“Well, Slim, I want you to find old Sam Grayson and tell him I’m getting tired of him sending people after me,” Travis said. “And you can tell the rest of the gang I’m getting tired of them trying to collect the bounty he put on me. I’m liable to start collecting some bounties myself.”

  “I’ll tell them if I can find them,” Slim said worriedly. “We just sort of run into you by accident. We wouldn’t of knowed it was you if you hadn’t took off yore hat back there. Lefty said it had to be you ‘cause nobody else had hair like that.”

  “Unusually I don’t even take my hat off to ladies, but I didn’t know anyone was watching me,” Travis said, mounting the sorrel and motioning for Slim to get on the roan. “You better get going now before I change my mind. You want your bedroll?”

  “It don’t matter,” Slim said, already putting the roan in motion, anxious to get away. “I can use Lefty’s.”

  “Suit yourself,” Travis said.

  He watched Slim ride off heading east. Then he threw Slim’s gunbelt and bedroll into the rocks and rode down the slope to get his own blanket roll and saddlebags off the dead horse. At the last minute he rammed one of the Winchesters into the saddle scabbard, mounted the sorrel and headed south. There was a chance he would need a rifle this trip.

  It was getting harder to stay alive.

  Chapter 13

  Link Colman and Nita Ramsey followed an old Indian trail south and east through the rugged, mountainous country. Two days out of Nowhere it began snowing, and Nita Ramsey’s voice rose in bitter complaint. She seemed to blame Colman for the snow and everything else. He listened in silence for a short time, then told her to shut up. It did not do much good.

  Colman rode in the lead, looking about for some kind of shelter. He had bought a bearskin overcoat in Santa Fe and was well protected from the snow, but the woman’s clothes were too thin for the weather. About all she had on was a man’s jeans, flannel shirt, a poncho and a narrow-brimmed hat with a chin strap.

  Finally Colman looked around at her with hard black eyes. “You want to trade me that poncho for my overcoat?”

  “I can’t even carry that big old bearskin,” she said with poor grace. “If it wasn’t for you I’d be on a warm stage now.”

  “I never yet saw a stage that was warm,” Colman said. “Except in the summer. Then they’re nice and warm.”

  “It would beat this,” Nita Ramsey said. “We’ll never get there before Travis does anyway. He had a head start.”

  “I don’t know how far north he went before turning back,” Colman said, “but he couldn’t have much of a head start.”

  “Maybe he didn’t turn back,” Nita Ramsey said. “Maybe he kept going north with that Mason woman.”

  “That’s possible,” Colman admitted. “But I doubt it.” Then he asked, “Did she tell you where she was going?”

  “She didn’t say. I never thought to ask her.”

  “I don’t imagine you gave her a chance to say anything,” Colman said. He turned in the saddle to look back and saw a rider on the crest of the hill behind them, starting down the snow-covered slope through the scattered trees. Colman looked ahead as if he had not seen anything and did not increase the pace from a slow trot. But when they were out of sight in the wooded valley ahead he waited for Nita Ramsey to catch up and then said quietly, “Listen. There’s a nigger following us. I had to shoot him in Tucson and I figured he’d be dead by now. But I’m pretty sure that’s him following us. There may be others, but he’s the only one I saw. You go on ahead a piece and wait for me. I’ll be along in a little while.”

  “What are you going to do?” Nita Ramsey asked, her large dark eyes flashing with fear.

  “I ain’t got time to explain,” Colman said impatiently. “Just do like I told you.”

  “What if he kills you?” Nita asked. “Then what will become of me out here in the wilderness with a wild nigger chasing me?”

  Colman bared his teeth in a snarl. “Git,” he said, slapping her horse on the rump. Then he reined aside and circled through the trees and halted again near the trail they had made.

  A short time later Coon Hooks rode into view, hunched over in the saddle, peering ahead through the snow, one eye almost closed and blinking rapidly. His face was curiously twisted with pain and he looked as if he might fall out of the saddle at any moment.

  Colman drew a pistol from his coat pocket and trained it on the mulatto. “Hooks,” he said in disgust, “what the hell are you doing here?”

