Diamond Buckow (23 page)

So this was how he went straight once he got his stake, Diamond thought bitterly. And if Russ was here now, where in hell was Glenn Saltwell? As he stood wondering, he became aware that the victim's chest moved just a little.

He shot a grim look up at Jake. “This here's Russ, that I used to know, all right. And he's still alive.”

Diamond glanced back down. Russ had opened his glazed eyes. A hurried examination proved that his only wound was the one on his head. Diamond gritted his teeth as he moved aside the sticky wet masses of hair.

He discovered a long open groove where a bullet had traveled along the top of Russ's head, parting his hair and laying the scalp open. It was evident that the lead hadn't entered. Diamond could plainly see white bone for a three-inch stretch.

Strickland limped over to his friend, obviously favoring his left side.

“If an Indian was to happen by now, he'd not have much trouble gettin' that feller's scalp off,” he observed.

“You're right. If Russ lives, something'll have to be done to hold it together until it heals. But what about you, Jake? Where'd you get hit?”

“Left side, went clean through. I plugged the hole front and back. Think it broke a rib. Hurts like hell, but it'll mend.”

Diamond had to smile at Jake's confidence before a sound from Russ caught his attention.

The man on the ground moved his lips in pain and gasped, “Drink, drink.”

Diamond looked at Strickland. “You stay with him, I'll get some water.”

He hurried to the stream at the base of the canyon wall. On his way back with a canteen of fresh water, that bothersome feeling crawled over him again with a deathly chill. He'd forgotten something important. What was it? He gave the cool liquid to Strickland and voiced his fear out loud.

“I was wondering when you'd come around to notice,” Jake said dryly as he helped the injured man to drink from the canteen.

“There's not but five of 'em here.”

“That's it,” Diamond agreed as a sinking feeling hit his gut.

“I'd noticed that just before the lead started to fly, but then I was so busy I forgot. What could've happened to the other one?”

He recalled having wondered where Russ's old boss, Glenn Saltwell, was. Could the sixth man be Glenn? Diamond knelt beside his former riding partner while Jake supported his head.

“Russ. Russ!”

Pain-shot eyes opened and tried to focus on the voice.

“Russ, do you know who I am?”

“No—no, I can't place you.” His whisper was a trifle louder than when he'd asked for water. “No. You aim to tell me why I should?”

“That's all right, Russ. It'll keep. I got to ask you something. Who else is here? There were six of you, but now there's only five.”

Russ couldn't manage to answer right off, but Diamond felt he couldn't wait.

“Listen, is the sixth of your crew Glenn Saltwell?”

“Take it easy, pard,” Strickland intervened. “Give the poor bastard a chance.”

He helped Russ to another gulp of water and said, “Now, then, take your time, but try to tell us.”

The trail hand looked at Jake and then spoke slowly. “I was to bring the cattle to this place. My boss would meet us here and pay off my men. Only we got more of a herd than he expected.”

Diamond was about to dance with impatience, but he tried to keep calm.

“But the other man who was with you yesterday?”

Russ nodded weakly. “Him. He's a real Nervous Nellie. Always sleeps away from the rest. The gunfire must have drove him back with the herd. Couldn't get out past camp unless he was in the fight, where you'd have seen him.”

His voice trailed off and he couldn't talk any more. Diamond stood, facing toward the cattle. This didn't sound to him like Glenn or his ways. He noticed right off that the remuda had drifted back from just beyond the camp to mingle with the beef.

“Jake,” he ordered, “you take care of Russ. If the other'n is back there he might grab hold of a horse and try to get away.”

Diamond put two fingers into his mouth and whistled a short blast. Bones came out from where the partners had left their mounts, partially hidden by some low brush back away from the mouth of the box canyon.

As he swung into the saddle, Diamond said, “I'll just have a little look-see around here.”

Jake nodded tersely. “Watch it, will you?”

From the back of the chestnut gelding, Diamond felt better and could see his cattle better as well. As he got closer, it dawned on him that the herd was moving in his direction. He stopped Bones on a low rise of ground to make sure. Too late, it came to him: sitting on such a high spot, he was very visible to whoever wanted out.

