Chapter 10

Having broken camp, grabbed a quick coffee and dry biscuit as breakfast, Teaspoon, Jimmy and Kid had ridden for under an hour when they came across the remnants of another camp.

"You mean we were this close?" Jimmy exclaimed irritably.

"Looks like it," Teaspoon responded soberly, stepping down from his horse.

"Shouldn't we just keep moving, seeing as we're so close?" Kid asked, from Katy's back.

"Now just hold on a minute, son, we don't wanna go rushin' off and missin' something that might be important," the older man advised.

Kid and Jimmy exchanged a sceptical look before dismounting and joining Teaspoon, to inspect the camp.

Each chose an area to search and after a minute or so, Jimmy bent over and picked something up from the ground. "Think we can safely say Buck was here," he said, dangling a familiar bone earring from his fingertips.

"Looks like someone slept here," Kid commented, squatting on his haunches, looking at the indentation on the ground. "Probably Brody, as it's close to the fire. Can't imagine he gave Buck the better position," he added, sardonically.

"So where was Buck?" Jimmy asked scanning around for the tell tale signs.

"Think he was right here." Teaspoon's tone was so low the others couldn't quite hear him.

"What was that, Teaspoon?" Kid enquired, moving closer to where he and Jimmy stood.

"I don't see nothin', 'cept footprints," a puzzled Jimmy responded.

"Yeah," came Teaspoon's simplistic reply, as he stood hands on hips, head hanging down for a brief moment before raising his eyes to a branch jutting out from the rock face. Kid and Jimmy followed his gaze to the branch.

"Somethin' was hung off that branch by the looks of the markin' on it," Kid stated with a baffled frown.

Teaspoon let out an unhappy grunt.

"What is it, Teaspoon?" Jimmy had a feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Seems Buck must be holdin' out a little too well for Brody. He's had to resort to wearin' him down through the night by makin' him stay on his feet."

"You mean …," Kid's gaze went back towards the branch as his words trailed off. "He's got no right to treat Buck like this." The colour rose in Kid's cheeks and his expression hardened in anger, his hands balled at his sides.

"Damn it, Teaspoon, how much more can Buck take of this?" The tension and rage Jimmy felt was clear in his venomous tone and his fist clenched around the earring, which he still held.

"From what I know about Buck he can take a hell of a lot, which is why Brody's dealin' with him like this. That boy has put up with more than his fair share of bad treatment during his life. He's strong, Jimmy and if anyone can get through this, then Buck can." Teaspoon placed a reassuring hand on Jimmy's shoulder.

"Remember the time he went and got Ike back from the Kiowa? They put him through hell but Buck got through it," Kid added quietly.

Teaspoon smiled and nodded his affirmation at Kid's words. "Let's get goin'. I reckon if we push on we should catch up with them by this afternoon."

All three men remounted their horses and headed off down the trail at a swift rate, feeling a little more positive than they had felt for a while.

A couple of hours later Kid pulled Katy to a stop, studying something further along the trail. A large, dark lump stood out against the pale grasses of the prairie. Teaspoon and Jimmy came alongside and also stopped their horses. Kid looked worriedly across at them before they wordlessly pushed the horses forward again. As they drew closer to the shape, the horses became skittish but the riders urged them on.

"It's a horse!" Kid suddenly exclaimed with relief, as for a while he had suspected the worst.

"It's Buck's horse," Jimmy added, bleakly.

"Been shot," Teaspoon put in.

Not wishing to speculate what had happened, they kept their thoughts and comments to themselves but scanned the area resolutely.

"Buck's on foot," Teaspoon said as a brusquely, not trusting his emotions if he diversified from the facts.

"They'll be movin' more slowly then. Won't be long now," Jimmy contributed, equally dispassionately.

The others followed purposefully and all three were soon mounted and following the trail, left by Brody and Buck, with dogged determination.

There were so many aches and pains throughout Buck's body that none of them hurt anymore than another. His feet stung from the constant walking in his heeled boots, attesting to the blisters that were forming. His arms and wrists burned where the rope bit into his skin, his legs throbbed and his throat was parched and sore. His chest was tight, not only from the constraints of the lariat, which now was pulled so tightly about him, it restricted his breathing but also the constant effort of drawing breath into his straining lungs. Somehow he managed to keep putting one foot in front of another, step after step, after step.

