by A. J. Arnold
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.
Chapter Twenty-One
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.
He faced forward again, his arm working up and down as he lashed the black to a higher speed. A grim, humorless laugh broke from between Diamond’s set lips. Yocum would kill that animal yet, but, by God, he would not get away.
The sides of the ravine flashed by in a solid wall. The footing was good, and the well-matched mounts ran on and on. Newt began to think he was slowly losing the race when he couldn’t get any more speed out of the black. He pulled a sixgun and fired out behind him.
Diamond saw the smoke, but had no idea where the bullet went. At that distance a hand weapon had but little accuracy, he knew, especially shooting from a moving horse at an object that was also in motion. Newt’s likelihood of hitting Diamond was slight, but he didn’t want to chance much, since Bones was such a large target.
He reached for his own gun, but his hand came down on an empty holster. He guessed the iron must have fallen out when Bones went down. Reaching for the longer gun in the boot tied to his saddle, his hand slid off. He got a better hold, but the carbine wouldn’t budge. Somehow it had gotten jammed tight in the sheath. Diamond recalled that Bones had come down hard on that side when he fell.
Damn it, he swore in silence. Now what?
The chestnut horse ran on, head pointed, mane flying. Large hooves pounded the hard earth until it sounded like rolling thunder. The wind of their speed parted Diamond’s beard and brought tears to his eyes.
He thought he probably couldn’t hit the bastard even if he had gotten a gun out. Just as damned well—he’d rope and drag-hang the rustling killer, let him know how it felt to have a noose tighten around his neck.
The two mounts ran. Bones slowly gained, but Diamond asked, at what cost? If it kept up, both horses would go until they dropped. Diamond decided he had to do something. The gelding’s stride hadn’t shortened, he’d lost none of his trememdous speed. But now every hoof hit the ground with a shock that Diamond could feel all the way up his backbone.
Twenty-five feet marked the distance between the racers.
“A little closer.” The words escaped Diamond’s mouth as he uncoiled his riata.
Twenty feet. Eighteen. Fifteen. Yocum turned to look, his face gray. His pursuer wondered whether it was due to fear or dust.
Newt’s hands shook as he tried to load his gun, but he soon gave up and threw it at Diamond. It missed and bounced away. But the panic on the former lawman’s face said he at last realized fully who it was gaining on him.
The ravine floor was smooth hard rock. The only sound above the ringing of steel-shod hooves was the harsh rasp of each breath the black sucked into his lungs.
When Bones’s head drew even with the other’s tail, Diamond shook out his riata. As he whirled it twice to open the loop, Yocum turned to look again. Newt realized what was in store for him, and tried to make his horse cut to the left in front of Bones. But at the same time he leaned too far to the right as he tried to dodge the noose that streaked toward him. The black’s head pulled one way and the considerable bulk of his rider, leaning the other, made the horse go down with a jarring thud.
Bones’s sure-footedness kept him and Diamond from tangling up and falling as well. As they raced past, Diamond saw a confused picture of the big stud somersaulting on the hard rock. His rider sailed through the air in an arc that shook him free of the horse.
When Diamond brought Bones to a safe stop, he turned and went back slowly. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t feel much like viewing the remains. The chestnut snorted and shied off from moving closer. His owner slid out of the saddle, surprised to find his legs weak.
Diamond ground-hitched his horse, wishing to no avail that there would have been a shady spot. He didn’t have to get close to know that Newt was dead. Yocum had been thrown some twenty feet, landing head-first on the ravine floor. His skull had shattered, spilling brain matter out to sizzle on the hot rock.
Looking down at his old enemy, a convulsive sigh shuddered through Diamond. He had to feel thankful, at least, that he’d not had to go back on himself and hang somebody. Now that Yocum was gone, he’d never have to worry about that again. Maybe now, he told himself, maybe now he could stop remembering and hating.
Diamond stood lost in thought until a soun
d brought him to. He looked over at the black. Newt’s horse was gamely trying to struggle to his feet. But at last he gave up and sank back onto the ravine floor. Diamond got halfway to him before he stopped for a sharp look. He could see the bone protruding through the skin of the right foreleg.
Yocum’s saddle had been smashed, Diamond saw. He wondered if that meant the black stud’s back was hurt along with the broken leg. Turning wearily, he trudged back to Bones and reached for his saddle gun. Then he remembered he hadn’t been able to budge it during the chase. It was still stuck fast in the leather.
Behind his back he heard a thud. He wheeled to see the downed black try once more to get up, and fall again. The horse’s shoulders resounding on the solid rock snapped Diamond’s patience.
He took out his knife, slashed the boot, and caught the carbine as it fell free. As he walked toward the animal he worked the mechanism. Sand grated, and he was forced to unload it just so that the weapon wouldn’t explode in his face.
Diamond reloaded, talking softly to the stud. “Sorry, big boy. You’re too good a horse to end this way. But I got to do it.”
The sound of his voice seemed to quiet the black. In the one second that he got still, Diamond shot him between the eyes. Killing that horse seemed to be the last straw. Diamond felt a revulsion he hadn’t experienced in years. He wasn’t even sure how many men he’d done away with this day. How, he asked himself, could he learn to live with that?
Diamond was numb as he mounted Bones and rode slowly back over all the ground they’d raced. When they reached the spot where he’d first waited for Newt Yocum, and where the black had knocked Bones down, he slid out of the saddle. He crawled around on all fours looking to retrieve his sixgun.
With the afternoon sun beating down, he felt sick. He started to heave, but there was nothing to come up. Diamond hadn’t eaten all day. But even worse was the lack of water. He and Bones both would surely welcome a drink. The only water he knew of was back at the box canyon.
