Wolf Valley

“We can sympathize with a man being short on cash, times being such as they are.” He eyed Ellis’s horse and said, “We just lost our pack mule two days ago. I always say, a good riding animal is just as good as legal tender when a man finds himself in a spot.”

    “Funny, I always say that myself,” said Ellis, his hat against his chest. His smile remained as he continued to stand in silence, leaving the man unsure of what to say or do next.

    Finally the man cleared his throat and said, “So, if you have no cash, we’ll be obliged to take the animal off your hands.”

    “There he stands,” said Ellis, giving a nod toward the big bay. “Take him whenever you’re ready.”

    But in spite of his invitation, the riders made no move forward. Studying the resolve in Ellis’s cold gray eyes, the bearded man said, as if it had just dawned on him, “You’ve got a gun cocked behind that hat, don’t you?”

    “You can count on it,” said Ellis, his smile still showing beneath his broad dark mustache.

*Preview of Ralph Cotton's Black Mesa at the end of this book.