Skinwalkers Read Free Page A

turned in his saddle to face his pack mule.
    “What do you say, Boss?“
    Farnsworth scowled.
    “Sir, you needn’t insult me with such tomfoolery! If you believe subterfuge my intention, then please simply confess as much.“
    “Oh, I just thought I’d talk it over with the ass, seeing as your intention was to make one out of me.“
    The men locked eyes for a moment, their wills battling in the open air between them.
    J.T. looked away first.
    As soon as the bounty hunter faced front, Farnsworth’s hateful gaze locked upon his captor’s back. They sat in silence for a time, trotting over red sand and sagebrush. Then Farnsworth began singing at the top of his lungs.
     
    Oh I wish I was in the land of cotton!
    Old times there are not forgotten!
    Look away! Look away!
    Look away! Dixie land!
     
    The bounty hunter looked ahead to the horizon, pretending not to hear.
     
    T hey made camp that night at the base of one of the rock formations. The bounty hunter removed the irons around Farnsworth’s wrists only to use them to anchor his leg to the terrain. The bounty hunter built a fire and they ate a meal of beans and dried jerky without a word passing between them. Afterward, when the sky was dark and pin-holed, the bounty hunter relaxed on his bedroll with whiskey and a rolled cigarette.
    “Sir,“ Farnsworth began, “might I inquire of you for a dollop of—?“
    “No.“
    “Perhaps, if you would be so kind, at least a pinch of that—?“
    “No.“
    Farnsworth crossed his arms and slammed his back against the rock face—pouting like a child.
    “You know,“ J.T. said. “you astound me, sir!“
    The bounty hunter cocked his eyebrows in mock interest.
    “Here I sit, an innocent man, whom in all probability you are ushering post haste to his final moments, and—“
    “I know a few folks who see things differently where the question of your innocence is concerned.“
    Farnsworth leapt to his feet.
    “Deceivers! Brigands! Destroyers who would see an enterprising young man like myself shot down like a dog for daring to stray beyond the bounds of the atrocity they themselves would construe to be justice!“
    “You shot a man and stole his horse.“
    “In self-defense, I assure you. The cad accosted me due to his frustrations at my unburdening him of a large percentage of his income throughout various sessions of gentlemen’s gambling.“
    “In his own home? While you were in bed with his wife?“
    “If his shortcomings in his marital responsibilities drove the man’s cherished one into mine arms, what blame can be laid upon my head?“
    “And the horse?“
    “Little choice did I have there also, what with his brothers misconstruing the unfortunate passing of their sibling as something I had association with. Immediate flight by means available proved my only option.“
    The bounty hunter stared at Farnsworth in disbelief. Farnsworth stared back, his expression imploring. The bounty hunter sighed and tossed his captive his whiskey flask. J.T. smiled and took a greedy pull off it.
    “You are a true compatriot, sir!“ Farnsworth said. “A veritable saint! Children shall take your name in honor for generations to come. I shall personally—“
    The horse and mule whinnied and the bounty hunter was on his feet, revolvers drawn. Farnsworth crouched in indecision, not knowing whether to meet whatever peril lay in the darkness on his feet or curled in a fetal ball.
    The bounty hunter peered into the night. Farnsworth could almost feel him willing his eyes to divide the pitch. Seconds crept by, minutes, eternities. Farnsworth strained his ears, listening for the slightest scrape of brush against pants leg—the smallest scrape of boot upon rock.
    As a child, J.T.’s father had told him story of Billy Goat’s Gruff—of the troll who lived under the bridge, waiting to devour goats— or even children —too stupid or unlucky enough to travel into the monster’s domain. And nighttime was the domain of all