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-And soon ya ought to cut down on coffee, eh boys?

Vernon was looking at the map. Soon enough this part of the Kiowa river would join with another stream at the Kiowa Fork. They needed to cross it before. –Hurd, can you scout ahead with Lon?

Lon was the usual scout, but Vernon was not keen on sending him ahead alone. Not with a band of outlaws in the area. –See if you can find a place to cross this bloody river!

On the other hand, Sinta would get one of the Jenkins on her flank, and Vernon himself would ride point if needed. He did not want to mess around with the other flank at this moment. If it is not broken, do not fix it, he thought.

Hurd nodded.

- I'll grab my iron.

He rode to the chuck wagon, picked up his shotgun and attached it to the horse saddle, covering it so it wasn't too apparent. As he did that, he remembered the encounter with the cattle thieves some weeks ago and the bloodbath it had turned into. He had been lucky that day, but he wasn't eager to go through something like that again. Maybe luck was again on his side and the outlaws were really gone. But somehow he didn't feel like that was the case.

When he was ready, he tapped Lucky forward and rode along with Lon, leaving the cattle behind for the first time in many days.

Hurd was ready early in the morning, but it was not an easy to get Lon out of bed. He was always the last to wake up. Still yawning, the cowboy grabbed his Winchester and his gun belt with a Colt Patterson, and headed out with Hurd.

The two rode ahead, Hurd closer to the river bank and Lon more inland, but not too far away. Lon wasn´t much of a talker. He mostly kept to himself, but he was actually quite happy to scout with Hurd. Especially after he saw his shot gun, the one he had killed a cattle thief in Sabbath. Lon had never been in a gunfight himself.

They were a bit surprised to find a farm in this territory, but on the other hand usually cattle drives would have crossed to the other side of Kiowa by now. The farmer was feeding his chicken when he saw the two cowboys, and simply raised his hand and carried on with his work. He had marked his territory with land posts but at least he had not put fences. When Vern would get here with the herd, no doubt he needed to negotiate permission to go through his land.

The scouts carried on. The herd would not seek an alternative route. There simply was not enough time. It was crucial to find a suitable place to cross the river, and finally Hurd could see a steep river bend where the stream was less strong.

-I don´t reckon we´d find a better place to cross, Lon said while looking across the river to other side, and the lush green grass waiting there. –C´mon, let´s head back!

The scouts came back to the herd before nightfall. They had found a suitable to cross the river about twelve miles ahead. Vernon was a bit upset because he had been forced to give away another six heads of beef to a local farmer for permission to go through his land. But the chance to finally cross the river was very good news indeed.

In addition to hard work, the cowboy and his horse encountered many dangers on the cattle drive, particularly when crossing rivers. In 1879, a herd of 3014 cattle panicked while crossing the Platte River in Nebraska and 800 died. The cowboys could also die in the river, thrown from their horses or gored by horns of panicked cattle swimming in the middle of the mill. A surprising number of cowboys were also unable to swim, and most rivers on the cattle trails had numerous graves of drowned cowboys.

A river crossing was a real hazard and seldom did everything go well. As the animals were guided to the water, some of them were stuck so deep in the muddy banks that a team of horses were required to pull them out. Vernon did his best to herd the animals and coordinate the other cowboys.

Once in the water, the cowboys had to guide there horses and keep the critters in formation. Hundreds and hundreds of them made waves all around.

But there was another problem. One of the leaders of the cattle was distracted by a tree or brush floating in the river, and he was turning around. This could turn the entire herd around, causing them to "mill" in the river.

Hurd was doing his best not to be overwhelmed by the situation. He had become used to the pace of work and felt like he was getting better at droving with each passing day, but the river was a whole different kind of beast. Hurd had been a bit nervous since the moment Lucky's hooves had dipped into the water, as he realized it was much more difficult to keep track of everything happening. The cattle was more disperse than usual, and so were the other cowboys. The neat formation they had been able to mantain on the ground was fainter and looser here in the water.

When he saw one of the leaders turning around, it didn't even crossed his mind to check if someone else was taking care of it: he lashed the reins and rode straight to the animal. Hurd knew that if more of them turned, they would become a dangerous and hard to maneuver mess of horns. His only chance to avoid it was to enter the cow's field of view from its flank and force it back in the right direction.

Hurd was the first to react when he saw the leader turning, leading a half a dozen animals. Acting upon instinct, he drove straight into the center of the mill that was forming. He spotted the leader and the others, and started striking it from the flank to force them back on track. It was crucial to act quickly, or the cattle would drown in the river.