  Hooks halted and looked at the pistol. “Dat’s my gun, man,” he said in a plaintive tone. “It got my mark on duh butt.”

  “You’re gonna have my mark on your butt if you cause me any more trouble,” Colman told him. “Why the hell didn’t you die back there in Tucson like a good nigger, instead of coming up here to get shot again?”

  “I had tuh gets out of dere befo’ dey find out who I is,” Hooks said. “Den I figuh if I don’t find Travis, dey ain’t no use fuh me tuh go back tuh Grayson. I thought we could work togethuh and split dat bounty money.”

  “You must be crazy,” Colman said in amazement. “I’m better off without a half-dead nigger I couldn’t trust behind my back.”

  “Ain’t nuthin’ tuh worry about,” Hooks said, swaying in the saddle. “I ain’t even got no gun, since you tuck mine.”

  “How the hell did you plan to get Travis without a gun?” Colman asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hooks said, and suddenly fell out of the saddle. He landed in the snow and lay there, apparently unconscious.

  After watching the fallen man carefully for a minute, Colman got down, walked over to him and nudged him with the toe of his boot, holding the pistol cocked and aimed at the mulatto’s kinky head.

  “Hooks,” he said. “You there, Hooks?”

  Hooks groaned and looked up at him, the injured eye blinking rapidly. “Oh God,” Hooks said. “I feel like I’m gonna die.”

  “Hurry up and get it over with,” Colman told him. “Or I’ll leave you here.”

  “You wouldn’t do dat, would you?” Hooks said, and tried to grin. “I thought you was a white man.”

  “I ain’t that white,” Colman said. “What happened to your friends, Pinky Rudd and those other two?”

  “I been wonderin’ about dat my own self,” Hooks said. “We split up in El Paso. Dey headed nawth and me and Dextuh headed west. I ain’t seen dem boys since.”

  “They still looking for Travis?” Colman asked.

  “Dey sho’ is,” Hooks said. “He’p me back on muh hoss, Colman. I think mebbe I can ride now. I never was hurt as bad as I thought, but bad enough. My eye hurt all de time. Dat doctuh say I lucky I ain’t blind in dat eye.”

  “You’re lucky you’re still alive,” Colman said, stepping back as Hooks sat up in the snow by his patient horse and reached for a stirrup to pull himself up. “And I’m a fool for not finishing you right here and now before you get a chance to cause me any more trouble.”

  “If you don’t trust me, you can keep muh gun till we find Travis,” Hooks said.

  “I intend to,” Colman told him. “If you make one wrong move I’ll put another bullet in you, and if you can’t keep up, I’ll leave you.”

  He got back in the saddle and rode off after Nita Ramsey, leaving Hooks to get back on his horse as best he could.

  He did not trust the mulatto for a moment. But it had occurred to him that after he captured Travis, Hooks might be able to find Sam Grayson for him.

  When Nita Ramsey saw Hooks following them, she said, “That nigger’s following us again!”

  “I know,” Colman said.

  Nita Ramsey’s eyes widened in amazement. “You mean you’re taking that drunk nigger along?”

  Colman looked back and saw that Hooks was swaying in the saddle as if he were indeed drunk. Colman swore softly. All he needed right now was a half-dead nigger to slow them down.

  “You must be crazy!” Nita Ramsey cried. “He’ll murder us both!”

  “He hasn’t got a gun,” Colman said.

  “He doesn’t need a gun! Look how big and strong he is!”

  “He’s half dead from a bullet I put in him,” Colman said. “Anyway, I always thought Mexicans and niggers got along just fine together.”

  “Where did you hear that lie?” Nita asked. “I can’t stand niggers. They never take a bath. You keep that filthy animal away from me, you hear!”

  The next time Colman looked back, he saw that Hooks had once more fallen off his horse and was trying to pull himself back into the saddle.

  Colman reined in and said in disgust, “I’ll be damned. I don’t reckon it was meant for me to catch Travis.” He looked about. They were in an open valley dotted with trees. The ground was already white with snow and it was still coming down. “You go tell that fool nigger to stay put. I’ll see if I can find a cave where we can hole up for a while.”

