Diamond Buckow Page 9

  His clear eyes never stopped looking around as he watched the prairie for any sign of movement. When he arrived at the spot where he’d hidden the mare, he saw nothing out of the way, so he sat down to rest.

  Buck propped his back against the rough bark of a gnarled old tree and almost dozed. He followed his pattern the rest of the afternoon and checked the prairie every half hour or so, resting in-between. A fly’s persistent buzzing kept him from nodding off to sleep, but the heat made him lethargic. He had to concentrate his willpower to make himself do the rounds.

  The red fireball sun was over half below the horizon when Buck caught sight of a horse and rider approaching. He looked long and hard at the oncoming man to make sure it was Jake Strickland. When he was satisfied, he turned to make one more trip around the perimeter of his hideout.

  Supposing Jake was a diversion to keep his eyes busy while the so-called law slipped up behind him? But he wasn’t, and Buck returned to watch him come.

  Strickland had drawn close enough for Buck to see his face. Jake didn’t pull his plan off, his weathered features read. The ranchers weren’t going to let Buck off.

  Buck stepped out into the open and waved him down.

  “Over here, Jake. There’s room enough in the shade for your sorrel, alongside my cayuse.”

  Strickland darted a glance at his new friend’s face, then looked away. His voice sounded full of discomfort.

  “Sorry to tell you this, Buck. But my boss wouldn’t do nothing without Blough. So we went over to the Standing Arrow to see him.”

  “What’d he say?”

  Jake snorted. “Stubborn old coot won’t give an inch. Says either you pay for what cattle you took, or hang for sure, and he’ll oversee the job himself. I asked his price, said you only got three dollars a head—I know, but that’s what I quoted, trying to help you. He said nothin’ doin’, the buyers in Dodge the other day quoted him ten, just as they came off the range. I’m awful sorry, like I told you. But he will not take a penny less.”

  Buck’s gaze went toward the setting sun. He could see in his mind’s eye a man on horseback, running. He heard his Uncle Ed’s voice proclaiming, “Jails is full of folks who keep on runnin’.”

  He dropped his glance to his boots.

  “Shit.”

  The one word came out, expressing all his hurt and frustration. Its quiet vehemence told Jake that Buck never used it much, that he’d saved it just for a time like this. Jake couldn’t take much more of looking at those slumped shoulders. He dismounted and settled his gelding in the shade.

  When he turned again to the man he’d up to now considered just a kid, he saw that Buck had already accepted his lot. Even now he was checking the prairie again, making sure once more nobody’d used Jake Strickland. Used him to lead them to a cattle rustler who’d already been hanged, once.

  Buck finished his circuit and came back to Jake, his voice tight with compressed anger.

  “I got three gold eagles for them twenty steers. At ten a head, I’d owe Blough a couple hundred dollars. Even if I was to give him all I have, I’d still owe him seventy. If you consider I’m due a hundred for back wages, then the rope’s still on the wrong maverick.”

  Strickland tried to interrupt. But Buck plunged on, shaking his head decisively.

  “No, Jake, it’s just not fair. If the son-of-a-bitch would’ve paid me, none of this would’ve happened. The way I see it, it’s his fault. If he’s not man enough to own up to what he owes me, then leastways, he could call it even.”

  Jake stretched out a weather-browned hand toward Buck, reaching out for understanding.

  “Believe me, I talked ’til I got hoarse. Blough won’t budge even a little bit. And, well, I know you won’t cotton to what else he wants. But I’d best spell it out. Buck, he wants the thirty you got right now, and then you’re to work for your room and board for three months to make up the rest.”

  He paused to search his companion’s features, hoping to find something there. Something that said, “OK, Jake, I know you tried.”

  But he could read no such thoughts on the shocked and pale, but determined, face before him.

  Strickland forced a thin smile. “Well, like I was saying, I dido ’t figure you’d go for that. So I brought you a sack of provider, keep you going a goodly space if you’re careful. I don’t see no other way, Buck. You got to high-tail it to some other range, where everything is new.”

  “God, Jake! I’d be running the rest of my life.”

