The buckskin snapped out of its daze and exploded into the sky. It took three huge hops and every time it landed, the horse did so on stiff legs. Randy’s head snapped back and forth violently, and he began to spur and quirt at each buck. George ducked back out of the corral and coiled his rope while Longarm just stood back and admired the contest.
Randy was tossed high into the air. He landed flat on his back, the breath whooshing out of his lungs. Longarm jumped back into the corral and dragged the kid to his feet. “It’s all right. That buckskin is a real tough horse.”
“Catch him up,” Randy choked. “We’re just getting acquainted.”
Longarm didn’t have too much trouble grabbing the trailing rope and hauling the buckskin to a standstill. The animal was winded, but there was still fire in his eyes.
“Randy, are you sure you don’t want to wait for the fog to clear from your brain?”
“Nope,” Randy said, not aware that a crowd was gathering to watch the show. “Hold his head for a moment while I climb back onto the hurricane deck.”
The buckskin tried to strike with its forefeet, but Longarm jumped sideways to grab the gelding’s ear and wring it like a wet dishrag. Pain drove the horse into submission, and it shivered while Randy climbed back on, took up the rope, and shouted, “Turn him loose!”
The buckskin almost ran Longarm over before he could jump out of its path. The animal slammed into the corral poles with such force that one of them actually splintered. Bouncing off, the horse whirled and started bucking again.
Randy’s nose was bleeding and his eyes appeared to be glazed, but he was mad. You could see it in the way he began to punish the buckskin just as he was being punished. For a few heart-stopping moments, it was a matter of whose will was going to prevail.
The buckskin quit first. It just tucked its black tail up a little, lowered its head, and spread its front legs wide while it gasped for breath and quivered.
“It’s done,” Randy said, gently nudging the animal forward and then reining it this way and that among the mustangs. “He’s even got a good rein on him. He’d just forgotten what it was like to be ridden.”
“I’m glad you’re the one that took it upon yourself to show him,” Longarm said. “Nice ride.”
The rough outlaws that had gathered to surround the corral and watch were grinning, and even Matthew Killion himself had come over to watch his son bust the would-be bronc.
“Hell of a ride!” Matthew bellowed across the corral to his kid. “Damned good ride, son!”
Randy grinned. The only one who didn’t look especially pleased was Clyde. His expression was grim, and Longarm thought he looked jealous before he turned and strode back to the saloon.
Even Desiree looked impressed with Randy. She was standing beside Killion, and Longarm thought she was just as pretty in the early morning sun as she’d been the previous day in the dimness of Killion’s plush office. And although he’d been warned, Longarm found it impossible not to look at and admire her. Desiree had the looks of an actress and the body of a goddess.
She caught Longarm’s eye and held it for a moment. He did not see an invitation in her look, but something seemed to have changed, for she did not seem to be regarding him as she might a bug either. Not the way she had the day before.
Longarm forced himself to turn and regard Randy and the buckskin. Randy rode over to his father and said, “This is a good animal. I stole him for ten dollars.”
“He’s kinda thin,” Killion said, “but he’s got a nice head, straight legs, and a deep chest.”
“I expect he’s fast,” Randy said proudly. “And we can fatten him up.”
“Why, sure we can,” Killion said, slipping his arm around Desiree and dragging her young body up tight against his own.
Randy’s smile died and he reined off toward the gate. George was there to open it, and the kid and his new horse rode through town, and were last seen galloping off in the direction of some low mountains.
“Follow ‘em,” Killion ordered one of his men, “just in case there is someone out there looking to even a score against me.”
The man nodded and hurried to his horse. A few moments later, he was galloping hard out of Helldorado, following Randy’s trail dust.
Longarm went over to Killion. “Your son promised us a goodbye breakfast if we helped him climb on that buckskin.”
Killion nodded and appraised Longarm closely. “You and the Indian are hungry, huh?”
“We could stand to eat.”
“You hurt one of my best men real bad last night.”
“He didn’t give me any choice,” Longarm said. “Dean swore he was going to gut-shoot me.”
“So I heard and so he tried.”
Killion pushed Desiree away and Longarm stiffened a little, wondering if the man was going to try and kill him.
“I understand you were in the Yuma Territorial Prison for killing a man.”
“That’s right.”
“How many cells do they have there?”
It was a trap question and Longarm, who had visited the prison on more than one occasion, had what he thought was the correct answer. “They’re always building new cells. When I was there, the inmate population was about sixty, forty men and twenty women.
