Part 1.

Get up. It’s morning and she wouldn’t want you abed. There are things that need done.
Feed the chickens, milk the cows. You gotta move the stock to the south watering hole.
The eastern range is about played out.

He mechanically went through the motions of maintaining his farm. After the morning chores
were done, he headed to gather his kit and saddle up the roan to head to the eastern range.

Ignore the plots on the top of the hill, means nothing, just do your work.

The sun lurked just below the eastern horizon causing the few clouds in the sky to glow with
a purple-red tint. As Jim Pyle rode out to round up his herd, his mind wandered. It always
drifted as he rode these days, like as not he knew he’d make a mistake and end up as dead as…

It was mid-morning by the time he topped the ridge. Jim pulled up sharp. The herd wasn’t
where it should be. None of his stock was in the valley as far as he could see. As he worked
his way down the rock covered hillside, he automatically noted the tracks. Three maybe four
riders had rounded up his cattle and driven them off. Rustlers.

Something cold washed over him. Someone stole my herd. Someone is trying to take the
last thing I have left. I may not have been able to save her and the boy, but I can damned well
save my farm.

The tracks were five maybe six days old, but the thieves weren’t trying to hide them. Jim took
off at a gallop following the herd. Blind with rage he made up ground, but by the end of the day
he’d played out the roan.

“Sorry, boy, I rode you too hard,” he said aloud as he patted his horse’s neck. I’ll have to find
another horse. Maybe the Caxtons will have one I can trade for.

He made camp. After a dinner of beans and coffee he sat into the fire thinking of the men he’d
have to face. His imagination made them out as ugly brutal men, men better dead than alive to
continue their evil deeds. Jim fell asleep, certain his horse would warn him of any trouble. As
always the last thought before sleep came was of a laughing woman and a baby boy.

Great start. There's a weariness to the main character that I like. Like he's just going through the motions, even when he's driven into action.

This is fantastic stuff, Dave. I really like the breaks. You are really controlling the way the information is pieced out.

I really liked this. Good use of language that feels right for the period. Your open paragraph rocks.

Powerful stuff. I want to know how it ends.

Part 2

“Sit down and shut up, Morton. You ain’t gonna do anything except eat and sleep tonight.
You touch the woman and I’ll kill you myself.”

“One day you’ll ride me too hard, Red. Mark my words.”

Red Gault was the leader of this particular pack of vermin. He’d come up with the plan to
gather the free roaming stock from the little farms in this part of Montana and drive them
to market. They would drive the herd to a box canyon he knew of. There they could take
the cattle and rebrand them. He’d gathered other men of similar character and started his
venture. Morton and Arn Preston, formerly of Kentucky where they’d been run out for horse
thieving. Self styled bad men whose only accomplishment was to steal from others, and
none too successfully.

At the end of the table, John McKever looked up from his plate, he said nothing, but the
other three fell silent. McKever was a wildcard. None of the gang knew much about him,
except that he acted in most situations quickly and violently.

The woman, Anne Caxton, tried to stay out of the men’s way. They’d rode up at dusk and
demanded food. Her daughter had hid in the little loft space at the top of the cabin, Ellie’d
stayed quiet as the rough men forced their way into the house.
Best to feed them and hope they leave before they find her.

Since Ben’s passing, she’d had to let the cattle run free, instead concentrating on keeping
a few in the barn and growing enough to get them through the winter. It was too late in the
season to ride out. Next spring she and Ellie would make the long trek into town and try
and start a new life. The deed on the farm should be worth something.

“More food down here, woman.” Arn said, wiping his sleeve across his mouth.

Anne hid her grimace as she spooned more stew onto his plate.

McKever looked over toward her with cold eyes, “Might I have a little more, ma’am?”

“Of course.” She replied and filled his plate also. Lord, just let them leave.

“We’ll be moving on in the morning, ma’am.” McKever said and looked directly at the loft.
“ I expect some folks will have figured out what we’re up to, and I don’t see this as a good
place to make a stand.”

“I’ll be sleeping in the loft tonight and pulling the ladder up behind me. You and your friends
can sleep on the floor. I hope you’ll understand that I won’t break bread with you.”

“I can understand that, ma’am. Why don’t you just take a plate to the loft now. Pull the
ladder up, I’ll make sure no one bothers you during the night.”

“I suppose I should.. Well, I mean… ,” she stuttered, “thank you.”

“Where’s she think she’s goin’?” snarled Arn.

“She’s sleeping in the loft, and you’re sleeping over there.” McKever caught each man’s eye,
in succession. “ I trust you all get my meaning?”

Again, none of the men said a word as McKever looked them over. Red may have been the
boss, but it was John McKever that they all feared.

Anne put a finger on her daughter’s lips as she climbed into the loft. After the ladder was up,
Anne and Ellie ate quietly. Ellie slept in her arms, as she lay awake listening for the noise
that meant they were coming up to the loft. Just before dawn the men got up and left, and
Anne fell into a relieved sleep.

I like this. Alot.

Good stuff.

This is good stuff.

You should write more.

Nice stuff, Dave. A definite western feel to the language, and a level
of excitement to the pacing and the prose. I haven't gotten there with
mine, but I think I can "get it Western" given some time. Yours is
quite good.