  Nita Ramsey rolled her eyes in alarm. “You’re not leaving me here with that nigger! I’ll go with you!”

  “If we both go he’ll just try to follow,” Colman said, already putting his horse in motion. “You stay here.”

  Colman was gone nearly an hour. He had not found a cave, but he had found an overhanging cliff that was further protected by a thick stand of trees.

  As he was riding back he heard screams, and when he topped the hill overlooking the valley, he beheld a surprising sight. Coon Hooks was hugging Nita Ramsey from behind, cupping her full breasts in his hands as she kicked and tried to get free. Hooks held the woman in front of him, like a shield, as Colman rode down into the valley and halted.

  “You don’t try nuthin’, Colman,” Hooks said, grinning around the woman at him even as he raised one dark hand to her throat. “One little twist and her head come off. I wring her neck like a chicken.”

  Colman’s jaw knotted in anger, but he kept his voice calm. “What have you got in mind, Hooks?”

  “You throw down all dem guns and back off a piece,” Hooks said. “Den she gonna take me tuh dat money?”

  “So you know about the money,” Colman said. “I should have guessed it.”

  “I sho’ do,” Hooks said, grinning broadly. “Soon as I get my hands on dat forty thousand dollars, I won’t need Grayson no mo’. All you white mothuhs can go tuh hell fuh all I care.”

  “You’re part white yourself,” Colman said.

  “I ain’t dat white,” Hooks said. “I ain’t hardly white a’tall. Not enough so nobody notice it till dey want somethin’.”

  Colman reached inside his bearskin overcoat and drew out one of his long thin cigars and lit it. He noticed that it had quit snowing. He also noticed that Nita Ramsey’s hat was off and her black hair was powdered with snow. So it had not stopped until after her scuffle with Hooks began. She was squirming furiously and trying to say something, but every time she started to speak Hooks choked off her wind. Her face was turning purple, but partly with rage.

  “You be careful where you put dem hands,” Hooks said to Colman. “You want me tuh break her neck?”

  “I don’t think you’ll do that,” Colman said, shaking his match out and flipping it into the snow. “She’s the only one who can take you to the money. She’s the one you need, not me. As soon as you get your hands on the gun you’ll put a bullet in me. But you won’t break her neck just yet. And I’ll tell you another reason why you won’t. You know if you do I’ll fill you so full of holes the wind won’t have to go around.”

  Hooks thought about that for a minute and then said softly, “Damn. I didn’t think of dat.” He looked past Nita Ramsey’s head at Colman. “It look like you hold de cards aftuh all. A good hand anyways. What we do now?”

  “Let her go and ride back the way you came,” Colman said. “If I see you again I’ll put a bullet in you. It won’t matter whether you’re armed or not.”

  “You gonna keep my gun?” Hooks asked.

  “You better believe it,” Colman told him.

  “Dat’s stealin’!” Hooks exclaimed. “What right you got to be a bounty hunter?”

  Colman’s jaw hardened. “Make up your mind, Hooks,” he said. “I ain’t got all day.”

  Hooks looked embarrassed. After a moment he released Nita Ramsey and they both almost fell from weakness. Nita Ramsey put a hand to her throat and her breasts rose and fell as she gasped for air. Hooks stumbled toward his horse and managed to pull himself into the saddle. He slumped forward for a moment, then raised his head and looked worriedly at Colman out of his good eye. The injured one was closed. It had started snowing again.

  Colman jerked his head toward the north and Hooks rode off into the thickening snow.

  Nita Ramsey found her hat, brushed off the snow and said angrily to Colman, “I knew something like that would happen when you rode off and left me alone with that black devil!”

  “I never told you to hold his hand,” Colman said. “You shouldn’t have got close enough for him to grab you.”

  “He took on like he was dying and said he had something in his hurt eye,” Nita said as she climbed onto her horse. “He lay there in the snow and begged me to take a look. But the minute I bent down he threw his arms around me. It’s a good thing you got back when you did. I’m freezing.”

  Colman raised his dark brows at her. It was always a little hard to follow her logic. “Come on,” he said. “I found a place where we can hole up for a while. There’s only about an hour of daylight left anyhow.”

