Seed of Evil by David Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

stuff.”
    “Stuff?”
    “I’ve seen horses give birth and other animals. All that wet and the smell.”
    Lou put her hands on her hips. “Zachary King, how dare you? You are my husband and you will be there for me, smell or no smell.”
    “Now who’s being prickly?”
    “What I am is eating for two and we are out of fresh meat. So why don’t you take your rifle and go off hunting and think about how it makes me feel when you talk about me as if I’m a horse.”
    “I never said that.”
    Lou wheeled around and stalked toward the cabin, muttering, “Men are the most aggravating creatures on God’s green earth.”
    Louder, Zach repeated, “I never said that!” But she paid him no mind. “Women!” He kicked a rock and it clattered a few feet.
    The dun was in the corral attached to their cabin. Zach threw on a saddle blanket and saddle, fitted the bridle, and mounted up. He rode north into the dense woods. At this time of day, the deer were lying up in the brush. He knew just where to find some.
    As Zach rode, he pondered. He supposed he was being unduly suspicious about the trading post or mercantile or whatever Toad wanted to call it. Buthe couldn’t shake a feeling deep in his gut that those men were more than they seemed. Call it a hunch. Call it instinct. Something was bothering him.
    The sharp call of a grosbeak brought Zach out of his brooding thoughts. A little farther on, a gray squirrel chittered at him from a high branch.
    Zach stayed alert for deer. There was plenty of sign. A jumble of prints showed where the deer went regularly to the lake to drink. He also came across old beds, some with the strong reek of urine.
    A magpie flew overhead, distinctive with its white underparts and uncommonly long tail. Where there was one, there were usually more, although they made solitary domes high in the trees when they nested.
    Zach breathed deep, savoring the rarefied air, and grinned. He did so love the mountains, or any wilds, for that matter. He had been born and bred in the wilderness, as the whites would say, and he was supremely glad. He had been to towns and cities and couldn’t stand them. Not that he had anything against people. He didn’t like how city life hemmed a man in, how stone and brick replaced the trees and grass, how a man could hardly go anywhere without being under the watchful scrutiny of others. There was barely any privacy, and what little there was came only when a person locked himself in a room.
    That wasn’t for Zach. Give him the wide-open spaces where a man could ride for hours or days or even weeks, if he was of a mind, and not see another living soul.
    Ahead the forest thinned. Zach rode out of the shadows into the bright sunlight of a meadow—and drew rein.
    Not fifty feet away was a wolf.

Chapter Eleven
    In his room at the back of the mercantile, Toad paced. He kept glancing at a sheet of paper on the table. Finally he sat and hastily penned a note. He folded the paper in half, then folded it again and slipped it into his pocket. “It is the best I can do,” he said out loud.
    Toad stood and went to the window. It faced the foothills to the west. To his left was the building that looked like a stable but wasn’t. Gratt was just going in. “May you all rot in hell,” Toad said.
    Toad stepped to the door. He smoothed his shirt and patted the pocket. His palms were sweaty and he wiped them on his pants. He jerked the door open and was startled to see Petrie leaning against the wall. “You!”
    Petrie unfolded. “Had a nice nap, did you?” he asked sarcastically.
    “Yes,” Toad lied. He made it a habit to rest for half an hour after his midday meal. It helped with his digestion. “What are you doing here? Keeping an eye on me?”
    “Neil wants to see you.”
    “Shouldn’t you call him Geist?” Toad said.
    “I can call him any damn thing I want, you sack of pus.”
    Toad had been wondering about something and now he came right out and asked. “Why do you hate