Range War (9781101559215) by C. J. Cherryh

up.”
    â€œFind the lair and we can put an end to the monster?” Delicia nodded. “My people had the same idea. My brother and several others spent days searching but didn’t find it.” She looked at him. “You think it will strike again soon, don’t you?”
    â€œOdds are,” Fargo said.
    â€œI saw how upset that cowboy was when he told us about the dead cows. I believe you, now, that they are not to blame. It must be a wolf. A lobo .”
    Fargo was scanning the heights. “I have most of the afternoon to myself,” he said. “I reckon I’ll spend it keeping my promise to your grandpa.”
    â€œBy your lonesome?” Delicia shook her head. “I’ll go with you.”
    â€œNo,” Fargo said. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I can’t hunt and protect you, both. Go back to the wagons where you’ll be safe.”
    â€œWhat if I refuse?”
    â€œI’ll tie you over your saddle and send you back anyway.”
    â€œI believe you would,” Delicia said, annoyed. But she clucked to her horse and started down.
    Fargo didn’t budge until he was sure she wasn’t going to try to trick him and circle back.
    Above the bench grew thick timber. Above the timber were difficult grades with sparse vegetation. Given the size of the valley, searching for tracks was akin to looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.
    Not that Fargo didn’t find any. There were plenty of deer tracks. There were elk. He found bear sign, including a tree covered with claw and rub marks. At the highest elevations there was evidence of bighorn sheep.
    Smaller game was everywhere. He came across raccoon tracks and skunk tracks, badger and weasel. A careless bobcat had left a few, and he even found a mountain lion print. He discovered coyote tracks and a few fox tracks.
    But nowhere did he come across the tracks of the creature he sought.
    By four in the afternoon Fargo was ready to head down. He had a long ride to the cowboy camp. He idly scanned the valley from end to end—and stiffened. On the far side, almost directly across from him, an animal was loping down an open slope. At that distance he couldn’t tell much other than it had the build of a dog or a wolf but it was a lot bigger. It disappeared into a patch of pines, and although he waited another quarter of a hour, he didn’t see it again.
    Fargo gigged the stallion down the mountain. He reached the bench and started across. He wasn’t expecting trouble. When three riders loomed at the crest he suspected they had been there all along, waiting for him.
    â€œHold up, gringo,” Carlos demanded. “We want a word with you.”
    Fargo drew rein. “You don’t want to do this,” he said.
    â€œBut we do,” Carlos said with a smirk. “Permit me to introduce my friends. On my left is Pablo, on my right is Horaz.”
    The other two were young, like Carlos, and like him, they were smirking at how clever they thought they were being.
    â€œCan you guess what we want to talk about, gringo?” Carlos asked.
    â€œYou want advice on how not to be so stupid?”
    Carlos lost his smirk. “Insulting me, gringo, proves that you are the one who isn’t very smart.”
    â€œYou won’t like what happens if you do this,” Fargo said.
    â€œCan you read my thoughts now?” Carlos said. “Do you know what I am going to do before I do it?” He uttered a cold bark. “I think not.”
    â€œHave it your way,” Fargo said. “We’ll play this out. Go ahead and say what’s on your mind.”
    â€œMy sister,” Carlos said.
    â€œA fine filly,” Fargo said.
    â€œToo fine for the likes of you. You are an outsider. We do not like it when outsiders trifle with our women. I want you to stop talking to her. I want you to stop going for rides with her.”
    â€œThat’s up to