OverTime 1 - Searching (Time Travel) by Yvonne Jocks

Worth. His livelihood, contracting to drive other people's herds to market, might not last much longer. So Garrison sold almost everything he owned—"'cept his son, his saddle, and his soul"—to go in with Benj and put together this herd.  They weren't stopping at Dodge, but would continue north to "Wyoming Territory," to start their own ranch.
    No wonder Garrison was so serious about this—he really was in charge of one hell of an endeavor. And Benj was....
    "What do you do around here?" I asked. I'd noticed distant cowboys riding back and forth, occasionally yelling at cattle, waving coiled ropes or swinging uncoiled ones, for what had to be a good hour while we chatted.
    But the voice that answered me wasn 't Benjamin Cooper's. "Little as he can," drawled Garrison, approaching from behind us on a different horse, a black one. He didn't look particularly pleased to see us, which means he looked just as I remembered him—stocky and bearded and familiar. Cattle drives and Kansas farmers and Wyoming Territory felt completely new, but Garrison? Not so much.
    Other than a brief nod at me when he thumbed the brim of his hat in offhand politeness, his full annoyance focused on Benj. "Hope you 're enjoyin' your social while the rest of us work," he drawled, steely-eyed, and this time I recognized the sarcasm right away.
    Benj just grinned, brazen. "More than someone with your poor sensibilities could hope to imagine. " Then he looked back at me, to answer my earlier question. "I'm the silent partner."
    Garrison snorted, and I grinned at the implied comment. Okay, so silent , Benj Cooper was not. Neither did he take offense at the teasing.
    "I put up two-thirds of the money, and Jacob here does two-thirds of the work," he explained, turning back to his partner and pointing for emphasis. "Now that was our agreement. Seein ' as how I had to boss this crew for the last two days while you wandered Kansas huntin' up pretty ladies, seems to me I'm entitled to keep company with our charmin' visitor."
    Garrison wasn 't swayed. "Next time you can take the dead boy to his folks."
    "Well on the off chance that any more of the crew is from anywhere in Kansas and gets himself kilt in the locale of his birth, I will ."
    They glared, at a stalemate—but somehow I doubted either would draw his weapon and fill the other full of lead. The fight came too easily to them, as if they 'd done it for years.
    "Is there anything I can do to help?" I offered, as a distraction, as if I wasn 't near exhausted.
    "Now darlin', you are our guest ," Benj protested, but I was watching the Boss.
    He looked over my shoulder instead of straight at me—was I that offensive to him? But he did take off his hat as he whistled sharply toward the cook. "Best sit in the wagon; that pony 's 'bout rode out."
    The wagon began to slow to a stop, and so did we—Benj and Garrison on purpose, and me because Valley Boy seemed prone to peer pressure. Rode out? In my concern for my horse friend, I forgot that I couldn't dismount and so did. Grabbing tight to the saddle horn, I started to swing my left leg—
    Garrison started to reach, opening his mouth in protest, and I remembered. Oops! Blushing, I found my left stirrup again and swung my right leg over Boy's rear end. Now came the hard part. Hugging the saddle for all I was worth, I kicked free of the left stirrup too and sliiiiid to the ground, which was a lot farther down than I'd expected.
    By then, Benj was on the ground too, reaching out to steady me. But I hadn 't needed him—I did it! By myself! I beamed up at Garrison, and for a moment he seemed taken aback, confused. Just as I realized he would see no particular triumph in my dismount, though, he surprised me with a nod—and then immediately looked elsewhere.
    My heart soared, until I remembered that Valley Boy was 'bout rode out.
    The horse looked a little sweaty under his bridle, and not exactly peppy, but he didn 't look ready to drop either. In fact, after I