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

by Wayne D. Dundee

  The horses were stripped, rubbed down, hat-watered and grained. Then they were staked in a line along the eastern ridge wall so that the shade would reach them, too, as soon as more was available. The arroyo was void of anything in the way of graze.

  Once the animals were taken care of and their own thirsts slaked, the group members proclaimed appetites too meager to warrant a cooking fire at that point. They settled for pieces of jerky and opened two cans of sweet peaches to pass around. After that, everyone sought the most comfort possible and sprawled to rest and endure. As usual, Amelia took the opportunity to make entries in her notebook.

  Armed once more with his spyglass, Kendrick climbed the arroyo wall to one of the highest ridges and spent several minutes scanning their back trail, looking for signs of possible pursuit or anything that might seem out of the ordinary. He saw nothing.

  Satisfied, he climbed back down to the arroyo floor, drank some more water, then found a place to stretch out—not being overly fussy—and gave in to his own weariness. He was asleep in less than a minute.

  * * * * *

  Kendrick woke a half hour before sunset. He rose and stood for a minute, working out the kinks and enjoying the feel of the now-cooling air being pushed down the arroyo by a gentle breeze. Glancing around the camp, he saw the others milling about, looking considerably improved from the bedraggled, sweat-smeared bunch he had closed his eyes on. He wondered if the same could be said for him. Probably not, he decided. Before donning the Stetson he’d removed to take his nap, he took a long drink of water from his canteen and then poured what was left over his head. He ran his palms vigorously over his face, slicked back his hair, clapped the Stetson in place. He felt better. He didn’t know if he looked any better, but it would have to do.

  In the middle of the camp, Hickory had a good-sized fire going. There was a pot of coffee brewing on the edge coals and, with the aid of Amelia, the old stage wrangler was working up the dough for a batch of pan biscuits.

  “Why didn’t somebody wake me up?” Kendrick wanted to know.

  “No need to. Not yet. We got things under control,” Hickory answered.

  Without looking up, Amelia added, “You needed the rest. You’ve been shorting yourself too much.”

  A quick, appreciative smile touched Kendrick’s mouth. “All right,” he allowed. “You keep at those biscuits. I’ll be back in a short with something to go with ‘em.”

  Kendrick quit the camp and made his way once more to the high ridge. He had his spyglass with him as before, and this time he also brought along his Winchester.

  After scanning their back trail in the fading light and again seeing nothing that might be cause for alarm, he put away the spyglass and took the Winchester, cradling it in the crook of one arm, for a slow, stealthy walk out into the desert. He didn’t have to go far. In short order, the rifle barked three times and not long after that Kendrick was back in camp with three plump sage hens.

  By the time the hens were plucked, dressed, spit-roasted over the fire, and served up with fresh pan biscuits, it was full dusk and the temperature had dropped dramatically. But the faces gathered around the fire glowed warmly with contentment and enjoyment from the feast.

  “Now there’s as good a meal as any you’d find in the finest restaurant you can name,” Hickory proclaimed as he withdrew a gnawed-clean bone from the corner of his mouth and tossed it into the fire. The bone sank into the coals with a soft hiss.

  “Not to mention the added convenience of total freedom from table manners,” Amelia commented. It was hard to tell if she was serious or just giving Hickory a good-natured jab.

  Either way, Hickory was ready for her. Somewhat smugly, he said, “If there was a table present, Miss Amelia, then my table manners would also be present.”

  “That’s a relief to hear.” A moment later Amelia delicately withdrew a bone from between her lips and flipped it into the fire exactly as Hickory had done.

  Looking on, Hickory cackled approvingly. “You got the idea.”

  Kendrick smiled at the exchange. It was good to see that, after the tough day they’d put in, the group still seemed to be in decent spirits.

  “Our good eatin’ while we’re out this way ain’t likely to be over, neither,” Hickory went on. “Leastways not accordin’ to ol Caleb that last time I seen him. He’d spent some time in the Pinalenos by then and told me how the livin’ was mighty high on account of all the game to be found. Venison, elk, trout from the streams … all there for the takin’.”

  Faleejah, who seldom spoke except when directly addressed, said, “How long before we reach this place of such abundance?”

