horse wasn’t taking off in a rush. That either meant the rider was taking his sweet time, or was level-headed enough to walk when he knew damn well he should have been running.
Of course, there was always the third option. Nick Graves could have put down those tracks to give the impression of the first two possibilities. Having lost Graves’ trail so many times over the years, Kinman knew that was a distinct possibility. He also knew it was useless to try and second-guess his prey’s motives while standing still.
“Jesus Christ,” Lester mumbled. “A slug could’ve gotten to the Dakotas by now.”
Kinman wheeled around quickly enough to make Lester twitch in his saddle. As he climbed onto his own horse’s back, Kinman said, “For the first time, I agree with you.” He then snapped his reins and got moving.
Since Lester’s horse was tied to Kinman’s saddle horn, the other man had no choice but to follow.
Nick pulled in a lungful of air as the wind whipped past his head. Gripping the reins in a fist, he hunkered down low over Kazys’s neck and leaned into the torrent of wind caused by the horse’s galloping stride. The thunder of Kazys’s hooves reminded him of the rumble of the train’s engine that had carried them both all the way from California. At the moment, it was hard for him to believe that Kazys couldn’t have covered that same amount of ground in half the time.
The entire country was spread out in front of him like a giant multicolored blanket. Mountains, rivers, plains and forests all rushed past him in a continuous display. As more dusty wind blasted his face, Nick grinned and choked down the grit that had collected in his throat.
The scenery was starting to look more familiar. Although he wasn’t one for memorizing trails or shortcuts, he always had a good sense of where he was going. When he and Barrett had ridden together, the rest of the gang always knew that Barrett could figure out the quickest way to get where they were going and Nick could always get them home.
Nick was still amazed that he was the one riding back into the Dakotas wearing a few streaks of gray in his hair and Barrett was the one cooling his heels under several feet of dirt. No gambling man would have bet on Nick living through his twenties.
Kazys kept charging forward as if he was trying to rip away the upper layers of earth with his hooves. Nick steered away from the main trail at his first opportunity, while looking for the spot where he could eventually circle back onto the main course.
The tracks had grown deeper and farther apart. That caught Kinman’s eye right away, telling him that Nick was moving faster. Even though there weren’t many sets of fresh tracks in sight, Kinman had to trust his instinct that the ones he was following truly belonged to Nick Graves.
There were plenty of Indians in these parts. There were also scouts, messengers, couriers, and any number of men who might be riding by themselves and traveling in a rush. Come to think of it, Kinman guessed that anyone wanting to stay ahead of the Crow or Sioux would be riding pretty damn quickly right about now.
Even as all that raced through his mind, Kinman didn’t consider slowing down. There were times when a man needed to be careful and there were times when he needed to throw himself headlong into whatever path he’d chosen. This was one of the latter times and Kinman raced down his own path, not caring whether it led to a coffin full of jewels or a slow death.
There was no time to worry about what lay in between.
SEVENTEEN
The next few days were spent with Nick doing one of two things: looking ahead or looking behind. Everything else fell to the wayside. While looking ahead, he tried to gauge where he was in relation to where he wanted to be. As Kazys took him out of Wyoming and into the Dakotas, the horse was having a harder time maintaining the pace he’d set when he bolted out of Rock Springs.
Nick wasn’t about to jeopardize the animal’s health, but he also wasn’t about to jeopardize his own by allowing himself to fall too close to the men who were chasing him. Kinman’s presence was always nagging at the back of Nick’s mind. He could feel the other man closing in on him, even though he couldn’t see or hear him coming. Nick had been hunted for too many years to overlook that anxious feeling in the bottom of his gut.
Kinman pulled back on his reins and slowed down gradually enough for Lester’s horse to get the hint. The bounty hunter’s chest was heaving as if he’d run the last couple of miles on foot, and his eyes darted back and forth within their sockets.
“What’s the matter?” Lester asked. “Did you lose him?”
Still glancing around, Kinman slowed his horse so he was directly beside Lester’s. He reached to his belt and drew the hunting knife that was sheathed there.
Lester squirmed reflexively in his saddle. “All right, fine!” he squealed. “You didn’t lose him!”
But none of Lester’s pleading was about to stay Kinman’s hand. Seeing that, Lester clenched his eyes shut and waited to feel the blade cut through his flesh. Although he did feel the cool touch of sharpened steel, it was only for a second as it glanced between his wrists.
When he opened his eyes again, Lester found the ropes tying his hands to the saddle had been cut. The rope connecting his ankles was the next to go. Kinman leaned down and swiped the blade through the rope as if it was warm butter, causing both ends to drop down and brush against the ground. Even Lester’s horse seemed surprised to have the rope removed, since it had gotten used to feeling them on its belly for all these miles.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Lester asked tentatively.
“Don’t you remember what we talked about? I said I had plans for you.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Now’s the time to see those plans through.”
Lester gathered up his courage and glanced up the trail. When he looked back at Kinman, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “We’re still going after them jewels?”
“Of course,” Kinman said with a humorless chuckle. “That is, unless you’re about to tell me there ain’t no buried treasure.”
“Oh, it’s there!”
“Then ride on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
Although Lester faced forward and gathered up his reins, he restrained himself from snapping the leather and setting his horse into motion. Every muscle in his body wanted to move forward. His legs tensed against the horse’s sides. His chest tensed. Even his head stretched forward as if he was anticipating the wind being in his face. Soon, however, he seemed more like a turkey stretching his neck along the chopping block.
“We should probably stick together,” Lester said. “This is Indian country, ain’t it?”
Kinman nodded. “Sioux.”
“You think them Sioux’ll be happy scalping me and just let you pass?”
“Hell no. If the Sioux are out for scalps, then they’ll get both of us. It won’t matter too much whether we’re separate or in one spot.”
“I guess that’s true. Why are you letting me go?”
“We’re crossing into the Badlands and we need to split up. Graves is bound to be watching his back right about now, but he’s only looking for me.”
“What if he sees me first?” Lester asked.
“That’s what you should hope for. He’s never met you, has he?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Good,” Kinman said. “Then he’s got every reason to treat you like he’d treat anyone else. Don’t tell him who you are, just to be on the safe side. Keep him occupied until I’ve snuck around behind him. If he sees me, the plan’s the same, only it’s you doing the sneaking while Graves comes after me. You’ve got the easy job, since I’ll be doing most of the fighting either way.”
“Do you think Graves knows you’re after him?”
Kinman shrugged and replied, “I don’t think so, but I ain’t about to bet my life on it. You’ll ride ahead, but we
