by Barry Reese
“So what if I did? That doesn’t change the price, Jimmy. I want a thousand.”
“No.”
The anger was boiling up inside her, ready to blow at full steam like a locomotive. Hoffer was prepared to shove his fingers in his ears, except that the perfect distraction waltzed into his office.
The door swung open and revealed a short, slim man with a goatee. He was older than both of them, although the full head of hair on his scalp betrayed his actual age. He wore, oddly enough, a pair of goggles that were slipped up onto his forehead. The rest of his face was covered in a light dusting of dirt, which was how he typically appeared.
“Hello,” he said cheerfully. “I didn’t expect to find you here, Rachel. Am I interrupting?”
“Not in the least, Professor,” Hoffer said before Timbers could open her mouth to answer. The steam in her lungs was still present, but obviously dissipating in the presence of the newcomer. “What did you need?”
Professor Accala, the renowned creator of the resonators that had made professions such as theirs first possible, ignorantly smiled at them as he stepped fully into the office. His long coat was covered in dust, just like his face, although he didn’t seem to mind. As usual, he was pleasantly unashamed of his interruption of their argument.
“It’s not what I need, but what you need, my friend,” Accala said. He slapped a rolled up whip onto Hoffer’s desk and beamed at him.
“You already made me a whip,” Hoffer said. “Works like a charm on them beasts.”
“Ah, but this is an improved version!” He motioned to the coiled tool he had set down. “This works on multiple frequencies, much like my resonators, although it will never have to be reset as they do when operating on different creatures.”
Hoffer eyed the whip cautiously. He never understood anything that Accala told him. The man was involved in science that might as well have been magic, as far as Hoffer was concerned. He did know a thing or two about wrangling dinos, however, and he was beginning to understand what Accala was telling him.
“So I can use the same whip to corral raptors as I do megalos?”
“Precisely! Now, if you’ll allow me to—”
Timbers stepped in front of Accala, silencing him. “I want my money, Jimmy,” she said.
“You already got what you earned,” he responded coldly. “Best you take that purse and keep moving on. I have business to attend to.”
Timbers flashed another look of hatred at the man, but kept quiet. Hoffer was ready for another outburst of demands, but to his surprise, she scooped up the purse and turned for the door. She was fuming as she left, but at least she was leaving.
Hoffer watched as she slid her legs up onto the back of Silvermane and slapped the resonator on his neck. The metal box chirped a response, signaling that it had been activated. The beast’s eyes instantly glazed over as Timbers pulled back on the reins, steering him away from Hoffer’s office. The lumbering Megalosaurus roared once as he was guided down the hill toward the fields that bordered Hoffer’s property.
“I do apologize if I interrupted Rachel’s petition,” Accala said. He absentmindedly scratched at his cheek, which scattered a cloud of dust into the air. “I do say that I was in such a hurry getting here that I barely even saddled Phineas correctly.”
Hoffer looked around past Accala through the open doorway to see that Phineas, the man’s Pterodactylus, sat perched on the fence that lined one of the bullpens on top of the hill. The smooth skin of the creature was stretched wide over its expansive wings. Hoffer had never been able to ride one of the flying dinos, as he just couldn’t wrap his head around how they were able to stay in the sky. True enough, the saddle was barely strapped on correctly. Accala was probably lucky to be alive.
“Don’t worry about her,” Hoffer said. “Tell me more about this here whip. But make it quick, I got some buyers coming before supper.”
When night fell on Razorfang Ranch, so did the cool winds. Where the blazing hot sun had once scorched the land, a sweet moon hung over their heads to ease them through the evening. Drifting too far outside the ranch borders would lead you into hostile territory, and if the dinos didn’t get you then the freezing chill might.
Hoffer exited the ranch mess hall with his stomach full and his hopes high. The buyers from Boston, who some took to be blindingly ignorant of the way the West operated, knew exactly what they were looking for. That was another thing that he and his uncle had argued over more than once: overcharging for their services would be a sure way to lose business in the long run.
