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"Well, fer Chrissake, c'mon in an' help me out." Kennedy writhed on the dirt floor, scowling at the barn doorway.
Sergeant Crawford crossed to his side and dropped to one knee. "Morisson?"
"Yup."
Crawford produced a hunting knife to slice the ropes away. "When?"
Outside, the day was fading. "Four hours ago, maybe a lil' more." Kennedy sat up, rubbing at his wrists and then his ankles. "Thunderation, I gotta get outside."
Crawford said, "I noticed they left their manacles here."
The trapper rose unsteadily to his feet. "Th' varmints made me take th' chains off," he said, shuffling to the doorway. "Ya gits t' be my age an' four or five hours hogtied like that..."
"Did the two of them head out together?"
"Fer as I could see stretched out on th' floor.....Morisson, he tried t' kill me whiles they wuz here, but that hill wouldn't let 'im." He came closer to the sergeant. "There's a price on that yeller man's head, too?"
"Ten thousand alive, five thousand dead."
His back to the descending night, Kennedy said, "Dang. Ten thousand. Ten thousand bucks." He wiped his palms along his pants legs. "Mus' be kinda tough on ya, sarge."
"What is?"
"Well, I knows yer 'bout t' retire mighty soon," said the trapper. "How much they pay ya fer a pension when ya ree-tire? Twenty or maybe twenty-five a month, ain't it?"
"Roughly that, yes."
"T'ain't near 'nuff t' live on, t' live high off th' hog on," observed Kennedy. "Not much t' give a man fer twenty years o' his life." He sat on the anvil, hands hanging between his knees. "Ten thousand would be much sweeter t' live on. You bein' federal, though, you ain't entitled t' one penny o' that reward when ya catch th' hill."
Crawford circled the barn, bent to examine the abandoned manacles. "Which direction did they go, Kennedy?"
"Lissen, sarge, what if I wuz t' turn I'm in? I wouldn't have no trouble collectin'. Good ol' Kennedy ain't army or nuttin'. They'd have t' hand over the ten thousand bucks. I'd keep, lez say, a third for my trouble, an' give...."
"Did they head further up into the mountains?"
"Lezzee. That'd mean ya'd git at least seven thousand," continued Kennedy in the darkening barn. "Now y' stretch that out, spend maybe a hunnert bucks a month o' it....why, you'd git 'nuff t' last ya five years or more. