckon as we could be benefiting from a chance to take the load off for a few minutes - what d'y'all think?

Casey, Lucy and Pat all nodded their approval and they joined the Jenkins boys - Sam, Thomas, Jesse and Bill - around the communal fire where Bill had been brewing up a big jug of coffee. Its enticing aroma and the cold Spring air that sapped the warmth from their bones presented an irresistible argument.

I'm so thirsty, I reckon as I'd piss dust, Jesse sighed, slumping down beside the fire. Beggin' yer pardon, he said, nodding towards Lucy who'd also plopped down on the ground, I'd plum forgotten as we'd got a lady present.

I keep sayin' as I ain't no lady. What is it with you boys? Seems you'm all busy aspirin' to be fully-fledged idiots one day. Asides from which, she