Monty's freezer and that of his tenants were already full of meat. A shame, because these were fairly young pigs, probably out exploring apart from the herd, and would have made good eating. But Monty didn't need the meat now, and he was leaving for the city tomorrow morning so he didn't have time to dress the pigs. He listened for a minute to see if the noise of the shots, which carried for miles out here, would bring out any lawmen who might have been in the vicinity. He heard nothing, so he backed the truck up to the nearest pig, looped a rope around its hind legs and the trailer hitch on the pickup, then drove over to the other and collected it. Still running without lights, he drove slowly down to the river bank and dropped the carcasses off in some willow thickets hidden from the road. He knew that coyotes, buzzards, and probably other pigs would make good use of the meat, and in a couple of weeks only whitened bones and some scraps of tough hide would remain.
His night's work over, Monty headed back to the ranch house. He needed another hot shower, and then he needed to pack some clothes for his morning trip to San Francisco.