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Wild Blackberry Books
Category:
Action/Thriller
Publisher: CreateSpace
ISBN-10: 150057192X
Type: Fiction
Pages: 210
Copyright: August 5, 2014
ISBN-13: 9781500571924
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Joaquin's journey has been long and is approaching its end.
Life is seldom what we expect it to be. When Joaquin finds he must give up the life he loved for a vice he couldn't defeat, one thing leads to another. But life isn't through with him yet. When an old foe steps into the picture he's reminded that he is a man of peace, and warned of the dangers by words Grandmother spoke so many years ago, "Coyote is a Trickster, Pakwa." He is alone, but yet not alone, as he is blessed through bonds developed with the children whose lives ultimately touch his own. Through it all he is reminded of his Hopi roots, and his final destination.
Excerpt
Before they reached the windmill and watering hole, they came to the first carcass of a dead cow lying on its back on the desert floor, its belly bloated, causing its legs to extend toward the sky like fence pickets.
“What in heaven’s name is going on here,” Joaquin muttered as he dismounted and walked over to the deceased cow. He squat beside the dead animal whose eyes were glazed with its tongue hanging out of its mouth in a grotesque fashion. There was an oily residue around the animal’s mouth and he detected the faint odor of gasoline.
Joaquin turned toward Theo, “I think this cow’s been poisoned,” he exclaimed. He drew his fingers across the glistening oily film present on the cow’s lips. He rubbed the slick substance between his fingers, smelled it, and shook his head. There was the obvious smell of crankcase oil and gasoline, but there was something else he couldn’t quite identify.
When he rose, Joaquin shook his head and glanced some distance away where he could see the carcasses of additional cattle surrounded by vultures. He mounted Deacon and the two men rode on to the windmill and the trough from where the cattle drank, as well as the earthen tank some yards away that was fed by the windmill’s overflow. Around the bank of the earthen reservoir lay the carcasses of a fox, a coyote, and several dead birds. Someone had triggered the brake on the windmill, which stopped it from pumping water into the trough. They had also turned off the valve that controlled the water’s flow. The odor of petroleum was unmistakable, as was the iridescent sheen that covered the surface of the water in the trough and the earthen tank. Oil was evident in the colorful swirls that swam in circles created by the breeze. Someone had obviously poisoned his cattle.
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