on purpose? Yesterday one of the grips told me that thereâs been a lot of friction between the producers and the Transport Union.â
Jim picked up a spoon and shook it threateningly at the carpenter. âWhere you been, son? That union beef was settled ages ago. You people should pay more attention to your jobs and less time spreading rumors around the set. If you did, we just might get through this shoot without any more surprises.â
The first cameraman nodded toward the doorway.âJust keep nailing up those horseshoes, Jim. I have a feeling weâre going to need them.â
Jim dismissed this comment with a grunt. He picked up a newspaper someone had left on the table and started thumbing through the sports pages. The others quietly resumed their conversations.
Alec stood up and took his plate to the sink. This was turning into one fine day, he thought. First the Black started balking at shadows. Then they had come to Taylor Ranch and met Wes Taylor, who acted like he learned horse training from Attila the Hun. And now Alec was hearing about some accidents that might not have been accidents at all.
He looked out the kitchen window to the horse van parked by the driveway. If things kept on the way they were going, he just might have to forget about this crazy idea of Henryâs and bolt.
CHAPTER 7
Tricks of the Trade
A fter lunch Alec took his glass of iced tea and went outside onto the porch. Wes leaned against the railing, a sleepy-looking black Labrador at his feet. Alec bent down to pet the dog. Wes nodded at the Lab. âThatâs Ziggy.â Ziggy thumped his tail a few times but barely moved a muscle otherwise.
From inside his back pocket Wes pulled out a small, crumpled sack of chewing tobacco. He offered Alec a chaw. Alec shook his head.
âHenry still chew?â
âHe quit years ago.â
âGonna have to quit myself one of these days, maybe when things settle down around here a little.â Wes popped a wad of tobacco into the side of his mouth. âGuess itâs time to get moving. Frank scheduled two scenes for this afternoon up in the canyon. One of âemcould be a real headache. He wants a herd of horses to run to a water hole on their own. I can drive you up to the location site with me. Or you can bring the Black and ride out with the rest of the boys.â
Alec wasnât so sure he wanted to go along with these guys at all, especially after some of the things heâd just seen and heard. Then again, the Black loved rough, open country. Maybe a little exploring would do them both some good. âThink Iâll ride out.â
âFine.â Wes called to a broad-chested young cowboy standing by the tack shed. âMike! Come here a second.â
The cowboy strode up the porch steps toward them. He was about Alecâs age but almost a foot taller. His arms and legs were long and muscular looking. Blond hair stuck out like straw from under a wide-brimmed cowboy hat that hid most of his face. A three-day beard shaded his chin, and a toothpick stuck out from the corner of his mouth.
âTake Alec here over to the little Air Stream out back and show him where to stow his gear, will you?â
Mike and Alec shook hands. After they collected Alecâs bags from the horse van, the young cowboy led the way to a small silver trailer. So this was the Air Stream. It was just right for one person, even roomy enough for two if they didnât try to move around at the same time. Alec left his bag inside the door.
âHow did you come to work for Wes?â Alec asked.
âI like working with horses.â
âNot easy finding a job where you can do that anymore.â
âParticularly if you want to eat regular.â
Alec laughed. âI hear you.â
âMost folks these days, you say mustang and they think youâre talking about a convertible.â
The blond cowboy told Alec that heâd grown up on a cattle ranch
Learning to Kill: Stories