Chapter 27
The ride to Mercer’s Creek took two full days, from sunup to sundown—the last golden rays of light stretched across the parched land as Tommy, along with the rest of the weary ranch hands, drove the cattle into the corral awaiting them. By the time the last steer was accounted for, dusk obscured the features of the men riding alongside Tommy, and Hal was nothing but a proud shadow astride his steed. “Gather round, men!” he cried, reining in his horse until it pranced in the settling dust.
Tommy reached Hal’s side first. This close, the foreman’s face glistened with sweat; the kerchief around his neck had been loosened, his collar unbuttoned, and matted dark hair swirled up from the open lapels. Tommy wondered what that might feel like, rubbing against his still hairless chest.
