guard it, leaving Bo and Scratch to finish loading the wagon.
“Who put a burr under your saddle?” Scratch asked as he shrugged into his shirt and started to button it. “I’m usually the hotheaded one who goes off half-cocked and gets us into trouble.”
“I don’t know,” Bo replied with a shake of his head. “I’ve just got a feeling that something’s not right here. Like maybe Big John’s just using us.”
“Well, of course he’s usin’ us. He’s payin’ our wages, ain’t he?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“When you figure out what you do mean, be sure and let me know. In the meantime, try actin’ more like the Bo Creel I been ridin’ with for all these many years, and not like me.”
Bo managed a grin. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that.”
They threw a partially used roll of wire into the back of the wagon, along with a small stack of fence posts they’d wound up not needing. Then they climbed onto the seat and Bo took up the reins, slapping them against the backs of the two horses hitched to the wagon. The team started toward Circle JP headquarters in a plodding walk.
The sun was almost down when the wagon rolled up to the largest of the three barns scattered around the ranch. An elderly cowhand who was too stove up to ride the range anymore came out and took charge of the team. Bo and Scratch climbed down from the seat, and Scratch started toward the bunkhouse, going several yards before he realized that Bo wasn’t with him.
Frowning, Scratch turned and saw that Bo was striding resolutely toward the sprawling, two-story, whitewashed house where Big John Peeler lived. Scratch hurried after him and caught up.
“Bo, what are you thinkin’ about doin’ now?”
“I want to ask the boss a question, that’s all.”
“About that blasted fence? Let it go, Bo. It ain’t like you to stir up a hornets’ nest.”
“If I’m going to risk getting killed, I want to know what for.”
“Nobody got killed,” Scratch pointed out. “Wasn’t even any gunshots.”
“What about the next time some Circle JP riders wind up facing Snake Track men across that barbed wire? What do you think is going to happen then?”
“I don’t know,” Scratch replied honestly. “Could be trouble.”
“That’s right.”
They had reached the steps leading up to the wide verandah that ran along the front of the house. Peeler must have seen them coming from inside, because the door opened and he stepped out to meet them.
“Howdy, Creel. Morton. Joe tells me you got that fence put up, with a little help.”
Big John Peeler lived up to his name. He stood a couple of inches over six feet, and with his barrel chest and his thick gut, weighed well over two hundred pounds. He was about fifty years old and had been in this part of the country for almost thirty years. His squarish head and rugged face looked like they had been chiseled out of a chunk of granite.
“Did Joe tell you we almost got in a shootout with Case Ridley and three of his men?” Bo asked.
Peeler nodded. “He mentioned it.” A grin spread across his face. “I sure would’ve liked to have been there when Ridley had to take water and run.” Big John slapped a hamlike hand against his thigh in amusement. “Mighty funny, and the joke’s all on him!”
“Because that fence really is in the wrong place, isn’t it?”
Peeler sobered and frowned at Bo. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re trying to put one over on Ridley by taking more range than you agreed to. You figure once the fence is there and you have men patrolling it, there won’t be anything Ridley can do about it.”
“That’s not any of your business, Creel. You just do what you’re told and don’t worry about anything else.” Peeler snorted in disgust. “Hell, you’re lucky that I gave a couple of broken-down old saddle tramps like you and your friend any kind of job at all. If you don’t like what you’ve been doing, you can help old Jonas muck out the stables, by God! See if you like shoveling horse shit better.”
“Now wait a minute, boss—” Scratch began.
“Wait a minute, hell! I’m not used to anybody questioning what I do, and I’m sure not gonna take it from some crazy old codger.”
“I’m not that much older than you,” Bo said, tight-lipped.
“Well, maybe it’s not the years so much as it is the miles.” Peeler waved a hand. “You two get out of my sight. You can spend the next few days working in the barns with Jonas. It’s probably all you’re good for, anyway.”
Scratch had had just about enough of being talked to like that. He put a foot on the bottom step and said, “Now look here—”
Bo stopped him by taking hold of his arm. “Let it go, Scratch.”
Scratch looked over at him in surprise. “What, all of a sudden you’re the voice of reason again? I swear, Bo, you’ve got as changeable as the wind.”
“I’m just too tired to argue about this anymore. Let’s go to the bunkhouse.”
Scratch hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. “All right. I reckon it ain’t worth fightin’ over.”
Behind them, Big John Peeler laughed. “That’s right. Just like Ridley will wise up and decide that extra ground isn’t worth a range war.”
Bo stopped in his tracks. He looked back. “You’re admitting that the fence isn’t in the right place? That you’re grabbing that range just to spite Ridley?”
“Well, what of it?” Peeler shot back at him. “I knew when he saw where you fellas were building the fence, he’d come out there and start blustering around. That’s why I had Joe and some of the boys ready for him.”
“Then I was right,” Bo said quietly. “Scratch and I were just bait that you dangled in front of Ridley.”
“What of it? What else are a couple of old fools like you good for, anyway?”
Scratch made a grab for Bo’s arm but missed. With speed that belied his age and weariness, Bo bounded up the steps to the verandah and charged Big John Peeler. He slammed into the surprised rancher and drove him backward so that Peeler fell and both men crashed through the doorway, disappearing into the house.
CHAPTER 3
For a few stunned seconds, all Scratch could do was stand there and stare. Then he regained his wits and hurried up the steps. He saw Bo and Peeler rolling around on the floor just inside the door, wrestling and slugging at each other.
Some of the cowboys gathered around the buck-house in the fading light, smoking and talking while they waited for the supper bell to ring, must have seen the way Bo had
