For three days, they’d rousted heifers and calves out of piney woods and testing wills with stubborn bulls that didn’t want to be penned up again. The herd had been scattered to the far reaches of both ranches. It had snowed last night, which hadn’t improved the mood of any of the cowhands or the cattle, for that matter. Driving four cows and two calves up the creek bank, Callum gripped his coiled rope in one fist and waved his arm up and down as he shouted at the lumbering animals to get a move on. He was all out of patience and his back and shoulder muscles burned with fatigue. Urging Butter up the ice-coated grassy slope, he whacked the backside of the nearest cow with his lariat to make her move a little faster. As he topped the bank, the sound of raised voices floated to him. In the near distance, he spotted Hollis and Eller shouting at each other over the backs of cattle being herded toward a makeshift pen. They were so busy cussing each other, he was right up on them before they noticed him.