Buck didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep going. Her took the occasional glance at Brody's back, as he rode ahead of him, but there was no sign of the bounty hunter stopping or even being that concerned about his captive's condition. The incessant rate that Brody had set had Buck on the brink of collapse and he was beginning to misplace his footing. More than once he had stumbled and nearly fallen to his knees but had managed to regain his balance and carry on but he didn't think he could maintain it much longer.

Eventually he tripped and was unable to stop himself from falling. If he hadn't have grabbed hold of the rope he would have fallen flat on his face but instead landed heavily on his knees. Brody stopped as soon as he felt the jerk on the lariat, wrapped about his saddle horn. Swivelling around in his saddle, he gave a deep sigh. "Get up, injun," he demanded.

Buck clung to the rope, his breathing heavy and laboured and peered up at the man through the strands of his matted hair. "I need to stop for a while," he gasped.

"We ain't stoppin' now. We're nearly there. Now get up," Brody shouted, tugging the rope, pulling Buck over onto ground. "Iffen you don't get up I'll drag you there."

Something snapped in Buck and before he realised what he was doing he had got back up and yanked back on the rope so hard he nearly unseated Brody from his saddle. The bounty hunter was taken by surprise and glowered angrily at him, not quite believing that his captive had enough strength left to perform such an act and so vigorously.

"Why you …'" Brody snarled and dug his heels sharply into his horse's sides and rode at Buck, who stood swaying from the exertion of his action. Just as he had managed to steady himself Brody's horse knocked him down again, onto his back. Buck glared up at the man sat sneering down at him, as he lay sprawled on the ground.

"It's real lucky for you that Neville will only pay me if you're alive when we get there. If it weren't for that I'd finish you off here and now for that little stunt. Now get on your feet and get walkin' or, by god I'll make you wish I'd kill you."

Internally Buck was seething with anger and resentment but was in no position to put up a fight. He knew Brody wouldn't kill him out right and wouldn't think twice about dragging him so, with gritted teeth, he reluctantly scrambled to his feet.

"Now, that's more like it, injun," Brody said snidely. "I'll even keep the pace nice and steady so as you can keep up," he added derisively.

As Brody spun his horse around, Buck inhaled deeply, gathering what little strength he had left, taking the first steps for the last part of the journey. He knew it was going to be hard going but even that seemed preferable to the fate, which awaited him.

One foot after the other, step after step. The landscape became a blur, as Buck was so exhausted by now that it took all his concentration to keep his focus solely on keeping walking. Brody turned to check on him from time to time, yanking on the rope out of malevolence rather than any practical purpose.

They had been moving for a couple of hours when Buck suddenly realised the rope had slackened off. He raised his head and saw Brody had stopped his horse and was looking into the distance. Following his line of vision Buck saw the dark, jagged outline of a town rising from the line of the horizon, instantly recognising it as Omaha. The sight of the town filled him both with relief, realising that his ordeal would soon be over and dread, knowing what that would mean for him.

"Won't be long now, injun," Brody said, snagging a cheroot from his pocket, placing it in his mouth, giving Buck a meaningful grin. Buck merely stared blankly ahead, maintaining a stoic stance, masking his true feeling of trepidation and swallowed down the rising nausea, which edged its way from his gut.

Buck braced himself as he saw Brody gather his reins and move off once more. His mind was racing with incoherent and jumbled thoughts. Images of the Express station and the other riders flashed into view – Teaspoon in his sweat lodge, Rachel's sweet smile, Lou and Kid embracing, Cody eating, Jimmy cleaning his guns, Noah snapping his whip and Ike - the thought of his friend and brother's open smiling face filled him with warmth, consoling him with the thought that perhaps soon they would be reunited.

After a short while Brody veered from the main road into town and set off down a narrow track, which headed to the outskirts. At first Buck was concerned about this change of direction but the fact that he wouldn't be paraded through the town with all and sundry to gawping at him was a relief.

