8
Scott Willson’s long grey hair hung down the back of his worn leather duster in a single pony tail. It swung from side-to-side as he worked, mimicking the tails of the horses he attended.
He spoke in quiet tones, moving easily between the exhausted animals. They relaxed at his touch and in moments he had them expertly unharnessed and was leading them to the stage stop paddock. He checked the leathers, gathered the fresh horses and began re-harnessing the new team. The stop would last 30 minutes, just enough time for the stage passengers to eat, stretch and wish they were already to their destination.
Tuc and Jake stayed on the far side of the stage, watching the horizon and scrub brush covered desert before them for any sign of movement, wary of any foe.
Jake spit expertly and casual
