Diamond In The Rough (Bodie Kendrick - Bounty Hunter Book 3) Page 14

  Kendrick felt a flush crawling up his neck again. What was with this woman, anyway, the way she had of bringing him to a near blush all the damn time? "If that's the case," he said, "then how do you explain this spot we're in? You called it a 'fine fix' a minute ago, remember? If I hadn't let you down somewhere along the way, then it seems to me that ought not be the case."

  "If it weren't for you, we'd likely be in a far worse fix," Amelia said stubbornly. "Besides, you haven't failed to get us out of this yet. I've got faith in you."

  Kendrick looked troubled. "They say faith can move mountains, ma'am. But don't lay too much on me."

  "It's all coming to a head tonight, isn't it?" Amelia said, her eyes following the dark cloud rolling and boiling as they filled the sky overhead. "That storm is like a dark, violent omen of what's to come."

  "You may be right."

  "Will the Aravaipas attack during a storm?"

  "I'm not sure. I don't think so. But that don't mean they won't still try something, maybe right before it hits."

  Now a cold, gusting wind came sweeping in over the foothills, carrying the smell of rain and the sting of gritty desert sand.

  Kendrick put his hands on Amelia's shoulders. She leaned into him.

  "One way or the other, we're aimin' to try for that diamond tonight. If the 'Vaipas attack, it'll have to be after we drive them back. If not, it'll be as soon as it's full dark. If it's storming, so much the better. That'll give us all the more cover."

  "As soon as you get the diamond, we'll be riding out of here. Right?"

  "The very minute."

  "Thank God."

  "It'll be a hard ride. Thick darkness this time, probably storming. But you're the bravest, most determined woman I ever met. I know you're up to it."

  "I won't let you down. I won't let myself down."

  "Gettin' out past the 'Vaipas ain't no lock, not by any means. And if we're lucky enough to make it that far, then it still won't be over."

  Amelia's eyes shone brightly. Her long hair streamed back away from her face in the wind. "Then it will be back to going up against Wilby, won't it?"

  "'Fraid so."

  "Are you good enough to beat him?"

  "I don't know. It's no brag to say I'm good with a gun. You've already seen that. Only I don't consider myself a 'slinger, not a fast draw the way Wilby is supposed to be … I don't know how it'll turn out if I have to face him down."

  Amelia's fingers dug into him. "In the storm … If the Indians attack or maybe when you go after the diamond … What if … Why couldn't you just … "

  "Don't say it," Kendrick cut her off sharply. "That ain't the way it works."

  Amelia collapsed against him. "No. Of course not … You wouldn't be you if you ever considered such a thing."

  It started to rain. Fat, cold, scattered drops at first. Then it came down harder and the wind began whipping it into driving sheets.

  Amelia continued to press herself tight to Kendrick. After a minute he put his hands on her shoulders and then slipped them around to her back, pulling her harder against him. Through her soaked blouse her skin was warm under his palms. Her breath against the side of his neck was even hotter.

  The rain hammered down.

  And still the Aravaipas did not attack.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  "It's gone!" Anse Wilby blurted as he and Kendrick came scrambling in under the canvas tarp that some of Wilby's men had suspended from a high ledge of rocks and a pair of upright branches to form a rudimentary tent against the steadily pouring rain.

  The blackness of the stormy night would have been even denser under the tarp canopy if it hadn't been for a small cooking fire burning low in the center of the protected area. The advisability of a fire had been sanctioned earlier, before Kendrick and Wilby had gone out on their two-man expedition. It was reckoned that, since the Aravaipa already knew of their presence and general location, as long as the flames stayed masked by the tarp and neither pinpointed nor illuminated anything too specifically, then the fire was of little additional risk.

  "What do you mean it ain't there?" questioned Wilby's man Turk.

  "What the hell did it sound like I meant?" snapped Wilby irritably. "The diamond ain't there. It's gone. Along with Kazmir's whole body. His and, as far as we could see, all the other dead we left scattered back there, too."

  "That don't make sense. Dead men don't get up and walk away," muttered an unidentified voice.

  "Gone how?" said another.

  "The Aravaipa must have drug 'em away. It's the only answer," Kendrick replied.