A little further along the track he caught sight of a building, set on a rise in the land, looking over towards the town of Omaha. As they drew closer they passed between two metal gateposts and down a narrower track, at the end of which stood a large and imposing house, with a ornate balcony and striking Romanesque pillars, sitting either side of a panelled, wooden doorway. There was a suggestion of prosperity but also an air of dilapidation about the place, from the overgrown flowerbeds at the front of the house, to the chipped paintwork and opaque, dusty windows.

Brody rode right up to the front steps, stopped his horse and yelled, "Neville – I got somethin' here for you."

Buck sank thankfully to his knees and sat back on his heels, feeling incapable of moving another step. His head drooped with exhaustion, as he took short, shallow breaths.

The front door opened and a large, burly man, dressed in a suit, stepped out. He nodded at Brody then regarded the hunched figure on the ground with raised eyebrows. "I'll let Mr. Neville know you're here," he said before disappearing back inside.

Taking another cheroot from his pocket, Brody looked down at Buck and gave a satisfied smile. "Won't be long now and I'll be $2,000 richer, thanks to you, injun. Like I said, nothin' personal – just business."

Buck closed his eyes and chose to ignore the man, as he had no interest in anything the bounty hunter had to say. All he could think about just now was how desperately he needed some water to ease his parched throat.

The burly man returned and stood holding the door open, as the sound of irregular footsteps and a tapping became louder until a second man emerged through the door and came to stand at the top of the steps, gripping a walking stick in his right hand, to steady himself.

"Here he is Neville and still in one piece, just as you requested," Brody told the man, stepping down from his horse.

Neville grunted in response and stared down at Buck's curled form on the ground.

"Show me," he instructed and Brody dutifully grabbed the front of Buck's hair and yanked his head back to expose his face. "That's what killed my son?" the older man, with utter derision.

'Yep. He's confessed as much to me himself and another man, who was with him when I captured him, verified it. There's no doubt this is the man who killed your son."

Buck squinted up at the man who was moving awkwardly down the steps, helped by the other man who held his elbow to keep him steady. When he reached the bottom step Neville took a deep breath before shuffling forward to stand in front of Buck.

Brody still had a firm hold of his hair and he could do nothing but look up at the face of the man responsible for his present predicament. He could see the family resemblance almost immediately – the same weasel like features and haughty manner but set in an older, more wizened face.

Neville's screwed up his face in distaste. "This …" He paused searching for the right term. "This dirty savage, this god-forsaken creature had the audacity to take my son's life?" he hissed furiously, raising his arm, holding his stick as if to strike Buck but Brody reached out and held him.

"He ain't yours until I get paid," the bounty hunter said firmly. "When I get my money you can do whatever it is you wanna do but until then he's still in my charge."

Neville scowled at him and snorted angrily. "Charles, go to my study and bring out the brown package in the middle draw of my desk," he told the burly man, who immediately bobbed his head in understanding and walked back to the house.

"Did he give you any trouble?" Neville asked. "He doesn't look much but I suspect that's down to you. I'm impressed you managed to bring him to me alive. It must have been hard to refrain from your usual method of detainment."

"He proved a challenge, that's for sure," Brody responded with a smirk, releasing Buck's hair.

Charles reappeared at that moment with the requested package, which he handed to Neville.

"Here," Neville said, passing it to Brody who immediately ripped it open, revealing a wad of bank notes.

"It's all there," Neville told him.

"Looks like it," Brody replied, thumbing the edge of the notes. "Well, he's all yours now," he continued as he bent down and loosened the lariat from around Buck's chest. "Good luck to you, injun. Think your gonna need it with this old buzzard," he said in a low, whispered voice. Buck raised his eyes, glaring at the man who had tormented him over the previous days. Brody gave a soft snort and shook his head as he coiled the lariat, then tipped his hat at Neville and went to his horse.

"If you ever need my services again, you know how to find me," he said, placing his foot in the stirrup and swinging up onto his horse, wheeling it around and cantering away, leaving Buck with Neville.

