Chapter 1
This would be a good death, Vin thought, gazing around at the vast, empty openness of the desert around him.
He often felt at peace within these barren wastelands of sun and sand, far from the so-called modern conveniences of the day, the soft society his generation had built, and the choking grip of corrupt politicians.
The desert was home for him, while the rest of the world felt alien and wrong.
Vin raised a pair of binoculars to his face, looking through them to make out a pack of Mexican gray wolves as they prowled the sands. These creatures were endangered and hunting them was highly illegal.
Vin wasn’t hunting wolves. He was after a much different prey.
He trained his attention back several hundred feet, settling his gaze on a pair of ATV four-wheelers and the large men seated atop them.
One look at the high-powered rifles they carried on their backs and the way they followed the trail of the wolf pack told Vin all he needed to know. These were the men he had come for.
“Poachers,” he spat the word as though it were a vile curse. And to Vin, it truly was.
These arrogant idiots were invading this land, where nature still ruled and existence still made sense. They brought the modern world to this place, and for what? Money? Sport? Some indescribable desire to kill something more powerful than themselves?
It was pathetic, and Vin had been quick to go after this particular bounty. He preferred jobs like this, out in the wild and away from people. He enjoyed the quiet and felt like he was actually injecting some good into the world. It was far more fulfilling than dragging in another bail jumper.
His horse stirred beneath him, and Vin reached down to pat the animal on the side of the neck. “There ya go, girl,” he whispered kindly, using a gentle tone reserved only for non-human creatures.
Evaline was a good horse, and she had been with Vin for a long time—several years at this point. He had stopped counting after five. Vin never kept track of things like that, anniversaries and special events. This had irked his ex-wife to no end. But he wasn’t her problem anymore.
He pulled a small device off of his belt and checked it. A handheld GPS device triangulated his position within the vase desert. He didn’t need it, but he had promised Deb he would carry it along whenever he rode out past civilization's edges.
“Last thing Jimmy needs is to lose his papa because you got lost out on the range,” she had said, using the existence of their one-and-a-half-year-old son to get her way.
Of course, Jimmy had mostly lost Vin already. Since the divorce, he had made sure to provide for his ex-wife and child. He had done right by them every day. But Vin hadn’t been by the old ranch in a long time to see them.
Better off without me, he had thought. Those musings had only increased since Deb had re-married.
Vin popped the GPS device back onto his belt and kicked Evaline into action, urging the horse forward as the poachers brought their vehicles to a stop. They were climbing off them, pursuing the pack on foot now, slinging their weapons over their shoulders.
From their vantage, they couldn’t see where the pack was in relation to their position, but Vin realized they were a lot closer than they clearly thought they were.
He had to act quickly.
Behind the shadow cast by his black cowboy hat, Vin’s eyes narrowed as he pushed on.
He stewed while contemplating the arrogance of these men.
They thought every scrap of land belonged to the human race.
But Vin knew better. In places like this, untouched by the overwhelming stink of humanity and its “progress,” there was no law, and there was no manifest destiny or human superiority.
This was nature’s playground, and he’d fight to protect it.
Of course, the all-too sobering reality of the situation was that he was wrong, from a legal sense at least. What should be and what were didn’t always match up. They rarely matched up in Vin’s experience.
The government owned this land. They owned every rock, every cactus, every speck of dirt from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and it turned Vin’s stomach.
Of course, he hadn’t always felt that way.
He had once believed in this country, in the American dream.
He had fought to defend it, believing that loyalty went both ways.
But, the sobering reality of what was made him feel foolish for ever believing in what should be.
But he’d use the skills they had taught him.
That was something Uncle Sam could never take away from him.
Not now and not ever. He stopped his horse several hundred yards away and climbed down, checking his equipment.
Evaline was well-trained. Even if bullets started flying, the horse would remain calm and stay where he left her until called.
He had been training these animals since he was a small child and was confident in the lessons he had instilled in this one.
No sooner had his pointed cowboy boots touched the dusty, rocky terrain than he checked for the revolver holstered at his side, the lasso attached to his opposite hip, the serrated knife in his belt, and two pairs of police-issue handcuffs.