  "What the hell for?"

  This time it was Hickory who had the answer. "Mutilation. Further humiliation to their enemies. The Apaches love torture. If they can't do it to a live victim, they'll settle for a dead one. The worst thing can happen to an Apache captive is to be taken back to the camp or village where the women and kids get to have a turn. And since one of the ones they hauled away was Kazmir, the fella responsible for killin' their two hunters … well, what happens to him—his corpse, I guess I should say—won't be pretty."

  Everything went quiet under the protective tarp for a long minute. All except for the howl of the wind outside and the relentless splatter of the rain.

  Kendrick stepped over to the fire where Amelia was quick to pour him a cup of coffee. He held out his hand for another and she poured one for Wilby also. Kendrick handed this back. Both men were soaked and covered with mud and clinging wet sand from half-crawling, half-stumbling through the stormy night in their attempt to retrieve the Devotion Diamond.

  "Hard tellin' when they took 'em," Kendrick said wearily. "Could have been back in the early afternoon, shortly after we shifted over to here. We no longer had a good view back that way … and it sure as hell wasn't something we were on the lookout for."

  Turk spoke up again. "So all the time we've been bottled up here, thinkin' the damn Apaches were holdin' off just to rub our nerves raw, expectin' 'em to hit us again any minute … They've been gone? They took the dead bodies and went back up the mountain?"

  "Never quite heard of it bein' done like that before," allowed Kendrick. "But I'm thinkin' that, yeah, that might be the long and short of it."

  "Makes a peculiar kind of sense when you skull it through," said Hickory. "They hit us hard, bloodied us good and proper, and got the jasper directly responsible for why they were out for revenge in the first place. What more did they have to prove? We're guessin' they don't have a lot of ammo or firepower to fight a long battle, we know they've been holed up in the Pinalenos for years tryin' to avoid trouble … Maybe they figured if they were willin' to fall back and call it even, we'd be willin' to do the same."

  "So we can just … ride away?" Turk said. "Not even have to shoot our way out?"

  Kendrick gave a measured nod. "Seems to be the way it scalds out."

  Wilby drew attention to himself with a loud slurp of coffee. Then, lowering his cup, he said, "All except for one thing."

  "The diamond," Amelia finished for him.

  "Exactly. The little item that brought us all here in the first place. If the Aravaipas took Kazmir's body, then they took the diamond."

  "What do the Aravaipas want with a diamond?" one of Wilby's men asked.

  "Not a damn thing," Wilby answered. "Leastways, not from a standpoint of knowin' what it's worth or even understanding what it is. By now it's probably nothing more than a shiny new gee-gaw in the medicine man's basket of charms. Of maybe it fell out of Kazmir's pocket and got ground into the dirt under somebody's heel without ever even bein' noticed.

  "I can't say for sure about any of that. But what I can say for sure is this: A man in my line of work can't afford to take on a job and then walk away with the job unfinished. I start doin' that, my reputation will be shot and I'll be through."

  His elated expression from moments ago turning suddenly anxious, Turk said, "What are you sayin', Anse? You ain't figurin' on going after those Injuns to try and get tha
t damn rock back, are you?"

  Wilby scowled. "I ain't for sure what I'm sayin'. But everybody ridin' with me better understand that this business ain't over with. Not yet. Not by a damn sight."

  "Okay. That's your call," said Kendrick. "But at least take the opportunity to ride away from here while the way seems clear. You surely can see the sense in that, can't you? That's what me and my bunch intend to do. You can always re-group and come back again later on."

  Wilby aimed his scowl at Kendrick for a long minute. Then, his expression gradually easing, he said, "I reckon you're right. Gettin' outta here—for the time being—makes the most sense."

  The scowl returned abruptly and Wilby raked it across the faces of his men. "Well, you heard the man—get saddled up and get ready to ride the hell clear of this place!"

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As anticipated, they were able to leave the Pinalenos without any interference from the Aravaipas. Only the natural elements—the rain, driving wind, and enveloping darkness—inhibited the speed with which they were able to depart.