But it turned out that he didn’t need to worry about that. The buyers had their orders and knew exactly what they wanted, and they weren’t willing to pay a penny over the estimated value. Three of his raptors had fetched a hefty twenty-four hundred dollars. The transaction had been quick and clean, just the way he liked it.
The raptors were loaded up on a wagon and driven out of town that night, just before supper. They were on their way to Boston already, where they would be sold for an even higher price to those that could afford it. Most likely, since they had come from Hoffer’s ranch, they would be sold to some very deep pockets indeed.
He imagined that if wrangling dinos ever became possible on the East Coast that the economy of the West would completely collapse. It wasn’t something he would ever have to worry about, though. Dinosaurs were exclusive to the hotter climates, and since there was no shortage of dinos near Suffrage, Hoffer knew that he was going to be in business for a very long time.
Hendricks popped out of the mess hall, staring at his pocket watch, and started across the open lawn to head down the hill. Hoffer waved and caught his attention, saying, “Cal! I got a bottle of fine whiskey to get through if you’re interested.”
Hendricks shook his head. “Not tonight, boss. I got some chores that still need doing.”
“Sure a quick belt won’t help get through those chores?”
Hendricks continued to walk away, checking his pocket watch once more, eager to get to wherever he was going. “Word is my boss is a real taskmaster,” he said with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll stop by later, though.”
The wrangler trotted down the hill and disappeared into one of the feed houses.
Hoffer patted his stomach, feeling how full he was. The new whip from Accala hung on his belt, and he toyed with the idea of giving it a whirl before turning in for the night. When he spotted his office, however, he decided that getting through that stack of papers was more important. His ranch hands would want to be paid for their labor, after all.
He didn’t get far. After walking no more than ten paces, he heard a bellowing roar coming from the other side of the ranch. It was distinct and wet, and he felt it all the way to his shoes. He instantly recognized the beast that had made the noise.
Tyrannosaurus rex.
Hoffer didn’t waste another second as he whistled for Spitfire. The raptor screeched a reply, meaning that he was complying with Hoffer’s wishes. Spitfire trotted directly for him on a twin set of powerful legs with his head low to the ground.
Spitfire’s mouth hung open just enough for his tongue to jab in and out. Hoffer expertly threw one leg over the saddle and slid into place atop his mount, grabbing the reins in both hands in one fell swoop. He didn’t have to throttle the beast into moving faster or even snap the reins. He simply pulled to one side just enough to guide the raptor down the hill toward the far end of the ranch.
He saw a few of his ranch hands pile out of the hall from eating supper and yelled for them to move. He called for the wranglers to follow him. They had to be fast, or else the entire ranch could be in danger.
The T-rex was one of the most elusive dinos in these parts. It certainly never came near populated areas, and was extremely difficult to capture no matter how many wranglers targeted it. It had never come this close to the ranch before, which meant that something was very wrong.
If it was coming close out of hunger then it could wipe out his entire livest
ock in a single night. The great dino’s stomach would barely be filled from his collection of raptors and other creatures, and it might turn to going after the people that lived there. They had to find some way to contain it, quickly, before all hell broke loose.
Another roar bounded up from the bullpens and as Spitfire rounded the bend by one of the feed houses he saw the monster.
Teeth longer than most men are tall dripped down out of its mouth. The stretched skin of its hide was pulled taut over thick ropes of muscles. Its beady eyes, mere slits near the top of its enormous skull, jittered back and forth.
It was a male, and it was the time of year that the males got most restless. The lack of rainfall over the last month surely didn’t help its disposition any.
The T-rex bellowed again and Hoffer was close enough that he was nearly thrown from his mount. Spitfire, true to his nature, remained steady. It was one reason Hoffer had chosen that particular raptor from among his livestock. He and Spitfire had been through more than most could imagine, and the dino had a way of handling itself.
The T-rex’s eyes locked onto the pair of them and he lunged forward, his neck bent down to their level. He took a pair of massive steps that covered the hundred foot distance between them easily. His jaws were opened wide and waiting to clamp down.
