Widow Woman by Patricia McLinn

back as ramrod straight as her mother could ever have wished. “But I was going to say that it was nothing I wouldn't have expected you to do for me if circumstances were reversed."
    * * * *
    The drive continued as smoothly as Shag had predicted.
    The third night they'd camped near Chelico. Nick rode into town to complete his business with Armstrong and returned in time for midnight watch, with the deed to the old Wallace place in his bags. If anyone noticed he'd been gone, nobody commented to him.
    Four more nights and they were within a day's ride of their destination.
    This morning, Rachel Terhune had gone ahead with Fred's camp wagon. The herd was trail-hardened, so her absence was hardly noticeable, Nick told himself. When they got to evening camp, not far outside the burgeoning town of Hammer Butte where they would ship out the cattle, she wasn't there.
    "Thought Mrs. Terhune came with you,” Joe-Max said to Fred.
    Nick didn't move from his spot turning a rib of beef over the fire, but his attention was sharp enough to hear Fred's breath as he prepared to answer.
    "Went to town. Staying at a ho -tel tonight so she can gussy-up for meeting the buyer first thing, and get us our wages."
    "Seems odd not having her around, don't it,” Davis ventured.
    Tommy agreed, and a mood of nostalgia settled over the dozen men, with the talk recalling incidents of the season not quite passed like cherished memories of childhood.
    Nick shifted on the hard ground. You'd think these men considered one another real friends instead of a group of strange cowhands paid a wage to do a job.
    "If you like the work and the trail so much,” Nick drawled in his first contribution, “guess you'll stay in camp instead of celebrating in town."
    "Hell, no,” said Joe-Max, affronted. That drew laughs all around, and the talk turned to what delights the town held in store for them.
    "Gonna get me some of that licorice I got last year.” Fred smacked his lips.
    "Or something sweeter,” Tommy said with a grin.
    Hammer Butte wasn't near as big as some Kansas cattle towns Nick had seen on drives from Texas, but it was bigger than Chelico and the railroad brought in such wondrous items as a piano for the best saloon, ready-made clothes and fancy materials for sale at the dry goods store and a tiny gentleman from somewhere called Belgium who made fine boots and saddles. All in all, it offered more by way of civilization than these hands saw in a month of Sundays.
    And mention of it got their talk off the Circle T.
    Nick wished he was as successful with his thoughts while he rode night guard. He would set his mind on planning what he'd do now that he owned a spread, and it would circle right around on him to the Circle T and its owner.
    Relieved by the next watch, he and Davis and Joe-Max found Shag saddling up in the dark when they rode in.
    "Well, boys, last night for night-herding for a while, huh?” he greeted them as they began unsaddling their night horses.
    "Fine with me. I'm so tired, I could sleep at a full gallop,” said Joe-Max, though he'd been one of the leaders in the earlier talk. A dose of watch could certainly rub the glow off a man.
    "Aw, hell, you can sleep all winter,” Shag chided. “For that matter you'll sleep away your old age. Enjoy this while you can. Don't last forever, you know."
    "You're sounding downright sentimental. You taking a final watch, Shag, just to say farewell?” asked Joe-Max.
    "I'm not that almighty fond of those critters,” the foreman grumbled, resettling his hat over hair that glinted silver in the faint moonlight. The others’ quiet chuckles didn't stir the sleeping men, though one sharp word would have had them out of their rolls and heading to the horses. “No, I'm going into town to meet Mrs. Terhune and find out the arrangements. Start moving them in around sunup, and I'll meet up with you at the pens."
    Nick nodded as the foreman mounted and rode southeast toward town. On his way to meeting Rachel