A Horse Called Mogollon (Floating Outfit Book 3) Read Free

his white with a lithe bound and rode in the trio’s
direction.
    ‘ Blast
you, Lon Ysabel!’ Jeanie said indignantly as the dark-faced
youngster approached. ‘You scared Mogollon off.’
    An expression of pained
resignation crossed the newcomer ’s features and he raised his eyes to the
heavens.
    ‘ You
hear that, Ka-Dih?’ the youngster demanded, mentioning the name of the Comanche
Indians’ Great Spirit. ‘There just ain’t no pleasing white folks.
“See if you-all can bring in some pot-meat, Lon,” she said, afore
witnesses for shame, ’n’ when I do it, she starts to blister my
hide.’ He looked at the girl and continued, ‘You sure it was me
spooked them hosses, Jeanie-gal. Way you three was leaping up ’n’
down, it could’ve been you’s did it.’
    ‘ Confounded Injun!’ Jeanie snorted. ‘Trust you to try ’n’
lay the blame on us white folks.’
    When the girl had called Loncey Dalton
Ysabel an Indian, she had come very close to the truth.
    Born in the village of
the Pehnane— Wasp, Quick-Stinger, Raider—Comanches, the black-dressed
youngster had been raised as a member of that hardy fighting tribe.
His mother had died giving birth to him and his father, a wild
Irish-Kentuckian, had spent much time away from the village on the
family business of smuggling. In the traditional Comanche fashion,
it had fallen on the boy’s maternal grandfather, Long Walker, a
chief of the Dog Soldier war lodge, to educate him and the chief’s
French-Creole pairaivo— favorite wife—saw to his welfare.
    Long Walker had carried out his
work well. viii By the time the boy had ridden off
upon his first war trail, he was competent in all those matters
a Pehnane brave-heart needed to know. Skilled beyond measure in
matters equestrian, he could read and follow tracks barely visible
to the eyes of less capable men. He had few peers in any race at
locating hidden enemies and was equally adept at concealing himself
from hostile eyes. He could handle a variety of weapons adequately
and had attained prominence in the use of two kinds. With a rifle
he could throw lead super-accurately under any conditions. His
skill in wielding a bowie had won him the Comanche man-name Cuchilo, the
Knife.
    All in all, the Ysabel
Kid —as he had
come to be known—had led a checkered life. Riding the smuggling
trails with his father, he had learned lessons that were to be of
use in later years. Although the Ysabels had enlisted in Mosby’s
Raiders, the Confederate States’ Government had soon found a better
use for their specialized talents. They had spent the remainder of
the War delivering supplies, run into Matamoros through the U.S.
Navy’s blockade, across the Rio Grande into Texas. While carrying
out those duties, the Kid had earned a reputation for being a real
bad hombre to cross. Like Dusty, Cabrito— to give him the name spoken in awe by border
Mexicans—had twice become involved in the affairs of the Rebel
Spy. ix
    Bushwhack lead had ended Sam
Ysabel ’s life
and, while hunting for the killers, the Kid had met Dusty. In
addition to avenging his father, the youngster had helped the small
Texan to accomplish an important mission. With his quest ended, the
Kid had decided that smuggling no longer interested him. So he had
accepted Dusty’s offer to join the OD Connected. Not as an ordinary
cowhand, but as a member of the floating outfit, the elite of a
tough and very capable crew. The larger ranches often made use of
floating outfits, six or so top hands who roamed the more distant
ranges instead of being based at the main buildings.
    Along with another member of the
floating outfit, Dusty and the Kid had been sent by Ole Devil
Hardin to assist the Schells in gathering horses for the OD
Connected ’s remuda. There were plans afoot to build up the War-ruined economy
of Texas x and, to take a full
part in them, the ranch would need the extra mounts for its hands.
In addition to acquiring their own horses, Dusty, the Kid