  The fire blazed brightly under the cliff overhang, and the trees cut off the wind and kept the snow from blowing in. Nita Ramsey had rolled up in her blankets as close to the fire as it was safe to get, but Colman was off a little to one side at the edge of the shadows. Behind him other shadows danced on the rock wall. He lay on his side looking out into the dark trees from beneath his hat brim.

  Nita Ramsey was silent, so he assumed she was asleep.

  Colman was almost asleep himself when something caused him to open his eyes. What he saw made him wonder for a moment if he was dreaming. A shadowy figure materialized from the trees and moved silently toward him. It was the figure of a man, bent over in a crouch and carrying something in his hand—a rock big enough to crush a man’s head.

  It was undoubtedly the mulatto, Hooks, bent on murder, not to mention getting his hand on Nita Ramsey and her late husband’s money.

  When Hooks was fifteen feet away he made his charge, and Colman thrust his blankets aside and fired. Hooks had the rock raised above his head in both hands and he was still gripping it that way when he fell forward into the snow.

  Nita Ramsey woke up screaming. Colman told her to shut up as he got out of his blankets to make sure Hooks was dead. When there was no longer any doubt in his mind he said quietly, “The stupid son of a bitch.”

  “I’m glad you killed him,” Nita Ramsey said. “Now we won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  Colman could not help feeling the same way himself, though he did not admit it.

  Travis had been at the old shack two days and he had an uneasy feeling that he had already been there too long, although he had not found the money. Not a trace of it.

  He left the shack with his saddlebags and blanket roll and walked down to the corral. He was about to enter the corral with a bridle when a hard voice lashed at him from the pine thicket.

  “Don’t move, Travis. I got a Winchester pointed right at you.”

  “You again?” Travis said, as he heard Colman come up behind him.

  “You hadn’t forgot about me, had you, Travis?”

  “Not quite,” Travis said.

  Colman halted behind him, too close for comfort. “I don’t care whether I’m wrong about you or not, Travis,” Colman said, “and I don’t regret this a bit.”

  Travis tried to dodge the descending gun barrel, but he was too late. When he came to he was in the old shack, bound hand and foot, and Colman and Nita Ramsey were out looking for the money.

  Chapter 14

  Colman and Nita Ramsey came into the shack, and Nita pointed at Travis lying tied up on the floor and said, “Ask him where it is. He probably found it and hid it somewhere else.”

  “Build a fire and make some coffee,” Colman told her, and squatted on the floor near Travis. He lit a cigar and studied Travis with his hard black eyes. “How’s your head?” he asked finally.

  Travis shrugged and the ghost of a smile crossed his face. “It’s not my head that’s worrying me.”

  “You worried?” Colman asked in a mock surprise. “The great Ben Travis?”

  Travis shrugged again and glanced at Nita Ramsey who had thrown off her hat and poncho and was trying to start a fire in the stone fireplace.

  Colman also glanced at the woman, then cut his dark eyes back at Travis. “You have any idea where Ramsey hid his money?”

  “I had several ideas, but it wasn’t at any of them, or I would have been gone before you got here,” Travis said.

  “Yeah, I reckon you would,” Colman said. “Well, I never much expected to find it anyhow. There’s buried money everywhere, if a man wants to believe all the stories he hears, but most of it will stay buried till the world ends.”

  Nita Ramsey glanced around at him with angry eyes. “Why didn’t you say that before you dragged me back here through the snow and freezing weather.”

  “Hell, you were coming anyway,” Colman said. “You just got here a little quicker this way. So stop complaining. You can look for it all you want to after Travis and I leave.”

  “When are you leaving?” Nita asked in surprise.

  “First thing in the morning,” Colman said. “I want to get a good night’s sleep before we set out.” He looked at Travis. “It may take us a while to find Grayson.”

  After supper Colman sat near the fire in a homemade chair, examining the guns he had got from Travis. “Where did you pick up these extra guns?” he asked. “You only had the Colt the last time I saw you.”

  Travis was sitting in the corner with his hands tied behind his back and his legs stretched out on the floor before him. “I got them on the way down,” he said after a moment.

 

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