Free Range War (9781101559215) by C. J. Cherryh

grew dark with shadow. The beast growled but didn’t show itself.
    All Fargo wanted was for it to poke its head out. He held his breath to steady his aim.
    The thing sniffed, loudly, a few times. It growled again, and the shadow disappeared.
    Fargo swore and gigged the Ovaro. He reached the gap and centered the Henry but the thing was gone. The opening wasn’t wide enough for the stallion. He was forced to take a long way around, and it was a good twenty minutes before he emerged from the boulder field close to a rise. He couldn’t find tracks. He scanned the surrounding area. Nothing.
    â€œDamn it to hell.”
    Fargo refused to give up. He went completely around the boulders, and still no tracks. Either the thing was still in there or it had made its escape along patches of rocky ground.
    Once again Fargo had been thwarted. He let down the hammer and shoved the Henry into the saddle scabbard.
    All the way down to the bench he kept hoping for another glimpse but it wasn’t to be.
    Porfiro and several others had found the second bunch of dead sheep and were salvaging what they could. One look at Fargo’s face and Porfiro said, “No need to say anything. I can tell you were not successful.”
    â€œThe damn thing must be Irish,” Fargo said.
    â€œSenor?”
    â€œNothing.” Fargo swung a leg over and slid off. “Its luck can’t hold forever. Sooner or later I’ll put a slug in its brainpan.”
    â€œIt is the latter that worries me,” Porfiro said. “We have lost nearly sixty sheep in one afternoon. Imagine if the beast goes on other killing sprees. We could lose hundreds before it is dead.”
    â€œI’m doing the best I can.”
    â€œI don’t doubt that for a minute,” Porfiro assured him. “Believe me when I say I am sincerely grateful for all you have done. I wish the cowboys were more like you.”
    Hooves drummed, and onto the bench galloped Delicia. “Grandfather!” she cried. She swept by the men working on the sheep and was off her horse before it stopped moving. “You must come quickly.”
    â€œWhat now?” Porfiro wearily asked.
    â€œIt is Carlos and Alejandro,” Delicia said. “They saw the dead sheep below and were enraged. They say it is a dog that did this, and that the dog belongs to the cowboys.”
    â€œWe do not have proof of that.”
    â€œThey don’t care. They have gone to punish the cowboys for the dead sheep.”
    â€œGod, no,” Porfiro said.
    â€œI tried to talk them out of it. Lorenzo, too. He urged them to speak to you first.”
    â€œGood for Lorenzo.”
    â€œCarlos almost hit him. My brother was practically beside himself. I have never seen him so mad. And Alejandro was little better. He is upset over Flavio.”
    â€œCarlo and Alejandro have hot blood, those two,” Porfiro said. “They have always been too quick to anger.”
    â€œI begged Carlos not to go but he pushed me aside,” Delicia said. “He has never laid a hand on me before.”
    â€œHe will regret it when he comes to his senses.”
    Delicia didn’t seem to hear him. “Then they rode off, Grandfather, taking rifles with them, and I came to find you.”
    â€œThe fools,” Porfiro said. “They will bring ruin down on our heads.”
    â€œNot if I can help it,” Fargo said. He was back in the saddle, and away.
    Delicia shouted for him to wait for her but he wasn’t about to.
    Fargo crossed the bench and started down. On the valley floor, a mile or more distant, two riders were trotting to the south.
    Fargo had a long, hard ride ahead. Unless he stopped them, the pair would ignite a bloodbath that would turn Hermanos Valley red.

18
    There were times when even Skye Fargo marveled at the Ovaro’s stamina. This was one of them. He reached the bottom and for over two miles flew in pursuit. But Carlos and Alejandro had too great