My lasso sped toward the last bull in the devil’s herd. Its cursed hooves struck sparks as it thundered across the sky.
While my ghost rope started to drop over the brute’s head, I let myself hope that this time I’d catch him, though I’d always failed before. Would’ve held my breath, if I had any.
Clowns. Dudley Keene dismounted from his sorrel and cursed. He unsheathed his Winchester rifle from its saddle scabbard and pumped the lever. I hate clowns.
His dirt-stained boots plodded through tall grass until he reached an island of wreckage in the sea of prairie. An abandoned carriage stood idle beside a caravan of upturned covered
Cat herding ain’t easy. Sure you’re up for it, son?”
I gave Gus my most resolute stare. The old cat hand nodded, and just like that I was his new partner.
This was my first run as a cat herder, and I was eager to prove myself. I’d had other work before, but
At first glance, the Wild Pony wasn’t anything special.
It looked like every other saloon I had visited. The same batwing doors adorned the entrance, creaking every time they swung open. Wooden tables were scattered around the room. The usual riff-raff crowd occupied the stools, smoking and betting money on their cards.
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