Range War (9781101559215) Read Online Free PDF

said.
    â€œSo am I.”
    â€œWe can pay you,” Porfiro offered. “We aren’t rich but between all of us I think I can collect almost a hundred dollars. Would that be enough?”
    â€œDid I ask for money?”
    â€œNo one does something for nothing,” Constanza said. “And a gringo, most especially, would not do a kindness for us out of the goodness of his heart. So I ask you again, senor. Why do you do this?”
    â€œI don’t much like the notion of little girls having their throats ripped out.”
    â€œThat is all there is to it?”
    â€œConstanza!” Porfiro exclaimed.
    â€œThat is all there is to it,” Fargo said. But he was staring at Delicia.

8
    After their evening meal the shepherds sat around their fires talking and relaxing. A small group had joined Porfiro, Constanza, Delicia and Carlos around theirs.
    For a while no one paid much attention to Fargo, or if they looked his way, it was with open distrust. But when Porfiro mentioned that Fargo had offered to hunt the Terrible Hound, as they called it, they began to warm to him.
    The turning point came when a small girl in a plain dress came over after Porfiro’s announcement and stood in front of him with her small hands folded. “ Es cerito , Senor Fargo?”
    â€œ Si ,” Fargo confirmed.
    â€œI would like that. Angelita was my very best friend.”
    â€œYoana, here, and Angelita were born only weeks apart,” Porfiro said. “They grew up together and were rarely apart.”
    â€œYou will kill the Hound, senor?” Yoana asked.
    â€œI’ll try my damnedest.”
    â€œSenor,” Constanza scolded.
    â€œKill it,” Yoana said in grim earnest, and placed a hand on Fargo’s knee. “Kill it for Angelita and kill it for me.”
    â€œI’ll try,” Fargo said again.
    â€œMy madre and padre will not let me tend the sheep until it is dead. They are afraid it will do to me as it did to poor Angelita.”
    â€œYou can’t blame them.”
    â€œI miss the sheep,” Yoana said. “I miss sitting in the sun and watching over them. I miss it very much.”
    Fargo drank some coffee.
    â€œI am afraid, senor,” Yoana went on. “I am afraid of the Hound and I am afraid of the vaqueros. Life was good before they came. I was happy.” She lowered her arm. “If you kill the Hound I will be happy again.”
    â€œWhat about the cowboys?” Fargo asked. “Do you want them dead, too?”
    â€œOh, no, senor. They are people, like us. I wish they would go but I do not wish them dead.”
    Several adults nodded in agreement.
    â€œI’ll do what I can for all of you,” Fargo heard himself saying.
    From then on he was accepted. Not fully by some, though. Carlos and a few others were constantly casting looks that could kill.
    About ten o’clock the little ones were trundled off to their wagons for bed. A lot of the mothers stayed with them so that it was mostly men and a few females left around the campfires.
    Someone else had been casting looks at Fargo all night: Delicia. Her looks weren’t laced with hate. They were looks Fargo had seen before, and they secretly made him smile.
    About eleven, five sheepherders came out of the dark on horseback and five others climbed on and went out to replace them on night watch. All five were armed, three with old rifles and two with old Colt Dragoon revolvers. That was the extent of the sheepherders’ armory.
    â€œNormally we would not take guns or use horses,” Porfiro mentioned. “But with the Hound . . .” He stopped and gestured.
    Not a minute later the valley pealed to a bray so fierce that it prickled the short hairs at the nape of Fargo’s neck.
    â€œEl perro terrible,” a woman said, and crossed herself.
    Fargo stood. “Reckon I’ll go for a little ride,” he announced.
    Porfiro rose, too, and said, “It would be