Diamond Buckow (25 page)

“If you'd untie my hands I'd sure appreciate it, pard.”

Diamond stared at the weapon still in his own hand, dropped it into the holster, and knelt by Jake.

“How you doing? You get any more wounds before they tied you up?”

“Naw,” he said sheepishly, and Diamond knew, even in the near dark, that Jake's big square face had gone red.

“They got the drop on me and the kid without firing a single shot.”

Diamond stood, making no comment.

Strickland sat up and rubbed one wrist, then the other.

“Thanks.”

Diamond moved on to Russ. “How about you? Seems like you're improved since I saw you last. Doesn't seem possible it was only this morning.”

“Yeah, I know. I passed out whilest your man, there, was atryin' to tie my hair back on. But when I came to, the job was done. Reckon I'm back to normal now, 'cept I can't rightly see straight for the head pains.”

“You saw straight enough when the shooting started,” Diamond observed.

“Guess some thanks are in order, because I had to question which side you'd choose up with.”

“Well, I never did take to that Harve. Always a-tryin' to make out he was somebody. Got to confess, though, I never could've shot Glenn. He was straight with me, even if not with nothin' nor nobody else. But for Harve, it was pure pleasure. 'Sides, I owed you one.”

They moved, simultaneously, to shake hands. Both knew they were doing more than just burying the past. When Diamond looked up, he saw Sean standing near.

“Boss, the reason I left the ranch and come here—”

Suddenly Diamond didn't want to hear it. He spoke fast and short.

“Sean, I never in my life asked another man to take care of my horse. But I'm breaking that rule now. I left Bones over by the water hole. Go get him for me.”

Sean hesitated. “Sure,” he said, turning toward the stream.

Nobody even heard him.

Next morning, Diamond was the first up. He hadn't slept. After the others had settled down, the black mood came on him again. He'd lain all night thinking on the men he'd killed, and trying to find a way out from under the load of guilt he felt.

It wouldn't wash. Things he'd learned as a boy in Sunday school, things his ma said from out of the Bible came to haunt him. Not to mention his own oath to God on the day of his hanging. His promise to be an honest man. But was being honest the same as not killing, or was it different? He wasn't sure.

Diamond at least took a little solace from knowing that he'd
planned
and
tried
to get his cattle back without bloodshed. But the fact remained that not only had he killed, he'd deliberately practiced shooting fast and straight.

Still, if he hadn't prepared, he'd be dead. It had been kill or be killed. He was alive now, and his enemies were not. Would it somehow be better if he was the one waiting to be buried, and the outlaws were doing the honor?

No, Diamond had to tell himself. No, he had to believe it was a good deal better that he and his men had lived while Saltwell and his had died. He sat pondering as he sipped hot coffee from a tin.

Diamond watched the sky over the ridge to the east go from blue-black to light gray to pearl tinged with yellow. When finally there came a broad band of brilliant pink, he got up and rummaged through the rustlers' gear. He found a short-handled spade and went out to dig graves.

Sean O'Malley found him at the burial site a time later. Silently, the breed pitched in to the dirty task. Diamond felt more than once that Sean was going to speak, but each time he turned away and worked himself into a lather to avoid conversation.

In the end, he had to give in. The breed's urgency to explain himself was great, and Diamond knew he had a whole lifetime to learn to carry his burden.

He threw the spade out of the hole and said, “Let's get something to drink, and breathe a spell.”

O'Malley climbed out, watching him. “Boss, I got to tell you this. I left the Running Diamond in good hands. A couple of days after you left, Tom Dobbins come out. I told him everything. He said you and Jake'd no doubt get the cattle back, but you'd sure need help drivin' 'em back to our range.”

Diamond took it in without comment. Since his look was not disapproving, Sean went on.

“Tom said he'd tend the place 'til we got back. So I come to help, but I had a bad time for to find you. I'd still be lookin' for the trail if our cows hadn't busted up over a ridge and damn' near knocked me down. I—I didn't know what to do 'til they would stop running. So I let 'em head on for home and I backtracked 'em. Then I found Jake and a whole lot of bodies.”

