the ledge. The creature was intent on feeding, not on aiding its spawn. Richmond stepped on the rock, putting his weight on it, to make sure the smaller snake was truly pinned. Then he went around front, crouched in front of it, and drove the knife straight down into the tapered area behind its head. The head dropped off, the tongue still flicking for several moments as the black soil swallowed the blood seeping from its body.
Richmond wiped the knife blade on the dirt. Then he rose and went after the other snake.
That was when he heard it. Richmond turned back to the ledge. He crouched and listened.
There was a fire road to the east, a narrow, rain-rutted dirt path he could use to escape in case the only paved road were ever blocked by a blaze. Below it, about two thousand feet down, was a housing development. Occasionally, people hiked here to look out over the valley. They rarely walked up this early to watch the sunrise because they would have had to set out in the dark. But once in a while they drove out to see the sunrise. What he had heard sounded like a car.
Richmond moved toward the fire road. There was a Jeep parked on a landing. The vehicle was black with a gold star on the side. There was a lone occupant, a sheriff's deputy. He probably had the night shift and had come up here before heading home. The deputy opened a thermos.
The lawman would be up here for a few minutes at least. That was good.
Richmond had an idea. He doubled back, slipping the bowie knife into the leather sheath attached to his belt and removing his windbreaker as he walked. He passed the dead snake, lying on the ground muddied with its blood. He continued after the larger one. His eyes moved slowly from side to side. He paid special attention to stones and underbrush.
The snake was in a narrow gully, cut by erosion and filled with rocks that had washed down the slope. There was a gopher hole hidden among the small stones. The snake was going to warm itself on the rocks while it waited for breakfast to emerge. At least, that was apparently the snake's plan. Richmond had a different idea. He walked alongside the gully and lay his windbreaker on the rocks. He knotted the ends of the sleeves, spread them out flat, then went back behind the snake. Scooping up a handful of stones, he began tossing them at the reptile one at a time. They hit the animal in the tail and body, and it moved ahead, rattling. Richmond followed.
He continued to pelt the snake, driving it toward the windbreaker. As he expected, the snake crawled into the only shelter nearby; one of the two sleeves. Once the creature was inside, Richmond quickly grabbed the sleeve at the armpit. The snake had tried to coil itself inside.
As a result, it was completely within the sleeve. Richmond carefully folded the body of the jacket around the sleeve so the diamondback did not slip out. Then he put his left hand around the sleeve and moved it toward the snake's head. He held tight as the snake squirmed to get loose, its body twisting and undulating inside the sleeve. When the diamondback finally relaxed, Richmond untied the mouth of the sleeve with his right hand. If he released the head, the snake would drop free. Richmond then wrapped his right hand around the rattle. The creature was now his silent prisoner. Without removing his hands, Richmond hugged the windbreaker toward his belly and walked forward.
Having the snake beside him, a captive, was almost like carrying a gun.
The snake was just as potent, just as feared. Even better, Richmond realized, was that the snake would take the blame for the killing.
Richmond reached the rocky ledge. The sun was well above the distant mountains now. In the distance, a trio of hawks had begun to search the hillsides for small animals. He never tired of watching them circle as their wings and tail feathers shifted this way and that as they rode the changing thermal currents. Whenever a bird saw a potential meal, it called to the others, then pulled in its wings and plummeted like a lawn dart. Unlike the defense- minded snakes, the offense-oriented birds were nature's most perfect hunting machines.
Defense and offense, Richmond thought. What looks inherently dangerous on the dirty ground is not. What seems graceful and beautiful in the blue heavens is lethal. Appearance is rarely an accurate yardstick for danger.
Richmond started down the fire road toward the Jeep. The driver's side window was open.
'Good morning, Deputy,' Richmond said as he approached.
The deputy glanced into the side mirror. 'Morning, sir.' He regarded Richmond a moment longer. 'Are you okay?'
'Yes, why?'
'Looks like you got your arm bundled up.'
'No, no, I'm just collecting birds' eggs for my aviary,' he smiled. He was speaking in a soft, fair voice. Laying a trap was part of the fun.
'Collecting eggs with a bowie knife?' the deputy asked.
'That's for snakes,' Richmond said as he reached the window.
