The Valley Of The Wendigo (2010) - Plot & Excerpts
After breakfast they simply walked north of town until they came to it. Actually, they smelled the camp before they saw it. Coffee and beans. As they entered the camp, Fiddler looked up at Dakota. “I been waitin’ for you,” he said. “Who’s your friend?” “Jack, this is Clint Adams.” Fiddler looked at Clint. The Indian did look ancient, he had to admit. “Why is the Gunsmith huntin’ the Wendigo?” “He isn’t,” Clint said. “I’m just passing through. I didn’t want to pass up the chance to meet Jack Fiddler.” “You know me?” “I’ve heard of you.” “Hunker down,” he told them. “Drink coffee with me.” They did as he asked and he passed them each a full cup. Clint tasted it. “This is damn good,” he said. “I thought Indians didn’t like coffee.” “They don’t,” Fiddler said. “I do.” “Well, you make it damn good, too.” Fiddler smiled, revealing more gaps than yellowed teeth. “Somebody took a couple of shots at us last night, Jack,”
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