  Kendrick answered, “I was figurin’ we’d head out from here about midnight again, just like before. Travel in the cool of the night, long as we got good light from the moon and stars. That’ll put us in the Pinaleno foothills by mid day, ahead of the heat.”

  Faleejah’s smoldering expression brightened. “If there are streams, then there must also be pools of water, no? After this morning, I would give anything to soak and bathe in a pool of cool water.”

  Hickory chuckled. “Oh, there are streams and pools of water all right. You might want to be careful what you wish for, though, considerin’ how those waters feed down from the high reaches where it stays pretty cold and even snow-covered part of the time. ‘Pinaleno’ translates as ‘pine-covered’ or some such from the Apache tongue. These mountains are quite a bit different from the mostly burnt-over scrubs and rocks like the Chiricahuas and other ranges down where we just came from. Considerable higher for one thing, with lots of pine and other trees and thick underbrush up in those high reaches.”

  Hickory wagged his head. “Funny thing about folks all through this territory, the way they bitch and suffer livin’ in the blazin’ heat yet most of ‘em grow to crave it in a crazy kind of way. Practically go into a panic if it cools down too much. Aside from bein’ so remote, I think what’s kept folks mostly away from the Pinalenos—white folks, I’m sayin’, not the different Apache tribes who’ve claimed parts of ‘em on and off over the years—is the trees and brush and colder conditions.”

  Faleejah’s dark eyes widened. “These ‘Apache tribes’ you speak of—are these a type of ‘Indian’ such as I have heard so many stories about?”

  “Oh, yeah. Apaches are Indians right enough. ‘Bout the fiercest ones anybody ever ran up against.”

  “And they are in these mountains where we are headed?” Kazmir said with a worried frown. “Why were we not advised of this before now?”

  “Calm down,” Kendrick told him. “All the Apache tribes have been rounded up and corralled over on the San Carlos reservation farther to the west and north. Been contained there for years.”

  “Well. Maybe they are and maybe they ain’t,” said Hickory. “Been some mighty stubborn stories about a pack of Aravaipa—“

  “Hickory!” Kendrick cut him short and nailed him with a steely glare. “We don’t need no tall tales about packs of renegade Indians. Everybody knows the soldier boys have accounted for all the Apaches from around here and hauled ‘em off to the rez … Ain’t that right?”

  Hickory set his jaw stubbornly and for a moment looked as if he was going to bridle against Kendrick. But then the message finally sank in and he settled back. “Sure. ‘Course everybody knows that. You always got a handful of lamebrains runnin’ their mouths just to stir folks up, is all.”

  He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Faleejah. “But what I’m tryin’ to warn you about those streams and pools, now there ain’t no exaggerate in that. They ain’t just cool, they’re blamed cold enough to freeze a man’s … well, you just got to trust me when I say they’re mighty chilly, ma’am. I purely wouldn’t count on feelin’ the urge to lay back and soak in any of ‘em for very long.”

  “I don’t think you fully appreciate a woman’s determination when it comes to bathing, Hickory,” said Amelia. “I’m inclined to agree with Faleejah—show me an invitin
g pool of water, I will be joining her in it.”

  Hickory scratched his whiskers. “Well, that conjures up a mighty pleasin’ picture on the one hand—meanin’ no offense, mind you—but, on ‘tother, it gives me the pure shivers. Brrr. Nossir, I ain’t climbin’ into no mountain stream nor pool, neither one—not unless I fall in.”

  Kendrick grinned. “Which pretty much describes the only way you likely ever take a bath, you old coot.”

  That got a good-natured round of laughter out of everybody, including Hickory. But he was also quick with a comeback. “Shows how much you know, Bodie Kendrick. I’ve taken plenty of baths in my time. You want me to name ‘em off? I’ll wager you run out of fingers and toes to count with long before I’m through.”

  Kendrick waved him off. “Never mind. I’ll take your word for it.”

  “As well you should, Mr. Smarty-pants.”

