Chapter 17

Oren, who is peeling potatoes, chuckles. “Good time?”

“Too good.”

* * * *

Next day, we’re all back up canyon with the stock. When I see Dutcher ride off looking for strays, I give it a minute, then follow. Again, I’ve no idea what I’m up to. Don’t think on such a thing, just do what feels right.

I keep a distance, guiding Ned behind bushes so I can see but not be seen. It occurs to me that we are alone here and I could, if so moved, do Dutcher in. Can’t shoot him, of course, as that would draw attention. Rock maybe might work, smash his head in, say his horse threw him and he landed on the rock. I saw that happen to a fellow once.

It’s as I enjoy the idea of Dutcher lying dead that he disappears into some brush and, seconds later, chases a cow from hiding. He sees me and I ride over like I was doing no more than my job

“Go in and get the calf,” Dutcher says. “He’s tangled. I’ll keep the mother away.”