Silver Moon Rising by Ethan J. Wolfe

Author:Ethan J. Wolfe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gale, Cengage Learning
Published: 2016-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Grey Wolf was going to ride through the night again, but around dusk the tracks led to a stream near the foothills. He stopped to inspect the campsite and tracks and didn’t like the story they told him.

It appeared very much that they went fishing and took a bath in the stream. His wife showed no signs of trying to escape. Neither did his son.

Grey Wolf felt his blood begin to boil at the thought that his wife and son were taking aid from the outlaw.

The outlaw and Grey Wolf’s wife would pay dearly for this unholy transgression.

Grey Wolf noted the lawman had also found the site and spent the night. He was no more than three days’ ride ahead of him.

When he caught up to him, he would kill this lawman and take his scalp and valuables as a prize.

Grey Wolf doubted the lawman’s mount was as good as his own, so he would set it free to roam the valley. There was little sense in killing good horses.

As he stuffed and lit his pipe, it occurred to Grey Wolf that this lawman was an excellent tracker and had been on point the entire time. Maybe he would have some fun at the lawman’s expense. Track him until Lang was close, and then play a game with him.

Hunt the hunter, so to speak. See how far this lawman was willing to go in the name of his so-called white man’s law.

Maybe he would allow the lawman to catch the outlaw and watch them do battle for his own amusement before killing the victor.

Grey Wolf set the pipe aside and rested his head against the saddle of his horse. Playing games with the lawman and outlaw would serve as amusement to pass the time, but he couldn’t lose sight of his primary focus.

To murder his traitorous wife and bring his son to manhood.

Cox awoke in the middle of the night with an uneasy feeling in his gut. It was something tugging at him that he couldn’t put his finger on, but he trusted his instincts, honed over the past twenty years.

He sat up and leaned against his saddle, pulled out his pocket watch, and held it up to the sliver of a moon. It was twenty past two in the morning, an ungodly hour.

Cox stuffed and lit his pipe, something he knew by habit that would return him to sleep before the bowl was finished.

He stood and checked the horses and mule and all were calm.

The woods and hills were deadly still, with not even a breeze.

If coyotes and wolves were about, they were equally as silent.

Cox stood beside his horse, watched him sleep, and felt the feeling that stirred him from his own sleep.

It was the uneasy feeling that he was being followed.

He hadn’t seen one person on the trail since he left the stage line, but the feeling was there nonetheless, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He could take a wide U-turn and backtrack and see if someone was actually dogging him, or he could up the pace and put more distance between them.

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