These were the tools of a bounty hunter, and Vin was a master in their use.
He walked confidently, not trying to conceal his presence as he blew past their four-wheelers.
Vin reached down and gripped the handle of his single revolver.
Its strength paled in comparison to the high-powered rifles used by the poachers, but he could tell by the way they handled the weapons that they weren’t overly skilled in their use.
Sure, they could point and shoot at an animal that had no way of defending itself. That was something just about anyone could do. It didn’t take skill or know-how, just enough strength to compress a trigger and some semblance of aim.
Vin, however, was cut from a different breed. “Can I help you boys?” he asked aloud, drawing the attention of the poachers who whirled on him with wild surprise, leveling their guns at him as they moved.
As the barrels of their weapons swung toward him, Vin resisted the urge to shake his head. This wasn’t the first time a gun had been pointed at him. He doubted it was the hundredth time. It also would most certainly not be the last.
“Jesus, partner,” one of the poachers said, lowering his rifle.
“You scared the hell out of us.” He was a heavyset man, wearing a sleeveless flannel shirt and cut-off denim shorts.
He wore a large trucker hat on his obviously bald head, and when he spoke, it was around a large wad of chewing tobacco.
“We coulda shot you,” the other one said, also lowering his weapon. He had cascading black and gray hair that extended down his back.
Vin assumed he might have been balding in the front, given the size of his forehead that even his tan straw hat couldn’t hide. “You can’t sneak up on people like that.”
“Can’t?” Vin asked with a humorless chuckle. “That’s rich coming from the two of you.
“The two of us?” the heavy man asked, head tilted in confusion. “The hell you mean, fella?”
“You’re telling me what I can or can’t do, but you’re out here chasing after endangered wolves,” Vin replied, shaking his head.
“How the hell do you know that?” the man with the long hair asked, which earned him a weathering glare from his companion.
“What we’re doing here,” the heavy man said, slowly and with menace in his voice, “is our business.”
“Business,” Vin said, starting to pace off to the side. “That’s funny because business is what brings me out here in the first place, partner.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” the heavy-set man said, tightening his grip on the rifle in his hands.
“My business,” Vin said slowly, reaching a gloved hand up to scratch at his black beard. “The business I make a living in.”
“What business is that?” the smaller man asked, and his partner turned and snapped at him.
“Shut up!” he barked before turning his attention back to Vin. “What business is that?”
Vin laughed again and looked around, taking in the serenity of the desert.
“You know, boys,” he said, completely at ease despite the threatening stance of the two men, “I’ve loved this land since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.
This place is my first love, and it has a special place in my heart, comparable to the place occupied by my son. ”
“Yeah, okay,” the heavy man said, his voice shaking with anxiety and confusion.
“You know, if someone messed with my son, I’d damn sure knock his ass into the dirt. No questions asked, just wham, and that mother fucker is kissing the ground.”
“The hell are you talking about?” the smaller man dared to ask, but this time the heavy-set man didn’t scold him.
“Well, since I love my son the same way I love this land, what do you think I’m gonna do to two shitheads out here messing with this place.”
“All right, you need to get outta here, mister,” the heavy man said, not yet leveling his rifle at Vin but getting close.
“You know, the reservation is paying five hundred a piece for poachers,” Vin replied, tilting his hat to give the men a look into his blue-green eyes.
“Shit,” the long-haired man said, taking a step back. “He’s a damn bounty hunter.”
The heavy-set man didn’t respond this time. He just raised his rifle, setting Vin in his sights. But he might as well have been moving in slow motion to someone with Vin’s training and background.
No sooner had the rifle braced itself against the man’s shoulder than Vin had drawn his revolver, thumbed back the hammer, and let out a shot that smacked into the broad side of the weapon.
The rifle went spinning, along with part of the heavy-set man’s index finger. He cried out in pain and fell back.
The other one was moving now, all of this taking place within the span of a few seconds. He was spooked. The moment he was able to, he was going to fire at Vin. Finesse wasn’t going to cut it here.