Good work! I like what I'm reading.

I'm having internet service outages, so it's taking me a while to get back and read. I think I'm about caught up. Will search for more.

Very suspenseful second part. Looking forward to more and seeing how it all ties together.

Part 3.

Get up. You’ve things that need done.

Jim opened his eyes. It was an hour before dawn when he rolled out of his
blankets to stoke the fire. He looked over at the roan and realized just how
many mistakes he’d been making.

You’re a damned fool. No food. No horse to ride. Hell, no AMMUNITION.
I’ll have to ask the Caxtons for more than a loan of a horse.

He went over to the roan and began methodically checking him out. He hadn’t
thrown any shoes. There was no swelling in his joints. Kneading the horse’s
legs he found no tender spots. “You’ll be ok, boy, I promise I won’t do that
to you again.”

The horse wouldn’t do to ride today, but he’d be alright to carry the gear. At
least he hadn’t been permanently damaged. After packing up camp, Jim and
the roan headed toward the Caxton place at a walk.

It was early September, and it was a brisk morning. There was a chill that
promised winter was on its way. Jim looked around at the big sky that he’d
once loved so much. Even now the beauty of this country didn’t fail to move
him. As he walked along toward the river valley, he noticed the call of every bird,
he smelled the rich earthy scent of autumn. Maggie loved fall.

After a few minutes, it became obvious that the rustlers had headed the same
direction he was going. He followed the river as it wound through fertile grassland
and the occasional grove of cottonwood. It took most of the day to make his way
down the valley to Ben Caxton’s place. Jim wished he could have made better
time. He had a feeling they wouldn’t stop at his own herd, and the Caxtons couldn’t
afford to lose their cattle any more than he could.

Reading the sign, he saw the cattle had been here overnight and had been driven
off early. He had made up more time than he thought on his mad ride the day before.
As he topped the hill and looked down at the cabin, everything seemed normal.

As he got closer he noticed that things weren’t as well kept as he remembered,
usually Ben kept upon things better than this. Even so, everything appeared fine.
There were chickens running in the yard. A dog was asleep in the shade of a tree.
Still, he approached cautiously.

“Hello the cabin.”

From a shuttered window, he caught a glint of gunmetal, “Who is shouting the cabin?”
said a woman’s voice.

“It’s Jim Pyle, from up on Willow Creek.”

The barrel flashed again in the window, but a few moments later the front door opened.
Anne Caxton stood in the doorway, “Come in, Jim. I have to say I’m very glad to see you.”

I like where this is going. Keep it coming!

As an aside, I went horse back riding today. I will be so sore tomorrow, but it was worth it.

I haven't been horseriding since I was a kid. I should take an afternoon and go riding Anyone have a spare afternoon I could borrow?

I love how your personal knowledge of horses and shoeing horses comes into play here. It adds an element of realism.

I've also read a LOT of westerns

This is really intense and gripping. I can't wait to see where it goes, Dave. Great job with this. It makes me want to write something myself. Which I'm thinking of doing. Thanks for sharing this... and I'll keep on reading it till you're finished.

I'm enjoying this. Can't wait to see how it ends.

Part 4

At practically the same moment Jim Pyle rolled out of his blankets,
Red woke his men to start out. He realized for his plan to work, they
needed to move the herd in a timely manner. As usual the Prestons
were grumbling about something, this time it was about leaving the
woman. Both Red and Mckever stood firm and the boys backed down.
“I may be a thief, but I’m not a rapist, boys. You’d do best to remember that.”

McKever stood off to the side with an odd look on his face. Is that what
I am? A thief?

Whatever else Red Gault was, he was a man who knew cattle. The four
men moved the herd quickly and efficiently toward the canyon Red had
picked out. It was away from most of the small ranches in the area and
on government land, so they could expect few visitors. Red had a plan to
brand the cattle with his own “lucky clover” brand. He’d personally designed
it to cover most of the simpler brands in the area. It wouldn’t take much
luck to sell the cattle they’d gathered and be out of the area before any of
the buyers were the wiser.

McKever had distanced himself even more from the others, he did his job
as well as any, but his normal blank face had been replaced with a sullen
brooding look. His mood was foul, and watching the Preston boys posture
and bicker wasn’t helping it one bit.

It had begun to be clear why the Prestons turned to thievery in the first place.
They had started off resentful of the work, and after only a week they’d
become belligerent. McKever found himself thinking that if they didn’t get a
payoff soon, the boys might turn on Red.

“One more day, men, and we’ll be in the canyon.” Red told them as they
made camp for the night. “I figure by tomorrow evening we’ll be at the base
camp I got set up.”

“Good. Ah’m getting sick of these cows.”

“You should try a real drive, Arn. Weeks of dusty trails. The sun beating
down so hard your skin cracks. This ain’t nothing. It’s just a way for us all
to get a stake and move onto something better.”

At the mention of the money, Morton gave Arn a quick grin.

Red, who was talking, missed it, but McKever didn’t. He watched the men,
and then glanced around the camp. As they bedded down, he stared up at
the night sky. Am I really like them?

Having no answer for his question, it was a long time before John McKever
could sleep.

"Hello the Cabin."

Nice. As was the next part as well. Keep 'em coming, Dave.