Chapter Four

As luck would have it, Joe’s tenure at the front of the rope line began as the wagon was turned up into the hills.  The going would be slow as long as they were in those hills.  Still, Joe was silently hoping he’d go down.  He had planned to wrap his arm around the rope to take the tension off his neck, thereby damaging his arm; something the man in charge didn’t want.  If that had happened, perhaps the rope around the neck would become a bad idea.

Still, they had walked for miles behind that wagon chained to each other and walking with a gait that was so awkward every muscle in his legs and hips screamed at him.  He was sure the other four men were in the same shape.

His armpit was no better.  As much as he had tried to hold that arm still, he couldn’t while walking up and around those hills.  He could feel the blood dry into a scab and then rip open over and over again, and what made it worse was the hair getting caught in the drying blood and balling up, rubbing him raw.  Once the sweat started, not only was there the throb of the cut, but the sting that felt like whiskey being poured into the wound and the burning of the flesh that had been rubbed raw. He imagined that combination might drive him insane if he didn’t have other things to occupy his mind; things like staying awake to keep walking on ground he could no longer see on legs that only by his fading will were still moving or perhaps like the feeling that his head was going to explode and his face was swollen to twice its size from the blow that had been dealt him earlier.

He was so lost in his pain and thoughts that he didn’t notice when the wagon stopped.  He walked right into it.  The others must have been following him blindly because they all kept right on walking until each reached the back of the man in front of him, then slowly crumpled to the ground and lay motionless from utter exhaustion.

One of the men on horseback rode to the front of the wagon.  “Nolan, we ain’t going no further with them behind the wagon.  All of ‘em but that young kid are spent, and he ain’t far behind ‘em.”

Nolan.  The head man’s name was Nolan.  So far, that was the only name Joe had heard.

Nolan scowled and exhaled in disgust.  “Line ‘em up by the wagon and chain ‘em down the side.  We’ll camp for a few hours.  You and Dusty get some sleep in the wagon.  The other two can stand guard while the rest of us get some sleep.”

“What about you?”

“The only roof I’ve ever known was stars or clouds.  I ain’t about to start putting anything else over my head now.”

Joe now had another name that belonged to the other man on horseback. Dusty.  He also knew that Nolan preferred wide open spaces. He tucked these pieces of information away in his mind like stolen treasures, not knowing how or when he might use them, but believing them valuable all the same.

One of Nolan’s men passed around a cup of water to each of the captives, then gave them each a piece of dried meat and a piece of stale bread.  They were allowed to relieve themselves, and then were moved to the side of the wagon and chained on closed hooks that lined the length of the sideboard.  Their chains weren’t long enough to allow them to lie down, so they leaned against the side of the wagon to sleep with their arms hanging above their heads from their chained shackles.  This might have been uncomfortable for Joe, but it allowed him to keep his armpit open with no effort.

As tired as he was, the thoughts swirling in his head kept him awake.  Adam and Hoss would have gotten home from the dance wondering why he hadn’t made it, but not concerned enough at that point to worry.  They had all been delayed coming home from inspecting the herd at one time or another for any number of reasons.  No, they wouldn’t start worrying until the following evening, and they wouldn’t find out that he had never made it to the herd until they got there themselves the next day.  It would be almost two days before they started looking for him, and God only knew where he was now. His only hope was for good weather.  Nolan and his men didn’t seem concerned about covering their tracks.  His brothers would eventually find his things and follow the wagon tracks. Hoss would define the oddities of any of the horse’s shoes, and once they did that, they’d be able to follow them…unless the weather changed.  If it rained, there would be no tracks to follow.

Despite the pain all over his body, his exhaustion took over and the sleep that had been eluding him finally came.