Hoffer yanked the reins hard to the right, forcing Spitfire to leap out of the way. The massive dino’s jaw snapped shut where they had been a second before, and Spitfire screeched in both aggravation and excitement.
“Move! Move!”
Spitfire kept up a solid stride as he rounded behind the giant dinosaur. As speed went, Spitfire had it in spades. Hoffer had never entered in any of the races that regularly took place on the outskirts of Suffrage, but he was sure that he could take the blue ribbon with ease so long as he had Spitfire under him.
Spitfire’s claws dug into the ground as Hoffer steered him into another turn, coming up to the rear of the T-rex. They could outrun and outmaneuver the beast all night long if they had to, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option. They had to draw the dino away from the ranch, or else risk both the livestock and the people’s lives.
Hoffer slapped his side and drew out his long whip, unraveling it with a flick of his wrist. He felt the electronics inside the leather switch on and prayed to the Almighty that Accala hadn’t been spinning yarns when he bragged about the new design.
He thumbed the sliding toggle on the handle, just as the Professor had shown him, and kicked up the whip’s power. With the size of the dino he was looking to control, he knew that the maximum level was the way to go. Anything less and he would be risking his own life by getting in close enough to actually use the whip.
He spotted Mallory and a few of the other ranch hands coming down the hill toward them. The wranglers were mounted on raptors and moving fast, all of them screaming their heads off. They were looking to distract the T-rex, hoping that all their noise would keep it from biting into their employer.
The large dino shifted his focus onto them, which would allow Hoffer to get in close. The down side was that if his whip didn’t do the trick then all of his employees just offered themselves up as a meal for nothing. The T-rex would eventually catch at least one of them, even if they scattered. It was now or never.
He snapped Spitfire’s reins hard and the raptor sprung forward, catapulting them toward the T-rex’s huge, slithering tail. He raised his arm, tightened his grip on the whip’s handle, and struck.
A fiery crack split the air open and Spitfire paused in his trot. Hoffer felt heat coming from the core of the whip, surprising him. His old whip had never gotten hot when he used it. He wondered just how powerful this thing that Accala had created was.
The T-rex paused as well, turning his attention away from the swarming ranch hands and wranglers. His thick neck craned around beside his body, locking his beady eyes onto Hoffer once more.
The large dino spun around, roaring an angry protest at the ranch owner. Hoffer turned as the T-rex twisted his body to face him again, and cracked the whip once more. The heat built up more quickly this time and he nearly dropped the whip. He felt an intense pressure wash over him as the whip struck the air, like when you stand too close to a blast of dynamite.
“Yah!” he hollered at Spitfire as he flicked the reins. The raptor sprung into a run again, trotting steadily away from the T-rex.
A rhythmic thumping shook the ground, signaling each time one of the huge dino’s feet stabbed into the Earth. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the huge dino was giving chase and leaving his employees alone.
As he steered Spitfire to turn around another feed house, he heard the smashing and splintering of wood as the T-rex’s tail didn’t quite make the corner. Wood exploded in all directions as the beast's thick rear appendage smashed through the barn like it was nothing.
Even though Spitfire’s legs were a tenth that of the T-rex’s, Hoffer was pulling away easily. Hoffer steered for the edge of his property, toward the valley, hoping to draw the beast away from his ranch and away from innocent bait.
He cracked the whip once more, and even though Spitfire flinched again, he kept his pace. The large dino behind him screeched in response, obviously annoyed by the draw of the whip.
Hoffer spotted his destination, a ditch that he had ordered dug to keep the rains, when they did come, away from his bullpens. With the slant of the country out there, any rain that came over Suffrage at all would end up washing loose soil straight into his pens. The ditch served as a makeshift irrigation route, moving the water away from his property and down into the fields where it was actually needed.
He pulled back on Spitfire’s reins slightly, causing the raptor to slow up some. The T-rex drew closer and he could swear that he felt the breath of the beast on his back.