  Buck turned away, his blue eyes out of habit searching the open country. Even then he almost missed the three horsemen coming along the same trail Strickland had followed. Wheeling back to Jake, his voice held a hard, bitter tone that was new to him.

  “Here comes trouble. I’ll allow you didn’t mean to lead them to me, but they sure are following your trail. And, by their speed, they’re going to be in shootin’ distance real soon. Wish to hell I had a rifle, I’d drop ’em in their saddles! I tell you, Jake, I’m not going to run.”

  “I didn’t bring ’em with me.” His voice had a ring of truth.

  ”Don’t think anybody can actually follow a trail on hard ground at that speed, and in this light. You’d best get your horse and slip out on the far side. I’ll try to keep ’em talking, and give you a chance for a head start.”

  As Buck made to protest, Strickland’s manner and voice turned to stone.

  “You got to be careful, Buck. You kill one of them, and you’ll be marked even worse than now.”

  “I can see ’em plain,” Buck hissed from between clenched teeth. “It’s the same three who hanged me. I can get ’em all!’

  Watching the horsemen, he drew the sixgun from his belt. He was unaware that Jake had brought out his own hog leg until he felt it pushing against his spine.

  “I’ll just take that gun, Buck. And don’t move fast.”

  Abashed and furious at once, he handed it over.

  “Good.” Strickland’s mouth was grim. “Now get back in the brush with the horses and keep quiet, or you’ll get yourself killed. I’ll try to steer them in some other direction.”

  “You win this time, Jake,” Buck muttered. “But if I live through this, I swear nobody’ll ever get the drop on me again.”

  As Buck crawled behind the concealing scrub, Jake trained his attention on Newt Yocum and the twins. When they got in pistol range, Strickland stepped out in front of them, his weapon hanging loose in his hand. As they pulled up a dozen or so yards from him, he was thinking he’d need to be steady if he was going to run a bluff.

  “That’s close enough,” Jake ordered as Newt started his stud forward again.

  “You all just sit your saddles and keep your paws away from those sidearms. This here is a real nice talking distance.”

  Yocum stopped short. When his surprise wore off, the sometime-deputy demanded, “Strickland, what the hell are you a-doin’ here? I reckoned we was on a hot trail, then come to find you a-standin’ in the way.”

  “That trail was mine, and it’s far from being hot. I don’t take kindly to your followin’ me.”

  Newt squinted his ugly dark eyes, his mind off on a different tack.

  “Wasn’t quite after you, Mr. Top Hand. So put that cannon aside and git out of my way, or I’ll have to arrest you for obstructin’ justice.”

  The gun came up and steadied on Yocum’s chest.

  “This isn’t the other day, when we hanged that young kid. I’ve talked to my boss, and he’ll back me in whatever I do. Even if it was to take the form of killing a deputy that’s not fit to wear his badge.”

  Yocum grinned disarmingly. “Now, that’s real funny, that is. Old Wide Loop sure can put on whatever hat he wants to. First he gits himself that there nickname, then him and Blough bring me in to stop the cattle from disappearin’. And now you’re a-tellin’ me he wouldn’t mind if you was to kill the very deputy he hired to ketch the rustlers?”

  “Newt, I don’t know whether or not he earned being
called Wide Loop. It ain’t my business. As to what he might’ve told you or not told you, I couldn’t care less. He and I talked as recent as mid-morning today. If I got to choose between what he said then and what you say he told you several weeks ago, why, I got no trouble at all!”

  Newt’s grin slipped from his face as he growled, “I think you’re a-bluffin’.”

  “If that’s what you think, then it’s your move.”

  The loud click of the gun hammer being pulled back to full cock emphasized Jake’s stand.

  Willy and Clem exchanged nervous glances, their skin going a little pale under the many layers of sun and dirt. Even Yocum ’s voice betrayed a tremor of strain.

  “Hell, let me explain. We had us a visitor at the Standing Arrow last night. Then this morning when Blough told me the mare belongin’ to the kid we strung up was gone, I began to wonder. Well, the more I worried the more confused I got. So I sent Clem, here, to see if the kid was still a-hangin’ there. He come back and said he was gone entire.”

