Thunderhead Trail by Jon Sharpe

gives us trouble, we’ll learn them not to.”
    â€œWe will,” Jared said.
    Fargo had met his share of kids set adrift. Life on the frontier was hard. Some would say it was merciless. Fathers were thrown from horses and broke their necks or were dashed to death from moving wagons or took deathly sick or were caught by hostiles. Mothers didn’t seem to suffer as many accidents but once they lost their man, their futures were bleak. Work was hard to come by, especially work that paid enough for a mother to feed and clothe herself and her children, to say nothing of keeping a roof over their heads. A lot of widows drowned their sorrows in alcohol and drowned themselves in the bargain.
    â€œYou don’t have any uncles or aunts?”
    â€œWe’re fine on our own,” Sol said.
    â€œThat we are,” Seth echoed.
    â€œWe don’t need anybody,” little Jared said.
    â€œDo you have horses?” Fargo asked.
    â€œWe’d be plumb stupid to be up here without any,” Sol said and bobbed his head at the cottonwoods. “They’re hid so the redskins won’t spot us.”
    â€œSmart,” Fargo said.
    â€œTell us about you, mister,” Seth said. “We heard tell you scout for the army.”
    â€œSometimes.”
    â€œWe heard you track real good, too,” little Jared said.
    Sol nodded. “We talked to Mr. Tyler and he said that you and the jasper who wears two pistols and that other fella with the moccasins are the three best trackers of the bunch.”
    â€œWe probably are,” Fargo allowed.
    â€œThen you three have the best chance of any of us of findin’ that bull.”
    â€œIt will be luck as much as anything.”
    â€œWe believe in makin’ our own luck,” Sol said. “And we want that five thousand.”
    â€œWe’d be rich,” Seth said.
    â€œRich,” Jared echoed.
    Fargo frowned. Trying to talk them out of it was pointless. His only recourse was to take their rifles and make them mount up and escort them back down the mountain. The only thing was, there was no one to look after them, and the moment he headed back up, so would they.
    â€œWhy do you look so glum, mister?” Sol asked.
    First it was the old hen and now these infants. “It’s been a hell of a day,” Fargo said.
    Jared squinted at the sun and remarked, “Heck, mister. It’s not half over.”
    â€œDon’t remind me,” Fargo said.

23
    The Ovaro was done drinking and Fargo didn’t have a lot of time to spare. Standing, he came right out with, “Is there any chance I can talk you out of hunting for the bull?”
    â€œNot a snowball’s,” Sol said.
    â€œWe have it to do,” Seth said.
    Jared nodded.
    â€œYou could get killed,” Fargo bluntly brought up.
    â€œNot likely,” Sol said.
    â€œWe’re too clever,” Seth said.
    â€œLike foxes,” from Jared.
    â€œYou have a high opinion of yourselves,” Fargo mentioned.
    â€œYou did hear me say our folks have been dead goin’ on four years?” Sol said.
    â€œHow do you reckon we’ve lasted so long?” Seth asked.
    â€œWe’re foxes,” little Jared said.
    â€œDamn it, boys,” Fargo said.
    They looked at one another and Jared cradled his squirrel rifle and said, “We savvy that you’re worried about us, mister. That’s nice, you bein’ a stranger, and all. People do it all the time. Because we’re kids, they figure we need lookin’ after.”
    â€œBut we don’t,” Seth said.
    â€œWe surely don’t,” Jared declared.
    â€œThere are Blackfeet . . .” Fargo began.
    â€œInjuns don’t scare us none,” Sol said. “We’ve kilt a few when we’ve had to.”
    â€œWe’ll kill more if need be,” Seth said.
    â€œI like killin’,” Jared declared.
    Fargo had done all he could. Before he rode