The Black Bulls (A Neal Fargo Adventure Book 10) by John Benteen

Author:John Benteen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mens adventure, adventure ebook, john benteen, benjamin haas, neal fargo, us frontier life, online western
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Six

The stallion had put in a lot of hard traveling that day, but at first he ran smoothly, easily, despite his double burden. Fargo rode alertly, the shotgun up, ready for instant use. According to Mario, there should be no guards inside the perimeter of the estancia, no further opposition until they reached the headquarters of the place itself. The boundary guards, meanwhile, should have been drawn off by the uproar of the blood-maddened cattle. Fargo hoped his assessment of the situation was right; if his plan were to work, there was no time for fighting between now and dawn.

Because, he had seen from the first, there was only one way to play this, short of bringing in a massive army—and that last would not have worked, not with Carla and Caesar Hierro in von Stahl’s hands as hostages. No, what he and Braga had to do was hit the estancia in early morning, while men slept soundest, gain entrance somehow to its main house, take von Stahl himself captive. Then the shoe would be on the other foot; with the German as hostage he could get the girl and the old man clear of the estancia without having to fight again. Once safely in Buenos Aires with them, he could then recruit the army he would need to come back here and wipe out whatever leaderless snakes then remained in this nest.

But the timing had to be right, perfect; tonight was his only chance. Gauchos came awake early, and once the reserve von Stahl kept at the ranch was up and about, there would be no way to get to the German. Fargo’s mouth thinned; if only Braga’s pinto had cleared the fence, there would have been no problem. Now, though, it was going to be close, damned close, and if they did not make it, the chances of hiding through a full day on this place, with its riders aroused like hornets, would be slim, almost non-existent.

Twenty minutes passed, thirty. The thud of hooves was steady, rhythmic, but Fargo could feel now the pounding of the stallion’s powerful heart beneath the ribcage, the pumping of great lungs. Another ten, and there was nothing for it to stop, give the horse a chance to blow. Cursing the loss of time, he and Braga swung down, and Fargo loosened the girth. Cimarron grunted with relief, stood with legs widespread, head lowered, nostrils flaring. He rubbed his head against Fargo’s thigh and Fargo scratched the bump beneath his forelock, between his ears. In that instant, a kind of current seemed to flow between them, and Fargo recognized its significance. Inside the stallion’s brain and heart, a turning point had been reached, a decision made. The horse felt need of him, was offering loyalty, allegiance, maybe even love. From now on, he was Fargo’s horse. Horses were like women in that respect, he thought; they fought you ’til they loved you, and then they would meet any demands you made of them and follow you through any danger.

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