This man meant to escape by drifting the cattle and horses back up the canyon, then slip away in the confusion when the animals came into the camp.

Just as he started Bones into motion, Diamond heard a shot. But the lead came nowhere near him, and he wondered at the lone rustler's having such poor aim. The came a series of shots interspersed with wild yells, and the herd began to run.

The bastard was going to push the cattle right through the camp, Diamond saw. Right where he'd just left Jake with Russ, and they dido 't stand a chance on foot. The beef would trample them both into the dirt.

In a flash Diamond knew he was the only chance they had. He couldn't get them both out of the way—three men and only one horse. No, somehow he had to confine the stampede to the south side of the canyon opening.

With no time to lose, he spurred Bones and the big horse sprang toward the running cattle. Once Diamond got to the north side of them, he turned his mount and started to squeeze the herd leaders toward the south wall of the canyon. When Bones understood what his owner wanted, he needed no more direction.

Diamond dropped the reins around his neck. With a sixgun in one hand and a rope in the other, he shouted himself hoarse. He could see that they were making some progress, but he didn't know if it was enough. He wasn't sure one man could do the job, no matter how good his mount.

But he knew he'd won when he passed the encampment. Bones leaped over a dead man, and as Diamond looked quickly to his left, he saw Jake trying to get Russ on his feet. Strickland's left arm supported the trail worker while his right hand steadied a gun.

Diamond slowed Bones and began to look for the outlaw who'd dare try to run a herd of wild cattle over men on foot. The rustlers' horses had gone with the beef. He could see more than half the canyon, and nowhere was a place for a man and mount to hide.

Diamond at once rejected the back of the box, since it was
out
that the fellow wanted. Not likely he'd stay behind, he must have gotten away with the herd. Diamond had to admit that somebody could have gotten past him in the chaos of trying to keep the thundering critters away from Strickland and Russ.

Dejected, he rode back to the other two. He sat his saddle and looked down at Jake. Russ apparently had blacked out again. The top hand pointed along the canyon wall with his gun.

“Son-of-a-bitch went through on the north side while you was keeping the cattle to the other. I took a shot at him, but that big black hoss was stretched out belly to the sod and I missed.”

Hearing this, Diamond wheeled Bones and cut toward the north wall. The rustler's tracks were easy to find. His horse had been running hard, and its shoes had dug up chunks of earth. Diamond followed, letting Bones run without pushing him. No horse, he thought should be made to keep up the kind of pace that owlhoot was whipping his mount to.

The track turned north. The rustler must have feared he'd kill the black because the length of his stride shortened. Signs said he'd stopped on top of a small rise, looked back, then turned and gone on at a lope.

Diamond came over the next ridge some minutes later. He could see that the fugitive had again stopped to let the horse blow while he watched his backtrail. He knew that whoever he followed wouldn't be easy. Diamond sat Bones and wondered if the outlaw was on the next hill watching him.

Diamond stood looking north. He thought he could see the ridges flattening out, yet he still had doubts. Was it worthwhile to keep on—and what if he
did
catch the fleeing longrider? After all, his breeding herd was safe, at least for now. Jake was waiting anxiously, and mostlike it'd be good if they did what they could to keep Russ alive and get him turned on a better path.

But a man could stand only just so many high thoughts. Diamond couldn't help but bring to mind those two twins and the strong possibility he might've come upon Glenn Saltwell again.

Angry determination took hold. Diamond wheeled Bones around in the direction the rustler was traveling. Here the ground was broken by a series of ridges that appeared to run together in the northeast. By moving straight north, the man had to cross each one at an angle.

This thief was smart. He was expecting to be followed. After his first run to get out of the canyon, he was saving his mount as much as possible. If Diamond stayed on the trail, it meant either a long chase or an ambush.

Diamond did some quick plotting, then gave an elaborate shrug as if to signal that he'd given up the chase after all. He turned Bones and went back the way he'd come. But when he reached the bottom between that ridge and the first one, he went northeast and rode hard between the ridges.