And he did! Hurd proved himself in the river crossing. He drove the leader to the opposite shore. He was all wet and his body was shaking, but there was no time to rest. He got back on his horse Lucky. Cowboys rotated the horses during the long days, but most had picked their favourite horse, or their own, for this task. And Lucky´s agility came in handy for this job, and he seemed to be enjoying and eagerly turned around to take more heads across. Over and over again, the cowboys went back and forth. Gradually the task became easier, as the animals in the middle and the back of the herd were more prone to following the stronger leaders. However, the work in the muddy river was starting to take its toll on everyone. Each cowboy had to work hundreds of heads, and the herd seemed huge and disperse. It was inevitable to loose a fraction of the herd, but they all did their utmost to make it as few as possible.

To cross a river also meant that the remuda of horses and the chuckwagon had to be taken to the other side. Conrad, the horse wrangler, knew each of the nearly sixty horses by name, and he was expected to know immediately if a horse was missing. He waited for the first few hundred cows to get across, and when he saw that they were getting across in a more or less straight line, he moved ahead with the remuda with some help from the two cowboys from the drag. –How! Tim!, he whistled. –C´mon! Let´s go…

Vernon was busy coordinating the cowboys. Hurd, Sinta, Lon, Razor, Brimley and himself were dealing with the cattle. That left Corman. –Marc, help Hitchins with the chuck wagon, would ya?

Corman and Hitchins went back a long way, and they knew what had to be done. All the food supplies, coffee, beans, bacon… Boxes and sacks had to be taken out of the wagon, and the cover the removed. And the guns, bullets, cooking ware... Anything that should not get wet or dropped into the water. Hitchins was the bravest of men, but he knew how to ride a wagon. When he got the empty chuck wagon to the other side, he left it to the right of the cattle, on the opposite side of the remuda. Then he got one of the Jenkins to help Marc out, and the two crossed the river holding a box at a time on top of their heads, and delivered them to Hitchins who was doing inventory and had started preparing the dinner for the cowboy for when they were ready.

It was all going well. The cowboys were wet and tired, but they concentrated on the job at hand, working as a team, or a well-oiled machine. After three long weeks on the drive, day and night together, they knew the herd, the horses, and each other.

Suddenly, Vernon saw something and started cursing nervously. He jumped off his horse into the river and started half swimming half running towards the wagon.

Hurd was close to him with Lon, and they saw what the boss had seen. A group of six outlaws riding from northwest towards them. They were covering their faces with the scarves, and a few had their lariats ready to catch stray animals. They were still nearly a mile away, but they were approaching quickly.

–Damn! Damn!, Vern repeated and tried to get to the shore as soon as possible. This could not have happened at a worse time. Over five hundred heads were spread wide, and even the horses were waiting to be taken. On the other hand, the risk of a stampede was less as the cattle was not in a tight formation. And Hitchins had the guns…

It took a moment for Hurd to react when he saw the outlaws approaching. He stood there, frowning at them as if they were some sort of mirage. He then turned to Vern to ask what they should do, but the man was already on the move, splashing hectically through the waters towards the river bank. Hurd hesitated for a second, throwing a quick glance at the large mass of cattle that were still to make it across the river. It would be a big mess if the herd got out of control...

He finally spurred his horse and followed Vern to the chuck wagon.

Lucky moved amongst the cattle swiftly, splashing water and even jumping over a few cows. The outlaws were getting closer every second, and they had taken out their hand guns now. Hurd got to the chuck wagon and as he jumped off his horse, Vern chucked a Winchester rifle to him.

 –Grab this, he said. Hurd recognized the artillery the boss had picked up from the chuck wagon. It was Lon´s gun, a Winchester 1863, .32 caliber. It was not his beloved LC Smith shot gun, but it had a longer range. Vern himself was holding his Caliber .40 rifle model 1866, and he rested his elbows on the sideboard of the wagon. – Aim for the bastard on the left, and wait for my mark! We´ll teach ´em a lesson they ain´t goin´to forget soon.

As always, Vern's resolve produced a wave of reassurance on Hurd, as if he suddenly came to his senses. He caught the rifle and instantly knew by the weight and shape of it that it wasn't his shotgun. To his surprise, he felt relieved to see it was Lon's piece. The Winchester was just the right tool for the job. Following Vern's command, Hurd took position beside him, readied the gun and rested the barrel on a firm place. He took a deep breath and locked his aim at his target's chest.

- Ready when you are, Vern!

The two cowboys took position behind the chuckwagon as the outlaws approached. Back in Sabbath, the two friends had often gone hunting on the high country close to the Wolf Pass. Vern was a decent shot. But this was different. This was for real.

The one on the left from Hurd´s perspective seemed to head towards the horses in the remuda, while the next two rode towards the center of the herd, and the remaining three headed to the right. They were riding really fast now, and the sound of the thundering of the hooves against the ground alerted the cowboys that had not noticed the outlaws yet.

Things were happening all around Hurd and Vern, but both men were focused on aiming their rifles. The outlaws started firing their revolvers into the air to cause panic.

-Steady, Vernon said calmly, holding his breath. –NOW!