  Kendrick, sitting Indian-style before the fire, reached to pour himself some more coffee and then leaned back. “If we can get serious a minute,” he said, his eyes cutting back to Hickory, “I got a question I’ve been meanin’ to ask.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Once we reach these Pinalenos, how long you figure it’ll take to locate Caleb Frost? And have you got any kind of plan for goin’ about it?”

  Hickory was nodding his head even before Kendrick finished speaking. “Don’t think it’ll take long at all. And my plan for flushin’ ol’ Caleb is pure simple: We set up camp soon as we find a good spot, let ourselves be seen, build fires that put off some smoke, and Caleb will march right to us.”

  “I thought you said he don’t like strangers crowding him?”

  “He don’t. Hates it. When he sees smoke, sees sign of somebody else in the area, that’s what’ll bring him nosin’ … But I ain’t a stranger, see? He’s got one of them spyglasses, too. When he lamps that on us and spots me, he’ll come ‘round to palaver, see what we’re up to.”

  “Okay. That makes sense.”

  “’Course it does. I thunk of it, didn’t I?”

  “Indeed you did, old timer.”

  “It all sounds very promising,” Amelia agreed. “If Mr. Frost can truly be located in such a manner and is then able to provide some direction as to where we might find the Red Ghost, it should only pick up momentum from there. It will put us on the final leg of our quest—finding the Ghost and the diamond he has been carrying for so many long years!”

  “Let’s hope it goes that smooth,” Kendrick allowed. “But remember, it ain’t really over until we not only get our hands on the diamond but are able to keep hold of it while managing to make it past Anse Wilby and whoever or whatever else Totter and his money puts up to try and stop us.”

  Amelia regarded him under a sharply arched brow. “My, my. Your positivity seems to have slipped since that little pep talk you gave me only last night.”

  “I’m just sayin’, that’s all. Not a good idea to paint things too rosy until—“

  “What do you think, Faleejah?” Amelia cut Kendrick off but directed her words toward the exotic beauty. “First these menfolk try to discourage us from having hopes for a refreshing bath, now they don’t want us to get our hopes too high for recovering that which we’ve endured so much to make it this far.”

  Faleejah’s eyes flashed. “I still intend to seek out that bath.”

  “And I still mean to get my hands on that diamond.” Now Amelia swung her own fiery gaze back to Kendrick. “And keep it!”

  Kendrick held her eyes for a long count. He kept his expression unreadable until, abruptly, his mouth tipped into a lopsided grin. “Okay, then. If you feel that strongly about it, I guess it’s settled.”

  * * * * *

  As everyone was turning in for some more rest before hitting the trail again, Kendrick made a final check from the top of the ridge with his spyglass. Ahead of that, however, he pulled Hickory aside and led him out of earshot from the others.

  “What’s going on? What are we up to?” Hickory asked.

  “That’s what I want to know,” Kendrick snarled. “What the hell were you up to during supper when you started yammering about Aravaipa Apaches runnin’ loose from the reservation?”

  “Jeez, Bodie, everybody knows the story about how a band of Aravaipas are rumored to be still holed up somewhere back in the Pinalenos, stayin’ on the dodge from bein’ hauled off to the rez.”

  “I don’t know the story. You reckon it’s something you ought to’ve got around to mentioning a little damn sooner?”

  “I figured you knew. Honest.”

  “You think I’d be draggin’ a couple women along with us if I knew there was a chance we might run up against Apaches?”

  “Aw, come on. Give me a little credit, man. You think I’d be part of allowin’ women to be in the mix if I thought there was any serious risk from Injuns?”

  “I don’t think you’re thinking at all!”

  “Well, I am, dang it. Ol’ Caleb told me about the Aravaipas that last time I saw him. There is a handful of ‘em up there in the Pinalenos. But they stay mostly on the other side of the peaks from where Caleb is set up. The Army got tired of tryin’ to root ‘em out, see, so they sort of look the other way and leave ‘em be as long as they stay in the mountains and don’t cause no trouble. The only time Caleb sees hide nor hair of ‘em is when a huntin’ party sometimes roams over into his neck of the woods. But even then they never bother him. The last thing the Aravaipas want is to stir up any trouble that’ll cause the Army to come after ‘em again.”

