“Sam was glad to have the cover of the trees hiding him and the girl from any hostiles roaming flat or heights. When they were a mile or so away from the glen he judged it was safe to water the horses. Dusty and Brownie stood at stream’s edge, heads down, drinking thirstily. Swarms of gnats hovered over some of the shallow pools and side pockets. Sam’s sore head throbbed. He longed for a smoke but the betraying scent of burned tobacco would carry a long way in the outdoors. A drink of whiskey wo...uld have been even better, if he hadn’t taken the head-knocking. As it was, he was afraid a drink would make it worse, so he abstained from tapping the bottle in his saddlebag. Hauling back on the reins, he caused Dusty to lift his snout out of the stream. “Don’t let the animals drink too much. It’s bad for ’em. Slows ’em down and that’s bad for us.” Lydia urged her horse away from the water. “We’ll trail east through the woods as long as they hold out, then break out across the flat to Old Mission Road,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
User Reviews: