Wild Western Action Adventure One

The sun bled out across the horizon, painting the underside of the clouds in bruised purples and reds. Jedediah tasted dust, a fine grit that coated his teeth and the back of his throat. His horse, a weary roan named Cinder, plodded on, its head low. They were looking for one stupid calf, a ghost-white speck against the dun-colored landscape, that had bolted from the herd hours ago.

He found it cornered in an alkali basin, its frightened bleats echoing off a rock formation that looked like a stack of crumbling skulls. It wasn’t alone. A wolf, gray and gaunt as a rail, was slinking in a low semi-circle, its belly nearly scraping the cracked earth. The wolf was all sinew and bone, a creature whittled down to pure, starving purpose. Jedediah didn’t reach for the Colt on his hip. A bullet was a dollar and the wolf wasn’t worth it. He spurred Cinder forward, letting out a sharp yell that ripped through the quiet air. “Get on, now! Git!”

The wolf flinched, its yellow eyes fixing on him, but it didn’t bolt. It backed away slowly, deliberately, and then stopped at the edge of the rocks. The calf, spooked by the shout, scrambled toward the horse. Jedediah dismounted, his joints creaking, and tied a short rope around the calf’s neck. But his gaze kept flicking back to the wolf. The animal was watching him, its head cocked. It took a few steps, not away, but deeper into…