Excerpt: The Hanging Tree

(From Chapter 1...)

The line camp was just like every other line camp Brett had been at--a grey, weathered shack with a pole corral behind it. They left their horses snuffling around in the corral and went into the shack. Afternoon sunlight showed through the roof, making dappled patterns on the floor.

Johnny huffed, kicking at a sunbeam. "Oh, ain't that pretty."

"At least it's not raining." Brett grinned. "Did you bring shingles for repair?"

"Yup," sighed Johnny. "Don't know why I expected anything better--every line shack I ever was in leaked--but somehow I just keep hoping that someday I'll get a fancy cabin with a roof that's in one piece and no rats in the bunks."

"Hoping won't fix that roof." Brett stared up at the slivers of blue sky and took off his gunbelt. "I'll do it."

"No, I better," Johnny said in resignation. "I weigh twenty-thirty pounds less'n you and that roof doesn't look like it could support a kitten."

Brett unpacked their saddlebags to the tune of Johnny's tuneless whistling and the pounding of the hammer and the ominous creaking of the roof. "You want the bottom bunk?" he shouted up through one of the cracks.

Johnny peered down at the top bunk. "No, give me the top! Can't see any rats there--at least from here."