regretted. They're very religious."
Chris chuckled, like he thought she was kidding. There were girls moving into position around her, and he faded back. He was one of the advanced students, anyway, and ought to be over on the other side of the Dojo, otherwise known as the winery's front lawn.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye, and admired her form. And figure, and face, and glowing golden hair.
He noticed half the other guys were as well. Drat. He needed to get out and do things, lift himself out of the common crowd and into visibility. Maybe he'd get a heifer out of the round up. If not the first cattle drive, the second.
***
Harry looked down the hill, where they were starting to muster for the cattle drive.
Wild cattle drive.
Some people were trying to call them aurochs, after the wild ancestors of their own domesticated cattle. Only time and attempts to cross breed them would tell if they were the same species, for some loose definition of species.
Romeau strode down the hill. He'd be going with the mounted party, to start the drive. The rest of them would split, and on foot, attempt to steer the herd into the trap. The cattle were migratory, they were moving south, coming out of the mountains to the north, and swimming the river. The bulls had come first, now the cows were moving.
They were after young heifers, the calves born in the spring, and old enough now to be weaned. They hoped to trap enough to parcel them out, one heifer for everyone who participated in the drive. If they didn't have enough, they'd hold a lottery. Ditto if they had extra.
The ranchers had all lost cattle. Several cattlemen had lost all their stock to the predators in the first days after they'd arrived, and were hoping to start over. This would only be the first drive, not the last. Enthusiasm was high, and close to a quarter of the population marched out, confident of their herding prowess.
Harry kept an eye on the eleven kids from the bus who were helping. I need to stop calling them kids. They're all seventeen or eighteen. And six of them are armed, although I doubt Milly and Lillian's handguns would stop one of these critters.
They'd hunted enough of the aurochs to appreciate the size of them. And the size of their horns. Romeau called them longhorns on steroids, but their horns didn't spread to the sides, they curved forward, more like a bull-fighting bull. On steroids.
They'd built a big corral, with wings to funnel the cattle into it. The pedestrians spread out in a thin line. They were carrying spears, and had things to flap, hopefully to turn the cows without having to get dangerously close. In theory, if they kept it slow, didn't initiate any sort of stampede, they could just walk the cattle into the trap.
Harry eyes two small herds that had crossed and gotten ahead of them. About twenty cows and calves total. If they could tr ap four or five little groups at a time . . . gradually build up their herd . . .
The horsemen headed north, and the wait began. Knowing nothing about cattle, Harry and the bus kids were all out toward the end of the line. The people who knew what they were doing were closer to the corral , where the cattle might start realizing they were being trapped.
"Don't look so worried, Harry." Milly grinned at him. "We've all got Romeau's cow calming spell. It's the people with no magic or no training that ought to be nervous."
Harry snorted. "I'd feel better if I believed a word you lot tell me about this 'Texas' Romeau is supposed to be from." He straightened. "Here comes the first batch, and they don't look happy."
Two horsemen were on the little herd's flank, but the beasts seemed more inclined to drop their heads and charge than be herded. As they watched, Vito spun his horse away from a charge and loped in a distant circle around the herd. The eight cows formed up around their calves, horns pointed outward. The horsemen withdrew, stopping and waiting. The circle broke up, the cows
Chris chuckled, like he thought she was kidding. There were girls moving into position around her, and he faded back. He was one of the advanced students, anyway, and ought to be over on the other side of the Dojo, otherwise known as the winery's front lawn.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye, and admired her form. And figure, and face, and glowing golden hair.
He noticed half the other guys were as well. Drat. He needed to get out and do things, lift himself out of the common crowd and into visibility. Maybe he'd get a heifer out of the round up. If not the first cattle drive, the second.
***
Harry looked down the hill, where they were starting to muster for the cattle drive.
Wild cattle drive.
Some people were trying to call them aurochs, after the wild ancestors of their own domesticated cattle. Only time and attempts to cross breed them would tell if they were the same species, for some loose definition of species.
Romeau strode down the hill. He'd be going with the mounted party, to start the drive. The rest of them would split, and on foot, attempt to steer the herd into the trap. The cattle were migratory, they were moving south, coming out of the mountains to the north, and swimming the river. The bulls had come first, now the cows were moving.
They were after young heifers, the calves born in the spring, and old enough now to be weaned. They hoped to trap enough to parcel them out, one heifer for everyone who participated in the drive. If they didn't have enough, they'd hold a lottery. Ditto if they had extra.
The ranchers had all lost cattle. Several cattlemen had lost all their stock to the predators in the first days after they'd arrived, and were hoping to start over. This would only be the first drive, not the last. Enthusiasm was high, and close to a quarter of the population marched out, confident of their herding prowess.
Harry kept an eye on the eleven kids from the bus who were helping. I need to stop calling them kids. They're all seventeen or eighteen. And six of them are armed, although I doubt Milly and Lillian's handguns would stop one of these critters.
They'd hunted enough of the aurochs to appreciate the size of them. And the size of their horns. Romeau called them longhorns on steroids, but their horns didn't spread to the sides, they curved forward, more like a bull-fighting bull. On steroids.
They'd built a big corral, with wings to funnel the cattle into it. The pedestrians spread out in a thin line. They were carrying spears, and had things to flap, hopefully to turn the cows without having to get dangerously close. In theory, if they kept it slow, didn't initiate any sort of stampede, they could just walk the cattle into the trap.
Harry eyes two small herds that had crossed and gotten ahead of them. About twenty cows and calves total. If they could tr ap four or five little groups at a time . . . gradually build up their herd . . .
The horsemen headed north, and the wait began. Knowing nothing about cattle, Harry and the bus kids were all out toward the end of the line. The people who knew what they were doing were closer to the corral , where the cattle might start realizing they were being trapped.
"Don't look so worried, Harry." Milly grinned at him. "We've all got Romeau's cow calming spell. It's the people with no magic or no training that ought to be nervous."
Harry snorted. "I'd feel better if I believed a word you lot tell me about this 'Texas' Romeau is supposed to be from." He straightened. "Here comes the first batch, and they don't look happy."
Two horsemen were on the little herd's flank, but the beasts seemed more inclined to drop their heads and charge than be herded. As they watched, Vito spun his horse away from a charge and loped in a distant circle around the herd. The eight cows formed up around their calves, horns pointed outward. The horsemen withdrew, stopping and waiting. The circle broke up, the cows
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