Range War (9781101559215) by C. J. Cherryh Read Free Book Online Page B

coming?” He started down, slipping and sliding.
    â€œHell,” Fargo said.
    Plenty of timber provided the cover they needed to reach the north end of the valley without being spotted. They climbed higher while continuing to circle until they reached a point several hundred yards above the cowboy on the bluff.
    â€œI told you it would work,” Alejandro boasted. “Now we can sneak close.” He wedged the Sharps to his shoulder. “If I were a good shot, I would drop him from here.”
    â€œNo,” Fargo said.
    â€œPerdón?”
    â€œNo shooting,” Fargo said. “We’ll talk to him, is all.”
    â€œWho are you to say what we do? He and his kind brought the Hound to our valley. He deserves to pay for the horror they have let loose on us.”
    â€œDidn’t you hear me say that the Hound has killed some of their cows?”
    â€œTheir cows?” Alejandro said, and snorted. “What are cows when it has killed three of us?” He paused. “And tell me. Did you see these dead cows with your own eyes, or do you only have their word for it?”
    â€œI didn’t see the dead cows,” Fargo admitted.
    â€œThere you have it,” Alejandro declared. “They lied to you, and now they spy on us. I will try and take him alive so Porfiro may question him but if he resists, I will shoot him.”
    Fargo let him think that until they had stealthily descended to within a hundred yards of the unsuspecting cowboy.
    It was Shorty. He had a leg hooked around his saddle horn and looked as bored as a man could be.
    Alejandro grinned at Fargo and raised the Sharps. “A little nearer and he is as good as ours.”
    Fargo drew his Colt and pressed the muzzle to the young sheepherder’s ribs. “I’ll take that,” he said, and wrested the rifle from Alejandro’s grasp.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Alejandro demanded. He grabbed for the Sharps.
    Fargo swung it behind him and cocked the Colt.
    Alejandro turned to stone. “Carlos was right,” he hissed. “You have been lying to us. You are one of them.”
    â€œCarlos is a jackass,” Fargo said. He stepped back but kept the Colt level. “Walk ahead of me. Keep your hands where I can see them. And when I tell you to stop, you damn well stop.”
    â€œYou plan to hand me over to your friends, is that it?”
    â€œUse your head,” Fargo said, and gave him a push.
    Muttering under his breath, Alejandro complied, his arms out from his sides.
    Fargo led the horses. They skirted boulders and trees and avoided a small patch of talus.
    Shorty heard them and turned in the saddle. His hand dropped to his six-shooter but he didn’t unlimber it. A puzzled expression on his face, he reined his mount around and waited.
    Fargo gave Alejandro another push out into the open. “Behave yourself,” he warned.
    â€œGo to hell.”
    Shorty brought his horse over. “You again,” he said to Fargo. “Who’s your friend?”
    â€œYou can go to hell, too, vaquero,” Alejandro spat.
    Fargo got straight to the point. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œWhat do you think?” Shorty rejoined. “Griff sent me to keep an eye on the mutton eaters.”
    â€œWhere is your dog?” Alejandro demanded.
    â€œAin’t got one,” Shorty said. “And if you mean that critter that’s killed our cows, we figured it belonged to you until Fargo, there, told us different.”
    â€œYou lie, gringo.”
    Shorty put his hand on his six-shooter. “Mister, them’s fightin’ words.”

13
    Fargo stepped between them. “You’d shoot an unarmed man?”
    â€œNot normally, no,” Shorty said. “But if there’s anything I hate worse than a pack of sheep lovers, I’ve yet to come across it.”
    â€œDoes your boss feel the same way?”
    â€œMr. Trask? He sure as hell does,” Shorty