Chapter 5
“Please tell me his temperament is nothing like his father’s,” Asher remarked.
He stood in the chilly February air eyeing the bull on the other side of the fence. With a coat of black and white and horns nearly the length of Asher’s arm, the bull was an impressive specimen. There was a mean look about the steer, muscle thick under his hide, and that was part of the appeal. But knowing how brutal the air had been, Asher worried that his best friend might have bitten off more than he could chew. Whippet had quickly gained a reputation for being a bastard, tossing riders as fast as possible and then whirling around to go after them. Vicious, some called him, and more than one cowboy tried to show off by hopping aboard, every single one of them wanting to be the guy that lasted all
