Chapter Thirteen

For almost an hour Buck and Evans spurred their horses furiously, putting as much distance between themselves and Dead Man's Hand as possible. At last their horses began to slow, panting desperately; Buck reined Sparky in and whipped around in his saddle, revolver drawn. There was no sign of pursuit, but that didn't seem to relax him at all.

He was starting to come down from his binge, and the glare of the desert sun was already well on its way to causing what promised to be an awful headache. The sound of Evans' voice grated on his ears.

"Am I terribly mistaken," the doctor was asking, "or was that the same girl that's been following us?"

Buck grunted an irritable affirmative. Evans raised an eyebrow.

"I take it we didn't lose her after all, then?"

"How very perceptive of you," Buck grumbled. "Must have gotten ahead of us somehow."

Evans nodded sagely.

"She headed us off at the pass, you mean?"

Buck winced.

"You could say that," he muttered.

"You two had a nice talk, I take it?"

"Something like that."

Buck was ready to drop the subject, but Evans persisted.

"Did you manage to find out why she's after us, at least?"

Buck produced a flask from one of his saddlebags and took a long pull before answering.

"After me," he grunted shortly. "She's a bounty hunter, apparently."

"A bounty hunter," Evans deadpanned.

Buck nodded distantly, and Evans fell silent. Buck tucked his flask into a pocket, and then took a moment to collect himself. A few more seconds passed before Evans' sudden silence began to strike him as odd; he turned in his saddle to look, and found his companion's face deeply flushed. Evans spent a few seconds measuring his words, obviously trying to keep his composure, before speaking.

"Why, pray tell," Evans rasped, "is there a bounty hunter chasing you, Buck?"

Buck swore under his breath, and Evan's eyes began bulging.

"You're a wanted man?" Evans screeched.

"Not exactly wanted, if you catch my drift," Buck ventured.

"Ye gods," Evans howled, "you mean to tell me that all this time I've been traveling with a fugitive from justice?"

Evans' yelling seemed to drive nails into Buck's temples.

"You don't need to act so surprised," he muttered.

"What did you do?" Evans demanded.

"I've done a lot of things, okay?" Buck mumbled, his patience fraying. "It's just a question of what they've got on me, really."

"That's fantastic," wailed Evans. "And how many felonies am I an accomplice to at this point?"

"Would you please relax and let me think for one second?" Buck shouted.

Evans stammered for a moment, and then fell silent; when he spoke again, his voice was icy.

"I'm beginning to think that this entire arrangement was a grave mistake on my part."

Buck whipped off his hat and spun to face Evans full-on, his temper finally reaching its limit.

"Well, maybe you're not the only one, okay?" he snarled.

Evans gaped, stunned, as Buck's eyes blazed into his.

"This whole trip you've been unbearable. Do you know that?" Buck growled. "Nothing but whining and nagging, every minute of every day. Well, I'm sick of it, do you hear me?"

Evans made to speak, but Buck cut him off with a curt gesture.

"Don't get me wrong," said Buck. "I could literally pay off the price on my head with what you're paying me in one day. And yet I am still beginning to doubt - very seriously - whether babysitting you is worth the hassle."

Evans' furious expression disappeared, and was replaced at once by one of sheer panic.

"If it's about the money..." he began.

"It's not about the money," Buck stated flatly.

"You have to understand," Evans pleaded. "I can double - no, triple - your salary, if I must. But it's absolutely imperative that I reach my destination, and as soon as possible, by absolutely any means necessary."

Buck chewed on this statement for a moment. An awful suspicion was beginning to dawn on him, and he found himself choosing his words very carefully.

"About that," he said at last.

"What about it?" Evans asked, swallowing hard.

Evans' sudden nervousness did nothing to ease Buck's suspicions, and he groaned inwardly.

"Here's the thing," Buck murmured. "I'm not the kind of man who gets too finicky about the kinds of jobs he takes, you understand? You say you want to be escorted to such and such a place, that's good enough for me. I figure you're paying me well enough not to be too interested in why you're in such a hurry to get to the middle of nowhere, right?"

Evans nodded uncertainly; Buck looked hard at him, and then continued.

"It occurs to me," said Buck, "that I'd like to know exactly why it's so damned important that you find this friend of yours in such a big hurry."

An awkward silence followed, during which the doctor's expression became increasingly sheepish. Buck's face only hardened, and Evans was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the degree to which the oppressive heat was making him sweat.

"What," he mumbled, "right now?"

"Now would be good," Buck urged him.

Evans coughed uncomfortably.

"It's just that it's going to sound crazy," Evans moaned.

"Try me," Buck growled.

Evans spent a moment trying to find the right words, and then apparently gave up.

"I have to find my friend because the world's going to end if I don't."

Buck relaxed visibly. At least now he knew where he stood.

"Go on," he said encouragingly.

Evans slumped with relief, obviously glad to be letting this secret off his chest.

"Look, I know how it sounds, but..." Evans trailed off. "Well, I know how it sounds. I'm a scientist, after all. If I were anyone else, I'd probably think that I was crazy, too."

Evans shook his head distantly, and then rallied bravely.

"When I was doing my doctoral research," he blurted, "I spent some time with a particular mesa people - the Ajiashathat. Fascinating tribe. The thing about them was that they were utterly convinced that their rituals propped up the world, do you see? That rain only fell because they prayed for rain. That the sun only rose because they asked him nicely enough, year after year."

Evans stared vaguely towards to horizon, lost in thought.

"Their shaman was a scoundrel. A man named Shinawenashkitat - Dancing Bird," he clarified. "He'd been the peoples' only shaman for as long as most of them could remember, and I don't think that he believed a word of it. I doubt that I've ever learned as much from any one man."

Evans turned to look back at Buck, and instantly got the sense that he was losing his audience.

"The world's been going to hell lately, Buck," Evans whispered. "Maybe you haven't noticed it, but I have."

Buck shrugged, but Evans pressed on.

"It all started about eight months ago," he insisted. "I didn't piece it together right away, but after a while it started nagging at me. I looked into my records, and sure enough, there it was."

Evans sighed deeply.

"Every hundred years, the spiritual leader of the Ajiashathat performs a ceremony that's supposed to prevent the sun from falling out of the sky - to prevent the end of the world. The latest ceremony should've been performed about eight months ago."

Evans slumped in his saddle, as if suddenly wearied. Buck arched an eyebrow.

"So the world's ending," Buck drawled, "and you think it's because this guy hasn't done the ritual, or whatever."

"That's about the size of it," Evans muttered.

Buck considered this momentarily.

"You're right," Buck said with sudden intensity.

Evans sat bolt upright in his saddle.

"Am I?" he said hopefully.

"Oh, yeah," Buck said passionately. "That does sound crazy."

A deflated expression passed over Evans' face, followed shortly thereafter by one of resignation. Buck stared deep into the doctor's eyes; his suspicion had become nearly a certainty, and he spoke slowly.

"This money that you have back in Maryland," Buck gloomily droned. "The five hundred dollars a day you were gonna pay me. It doesn't exist, does it?"

Evans shrugged.

"I'll come up with it," he mumbled. "Somehow."

Buck nodded smartly, sighed, and then arranged himself in his saddle.

"Sounds like you've got a lot on your plate, doc," he announced briskly, "what with saving the world and all. Good luck with that."

Evans chuckled sadly as Buck cracked his reins. A minute or so later, after the sound of Sparky's retreating hoof beats had faded into the distance, the doctor steeled himself, took his bearings, and began riding, alone, into the north.