The old man turned his attention back to Buck, who remained kneeling down before him. Placing the end of his walking stick under Buck's chin, Neville lifted his head but he refused to meet his gaze.

"I'm going to make you pay for what you did to my son. The law did nothing and I've waited a long time to get justice for his murder. All this was going to be his one day," Neville said, waving his free arm about, indicating the house and property, "but now I have nothing. It's taken all my money to finally find you but it was money well spent. I'm going to enjoy watching you hang."

His words were spoken with such venom, Buck knew that the man truly believed that retribution was his for the taking and there would be no negotiation. "Take him to the stables, Charles and make sure he's secured. Then come back to the house to help me prepare."

"Yes Sir, Mr. Neville," Charles replied, grabbing hold of Buck and dragging him to his feet. Neville gave him one last disparaging glance up and down and then made his way back to the house.

"Come on, boy. Let's go make you nice and comfortable," Charles said with disdain, as he dragged Buck across the yard, towards a large wooden building. Buck stumbled along just wishing it would all just stop.

"Please, don't do this. The law did nothing to Neville either. This isn't right. I killed him but he was the murderer, not me. He killed my best friend. He killed another man too. It ain't right," he cried, trying to struggle free from the man's grip, digging his heels into the ground.

"I know Randall wasn't the best son but he was all the old man had left. Mr. Neville doted on that no good son of a bitch and losin' him near killed him. This place used to be real fancy. There were beautiful gardens, a string of fine horses in the stables. He held the grandest parties in the area and now? Well, it's all gone because of you."

"What? It's not my fault," Buck stammered. "I didn't do this."

"Perhaps not as such but Mr. Neville wanted to give it all to his son. He promised it to him if he came home and gave up his gamblin' ways. The old man just wanted his son home and you went and killed him. It near killed him too."

By now they'd reached the stables and Charles pushed Buck inside. There was a row of loose boxes down one side, with wood panels and metal bar partitions but every stall was empty. Charles led Buck over to one of the stalls and opened the door.

"It doesn't make this right. My friends will be looking for me. One's a Marshal. Neville could go to jail himself if you kill me," Buck protested as he staggered to keep his balance as he was pushed inside.

"Don't think he cares no more. He wants revenge – an eye for an eye, so to speak and he won't rest until he gets it. Now, move over there," Charles instructed, directing him towards a metal ring on the wall. "Sit down and give me your hands."

Buck glared at him defiantly for a moment but in his weakened state it didn't take Charles long to physically move him into the desired position of sitting below the ring in the wall. Taking an abandoned halter rope, he looped it through the bindings, which were still around Buck's wrists and use it to secure him to the ring.

"Could I have some water, please?" Buck asked in a husky voice, as Charles made to leave.

"Guess that wouldn't do no harm," the man replied. He left the stall but returned shortly with a bucket and ladle, offering Buck some water with the utensil. Buck drank thirstily, draining the ladle in seconds.

"More," he rasped. Charles obliged with a second ladleful.

"You could just let me go," Buck said softly, as he finished drinking.

Charles furrowed his brow at him and shook his head. "Sorry. Can't do that. Been with the old man too many years and I've seen what the death of his son has done to him. He used to be a real powerful man but it's like the fights gone out of him. Getting' revenge on you seems to be the only thing which will give him some peace of mind."

"Killing me isn't going to solve anything. It'll just make things worse. Please … don't let him do this," he called after the man who had already left the stall and was heading out of the door of the barn.

Buck rested his head against the partition behind him and closed his eyes, fighting back tears of anger, frustration and ultimately, fear. There was still a glimmer of hope that Jimmy would find him but even the possibility of that happened seemed highly unlikely now. For all he knew Jimmy could be dead. The thought of his friend, lying in the dirt, tied up and left to die filled him with renewed anger. Twisting around, he managed to get onto his knees and pull himself up.

He tugged against the rope, which tied him to the ring but what little strength he had left was ineffectual. He tried using his teeth but Charles had made sure the knot was good and tight. Eventually he sank back down to sit on the ground, his energy spent. All he could do now was wait to find out what Neville proposed to do to him.