  “What do you want from me?” Jake’s tone was calm. “I rode away the same time as you. Never heard tell of a man livin’ through being hanged. You sure that nitwit went to the right tree?”

  A murderous flare shot through Clem’s eyes and tensed his body. Willy laughed at the insult. But Newt quelled them both with a quick look.

  “I knowed you was agin it in the first place,” the deputy said to Jake. “So, well, hell, I jist thought mebbe you went back to bury him. And mebbe, you know, you found him not quite dead and carted him off.”

  He sneaked a direct look into Jake’s gunmetal eyes. Streams of sweat poured off his square face, making stripes in the dirt down his cheeks.

  “If that’s the way it was, why—uh, well, I guess since you’re the one’s a-holdin’ the iron, I won’t arrest you. But if you know where he is, jist tell me and we’ll count it even.”

  “That’s real generous of you, Newt.”

  Jake worked on the wry sarcasm. He wanted Buck to hear what he said, to realize the strength he couldn’t dare show the day of the hanging.

  “But I can’t tell you where he might be by this time, and that’s the truth of it.”

  Despite Yocum’s air of casualness, Strickland noticed the restless movement of the deputy’s stud. He was aware that the rider kept his mount on edge, lightly flicking his spurred boot against his flank.

  “Newt, you tum that horse so I can see your gun hand real plain. That goes for you other two as well. Real careful, Newt. If that stud should get excited and move fast, I’d have no choice. I’d just shoot you right out of the saddle.”

  Yocum gulped and gave a sick smile. “Whatever you say, Mr. Top Hand. Looks like if you ain’t a-goin’ to help us, we’d best ride on. Only remember, I ain’t one to forget a body’s a-holdin’ a gun on me.”

  “Wouldn’t want you to forget, because next time somebody might die.”

  Jaws taut, Jake added, “If you’re thinking to leave here with loaded guns, you think some more on it. You first, Newt. Take that sidearm out real slow and easy, then just drop it on the ground.”

  Yocum complied, black hate on his face as his weapon hit earth.

  “The long one, too,” Jake directed as his eyes searched their saddles and discovered the deputy’s rifle.

  Newt tossed it down, swearing. “I’m a-warnin’you, Strickland. The penalties is stiff fer disarmin’ a lawman.”

  Jake snorted. “I got a hunch it’d be a lot worse to let you keep your hardware. You twins do like your boss did, take ’em out slow and let ’em fall.”

  In one motion, the brothers deposited their guns on the sod.

  “Lest you say I’m thieving, I’ll see you all get your property back by sunup,” Strickland promised.

  “Now start back the same way you came. Stick to a steady, even pace because I’ll keep you in sight of this Winchester. If you got a complaint, why, come to the Double P in the morning and we’ll take it up with Mr. Thompson.”

  As the three rode slowly east, mumbling and cursing, Jake gathered up all the weapons. Then he spoke softly out of the comer of his mouth.

  “Buck, I’ll be leavin’ your sixgun on this stump, here. Good luck.”

  Buck felt overwhelmed. Everything had happened too fast.

  “Thanks, Jake,” he breathed. “I don’t know what to say. This is the second time you’ve saved my neck. Are you sure you won’t be on the wrong side of the fence with your boss for what you just did?”

  Strickland turned his large body, enough both to watch the retreat of Newt and his crew, and to talk low to Buck at the same time.

  “Let me worry about that. I may have stretched Thompson’s attitude a little, but not as much as you might think. He told me this morning, ‘I’m about through with this Yocum fellow. He doesn’t recover any cattle, which is what he was hired for. All he’s managed to do so far is to hang a kid not yet dry behind the ears.”’

  Buck exhaled a deep sigh of relief, as if that statement somehow gave him a wisp of hope to snatch at.

  Jake couldn’t fathom Buck’s thoughts as he commanded him, “Stay out of sight, but bring me my sorrel. I’ll watch them aways, ’til you can get started out of here.”

  Within moments Strickland felt the leather reins in his right hand.

  “I took the provider sack,” Buck said. “And, Jake, do you need that rifle? I was thinking I might have need of it, and I know for a fact it ain’t Yocum’s. I seen him, uh, borrow it from Old Man Blough one time.”

