Chapter Sixteen

Michael Evans awoke to the smell of bacon.

The campsite that he'd chosen had little to recommend it aside from the fact that it had been the smoothest patch of ground in a landscape that seemed otherwise to be entirely composed of jagged little mounds of yellow stone. The morning sun was already bearing down with cruel intensity, and the thin cloth of his bedroll did nothing to make the earth beneath his back any more comfortable. Still, with that smell in his nose, it was almost possible to imagine that he'd somehow found his way home.

Since leaving Tombstone more than three weeks before, he'd had almost nothing to eat aside from stale trail rations; he'd finally begun almost to take them for granted, and only now did he realize how dearly he'd missed the comforts of civilization. For a moment, he actually considered thanking Buck for the gesture; after a moment, the fundamental inconsistency in this train of thought finally forced itself upon his still-groggy mind.

Evans sprang bolt-upright, cursing vehemently.

The sudden motion on his part shocked Melody Chamberlain, and she very nearly dropped her skillet into the fire as her hand jerked instinctively towards her hip; after a moment, she relaxed again.

"Didn't realize you'd woken up," she chuckled. "You really shouldn't startle me like that."

Evans boggled.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted.

Melody shrugged.

"You and your friend seem to have split up," she replied.

She shrugged, and then poked at the bacon.

"It would appear," she mused dryly, "that I have been following the wrong set of tracks."

Despite himself, Evans found that he was staring at the contents of the skillet. There appeared to be eggs and potatoes in there, as well. After a moment, a bizarre idea dawned on him.

"Are you making me breakfast?" he demanded incredulously.

Melody grinned.

"I'm making myself breakfast," she announced. "But I do have enough for two, as it happens."

Evans nearly asked Melody why she was feeling so generous, but - in an uncharacteristic moment of clarity - realized that it was probably a better idea not to rock the boat. A few minutes passed in silence; Melody devoted her attention to cooking, and Evans to watching her cook.

He jumped involuntarily as Melody came to attention with a start, as if struck by some sudden realization.

"It occurs to me," she announced, "that we have yet to be formally introduced."

She stuck a hand in Evans' direction; he hesitated for a moment before taking it, as if he was being offered an angry rattlesnake.

"Melody Chamberlain," the girl beamed.

"Doctor Michael Evans, of Maryland," Evans replied uncertainly.

The girl stared dumbly for a moment, and then she collapsed into fits of laughter.

"A doctor? Really?" she gasped. "You're a doctor?"

Evans found himself blushing.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he grumbled sullenly.

She waved a hand, fighting to regain her composure.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she chuckled.

Her chuckling died down, and she wiped a few stray tears from the corners of her eyes.

"I didn't mean to offend you," she explained. "It's just that... well. You keep strange company, Doctor Michael Evans of Maryland."

Evans stared for a moment, and then let out a dry laugh of his own.

"I suppose that I do, at that," he admitted.

The girl stared into his eyes, and he found himself nearly blushing for an entirely different set of reasons.

"So," she murmured. "how exactly does a man like you end up traveling with a man like Polk Buckhorn?"

Evans considered this for a moment, and found himself at a loss for any satisfactory answer.

"Mostly bad luck, I think," he said.

Melody lowered her eyes and smiled warmly, and Evans found himself grinning as well. Something had occurred to him at some point during this exchange, which was that he couldn't imagine why he would have assumed that anyone who might want to kill Polk Buckhorn would necessarily have to be a bad person. He was still considering this thought when Melody handed him a plate covered in a heaping pile of breakfast. It looked delicious.

"Eat up," she insisted.

Evans did exactly that, and was not disappointed. He'd devoured half of what was on his plate before realizing that he'd been attacking his food with an embarrassing and uncivilized degree of fervor. Meaning to apologize, he looked up at Melody. It only took one glance to put any thought of eating out of his mind entirely.

The girl hadn't touched her own food; instead, she'd been staring at him. The look in her eyes reminded Evans of the first time that he'd seen her, and he very nearly returned his breakfast.

Evans had met his first wife back when he'd lived in New York City. At once point early in their engagement, she'd invited him to a private after-hours tour of the Central Park Zoo, where her brother had been an employee of some sort. The experience had been one of the most memorable throughout his relationship with the woman in question, and he found himself suddenly and inexplicably reminded of it now.

The animals on display had been ragged, pitiful things - taken from their native environments, broken, tamed. He'd found himself drawing unpleasant parallels to his own field of study, and by the end of the night had been in a morose and torpid mood.

For all of their efforts, however, the people who ran the place had failed to domesticate one of the beasts in particular. He'd felt its presence before he'd even seen it, as if its power had been something tangible.

He'd never seen an African lion before, and it had never occurred to him that the descriptions that he'd heard might not have done them justice. Instantly, he'd known why the lion was called the "king of the beasts." Man had long since established his dominion over nature, but this monster clearly hadn't gotten the message. Its attitude had plainly suggested that it owned everything that its eyes touched, and he wouldn't have cared to debate the issue.

The mere physical presence of the creature had been intimidating on a level that Evans had never thought possible. He'd watched it for he wasn't sure how long as it had paced about its pen, staring back at him just as relentlessly. There had been a fundamental difference between its attitude and that of the other beasts, and it had only taken Evans a moment to realize where the difference lay. The being had known full well that it was a captive, and its restlessness had suggested that it'd had a clear opinion on the point.

When the lion had looked into his eyes, Evans had been left with no doubt as to what his fate would have been, had the bars separating them been removed for but a moment.

He experienced a similar revelation when his eyes met Melody Chamberlain's.

Melody's face quickly shifted into her best impression of a vapid smile, but the doctor's horrified expression told her at once that she'd acted too late. She chuckled sourly, and the sound seemed to curdle Evans' blood.

"Enjoying our breakfast?" she inquired, her voice thick with mock sweetness.

Evans swallowed hard.

"What's the point of all this?" he whispered.

Melody shrugged.

"I've dealt with your type before," she coolly explained. "You damned spineless know-it-all types who think you know about the world because you've read about it in the Times."

She spat contemptuously, and Evans shriveled somewhat despite himself.

"Don't worry," she cooed. "You're weak, and I know it. I lean too hard on a man like you, you just go to pieces. No way do I get anything out of you that way."

Evans choked down a lump in his throat, and then ventured what seemed like the obvious question.

"And what are you hoping to get, exactly?" he squeaked.

"Don't be cute," she snapped. "I want Buckhorn, and you're going to give him to me."

Realization finally dawned on Evans. The girl thought that he knew where Buck had gone; that was the only reason that he was still alive, he suspected. The realization that his life depended on allowing Melody to continue believing this was not far behind.

For her part, Melody seemed to have spent the majority of her venom, and she once again attempted a pleasant tone.

"Look, I'm well aware of the sort of life you've led," she soothed. "I'm sure that you've never been in a situation like this before, so I'll tell you exactly how things are going to be."

She grinned, and the smile was deceptively genuine.

"I'll let you live," she drawled, "if you tell me what I want to know."

Evans, much to his own surprise, had stumbled upon a plan. It was crazy; it was risky. It was far too audacious to have any chance of success, as far as he was concerned. And yet - as far as he could tell - it was the only option that he had at his disposal.

"A friend of mine lives not far from here," Evans answered evenly, "maybe two days to the north."

He swallowed hard, and then delivered the punchline.

"Buck was going to meet me there," he finished.

Melody grinned.

"What are you waiting for?" she sneered. "Get your things packed, and lets get going."