Hermit's Peak by Michael McGarrity Read Free Book Online

the Gallinas River that he’d turned into a compound forhis extended family. It consisted of four manufactured homes on concrete pads lined up in a row facing the highway.
    A wrought-iron portal arched over the driveway, with the words Los Barelas spelled out in cursive writing. Beneath the lettering was a fabricated cutout of a cowboy on horseback twirling a lasso. A fenced pasture dipped down to the river where a young man was cleaning out the inside of a four-horse trailer at the side of a barn.
    Six quarter horses in the pasture looked up at the sound of Dale’s truck on the dirt driveway, swished their tails lazily, and went back to grazing. There were eight cars and trucks of various makes parked in front of the house, none of them more than two or three years old.
    The front door to a house swung open as they drew near, and a stocky man in his late thirties with reddish brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard walked off the porch to greet them.
    Kerney waved, got out after Dale slowed to a stop, and limped to meet the man halfway. His right knee, shattered by a bullet in a gunfight, ached from his time in the saddle.
    â€œI’m looking for Nestor Barela,” he said.
    â€œAre you here about the horse we have for sale?” the man asked.
    â€œNo, I’m here about the Fergurson lease.”
    â€œWe’re not giving up that lease until it runs out.”
    â€œWhen is that?” Kerney asked, knowing full well the lease expired at the end of the year.
    The man thought about answering, shrugged it off,and nodded at the house where an elderly man stood framed in a doorway. “Talk to my father. He’s home.”
    Kerney reached the porch step and smiled at a sinewy man somewhere in his late seventies. His legs were bowed from years in the saddle. The back of his hands carried the scars from a lifetime of hard physical work. He had a full head of gray hair and sharp, clear brown eyes.
    â€œMr. Barela?” Kerney asked.
    â€œYes,” Barela answered suspiciously.
    Kerney decided not to give too much away. “My name is Kevin Kerney.” He nodded in the direction of the truck, where Dale waited. “My friend and I are interested in buying your grazing rights on the Fergurson land for the summer.”
    Barela’s expression soured further. “I’m not interested.”
    â€œI’d be willing to pay a premium for it.”
    â€œI don’t keep it to make money,” Nestor replied.
    â€œMind telling me why you do keep it?” Kerney asked. “It hasn’t been put in production for some time, as far as I can tell.”
    â€œYou’ve been on the land?”
    â€œJust for a quick look. I’d heard you weren’t grazing it.”
    â€œIt’s posted. Stay off.”
    â€œI’d like to talk to the owner.”
    â€œYou can’t. She’s dead.”
    â€œDo you think the land will come up for sale?”
    â€œEverything is for sale at the right price.”
    â€œAre there woodcutters working in the area?”
    â€œWhy do you ask?”
    â€œI saw a truck hauling logs out this morning.”
    â€œThat’s normal. Since the Forest Service started limiting permits, some of the private land owners have been selling woodcutting rights.”
    â€œAnyone in particular that you know of?”
    â€œOsborn and Patterson, I’ve been told.”
    â€œIs anyone cutting wood on your leasehold?”
    â€œNobody cuts wood on that property.”
    â€œYou’re sure?”
    â€œI would know.”
    â€œWho bought your ranch?”
    â€œAn Englishwoman owns it. I never met her. She lives in Los Angeles. A local attorney handled the sale for her. You ask a lot of questions.”
    Kerney smiled and shrugged off the comment. “I’d really like to find some land where I can summer over my cattle. I’ve heard there is a high meadow north of the mesa. Would that serve?”
    â€œIt’s a