  It was nearly daybreak before the storm let up. Once the sky cleared and the sun rose, they were able to make better time. A scouring wind continued to blow and, by mid morning, the wind and the moisture-sucking land had dried the ground once more—all except for a few puddles in the deepest depressions—to a dusty brown expanse. And as the temperature climbed, the wind merely served to drive the heat deeper into the muscle and bone of riders and horses alike.

  An hour before noon, a halt was called. At the base of some tall, ragged, reddish rock outcroppings, they made camp to wait out the hottest part of the day. Kendrick reckoned they were about a third of the way back to Lowdown.

  The horses were tended, coffee was cooked, some bacon was fried and airtights of creamed corn and stewed tomatoes got passed around. With more than twenty-four hours having passed since any of them had eaten anything other than infrequent chaws of jerky, the food was devoured quickly and eagerly. There was little conversation.

  After the meal, everyone found a spot to sprawl out and await the arrival the cooling evening.

  Kendrick surprised himself by falling asleep far more soundly than he ever did when out on the trail. He was awakened nearly three hours later by Amelia aggressively shaking his shoulder.

  "Kendrick. Wake up. You'd better come have a look at this."

  He shoved himself up on his left elbow, right hand instinctively sweeping to the Colt holstered on his hip. "What is it?"

  "Out there," Amelia said, pointing. "Something is headed this way."

  Kendrick rose to his feet and squinted in the direction she was pointing. He could make out something about a quarter mile off—a large horse, it looked like it might be—moving toward them at a steady but awkward-seeming gait.

  "Here, I went and got this from your gear. Figured you'd want it," Amelia said, handing him his spyglass. "I tried to use the blasted thing, but couldn't get it focused."

  "It's temperamental," Kendrick muttered, extending the instrument to its full length and raising to his right eye.

  Some of the others, including Wilby and Hickory, had risen, too, and were walking over to see what was going on.

  Kendrick brought the lens into focus and concentrated on whatever it was advancing on them. After a moment, he said, "I'll be damned. I think it's the Red Ghost … Yes. By God, it is." He hesitated and then drew in a sharp intake of breath. "Sweet Jesus! It looks like he's carrying something … It looks like … "

  When Kendrick's voice trailed off altogether, Amelia said, "What? What is it?"

  Kendrick lowered the spyglass, his expression pulled into a grimace. He held out the spyglass to no one in particular. Wilby grabbed it.

  "What is it?" Amelia said again. "Tell me."

  Kendrick shook his head. "You don't want to know. Believe me. And you definitely don't want to see."

  Now Wilby had the spyglass in focus. "Mother of God!" he hissed.

  Faleejah had come over to stand next to Amelia. Both women looked distraught without any clear understanding of what was going on.

  Kendrick relented and told them, "Somebody has strapped a body to the camel. It looks like—no, it is, though he's damned hard to recognize. It's Kazmir. The Aravaipas are done with him now. But what they did while they had him was mighty rough."

  What Kendrick had seen would be branded in his mind's eye for a long time to come. Kazmir had been stripped naked, his body hacked and sliced by dozens of cuts, burned as many times, and had flaps of skin hanging loose or missing from having been flayed. He was scalped and his eyes gouged out. His penis had been cut off then stuffed part way into his gaping mouth.

  Hickory and Turk took turns with the spyglass, leaving Hickory to mutter when he was done: "Apache work, sure enough. Once you see it, you don't forget."

  By then there was no need for the others to use the glass. The Red Ghost had gotten close enough for them to see plainly enough the grisly details of the rider he was carrying.

  Kendrick urged the two women to look away and they complied.

  A little less than a hundred yards from the group, the Ghost stopped and stood looking at them in that lazy, heavy-lidded way that he had.

  "It's like he's studyin' us. Lookin' for something," murmured Turk. "You suppose he wants us to cut that – that thing – off his back?"

  "Might be what he wants, but not from us," Hickory said. "And I'm guessin' he ain't lookin' for something, he's lookin' for somebody … Caleb. I doubt he'd let us near him if we tried."

  "Then how did the Injuns get him to hold still for … well, doin' doin' what they did?"

  "And why did they do that, anyway?"

