"I get shaky," she said. "Gus knows why. I hope he gets back tonight."

"It depends on how big a start the horsethieves had," Dish said.

The day passed, and there was no sign of Gus. Lorena rode close to the wagon. Every few minutes Lippy turned and looked back at her as if he had never seen her before. Almost every time he did, he tipped his hat, which was even filthier than it had been when he worked in the saloon. Lorena didn't acknowledge him-she remembered how he had always tried to look up her skirts when she came downstairs. She just rode along, watching the horizon to see if she could spot Gus returning. The horizon shimmered so that it would have been hard to see Gus in any case.

They crossed a little creek about noon. There were a few scraggly bushes growing along the line of the creek. Lorena didn't pay them much attention, but Po Campo did. When the herd had moved on, he came walking over to her, his sack half full of wild plums.

"These plums are sweet," he said, handing her a few.

She dismounted and ate the plums, which indeed were sweet. Then she walked over and washed her face in the creek. The water was green and cold.

"Snow water," Po Campo said.

"I don't see no snow," she said.

"It comes from up there," Po Campo said, pointing west. "From those mountains you can't see."

Lorena looked but could only see the brown plain. She ate a few more of the wild plums.

"I've been finding onions," Po said. "That's good. I'll put them in the beans."

I wish you'd find Gus, she thought, but of course that was impossible. They rode into the dusk, but Gus did not return. Soon after the herd was bedded, Dish came and unrolled the little tent. He could tell from Lorena's face that she was sad. She had unsaddled, and she sat by her saddle in the grass. It pained him to see her look so alone and so tired. He tried to think of something to say that might cheer her up, but words had deserted him again. They always seemed to desert him just when he needed them most.

"I guess those horsethieves had a big start on them," he said.

"He could be dead," Lorena said.

"No, not Gus," Dish said. "He's had lots of experience with horsethieves. Besides, he's got the Captain with him. They're expert fighters."

Lorena knew that. She had seen Gus kill the Kiowas and the buffalo hunters. But it didn't ease her fears. She would have to lie in the tent all night, worrying. A bullet could hit anyone, she knew-even Gus. If he didn't come back, she would have no hope of protection.

"Well, I'll always help, if you'll let me," Dish said. "I'll do about anything for you, Lorie."

Lorena knew that already, but she didn't want him to do anything for her. She didn't answer, and she didn't eat, either. She went into the tent and lay awake all night while Dish Boggett sat nearby, keeping watch. It seemed to him he had never felt so lonely. The mere fact that she was so close, and yet they were separate, made the loneliness keener. When he had just thrown his blanket down with the boys, he didn't imagine her so much, and he could sleep. Now she was just a few yards away-he could have crept up to the tent and heard her breathing. And yet it seemed he would never be able to eliminate those few yards. In some way Lorie would always be as distant from him as the Kansas stars. At times he felt that he had almost rather not be in love with her, for it brought him no peace. What was the use of it, if it was only going to be so painful? And yet, she had spoken to him in a friendly voice only that day. He couldn't give up while there was a chance.

He lay awake all night with his head on his saddle, thinking of Lorie-not sleeping, nor even wanting to.

WHEN THEY FOUND Wilbarger's man Chick and the boy who had been traveling with them, there wasn't much left to bury. The coyotes and buzzards had had a full day at them. As they rode toward the little knoll where the buzzards swarmed, they passed a fat old badger carrying a human hand-a black hand at that. Newt was stunned-he assumed they would shoot the badger and get the hand back so it could be buried, but no one seemed concerned that the badger had someone's hand.

"He had a hand," he pointed out to Pea Eye.

"Well, whoseever it was won't be using it no more, and that old badger had to work for it with all them dern buzzards around," Pea Eye said. "A hand is mostly just bone, anyway."

Newt didn't see what that had to do with it-it was still a human hand.

"Yes, that's interesting," Augustus said. "That old badger made a good snatch and got himself a few bones. But the ground will get his bones too, in a year or two. It's like I told you last night, son. The earth is mostly just a boneyard.

"But pretty in the sunlight," he added.

It was a fine, bright day, but Newt didn't feel fine. He wanted to go catch up with the badger and shoot him, but he didn't. There seemed to be hundreds of buzzards on the knoll. Suddenly a big coyote ran right out of the midst of them, carrying something-Newt couldn't see what.

"I guess the buzzards outnumber the coyotes in these parts," Augustus said. "Usually the buzzards have to wait until they get through."

When they rode up on the knoll, the smell hit them. A few of the buzzards flew off, but many stood their ground defiantly, even continuing to feed. Captain Call drew rein, but Augustus rode up to them and shot two with his pistol. The rest reluctantly flew off.

"You like to eat, see how you like being eaten," he said to the dead buzzards. "There's that bad black man. Wilbarger did get him."

The smell suddenly got to Newt-he dismounted and was sick. Pea Eye dug a shallow grave with a little shovel they had brought. They rolled the remains in the grave and covered them, while the buzzards watched. Many stood on the prairie, like a black army, while others circled in the sky. Deets went off to study the thieves' tracks. Newt had vomited so hard that he felt lightheaded, but even so, he noticed that Deets didn't look happy when he returned.

"How many are we up against?" Call asked.

"Four," Deets said. "Just four."

"Hell, there's five of us," Augustus said. "There's less than one apiece of the horsethieves, so what are you so down about?"

Deets pointed to a horse track. "Mr. Jake is with them," he said. "That's his track."

They all looked at the track for a moment.

"Well, they're horsethieves and murderers," Augustus reminded them. "They could have stolen Jake's horse-they could have even murdered him for it."

Deets was silent. They could speculate all they wanted-he knew. A different man would have resulted in a different track. Mr. Jake tended to ride slightly sideways in the saddle, which the track showed. It was not just his horse-it was him.

The news hit Call hard. He had stopped expecting anything of Jake Spoon, and had supposed they would travel different routes for the rest of their lives. Jake would gamble and whore-he always had. No one expected any better of him, but no one had expected any worse, either. Jake hadn't the nerve to lead a criminal life, in Call's estimation. But there was his track, beside the tracks of three killers.

"Well, I hope you're wrong," he said to Deets.

Deets was silent. So, for once, was Augustus. If Jake was with the killers, then there was no hope for him.

"I wish he'd had the sense to stay with Lorie," Augustus said. "She might have aggravated him some, but she wouldn't have led him to this."

"It's his dern laziness," Call said. "Jake just kind of drifts. Any wind can blow him."

He touched the mare and rode on-he didn't need Deets in order to follow the tracks of nearly thirty horses. He put the mare into a slow lope, a gait she could hold all day if necessary.

Newt rode beside Pea Eye, who appeared to be solemn too. "Do you think it's Jake?" Newt asked.