Sidewinders Read Online Free

mourned the sisters he’d never met.
    He had mourned his mother, as well, when a letter from his father containing the news of her death finally caught up with him. As fiddlefooted as he was, getting word to him of anything was usually difficult and time-consuming.
    He hoped that his father hadn’t passed away, too, and he just wasn’t aware of it yet.
    His brothers were all married now and had families of their own, but as far as Bo knew, they all still lived on the Star C, helping old John Creel run the ranch. John had settled on the land intending to farm it, but over time he had discovered that it was more suitable to raising cattle. Longhorns ran wild on the range in those days. John had rounded them up, fashioned a brand, and burned it into the hides of the tough, rangy beasts.
    Eventually he had built up a fine herd. The War of Northern Aggression had left him cash-poor, though, like everybody else in Texas, and those longhorns were the only asset he’d had in those postwar days, some fifteen years earlier.
    At first he had driven them to the Gulf Coast, where the booming hide and tallow business in Fulton provided a market for them. Then, when the expansion of the railroad into Kansas opened up a route to the eastern half of the country, which was starved for beef, John had turned his eyes northward, like most of the other ranchers in Texas. They began driving their herds that direction, through Indian Territory to the railheads over the line, and the true Texas cattle empire was born.
    There were a lot bigger and more lucrative spreads than the Star C, but it had always supported the Creel family comfortably. And it was home, which was one reason Bo was looking forward to seeing the place again.
    Replaying that family history in his head had helped distract him from the fact that he was soaking wet and utterly confused. He couldn’t avoid facing the problem forever, so he said, “That young fella who was shooting at us yelled something about me hurting a couple of girls.”
    â€œI thought that’s what he said,” Scratch replied, “but I wasn’t sure. That tells us right there this whole blamed mess is a big misunderstandin’, Bo. For one thing, you and me haven’t been anywhere around these parts lately, and for another, you’d never hurt a gal. That sort of sorry behavior just ain’t in you.”
    â€œNo, and I thank the Good Lord for that,” Bo said. “But I reckon it’s pretty clear folks around here think that I did. Whatever happened, it must have been something pretty bad, too. Avery Hollins and Jesse Peterson both acted like they were afraid I was going to haul out my gun and shoot them at any second, without warning.”
    â€œPlumb loco,” Scratch said, shaking his head.
    â€œWhat we need to do when we get to the ranch is talk to my pa and find out exactly what happened. Then maybe he can ride to town and convince everybody that I didn’t do what they think I did.”
    â€œWe could always just ride on without stoppin’ to see the folks,” Scratch suggested.
    Without hesitation, Bo said, “No, I don’t want to do that. I want this cleared up. I don’t fancy the idea of people believing that I would do such a thing. And you know that if we don’t get it settled, some of them always will.”
    â€œYeah, you’re probably right about that,” Scratch admitted. “Once some folks get an idea in their heads, no matter how crazy it may be, they won’t ever let go of it unless you can show ’em absolutely, positively, that they’re wrong.”
    â€œAnd even that doesn’t always work,” Bo said. “If it did, most politicians would never get elected a second time.”
    Scratch had to laugh at that, but it was a rueful laugh because he knew Bo was right.
    The sun was bright and warm enough that Bo’s clothes had begun to dry by the time they reached the