With a sharp twist of the reins, Hoffer and Spitfire skidded sideways and fell straight down into the ditch. The lumbering T-rex overshot them, stepping right over the narrow, but deep, ditch.
Hoffer stuck his head back up and saw that the dino had paused and his head was batting back and forth, looking for him. He had a perfect view of the dino’s back, and with it, the T-rex’s neck.
An inaudible swear that the preacher would scold him for passed between his lips. Dead center at the base of the T-rex’s skull was a resonator box.
Someone had bound this lizard’s nervous system to their control. Hoffer jerked Spitfire’s reins and the pair leapt out of the ditch and ran straight for the T-rex. Hoffer felt the warm whip handle in his hand and prayed that the idea that had formed in his head wasn’t going to be the death of him.
He thumbed the switch on the handle again, setting it to the frequency that Accala had explained would interfere with the resonators that Hoffer detested. The T-rex hadn’t spotted him yet, but if he was wrong then the noise of his whip would bring him into focus and he would be too close to get away this time.
Spitfire got in close. Hoffer slipped his arm behind him, thrust forward, and cracked the tip of the whip just above the resonator.
The lights on the side of the silver box flickered and then died.
The T-rex jerked as a contingent of muscles spasms fluttered through his body. He croaked out a warble and froze in place as the electronic resonator tied to his body shut down.
This was why Hoffer hated the technology. He didn’t have a problem using the whip, as it was a tool of his trade that made his job easier, but the resonators could dissect a dino’s brain. The T-rex stood there, motionless, unable to move forward under his own power. He would remain that way until the resonator was replaced.
“Boss!”
Hoffer turned on Spitfire to see Mallory coming up quickly toward him, with a few other wranglers in tow. He nodded once to Mallory as he coiled up his whip and strapped it back onto his belt.
“You okay, sir?” Mallory asked. He yanked back on his own raptor’s reins to bring him up right beside Hoffer.
“I’m fine, thanks to Spitf
ire here,” Hoffer replied as he gently patted the side of his raptor’s neck. The beast lightly screeched in response. “We got a problem.”
“I think you done handled that problem already, sir,” Mallory replied. He nodded toward the T-rex. “You whip him a new hide or something? He don’t look like he has any fight left in him at all. I knew you were good, boss, but this—”
“It was fixed with a resonator,” Hoffer said.
Mallory’s eyes went narrow as he looked over the beast, finding the silver box at the back of its neck. “I’ll be damned,” the wrangler said after a moment. “Someone already broke it in? That don’t make a lick of sense. Why would it rampage into Razorfang if it had someone controlling it?”
“That’s just it,” Hoffer said. “It didn’t rampage here on its own. Someone sent it here. On purpose.”
Mallory’s eyes went wide as the concept sunk in. “But why?”
Hoffer looked around at the gathering ranch hands that had followed them down toward the valley. He looked from face to face, searching for someone in particular. Once he was satisfied, he turned to Mallory.
“Where’s Rachel?” he finally asked.
“What?” Mallory looked over his shoulder at the crowd. “I’m sure she’s around somewhere. Why?”
“She ain’t here.” Hoffer glanced over the crowd again and then focused on Mallory. “Where’s my other whip? The one I gave to you this morning.”
“I... I left it in the stables. Sorry, boss, do you want me to go fetch it for you?”
Hoffer frowned and fought back the urge to swear again. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on yet, but he was starting to get a very clear idea. He ordered Mallory and the rest to do what they could to round up the T-rex and haul it back to the ranch.
With a quick tug on Spitfire’s reins, Hoffer headed back to the stables as fast as his mount would carry him.
All the way back through Razorfang Ranch, Hoffer couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being raided.
The T-rex was one thing, but Rachel missing out on the chance to tackle it was another. He had never met another more determined wrangler in all his life. The fact that she had gone into Fox Canyon to bring back that prize raptor proved it. No one went to Fox Canyon. It was a death trap, especially for a wrangler that preferred to work on her own like Timbers did.