Chapter 4

He woke to Cookie’s bellow. “Up and at ‘em, boys. Last one to the table gets the bacon grease.”

Roy yawned and stretched. It felt like he’d been sleeping on a slab of cold rock instead of in the soft sand by the warm campfire. He felt about fifty years old, creaky and aching in every bone. He shook out his boots to be sure none of the native wildlife had crawled inside while he’d been sleeping, then shoved his feet into them. He pulled on a clean shirt and pants, then staggered to the wagon for breakfast.

Once again, he sat with his filled plate to see that the rest of the cowboys had rolled up their bedrollsbefore getting in line. Their horses were saddled and ready to ride. Roy blushed as Frank strode to the campfire leading two animals. Everybody else had saddled their own mount, and here was the trail boss doing his work for him. Maybe that was why everybody had been glaring last night. They figured Frank wasmolly-coddling him, and it was probably on Mother’s orders.