Hawkridge

Chapter One

This is book one of the Hawkridge Chronicles. I will be posting it in its entirety on Wattpad one chapter a day counting down until the release of the third book in the series, Outlaws of the Golden Plains. 

Hawkridge: http://www.amazon.com/Hawkridge-Chronicles-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00RNJXAVM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1420305266&sr=8-1&keywords=julian+kindred

Under the Mountain: http://www.amazon.com/Under-Mountain-Book-Hawkridge-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00TEYNODI

Outlaws of the Golden Plains: http://www.amazon.com/Outlaws-Golden-Plains-Hawkridge-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B015YLD9T8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1444188720&sr=1-1&keywords=outlaws+of+the+golden+plains

Please visit my website at www.julian-kindred.com to learn more about me and see what other projects I'm working on. 

Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.

—Mark Twain

* * *

Colt Hawkridge raced across the plains. The thunder of hooves swallowed his heartbeat as he whipped his lasso overhead in great arcing loops, bearing down on the fleeing drake calf. With a "Whoop!" he let fly the rope and reined his steed to a halt. Barnaby wasn't a young gelding, but he was well versed in drake wrangling, and he pulled back to anchor the rope as it fell upon the drake and his rider yanked it taut.

Colt hurled himself from Barnaby and hit the ground sprinting as the young drake jerked to a halt. The enormous lizard-like creature's low center of gravity made the drake difficult to throw off balance, but Barnaby wasn't the only one with years of practice. Colt crashed into the drake, dodging its lashing tail and raking claws. The toothy head jerked round to snap at him as Colt leapt upon its back and bore it to the ground.

With enthusiastic efficiency Colt bound his second lasso around the calf's jaws, binding them shut. The tail struck him across the back but Colt held on and swung his legs over the drake's side. He planted his feet, adjusted his grip, and flipped the drake over onto its back, flattening the waist high yellow grass.

He hobbled the stunned drake's forelimbs before it could recover and leapt to his feet with a victory cry. "See that, Barnaby? That's how you rope a calf!"

Barnaby twitched an ear and looked unimpressed.

The drake struggled to its feet and tossed him a red glare. With its mouth and forelegs tied it wasn't exactly harmless, but it couldn't get away neither. It snorted its frustration as Colt brushed a hand through his close-cropped brown hair.

"Back to the pack for you, Scales," he said, making his way back to Barnaby.

He was a tall youth, eighteen winters old and just as many hands tall. His trousers and workman's tunic were worn with age and the leather of his boots and drake handler gloves were scuffed from frequent use. His belt cinched tight over narrow hips that tapered up to broad shoulders on a frame lean and muscled from hard work. Colt's face was tan from years under the sun working the field, and the dark of his face and hair made the blue hue of his eyes almost crystalline in contrast.

He went to Barnaby's side and made to mount up when an arrow buried itself in the saddle a finger's breadth from his hand. The gelding reared, throwing him free, narrowly avoiding another arrow that flew from the nearby woods. Colt let himself fall to the ground and rolled over onto his belly, letting the tall yellowed grass of the plains conceal him. He hadn't realized how close his pursuit of the rogue calf had taken him to the woods surrounding the land belonging to Old Man Alder, Colt's boss.