This way the rustler could not know that he was still being tracked. Diamond knew he had to go a lot farther now than the other man, but at least he had a compensation. Traveling was easier on the relatively smooth floor of the wash than it was on the up and down route the outlaw had taken.

Diamond pushed Bones hard for a couple of miles. Then while the gelding stood at the bottom and caught his breath, his owner climbed the side of the ridge. He shinnied up a lone pine tree to see the lay of the land.

After a time of watching the ridges to the west and north, he saw a man on a black horse. The outlaw came to a top straight west of Diamond, dismounted, and searched his backtrail. Still being careful.

Diamond slid down out of the pine, got Bones, and once again hurried along the bottom until he came to a place he'd noted. Here the ridges were not only lower, but the sides were less steep. He led the geld while he crossed three of the these, coming to the top with great effort not to be seen. He counted on the advantage of being where the rustler wasn't expecting him.

On the fourth ridge he left Bones down the side out of view. He took his time and searched the area to the west and southwest. Finally he was rewarded as he caught sight of the man he was following, much closer than he expected. The big black horse was plodding along the bottom of one ridge west, and about a quarter of a mile south.

Getting Bones in a hurry, Diamond half-urged, half-dragged him over the top of the ridge and then mounted. He went along the same bottom that the rustler was traveling only now he was ahead of his prey. After a short distance he found what he was looking for: an overhang where he could sit his horse in the shadows and not be seen until the other rider came close.

Diamond heard the powerful black before he saw him. The thudding hooves, the labored breath. When the rustler and his mount rode into sight, his comforting hand on Bones's sweaty neck stayed the gelding from announcing their presence. Diamond placed his chestnut in the outlaw's path, and instantly recognized who he'd been tracking.

In front of him sat the one man he still hated more than anybody he'd ever known—more than his stepfather, more than his pa's assassin, Red Pierce; more even than Glenn Saltwell. It was the one hombre he thought maybe he
could
hang, after all, and now he had the drop on him.

“That's far enough, Mr. Deputy Sheriff. Just sit quiet and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Newt Yocum had been letting the black horse find its own way while he sat loose and relaxed in the saddle. He came to with a start, and the mount stopped of its own accord.

“Who? ... What do you want? You ain't got nothin' on me. I'm just ridin' along here, a-mindin' my own business.”

Yocum's overworked black waited quietly. Newt sat with his hands shoulder high, not recognizing one Peter D. Buckow in the mature rancher who sat before him.

“I don't know you. And I only been a lawman oncet. Say, maybe three years ago.”

Diamond snorted. “Well, if you don't remember that far back, how about this morning? You tried to stampede the cattle you helped thieve, over a camp where men were on foot. That's reason enough to hang you with the same leather riata you used on me. It's been on my saddle ever since, in the hope I could return the favor one day.”

He reached to take the old rope from its fastenings, but Yocum slammed his spurs into the flank of his horse. Diamond suddenly saw that the black still had more strength than he'd figured. It leaped forward, left shoulder striking Bones's right shoulder. Gelding and man went down with a thud.

Diamond hit the ground in a sandy spot. He rolled over several times and finally struggled to his feet while he tried to blink the grit out of his eyes. As he focused he could see Bones was back on all fours, apparently none the worse for his fall. Diamond bitterly muttered every oath he knew as he pulled himself into the saddle.

He headed the horse in the direction where Newt had disappeared. They rounded a curve in the ravine, and there was the ex-deputy, over a hundred yards away. When Diamond and Bones came into sight, Yocum spurred the black until its strides lengthened.

The chestnut sensed Diamond's excitement, needing little urging to run. But when he saw the mighty black horse ahead, it was as if he'd found a new source of power. A racer at heart, Bones would overtake the other mount or die in the attempt.

Diamond saw the rustler look back over his shoulder. Then, incredulous, he repeated the procedure. It seemed like Newt Yocum couldn't believe his eyes—like he'd thought himself to be the only man around with a strong, fast horse.