away. I don’t know where she is.”
“The hell you say,” Joe growled, and shot again.
“Jesus Gawd!” Milt screamed. “I’m done for!” He fell to the ground in pain, his foot clutched tight within his hands.
“That was just your toe. I’m aimin’ higher next time.”
Milt dropped his foot and clutched his bloody hands to his crotch. He got the message.
“We thought she’d passed out. When we untied her, she kicked me in the balls and ran. I couldn’t ’a straddled a horse to save my hide, and Art there… well, see for yerself. He ain’t never done nothin’ right yet. She’s gone. I cain’t rightly say I care where to, either. If you’re going after her, take her gol-danged pack with her. I don’t want no reminders of that bitch anywhere around me.”
He reached behind him and slung the bag he’d been leaning on toward Joe.
It hit the dirt at Joe’s feet. He picked it up, hefting it easily in one hand. All her worldly possessions. At the thought, his stomach listed slightly, like a sinking boat.
Joe stared at the pair before him and thought of just drilling them now. It would put paid to a lot of misery and he was pretty sure he’d feel a whole lot better. He could only imagine how frightened the girl must have been. Yet he couldn’t help but feel some admiration for her spunk. No matter what she was dealt, she kept making the better play. He waved the gun in Milt’s face one last time.
“I’m going now. But if I don’t find her tracks leading out of this canyon alone, I’ll come back and shoot you both where you lay then look for her body by myself.”
Milt paled. “You’re a goddamned Injun. You people are supposed to be good at trackin’. Look hard. I ain’t gonna die for somethin’ I didn’t do.”
Joe’s voice was just above a whisper. “Maybe not. But you’re likely to die from something I do, if you don’t shut the hell up.”
Milt sucked in the sides of his cheeks, and bit his tongue. Breed got his point across better’n any damned man that he knew.
Art tried to get up and groaned. Out of frustration, Milt kicked him in the belly, simply because he could.
Joe was a few hundred yards from his horse when he saw the first set of tracks. Relief overwhelmed him. A slight grin split the seriousness of his expression as he knelt, tracing what she’d left behind with the tips of his fingers. Such a small foot. Such a small woman. But what a big heart. He had a sudden wish he’d been different. Living out the rest of his life with someone like her would be fine. And then he straightened and cursed himself all the way to his horse.
“Women like her don’t have anything to do with men like me.”
“Talkin’ to yourself?”
Joe looked up. Sheriff Bud Williams was leaning against a rock while his horse grazed beside Joe’s.
“I see you haven’t lost your skill at trackin’,” Joe muttered.
“Oh, I found you right easy. It’s the Bolin brothers I can’t seem to locate. Maybe you could help me out.” He gave Joe a long, studied look and then frowned. “I heard some shots a while back. I hope you’re not gonna tell me that they drawed down on you, or anything stupid like that.”
Joe grinned and shook his head. “Naw. They’re back there in the canyon. Pevehouse’s horse is there, too, but the girl is gone. She got away from them. When I find her, I’ll bring her back so she can watch them hang.”
“Who’d you shoot?” Bud knew his friend too long to imagine that it had been birds he’d been shooting at.
“More like what I shot, not who. Milt’s only got four toes on his right foot now, but that don’t matter. It’ll just make his boots fit better. Art puked on himself. Other than that, they were fine when I left. However, if you want to bring both of them back alive, you’d best hurry. Old Milt was right pissed at Art. Wouldn’t surprise me if they did each other in.”
Bud started to grin as Joe mounted his horse. “You keep havin’ all the fun, and I wind up doing clean-up duty.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one who’s gettin’ paid. Remember?”
Minutes later, the canyon was silent, save for the sounds of the sheriff’s horse as he rode into the Bolins’ camp to take them back to jail.
They went quietly.
It had not been