Don’t get too het up about her problems, Shelby told himself. You got enough of your own.

Provo said, “Taco, Quesada, saddle ’em up.”

The two of them turned and went. George Weed went with them.

Portugee said, “Where we going now?”

“Down the Little Colorado,” Provo said. “Redrock country. I’ve got a place in mind up between Cedar Ridge and Marble Canyon.”

“That where you got the rest of that gold hid?”

“That’d be telling,” Provo said. He smiled with his mouth again. “But I ain’t got a double-cross in mind. I saw you thinking about what happened to Lee Roy, but Lee Roy was no good, you could see that. He’d have found some way to get us all killed. You’ll get your share of the gold, Portugee.”

“That’s right,” Portugee said. “I will. But what then?”

“Then you can go wherever you want. Personally I’d recommend northeast. Nobody’s going to track up through the Rockies. Straight on up through Colorado and Wyoming and Montana. Right into Canada and maybe ship out for Vancouver. But that’s up to you-all.”

“What about you?” Shelby said.

“Me?” Provo laughed unpleasantly. “All I want is Sam Burgade.”

Eight

The Navajo policemen subjected the posse to the long-winded rigmarole of formal protocol. After an hour of argument during which nobody budged and everybody remained excessively polite, Sam Burgade uttered a curse and stamped outside the Agency police shack. A blowsy woman gave him a flat stare of evident dislike and made a point of absenting herself from his vicinity. A stray vesper brought to his nostrils a malodorous outhouse smell.

Nye came outside and said, “We ain’t about to change their mands, Captain.”

“I know. Provo got to them.”

“What you reckon he give them?”

“A lot of sweet talk and some of that Santa Fe gold he’s got buried up here.”

“I’d admire to bust rat through here and keep after them, but I don’t reckon that’d set well with the federal gov’ment. They don’t cotton to anybody pushin’ onto the Reservation without the Navajos allow it. All them bleedin’ hawts back East git all up in arms about white folks bustin’ treaties. My deppities and me could maybe get in dutch, but rat now I don’t reckon that’s my main worry. Main thing is, Captain, I’m a sworn officer of the law. If I go on after Provo now I’m bustin’ the law. I’m out of my bailiwick on Navajo land, I got no authority here at all.”

“I know that, Noel.”

“Gravels hell out of me to let you down, Captain.”

“You’ve got your duty.”

“Yes, sir, I do. But I sure don’t lak it much.” Nye’s eyes flickered when they touched his. “Captain, we got to turn back.”

“I won’t argue with you.”

“You got to come back with us.”

Burgade’s silence argued with him.

“Captain, you got no authority here neither. You got no right on Innun land.”

“I guess that’s between me and the Indians, isn’t it,” Burgade said. “I’ll take my chances.”

“You ain’t got no chances, Captain.” Nye’s voice had gone harsh, angry more with himself than with Burgade. “They’s seven men out there alongside of Provo. Eight men you got to fight alone. You cain’t do that, no way. And don’t you know it’s exactly what Provo wants you to do?”

“Yes, I know that.”

“Then quit pretending lak you just too damn proud to quit. You ain’t a stupid man.”

A knotted muscle rippled in Burgade’s cheek. “Provo needs me the way the ax needs the turkey. If I don’t keep after him he’ll have no more use for Susan—he’ll set his dogs on her.”

“You better stop and study on that awhile. You fixing to make a powerful mistake. Those eight convicts put you under a gun, I don’t know but one way it can come out. You got to die. You dying ain’t going to hep Susan none.”

“Everybody’s got to die,” Burgade breathed, “but nobody’s got to give up.”

“Shit, Captain, that’s a fine sentiment but it don’t cut no ice with me. You got sixteen million acres of Navajo Reservation out yonder. No shade except maybe your own shadow. You fixing to go out into that and bust your lance against them eight men awmed to the teeth. And up against all that, the only thang you got left is knowing you ain’t going to give up? Shit. Zach Provo’ll trample you under and never even look back to see what-all he stepped on.”

Burgade’s toes curled inside his boots. His face was a bitter mask.

Nye looked straight ahead, not at him. “Captain, if I got to say it all, I will. You don’t even ride good no more. You just too cocksucking old to fight.”

In the blinding sunshine every shadow was black and had a sharp edge. The heat sucked sweat from Burgade’s pores. Hal Brickman came out of the police shack and stood under the porch shade within earshot.

Burgade said, “I haven’t got a lot of time to argue with you, Noel. But maybe you’ll understand this. If I turn back now, knowing what they’ll do to Susan, I don’t think I’d last a week without putting a gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger.”

“I know how you feel about that, Captain, but you forgetting one or two thangs. It ain’t going to take but five, six days, maybe a week, before we get enough pressure against the Navajo Council from Washington on down to allow us to bring posses onto the Reservation.”

“By that time Susan will be dead and the gang will be a thousand miles from here. Hell, Noel, getting off this Reservation’s no harder than getting onto it. There’s no fence. They’re free to sneak out of here anywhere along a thousand miles of boundary and we won’t have any idea where to look.”

“Could be. But forget Zach Provo, Captain. I’m only thanking about your daughter. Look, Provo don’t want to kill Susan, he’s only using her for bait. Shit, if he kills her he’s obliged to get every awmed man in the United States after his hide. He knows what’s got to happen to him if he kills her. Even them Agency police will be on his ass. He won’t have no place left to hide out. He cain’t afford that. No, Captain. He fands out you ain’t on his track, and he’ll turn Susan loose. It’s the only thang he can do.”

Hal Brickman stepped out of the shade and came forward, “Maybe the sheriffs right about that, you know. Provo’s smart enough to know what’ll happen to him if Susan comes to any harm.”

“If you knew Provo better you wouldn’t think that way.”

Nye said, “Provo’s a lot of thangs but he ain’t stupid.”

“If he cared about his own skin,” Burgade said, “he wouldn’t have kidnaped Susan in the first place. He had plenty of chances to get clean away, out of the country. He didn’t. He came after me instead. Listen—he’s lived the past twenty-eight years for one thing. Revenge. He doesn’t care whether he lives or dies, so long as he takes me with him and makes me suffer along the way. If I turn back now, he’ll only have one way left to make me suffer.”

Hal Brickman’s eyes widened. “You mean kill Susan.”

“That’s it. If I don’t show up where Provo can see me in the next twenty-four hours, she’ll be dead, and he’ll see to it I find out about it.”

Nye’s voice began to climb unreasonably. “But god-damnit, Captain. S’posin’ you do show up? S’posin’ you take his bait? What good’ll that do Susan?”

“Maybe he’ll make a trade,” Burgade murmured.

Nye stared at him. “You for Susan, you mean.”

“He might do it.”

“Jesus goddamn Christ.”

The deputies came out of the shack, followed by two uniformed Navajo police who stood on the porch and folded their arms and watched while the posse got mounted. Burgade said, “I’ll have to ride back with you until we’re out of sight.”

Little gray birds flitted soundlessly from the roof of the police shack to the treetops up by the spring. Burgade locked both hands around the saddle horn and hauled himself up by an effort of will. Riding away from the village, Nye said to him, “Jesus, Captain, you ain’t in no fit shape.”