Free Sidewinders by William W. Johnstone Page B

him lightly on the arm.
    â€œEben McCoy!” she said. “When my baby brother comes to visit, you can’t put him to work.”
    Scratch chuckled and said, “That’s all right, Dorothy. I don’t mind. If a fella’s gonna get fed, he’s got to expect to help out a mite.”
    Eben stood up from the stool where he was perched.
    â€œCome on, Scratch,” he said. “I think maybe we can get that stump pulled up before lunch if we try.”
    â€œLet me unsaddle my horse and put him in the shed, and I’ll be right with you,” Scratch said.
    A few minutes later Scratch walked out to the field where Eben waited for him. Eben had unhitched the mule from the plow he’d been using earlier and led the animal over to the stump, which was about two feet in diameter and stuck up three feet from the ground. Eben brought out a length of chain, which he wrapped around the stump, then attached the other end to the mule’s harness.
    â€œYou can see where I’ve been digging up around the roots,” Eben said to Scratch as he gestured at the base of the stump. “It’s stubborn as all get-out, though.”
    â€œWe’ll get it,” Scratch said. “You lead the mule, and I’ll push.”
    â€œOnce I get him going, we’ll both push.”
    Eben grabbed the mule’s harness and tugged. True to its nature, the mule was balky at first, but finally it leaned forward and the chain tightened around the stump.
    â€œCome on!” Eben urged the mule.
    Scratch lowered his shoulder and placed it against the stump. He braced his feet on the ground and heaved. The stump didn’t budge. Long seconds ticked by. Scratch couldn’t be sure—he might have imagined it—but he thought the stump moved slightly. Just a fraction of an inch, but that was a start.
    He grunted with effort as he continued to push. He said, “We’ve got . . . a little play . . . in it now.”
    The mule kept straining against the chain. Eben let go of the harness and hurried to join Scratch. He put his shoulder into the task, too, and side by side they struggled against the stump.
    It definitely moved, but then it sagged back as the mule stopped pulling. Scratch and Eben rested against the stump.
    â€œDang,” Eben said. “I thought for a second there we had it.”
    â€œWe made some progress,” Scratch said. “We’ll get it next time.”
    â€œYou handle the mule this time. I’ll push.”
    Scratch nodded. He was too out of breath to talk anymore. When he had gotten some of his wind back and his pulse wasn’t hammering quite as hard in his head, he went around the stump and took up his position beside the mule’s head.
    The varmint lived up to its kind’s reputation for stubbornness. Scratch had to work hard just to get the beast to pull. When it was finally pulling, Scratch ran to the other side of the stump and threw his weight against it alongside Eben. The stump was looser now, leaning over as the mule continued pulling and the two men kept pushing.
    When the roots tore loose, it happened suddenly, just as Scratch expected. The stump rolled out onto the ground and left a gaping hole behind it. Big chunks of dirt clung to the broken roots. The abrupt lack of resistance threw both Scratch and Eben off balance. They fell to the ground as the mule dragged the stump a few feet before coming to a halt.
    Eben pulled himself up to a sitting position and let out an exultant whoop.
    â€œWe got it!” he said triumphantly. “I knew we would.”
    â€œYeah, but the dang thing put up a good fight,” Scratch said as he sat up, too. He turned his head as the sound of hoofbeats reached his ears.
    Eben heard the running horse, too. He said, “Somebody’s in a hurry. Who’s that coming this way?”
    Scratch’s gaze followed his brother-in-law’s pointing finger. He spotted the rider galloping