Qeya River Tumbleweed

It hadn’t taken much to follow the spit trail of Colt to the borders of the pack on the river. The dusty cowboy stood and squinted into the territory, curious. One shift in wind told him that this was the place Amalia had settled herself with. He didn’t want trouble for her. He didn’t want trouble for her kin. The figure stood awkwardly on the edge of their claim and pondered on his choices.

When Reno called to a member of leadership, it was with the intention that he wasn’t looking for a permanent place, but that he was a hard worker, and he could earn his keep through winter if they’d take him. They had accepted Colt, but there was no telling what that crooked tongue might’ve told them. Reno wasn’t sure what he might say, but he half hoped the mangy killer would show up on the borders first.

Either way, he figured he’d be waiting a while.