Range War (9781101559215) by C. J. Cherryh Page A

eyes flashed. “Did he tell you what he did?”
    â€œAbout shooting the two cows? And one of the cowboys? So what? We have paid them back for the sheep they killed.”
    â€œCowboys don’t generally use their teeth to kill things,” Fargo said. “And I expected better of you.”
    â€œIt is us against them.”
    â€œSo you’re proud of the bastard, too?”
    â€œMy brother? Si .”
    â€œI was wrong,” Fargo said. “Carlos isn’t the jackass. I am.”
    â€œYou’re not making any sense,” Delicia said. “The important thing is that the cowboys have said they want our valley for their own. That we can not allow.”
    â€œAnd Alejandro?”
    â€œWhat about him? Carlos says he died bravely, fighting on our behalf.”
    â€œIt will get ugly now,” Fargo said. “A lot more of you will die.”
    â€œA lot of them will die, too.”
    â€œYou’re a bloodthirsty wench,” Fargo said, and he wasn’t smiling.
    â€œSurely you can’t blame me for siding with my own people? I would die for them, as I would die for the right to graze our sheep where we have grazed them for hundreds of years.”
    â€œIt may come to that.”
    â€œAre you trying to scare me? Is that it?”
    â€œA little fear could keep you alive.”
    â€œWhat kind of talk is that?” Delicia snapped. “Why should I fear cowboys? They are men. Common, ordinary men. And Carlos says there are only a few left now.”
    â€œTheir boss is due any day,” Fargo said. “They’ll have more guns than you, more horses.”
    â€œWe’ll have right on our side.”
    â€œHell,” Fargo said.
    â€œYou take us too lightly,” Delicia said. “As I suspect the cowboys do. That is their mistake.”
    â€œListen to yourself.”
    â€œAre you listening?” Delicia countered.
    â€œYour people tend sheep, for God’s sake.”
    â€œAnd they tend cows. Explain to me how that means they are better than us?”
    â€œThey are better with guns,” Fargo said, growing angry himself. “And you can’t fight guns with good intentions.”
    Delicia went to say more but looked up as several riders approached from the northwest. “Grandfather,” she said, and rose.
    Everyone gathered to meet him. Everyone except Fargo. He stayed by the fire, happy to be ignored.
    Questions were shouted at Porfiro. How many sheep had been slain, in all? Fifty-four. Where were the rest of the men? Bringing the meat and the wool. Did they see the Hound? No, they did not.
    Constanza, Delicia and Carlos took Porfiro aside. Their talk became heated. Porfiro jabbed a finger at Carlos and Carlos stomped off in a huff.
    Fargo wasn’t surprised when the old man broke away and came straight to him.
    â€œI need advice, senor.”
    â€œLeave,” Fargo said.
    â€œThe valley? No. We can’t.”
    â€œThen die.”
    â€œHear me out, por favor . You tried to stop my grandson, and for that I am grateful. But we have reached the point where there is no turning back.” Porfiro held out his hands in appeal. “What do I do? How can I stop more blood from being spilled?”
    â€œYou can’t.”
    â€œThere must be something.”
    â€œLeave,” Fargo said again. “Pack up your wagons and gather up your sheep and get the hell out of here while you still can.”
    â€œHave you no other advice than that?”
    â€œDig a lot of graves,” Fargo said.

21
    When it happened it wasn’t as Fargo expected.
    The next morning the sheepherders were sitting around after breakfast debating how best to prepare for the cowboys when a lone rider was spotted coming up the valley at a trot.
    It was Shorty.
    Fargo had to hand it to him. After all that had happened, for the puncher to come to the sheepherder camp alone took a lot of sand.
    Shorty was leading a horse with a body