Coyotes & Curves Read Online Free Page A

slowly turns to Bob; who in turn curses the younger man.
    “God damn you, Danny! I told you to keep yer damn mouth shut… I was gonna tell ya, Red,” he confesses earnestly. “Honest – I just needed to sit down and rest a spell first.” There’s a long pause and the room is silent for what seems like an eternity. “Dern it, Red. Don’t look at me like that.” The man pleads, under his Bosses heavy gaze.
    “Ah shut up! … I told you all – you were going to wind up getting yourselves shot to pieces by them miners if you started running around as coyotes… didn’t I!” he exclaims, knowing exactly what happened. “They’re not like the Redskins – if they see a wild animal, they’re going to shoot it! And those men can shoot. How many times do I have to tell you idiots?” He finishes, exasperated by the many futile attempts at teach the ailing pack of Canis latrans how to survive amongst the humans. Not everyone can control their beast within – You have to be stronger; or it will take over.
    Red knows someday he’ll walk away from here…alone.
    “What’s that?” Bob asks, looking up from the wound he’s been nursing with long strokes of his tongue; making sure to clean it well. Even small pokes from a prickly cactus could turn your leg into a gangrene mess if you left it dirty; allowing it to fester up.
    Several packs have run thin over the years, due to injured animals who neglect taking care of the little things. Although this was a close call, and really just a good grazing, Bob will lucky if it doesn’t leave him limping around on three legs for the rest of his days.
    The shaking becomes stronger, and all heads turn towards the two windows, as the building rattles the glass; nearly bringing it out of the pane.
    “Well boys – the Cavalry has arrived,” Red sneers. His lip is raised exposing his teeth and a low growl rumbles out –the hairs rise on the backs of everyone present inside of the room – except the stranger; who stands tall and erect in the corner of the room surveying the situation— his duster pulled to the side, exposing the big iron pistol hanging at his side.
    Coolly he puts the finishing touches on a rollie cigarette, with a lick from along tongue, before striking a match and lighting the skinny smoke. “I think I’ll wait outside,” he states. “You boys look like you have private business to attend to.” He pushes himself off of the wall and heads for the door as the room watches, silently.
    “Danny, Bob, you get out too… and one of you go find Alistair. Tell him to get his weasel ass over here,” Red commands.
    The three men exit the room, and Danny makes his way across the dirt road in search of the mayor; who is most likely having an afternoon drink in the saloon. Jake, the apparent new edition to the crew, having survived his initial meeting with the sheriff, stands next to the door; and Bob occupies the lone seat that Red vacated earlier.
    The Cavalry arrives in a cloud of dust making Bob and Jake both fan the air and cover their faces; attempting to keep the dirt from filling their suffocating nostrils.
    The first man off of his horse is a shifter, Old Bob knows well; Major Kearney of the U.S. Calvary. And following him are twenty men; including his second in command, Lieutenant Malcolm Dunn – Both men are Badgers; and known for their extreme anger, and unbridled fits of rage.
    All of the men following the Major have been hand selected from some of the most influential and highest ranking families of the East Coast Shifters – Some with linage from the old countries – as far away as the Middle East and beyond – Hundreds and even thousands of years in the making.
    The short stocky Major’s spurs jingle loudly as he stomps across the wooden boards with the air of a man twice his size – because the fight of the animal within him is . The Major’s been witnessed in battle; ripping a man’s throat out with his bare hands. Some had claimed to have