Chapter Ten

Some time had passed since the monster had discovered depression, and he'd finally found his way around to anger.

This would have been seriously bad news for the desert's native inhabitants, except that the beast was too clumsy to catch most of them. He'd finally settled for threatening a scorpion; a painful welt on one of his paws served as a reminder of that experiment. Now he was doing the only thing that he could think of, which was to sulk.

He'd spent a few days wandering aimlessly, and the place where he'd finally settled was certainly the perfect environment for someone hoping to indulge in some self-pity. It still wasn't a desert in the "endless plain of sand" sense, but it was a lot closer. The broken, yellowish stone that made up the landscape was practically bare, populated by little more than the occasional clump of tiny cacti. Living things were few, and most of them crawled on their bellies. The sun beat down with an intensity that seemed to suggest that the land had done something to deserve it.

The heat was beginning to give the beast a whole collection of headaches, which effectively soured his disposition further. The throbbing was only made worse by a rhythmic noise in the distance; after a moment of thrashing about in irritation, he fell abruptly into stillness and silence. The sound, he quite suddenly realized, was that of hooves on stone.

A montage of gruesome images flashed through the creature's simple mind, and he felt his muscles tensing in anticipation; after a moment he relaxed again, scowls on his faces.

What, he wondered bitterly, is the point?

The beast rolled over onto his side, whimpering slightly, as the sound of horses faded into the distance. The two riders, unaware of their good fortune, continued to bicker amongst themselves.

It had been over a week since Buck and Evans had left Tombstone; they'd had plenty of time to get to know one another in the meantime, and they'd arrived at the discovery that they didn't particularly like each other.

"Are you sure that you know where you're going?" Evans was asking.

Buck turned in his saddle and glared at his companion.

"Yes, I'm sure," he snarled. "For the last time: I am absolutely, positively sure."

Evans glanced around himself again.

"It's just that I could swear that we passed that cactus before," he noted. "Twice, actually."

"It's a cactus," Buck retorted hotly. "They all look the same."

Evans nodded slowly.

"So you've said," he answered. "It's just that - well, our destination is east by northeast of Tombstone. We've mostly been going south, if I'm not mistaken."

"My, aren't you clever," snarled Buck.

"Well?" Evans pressed.

"It's a shortcut," Buck mumbled.

"Ah," Evans skeptically replied. "Of course it is."

Sparky neighed as Buck reigned him to an abrupt stop; Evans shot past, and then rounded to pull alongside his guide.

"Look, there's no need to get into a temper about it," Evans snapped. "Just admit it; we're lost, aren't we?"

"We're not lost," Buck coldly insisted.

Evans rolled his eyes as Buck crossed his arms petulantly and scowled at nothing in particular.

"There's no shame in asking for directions, you know," Evans noted, attempting a reasonable tone.

Buck stared back at him for a moment, and then broke into a humorless laugh.

"Directions? Really?" he barked. "Alright, professor. Who're we gonna ask?"

Buck gestured dramatically at the barren landscape, and Evans blushed slightly. Buck scoffed, and then turned to look behind them.

"Maybe we could ask her, hm?" he murmured.

Evans followed Buck's line of sight, not sure what he was supposed to be looking at. After a moment, he spotted a tiny cloud of dust on the horizon; comprehension finally dawned, and his jaw dropped.

"God's teeth!" exclaimed Evans. "Is that - "

"My admirer from Tombstone?" Buck grumbled. "Yeah, that's her."

Evans stared for a moment in horrified disbelief - first at the sign of pursuit, and then at Buck.

"How long has she been following us?" he demanded.

"Since we left Tombstone," Buck growled. "How long do you think?"

Evans glanced back and forth again, his mouth working soundlessly. Finally, he managed to speak again.

"Well, do something, will you?" he shrieked. "Can't we... shake her, or whatever?"

"I've been trying," Buck snapped. "That's why we've been going south, in case you're curious."

"Well, I did ask," Evans replied sullenly.

Buck didn't seem to notice the comment. His eyes were still fixed on the distance, as if he were trying to look through the stone.

"I was hoping she'd have a harder time tracking us over all this rock," he muttered. "Doesn't seem to be working."

Evans considered this momentarily, and then jerked suddenly to attention.

"Well, shouldn't we be going, then?" he demanded.

"Capital idea."

The two spurred their horses and set off at a gallop; glancing at his compatriot, Evans noticed, with a kind of dim horror, that Buck was grinning.

"Don't tell me that you enjoy this kind of thing!" Evans howled. "We're being hunted, man! What, is this a game to you?"

Buck chucked slightly.

"Not at all," he assured Evans. "It's just that - well, the look on your face is pretty priceless, okay?"

Evans considered this momentarily.

"I think I'm starting to hate you a little bit," Evans informed him.

Buck's grin widened.

"Right back at you, pal," he drawled. "Better hold on tight; I'm taking us into the hills."