Sean stared, and Diamond stared back. Suddenly the picture of O'Malley, half Indian, losing the trail and O'Malley, half cowboy, getting all but trampled by his own ranch's herd, was too much. Diamond grinned, and before he could hold it in, a deep chuckle rumbled out.

The breed looked, by degrees, puzzled, insulted, then relieved for the boss not to be angry. Finally he saw the humor and began to laugh. Sean and Diamond fell on their knees, holding their middles and guffawing at each other.

Jake let them run down before he called them in to breakfast.

When everybody finished eating, he said, “Now, if you two hyenas are through laughing, we better plant these stiffs. Some of 'em's been dead since this time yesterday. We don't get 'em underground soon, they're going to stink.”

Diamond and Sean quickly agreed, and they all set to work. Glenn Saltwell and four of his men went into a common grave. After the grave was filled Jake had a question.

“What about this Harve fellow, pard? Figure you'll not hang him, else you'd have done it first and buried him along with the others.”

Diamond shot Strickland a glare that could have killed as he turned his back. For the first time that day, he looked at the one remaining rustler. Harve was pasty. All he'd wanted for breakfast was coffee. His right arm rested in a sling made of two bandannas.

“Harve,” Diamond asked, with no give in his question, “can you sit a horse?”

The answer came back strong and clear. “Yeah, sure I can.”

“I got nothing against you, only being with Saltwell. I don't know if you ever went with Glenn on one of his raids or not. But if you'll help us round up our cattle and get them home, I'll pay you wages. Then you can go your own way, just so long as it's not in Kansas.”

Harve didn't even blink as he nodded his acceptance. Diamond felt satisfied and turned to the other problems.

“Russ? I doubt you could herd beef with that head you're toting.”

“Well, maybe not, but I can take care of camp chores. By the time the rest of you get the gatherin' done, I'll be able to ride point. I know this country better'n all of you.”

Diamond looked at Russ. He saw his old riding partner, a man used to a hard life, telling him he could endure this one more thing.

“Good enough,” Diamond said, and made to walk away. But Russ restrained him.

“Boss?”

He stopped short. This man had never known him as Diamond, never knew about his place. ‘Boss' meant he was ready to start new from here.

“Boss, all them years I rode with Glenn, I kept on a-foolin' myself. Kept a-sayin' how's I'd get a stake together and quit and go straight. But every time I'd get a little coin, it'd just disappear. Some to liquor, most over some poker table. I'd like to try a-ridin' for you and not expect to get rich quick.”

“We can use another man,” Diamond said, slapping a hand on Russ's shoulder.

“Do what you can to help Jake get the camp moved east. Sean, Harve, and I'll go on ahead and start rounding up the cattle.”

The time dragged long, spent in hard riding. They worked until they could no longer see by daylight. The dark hours were broken as each man took his turn riding night guard. The whole period reminded Diamond of his long trail drive up from Texas with Russ and the rest of the crew that had made up Glenn Saltwell's gang of rustlers.

He reflected on all that had happened to him since he had left home. He'd learned a lot—some good, some bad. Diamond wondered if the hard schooling was over now. Somehow he didn't think so. He couldn't have said why he felt that way, but some things didn't set like they should. He considered whether he'd ever feel right until Henry Blough and Wide Loop Thompson knew who he was, and he could clear the name of Buckow.

The process of gathering the scattered cattle accomplished some other things for the Running Diamond men. They learned that the five hundred-odd head over their own breeding stock were branded mostly with Thompson's Double P., and the rest, Blough's Standing Arrow.

As they gained a good many miles eastward toward their home range, Diamond felt how fast a man could tire. Again he thought fleetingly of his coming up from Texas, only this time he was working for himself. Not even that brash kid, Sean O'Malley, had questioned any of his decisions. In the past Sean had plagued him with why's, as if starving to know his boss's way of thinking. Yet he hadn't questioned an order in days, and he took Diamond by surprise one night while they were eating around the campfire.

