The Range Wolf by Andrew J. Fenady

Author:Andrew J. Fenady [Fenady, Andrew J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Westerns
ISBN: 9780786034727
Google: uUcEAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00FH1IE6Y
Barnesnoble: B00FH1IE6Y
Goodreads: 12423147
Publisher: Pinnacle
Published: 2010-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

We spent the rest of the day getting the steers, the wagons, and the remuda through the pass and into the vast Texas plain that lay ahead.

CHAPTER XXXIV

Later that evening I made sure I had occasion to talk to Pepper alone.

“Thanks, Pepper.”

“What for?”

“The opportunity to appear dangerous.” I started to unstrap the gun belt he had loaned me.

“You’d best keep it, Mr. Guthrie, chances are you’ll have more such opportunities. It’s a good rig, belonged to a good man. Me.”

“Thanks. I know you don’t like to answer questions about Wolf Riker . . .”

“Depends on the question and who’s askin’. Go ahead.”

“Well, I was curious about him and his horse, how . . .”

“That’s somethin’ I don’t mind you askin’, or me talkin’ about.”

Pepper pulled out the makings and started to roll a cigarette.

With mathematical precision, but without seeming to think about it at all, he began construction—with the tissue thin paper in one hand and pouch in the other, he poured the precise amount of tobacco across the rounded frame, rolled it with thumb and forefinger into a perfect cylinder, while exposing the outer edge which he passed along his tongue, pulled the pouch closed by its string in his teeth, replaced the pouch in his pocket, produced a match, stroked it against the seat of his canvas pants, lit the pale white tube, inhaled its effect, and spoke.

“In the few years that passed since the Double R brand was burned into the first hide, them two fellas became first-class cowboys. They could both of ’em rope and ride and handle guns and rifles, and I do admit to doin’ a little tutorin’ along the way.

“The Double R prospered and more than tripled in area. That Dirk, he was a shrewd businessman, got us a contract to sell beef to the U.S. Army, although Wolf weren’t particularly partial to the Union. He come to be a staunch Texan.

“We raised a lot of beeves, hired a lot of hands, and needed a lot of horses for the roundups.

“That’s where a fella named Julius Kokernut come in. Horse breeder and trader. As fair and square a fella as ever you’d want to cross the river with. Prior to the spring roundup he brings in a string of forty or so: roans, buckskins, overos, strawberries, sorrels, and palominos—stallions, mares, colts, and among ’em a yearling, bigger and blacker than the rest, a wild fractious bastard; but Wolf couldn’t take his eyes offen’ him. He was a horse and a half. Nervous. Wouldn’t stand still. Eyes burned and flashed. Nostrils flared and he kept showin’ a lot of teeth.

“‘How much for that one?’ Wolf asked Kokernut.

“‘Same as the rest. Forty dollars, but I want to keep doing business with you boys so I got to warn you, nobody’s been able to ride him, or even get a saddle on him, just a bridle as you can see. Even tried throwin’ a cape over his head to saddle him, but he just backs away, swirls, circles, and kicks out.

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