  Hickory shook his head. "Can't say. Not for sure. Never a way of knowin' for sure why an Injun—especially an Apache—does anything. But if I was to make a guess, I'd say those Aravaipas must have spotted ol' Ghost when Caleb had him in his camp for that spell. You can bet they'd never seen a camel before and it likely raised hell with their superstitions.

  "Then, a short time later, after more white folks showed up and two of their braves soon ended up dead … well, ain't hard to see where their superstitions might've led 'em to believe the camel had been a bad omen. So when they got the chance to grab him after we turned him loose and then strap what was left of ol' Kazmir onto the Ghost and chase the both of 'em off into the desert, it must've seemed like a prime chance to get rid of a double dose of bad luck."

  Kendrick nodded. "Like you said, we'll never know for sure. But that makes about as much sense as anything."

  Having studied the group from a safe distance for several minutes now, the Red Ghost apparently saw nothing he found to his liking. As if to prove Hickory's speculation that it was Caleb the beast was looking for and failing to succeed in finding him, the Ghost abruptly turned away and began to withdraw at the same steady but unhurried speed with which he'd approached.

  The men stood watching him go.

  From behind them, Faleejah spoke up. "Aren't you going to stop him and at least … relieve him of his burden?"

  Kendrick turned to face her. "And do what after that? Give Kazmir some kind of burial?"

  Faleejah thrust out her chin defiantly. "I know Kazmir was traitorous and vile … He threatened to kill me, and he indicated those other despicable things he intended to do to me … But he was still a human being. What you described as already having been done to him by the savages—isn't that enough?"

  Kendrick stood up to the glare from her dark, angry eyes. "That ain't for me to say. Speakin' strictly for myself, all I know is this: I ain't inclined to break a sweat over buryin' the likes of him."

  Those dark eyes swept over the others. None of them would meet her gaze.

  Only Hickory responded at all, saying, "Like I said before, it ain't likely we could catch the critter even if we tried."

  Faleejah stood seething for a full minute, still with everyone looking away. Her fists were clenched so tight the knuckle stood o
ut as white as the bones under the skin. "Then it is clear to me," she said in a trembling voice, "that those Apaches you all fear and claim to loathe so much are certainly not the only savages in this place you call the West!"

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  They rode through the cool, clear night and arrived in Lowdown well ahead of noon. Dusty, hard-looking, grim-faced, they drew only furtive looks as they came slowly down the main street.

  Before leaving the red rocks camp, Anse Wilby had announced the decision that he now saw his best course of action as going back to Lowdown where he would telegraph Totter, explain what had transpired to date, and then—providing Totter wanted him to continue after the diamond, which he most likely would—solicit more money to hire more men in order to return to the Pinalenos and go up against the Aravaipas.

  With that intent, they all reined up in front of the telegraph office. Wilby hitched his horse around so that he was facing Kendrick and his group. Leaning his elbow down on his saddle horn, he grinned lopsidedly and said, "Well, I guess this is where we part ways. As they say, it's been real and it's been fun—but it ain't been real fun."

  Kendrick felt himself grinning, too. "Since I ain't exactly sure what that means, I'll only say this: Right back at ya."

  Wilby shifted his gaze to Amelia. "And how about you, Miss Gailwood? Will you also be plannin' further pursuit of the Devotion Diamond?"

  "No. As a matter of fact, I will not," Amelia said firmly. "I have my story and I certainly had my share of adventure getting that much. I am willing to consider that sufficient. After I've made my submission to my editor and seen to suitable arrangements for Faleejah's return to Egypt, I will be turning my attention to launching a full and proper investigation into the murders of my father and brother. You can be sure to relay same to our Mr. Totter and, further, warn him that—"

  Amelia's words trailed off due to the commotion caused by a noisy gaggle of men exiting the Silvertip Hotel and marching down the boardwalk straight in their direction. At the head of the pack was a tall, flamboyantly mustachioed man wearing a powder blue suit with a red silk string tie. A bowler hat of matching powder blue sat at a jaunty angle atop his head and he strode with an unmistakable air of self-importance. Three hard-eyed specimens wearing tied-down holsters strapped low around their hips walked behind him. And behind them trailed a handful of hotel bar regulars who were making most of the noise, chattering excitedly.