  Jake thought for several seconds, and finally answered with reluctance.

  “OK. Dark as it’s gettin’, they couldn’t see whether I got it or not. Just remember where it came from, and be careful how you use it.”

  Strickland swung up into his saddle and rode after the posse trio, who showed faint outlines against the rim of the fast-falling night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Buck stared into the darkness where Jake had disappeared. He still could hardly believe what had just happened. This was the second time Jake had gotten him out of trouble, when nobody else had ever before stood up for him.

  Not his sister, Rebekah, who had laughed at his efforts on behalf of her honor. Not his mother, who without protest had let her second husband abuse him. Not even Uncle Ed, who sympathized with a listening ear, but who backed into a bottle rather than defend or fight for a boy who needed a champion.

  The grulla mare tossed her head impatiently, snapping him back from his thoughts. He knew that if Jake’s bluff was to count for anything, he had to move. But he didn’t know where to go. Strickland had followed Yocum eastward, so he figured that west would do for starters. He tightened the saddle cinch and hove up.

  The night was black, with no trace of daylight left. The moon wouldn’t be up for an hour or so, Buck judged. He let the mouse-brown pick her own way and gait, knowing she’d choose the path of least resistance and not silhouette him against the sky. He also knew she was sure-footed, and not likely to step into any holes. Thus assured, he concentrated on using his ears instead of his eyes.

  After some time, Buck got a strong sense of having been in this place before. He couldn’t have said what it was, but he stopped his mount and looked around. The newly risen moon made the ground seem flat, although he knew it wasn’t.

  He eased the mare to the left. Within just a few more paces, she was definitely going down a slight slope. A hundred or more yards, and he recognized the shallow basin where Newt Yocum had caught him using the running iron.

  Once again Buck experienced the whole terrible day. The diamond-shaped scars on his neck began to burn with an intensity that drove away all his consciousness of the present. Not realizing he’d used his spurs, he was oblivious to his mount and the direction she took.

  As minutes passed, the little mare slowed to a safer gait. She followed her instinct, and went back up the stream. The same stream they’d worked down on that fateful day, trying to get enough cattle marked with the pine tr
ee brand to make up for the money Blough owed Buck.

  Eventually Buck became aware of the horse under him. His thoughts settled down. He wondered what he should do. Would he dare stay around this range and try to clear his name, or would he have to give up and run? He could probably catch up with Sarah Ainsworth, but he didn’t know if he wanted to.

  After all, he’d always carry the scars of his hanging, and no girl would want to sit across the table from that the rest of her life! Or so he thought. A huge sigh shuddered his thin frame. No, he was sure now, he wouldn’t seek her out. But if he stayed, how in hell could he go about making himself an honest Buckow?

  The mare halted, and Buck saw the old soddy where he had spent the early part of the previous night. He couldn’t help but ponder as to why he’d been brought there again. As he sat contemplating, the mouse-brown shook her head and rattled the bridle. Then she struck out with her right forefoot, like she was trying to tell him something.

  “OK, old girl, you win,” Buck said aloud. “We’ll stay the rest of the night.”

  Sliding out of the saddle, he pulled off the heavy rig and slipped the bridle over the mare’s ears. He turned her loose without hobbling her, but was instantly sorry.

  Now, that was a damned fool thing to do, he cursed to himself. Any outlaw worth his salt would keep his horse close, so’s he could mount and run fast. Oh, what the hell! Anybody who wanted to find him would have to track him from where he’d met Jake, and nobody knew for sure he’d been there. Of course, the whole range knew by now he was still alive—that he hadn’t died when that bastard strung him up.

  Once again Buck’s neck scars were on fire. Only now he was aware of the passage of time. As he pored over the circumstances of his hanging, his ever-present hatred of Newt Yocum flared up. He asked himself how a fellow could go straight with a malicious bonehead of a deputy after him.

  Buck had thought Glenn Saltwell was bad, but, alongside of Yocum and Henry Blough, the trail chief now seemed damned near honest. At least Glenn would stand right there face-to-face and look you in the eye while he was cheating you.