Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) by Rebecca Carey Lyles Page A

the back of Old Blue.”
    Clint and Kate jounced the short distance to the fence corner and got out. He led her to two posts at one end of the gate. Smooth wires attached to the top and bottom of the larger post were looped around the smaller one. “This isn’t rocket science.” He raised the top loop off the smaller pole then lifted the pole from the bottom loop. “You just have to be careful not to tangle with the barbs when you move the gate.” He pointed at the four strands of barbed wire strung from a stationary post at the other end of the gate to the post he held in his hands. “They’ll eat you alive.”
    Kate wrinkled her nose. “They look nasty. Don’t the barbs hurt the animals?”
    “That’s the idea. Keeps them from trying to get out—and discourages predators from getting in. We also run electricity through the top wire.”
    She backed away. Patterson had used electric fencing.
    He chuckled. “Don’t worry, the gate’s not wired. And the current in the fence won’t injure or kill livestock. It just gives them a zap.”
    Patterson’s stun-lethal fence supposedly delivered a shock on first contact and a fatal jolt if immediately touched again. She’d wondered for years what would keep a stunned person from falling into the wire and being electrocuted.
    “Is the electricity really necessary?”
    “Buffalo are strong, agile and fast, even though they look clumsy. They can jump or break through ordinary cattle fencing.” He tapped the top of the pole. “That’s why this fence is six-feet tall. They can also sprint to thirty miles an hour from a dead stop and pivot on a dime, with their hind feet and their front feet.” He raised his eyebrows. “They’re amazing animals and a challenge to control, especially if they get loose.”
    He dragged the pole several feet from the fence. “That’s how you open the gate.” He hauled it back. “To close the gate, place the bottom of the pole into the lower loop then stand it flush against the other post, so you can drop the upper wire over it.” He grunted as he shoved the pole upright and even with the taller post then flipped the loop down. He stepped back. “Think you can handle that?”
    “Mm-hmm.” She made a mental note to buy work gloves the next time she was in town.
    Clint unhooked the gate again and pulled it wide so Mike could drive through and park near the downed cow. Then he handed the pole to Kate, got in his pickup and followed. After angling headlight-to-headlight with Mike’s vehicle, he grabbed a coil of rope from the bed and strode toward the calf, which had scuttled away but was circling back.
    Kate lugged the heavy gate toward the fence, trying to watch the herd and the men at the same time. She wanted to see how they handled the distraught newborn. The calf wobbled away from them but then reversed again, obviously torn between staying with its mother and running for safety.
    Arm in the air, Clint rotated a wide rope loop that suddenly snaked from his hand to slither under the calf’s feet and snare both back legs. He jerked the lariat, and the calf flipped onto its side. The bison hit the ground with a grunt.
    Mike grabbed its front legs.
    With the free end of the rope, Clint tied one front leg to the tethered back legs and sprang to his feet, hands high. “Fastest bison ropers in the West!”
    Kate laughed. Maybe Wyoming men weren’t so bad after all. Maybe, just maybe she’d overreacted to the barn incident. She dropped the bottom of the pole into the loop, trying to not think about how much her hands hurt. With every ounce of strength she had, she set the pole upright and reached for the top wire.
    Clint waved at her. “You don’t need to lock it up, Kate, unless you see bison headed your way. Just hang on a few minutes. Won’t take us long to load this critter.”
    “Now you tell me.” She bit her lip when they tossed the calf onto the metal truck bed, thinking they could have at least put a blanket or a coat