Range War (9781101559215) Read Online Free PDF Page A

were eating and drinking. Despite the news he’d brought, they were in good spirits. There was a lot of good-natured joking and laughing. They were close-knit, these people, and he admired them for that.
    He heard his name called.
    Porfiro was seated near a pot on a tripod. The old woman from earlier was stirring the contents with a large wooden spoon. She scowled as Fargo came over.
    â€œI don’t believe I have introduced you,” Porfiro said. “This is the love of my life, Constanza.”
    â€œHow do you do, ma’am,” Fargo said.
    â€œI was perfectly fine until the cowboys came,” Constanza said. “Why can’t your kind leave us alone?”
    â€œDon’t start,” Porfiro said.
    Constanza wagged the dripping spoon at him. “Don’t tell me what to do. This man knows how much our valley means to me.”
    Fargo accepted a cup of coffee from Porfiro. “I can’t speak for all whites, ma’am. Can you speak for all sheepherders?”
    â€œAll those here I can, yes,” Constanza said. She resumed her stirring. “I am afraid, Senor Fargo. I fear for my people. Your gringos are too quick to anger and too quick to pull the trigger.”
    Fargo squatted and drank; the coffee had a chicory taste. “It’s too bad there’s not any law handy.” The nearest town was hundreds of miles away. As for the army, patrols never came this far.
    â€œWe would not go to them in any event,” Porfiro said with a suggestion of pride. “We handle our own difficulties.”
    â€œBetween the perro galgo terrible and the Texas vaqueros, our lives are filled with strife,” Constanza said sorrowfully.
    â€œIs that what your people call that thing? The Terrible Hound?”
    â€œOr just the Hound.” Constanza looked at him. “You didn’t see it at the cowboy camp?”
    â€œThey don’t have a dog,” Fargo said. “Whatever that thing is, it’s been killing their cattle and tried to jump one of them. They thought it was your doing until I told them about the three of you it’s killed.”
    â€œThey lied,” Constanza said. “It has to be theirs.”
    Porfiro stirred. “Can we talk about something else for once? I would like to relax and enjoy myself.”
    â€œHave you so soon forgotten Ramon? And the others?” Constanza chided.
    â€œYou know better, woman.” Porfiro refilled his cup. To Fargo he said, “She is bitter, my wife. And I can’t blame her.”
    â€œRamon. Pedro. And poor sweet Angelita. She was only ten years old, and a joy to all.” A tear trickled down Constanza’s wrinkled cheek.
    â€œWait,” Fargo said. “That hound or whatever the hell it is killed a little girl?”
    â€œAngelita was the first,” Porfiro said, his expression now as sad as his wife’s. “A beautiful child. She always smiled. She was always so full of life.”
    â€œ Si ,” Constanza softly echoed. “And now she is gone, killed by the beast those vaqueros deny having.”
    â€œIt was the night after Angelita was slain that we first heard the howls,” Porfiro mentioned. “They have chilled my blood ever since.”
    Fargo thought of Dallas, and the dove who was waiting, and sighed. “I have a proposition for you.”
    â€œSenor?”
    â€œI’ll hunt this thing down and kill it. It might take me a while but I’m a damn good tracker, if I say so myself.”
    â€œYou would do this for us?”
    Constanza turned from her pot. “Why?” she asked suspiciously.
    â€œDo I have to have a reason?”
    â€œWhat do you want in return?”
    â€œYes,” said a voice behind Fargo, and Delicia came around and regarded him with the same suspicion. “What do you want in return?”
    Fargo grinned. “A good start would be those ten kisses you owe me.”
    â€œI’m serious,” Delicia