The Range Wolf Read Online Free PDF Page B

know—and mostly to distrust and decry—besides Cookie, there was Leach, Smoke, Chandler, Simpson, French Frank, Dogbreath, Reese, Latimer, Drago, a pair of Mexicans known only as Morales One and Morales Two, others, including one I got to know better than most of the others—not a drover, but a driver called Pepper, who limped and drove Wolf Riker’s wagon—and of course Wolf Riker, smoking a cigar, with a look of impatience in those deep-set eyes.
    He spoke to me without removing the cigar from his mouth.
    â€œWe don’t know their names except for Donavan, that damn fool, but we’ll give them a Christian burial anyhow.”
    â€œThat’s very decent of you, Mr. Riker.”
    â€œIt wasn’t my idea, but I went along with it, so long as we can still get an early start.”
    â€œWhose idea was it?”
    â€œMr. Reese’s and a couple of the others. What about the lady? Do we bury her, too?”
    â€œShe’s still alive.”
    â€œIn spite of Dr. Picard?”
    â€œBecause of him.”
    â€œMiraculous.” He looked around at the drovers. “Any of you Christians have a Bible or prayer book?”
    A man stepped forward.
    â€œYou, Reese?”
    â€œThere was a Bible among the belongings of one of the passengers, Mr. Riker.”
    â€œYes, well, we won’t waste the time. I’ll just say the part of the service that’s relevant.”
    As the sun rose higher, Wolf Riker spoke the words while still smoking his cigar and without removing his hat.
    â€œWe come into the world with nothing and we leave with nothing. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Amen.”
    When he finished, I took a step closer.
    â€œMr. Riker.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œI’ve got to get back to civilization.”
    â€œAre you so sure”—Riker arched an eyebrow—“you’re away from it?”
    â€œI mean someplace where I can make connections with a stagecoach. I can pay for an escort. I’ll pay you a hundred dollars—two hundred.”
    â€œTwo hundred, huh. Well, I can’t spare anybody to escort you anywhere. You stay with the drive. What do you do for a living?”
    â€œI . . . I have an income.”
    â€œWho earned it?”
    â€œFrom an estate, mostly. My father . . .”
    â€œI thought so. You stand on dead man’s legs. Let me see your hands.”
    Roughly, Wolf Riker grabbed my hands in his hawser grip.
    â€œAnd dead man’s hands have kept yours soft. Maybe good for cook wagon work, cleaning and peeling, eh, Cookie?”
    Cookie nodded and smiled as Riker dropped my hands, turned toward, and spoke to the one called Pepper.
    â€œAnd speaking of wagons, he can give you a hand with yours if you like.”
    â€œI don’t like—and I don’t need a hand or a foot or anything else from him or you, or anybody else, Mr. Riker.”
    To my surprise Wolf Riker did not take umbrage to the man’s surly remark. Instead he smiled and replied.
    â€œDuly noted, Mr. Pepper.”
    Then Riker addressed the rest of the drovers without a trace of smile.
    â€œAll right, before we start, listen to this. Now that Donavan’s gone to his reward, we’re one man short, so there are going to be some promotions. Chandler, do you know anything about trail bossing?”
    â€œNo, sir,” the man with a walrus mustache and face to match, except for the tusks, replied.
    â€œWell, never mind, you’re the trail boss anyhow, except that I’ll do the bossing. And you, Leach, you’re no longer Cookie’s helper. You’re promoted, too. You’ll tail the drive.”
    â€œI don’t want no part of tailin’, Mr. Riker.”
    â€œOh, our young prison graduate is particular, huh? Why not, Leach?”
    â€œI didn’t sign up for tailin’, Mr. Riker . . . eatin’ all that dust all day and . . .” Leach’s lips seemed twisted into a