  Kendrick rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know. Sounds like a mighty shaky arrangement to me.”

  “Caleb seems okay with it. And he’s the one betting his hide on it. So am I, in a manner of speakin’.”

  “You’re betting all our hides on it.”

  “Okay, okay. But I’m still part of it, ain’t I? Aside from rightful consideration for the womenfolk and all, you think I’d’ve been so willing to lead the way in if I thought my own topknot was in any serious danger of bein’ lifted?”

  “You ain’t got no topknot, you bald old coot!”

  “All the more reason to be especially particular about keepin’ what I got, wouldn’t you say?” As if to strengthen his point, Hickory lifted his battered hat and ran a roughened palm over the few wisps of hair that stuck up atop his liver-spotted old dome.

  Kendrick scowled at him.

  “Come on. Lighten up, for cryin’ out loud. We’ll get to the Pinalenos, have our powwow with Caleb, find out if he can point us in a direction where we got the best chance of findin’ that stupid camel, then be on our way without ever catchin’ a whiff of any Apaches.”

  Kendrick continued to scowl. “I don’t see where I have much choice. It’s too late to turn back now. Miss Amelia would never agree to it, no matter what. I’d have to hogtie her across a saddle and drag her cussin’ and kickin’ the whole way.”

  “Sounds about right,” Hickory agreed, scratching the whiskery stubble under his chin. “She’s a mighty determined gal when it comes to goin’ after what she wants.”

  “Yeah, well I can be pretty determined myself,” Kendrick growled. “So you’d best keep this in mind: If you’re wrong and we do run afoul of Apaches—Aravaipa or otherwise—I’m determined that I will be the one to lift your mangy old topknot, even if I have to pluck one scrawny hair at a time!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As Kendrick had predicted, they reached the Pinalenos by noon the following day. They quit the desert arroyo camp at midnight and traveled once more through the cool dark of the moon and stars, on past daybreak and through the steadily warming morning.

  With their destination nearly at hand and a lesser distance to travel, Kendrick had set a steady but somewhat easier pace. The morning grew hot, as expected, but not quite as bad as yesterday. This bit of relief, however, was largely offset by the desert floor becoming rockier and brushier—making passage more difficult—as they neared the foothills.

  When th
ey began their ascent up the gradually steepening slopes, a soft, cool breeze rolled down as if to greet them.

  They hadn’t gone far before they came to a grassy clearing rimmed by irregular rock outcroppings and stunted birch trees intermingled with scraggly jack pines. A narrow, bubbling stream ran along one side. Farther up, taller trees and thicker piney underbrush grew steadily denser until the cliff faces and rocky peaks were nearly blotted out and the whole mountainside seemed to take on a greenish tint.

  “Ain’t gonna find a sweeter spot than this to make our camp,” said Hickory, somewhat out of breath.

  “No argument from me, old timer,” Kendrick conceded. Then, to the others: “You heard the man. Climb down and make yourselves at home, ‘cause home is what this place gonna be for the next day or two.”

  “Suits me,” Amelia sighed. “Even though I know how important it is we keep pressing on to find Nadba, after the burnt brown monotony of the desert it surely would be nice to tarry a bit in this lush greenery.”

  “Would for a fact,” Kendrick allowed. “Trouble is, it ain’t likely that Totter or the forces he’s got hired to come after us are burnin’ any time to stop and smell the roses.”

  “Don’t you think I am the last person you need to remind of that?” Amelia snapped back rather testily. “Doesn’t mean a girl can’t dream for a moment, does it?”

  By the time they got the camp set up it was edging toward late afternoon. The horses had been saddle-stripped and the pack animals unloaded and otherwise tended to, all of them now picketed and grazing contentedly on the fresh mountain grass. A large fire was crackling in the center of the clearing and a pot of simmering coffee was resting on the coals contained by the ring of flat stones.

  Having just fed some green pine branches into the flames, Hickory leaned back and watched a curling column of smoke rise up. Speaking to Kendrick, who was standing next to him, he said, “I don’t know exactly where ol’ Caleb has his diggins set up, but he sure ought to be able to see that. Not much doubt he already knows somebody is in the area, he may even have us spotted by now.”