Paxton and the Lone Star Read Online Free PDF

rhythmically beat the podium. At last, with but ten minutes to go before five, he heeded his wife’s frantic gestures and swung in tone from vituperation to patriotic fervor and launched into a final, rousing exhortation for a return to the good old days. With the change, the audience began to come alive again because they knew he was winding down and it was nearly time for the race to begin.
    This year’s contest was even more special than usual. For the first time in over a decade, a locally owned horse was considered fast enough to go head-to-head with a Paxton animal and, furthermore, given a good chance to win. Nothing could have delighted the townsfolk more. Brandborough had been founded by Paxtons, and the proud, aloof clan that descended from those forbears still ran it. The Paxtons, so it was said, were as easy to dislike as to like, for although they were generous, no man could remember that generosity not being repaid in multiples. With interests in shipping, horse raising, tobacco, and cotton, not to speak of the more than thirty votes they controlled either directly or indirectly, the Paxton presence was impossible to ignore. Watching a Paxton horse being outrun in the big event of the year would be balm to many a sore soul, even more so if the exchange of hard currency were involved.
    All three Paxton brothers were aware of the animosity, and each reacted differently. True, in a way he couldn’t quite define, sympathized with the townfolk; Andrew didn’t really care one way or the other; and Joseph responded with a vindictive desire for revenge. That he might lose everything he’d won in the past two and a half months didn’t occur to him as he bulled his way through the crowd in order to join Andrew. The two brothers, half-brothers really, for Joseph’s mother had died some years before True and Andrew were born, were a study in contrasts. At seventeen, ten years younger than Joseph, Andrew was a good half a foot shorter. Where Joseph was broad, Andrew was slim as a cable and just as tough and wiry. Where Joseph was fair of skin and dark of hair, Andrew was darker, bronzed like True, and boasted wavy blond hair. Where Joseph gave the impression of plodding stolidity, Andrew exuded energy and appeared, even at rest, to be in motion.
    Andrew was perched on the top of a pile of boulders at the water’s edge. “Well, little brother,” Joseph said, noting that the full course could be seen from their vantage point. “Looks like you’ve found the best view at the fair.”
    â€œThe truth is, I had to pay half a dozen kids a dollar for it,” Andrew admitted. “Thought it was worth it, though. Have a seat.”
    Using Andrew’s shoulder for support, Joseph eased himself down, then jumped to his feet with a sharp yelp as the sun-heated rock blistered the seat of his pants.
    â€œTakes getting used to,” Andrew snickered.
    â€œLike seeing your new bride take out her glass eye,” Joseph growled, trying to figure out how Andrew could endure sitting on what felt like a red-hot blacksmith’s forge. “Aha!” A triangle of dark leather poked out from underneath Andrew. Joseph reached down, grabbed Andrew by one arm and a leg, and lifted him into the air. “What have we here?” he asked, using his foot to pull the leather saddlebag Andrew had been sitting on out from under him.
    â€œPut me down, you dumb ox.”
    â€œNot so dumb I haven’t found something to sit on.” He set Andrew down and quickly expropriated the saddlebag for himself. “Not very generous of you, little brother.”
    Andrew almost fell off the boulder, caught his balance at the last second, and burned his hand on the rock in the process. “Hey!” he yelled. “That was my idea.”
    â€œAnd a good one.” Joseph wriggled around until he was comfortable. “Should have thought of it myself.”
    â€œDamn it,