“Mr. Diamond, why not let me take the middle watch this time? You've had that one every night. It don't seem right, you always bein' the man to have to sleep in two different hitches.”

Diamond looked up quickly, glad to see a flash of the old Sean.

“Well, first off, I just plain like the middle of the night. The cattle are settled and rarely cause any trouble, so it gives me a chance to think. And second, it's only fair for me to be the one to have his sleep broken. After all, I got the biggest stake in this herd.”

A dam had broken for the younger cowboy. “What are we goin' to do with all these Pied Piper and Standing Arrow cattle?”

Diamond frowned, his forehead creasing. “I've been studying on that, Sean. Best I can come up with is for all of us to start cutting out any cattle that are not wearing a Running Diamond brand. Leave them behind whenever we get a chance.”

“But, Boss. If we was to take them critters back to where they belong, wouldn't that help patch things up between our outfit and theirs?”

Diamond considered. But before he could speak, Russ cut in, surprising him.

“I wouldn't count on it, kid. See, about these ranchers, they was here first. They had to fight for ever'thing they've ever got. So they'd jist have a mite of trouble believin' how's anybody would do 'em a favor.”

Jake Strickland's big sandy head came up. “I got an idea, and it's something I really want to do. Diamond, I'd like to take those cattle back to Old Wide Loop. I'd be pleased, all right, if I could run them right down the bastard's throat.”

The boss looked at his friend and partner. “It wouldn't be safe to be caught out on the open range with those old mosshorns, Jake. You'd have a hell of a time convincing Thompson and Blough you weren't driving them to Dodge to sell.”

Strickland stuck his jaw out. “Cut out all of those two brands and I'll take 'em partway. Then I'll ride right on in to see Wide Loop. I want to see him eat crow, to admit I never stole cattle—from him, nor anybody else, either.”

“Jake, no. It's too risky.”

Cold gray eyes stared Diamond down. Jake's friend flinched inwardly. But his words were calm.

“I'll think on it some more. Meanwhile, let's all get some sleep.”

During his watch that night Diamond turned the whole problem over in his mind. By breakfast the next morning he still had not come to a decision. He figured he had a little more time, since Strickland was out with the herd. But apparently the men had jawed it over in Diamond's absence. Harve had been out with the critters during last night's talk, and he was the one to broach the subject now.

“Mr. Diamond,” he began, “the rest told me about what Jake wants to do with the off brands.”

The boss arched his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Well, I know a place about two days' drive from here. It's not only a good spot to cut the herd, but would serve to hold the other folks's cattle while Jake goes to see his old boss. One man could keep 'em from straying 'til Jake comes back with the ranchers' men.”

Diamond studied the other's face at length, wondering whether or not to trust him. After all, Harve had been with Glenn Saltwell. He'd said almost nothing for the past several days, doing silently everything he'd been told to. But could he somehow be planning to try to get those cattle for himself?

“Sounds like it might work, Harve,” Diamond admitted cautiously.

“You volunteering to stay and watch the cattle we leave there?”

Saltwell's sidekick hesitated long enough for Diamond to take note of it before he answered.

“Never thought I'd be the one picked.”

“But you'd be willing?”

Harve blew out a long sigh. “Yeah. Guess I ain't got much choice as to what I do or don't do.”

The boss left him and got the herd to moving well. Then he urged his horse ahead to talk to Russ, who was still riding point. They rode stirrup to stirrup in silence for several minutes, Russ waiting patiently because he knew Diamond had something to say.

At last he demanded, with no preamble, “Can I trust Harve?”

“I wouldn't,” Russ declared, looking him in the eye as he spat out a stream of tobacco juice.

They rode on wordlessly for another several minutes before Diamond laid out Harve's plan.

Russ shook his head. “Sounds kind of tricky to me. Like how he might be a-figurin' on a way to come out of this whole thing with more'n what he agreed to.”

“Right,” Diamond mused. “Trouble is, it's the best plan we've got.”

Russ watched his boss. “I know the place he's a-talkin' about. It's a ways north of the direct route back to your ranch. He's right that there's a good-sized basin where it'd be easy to hold cattle.”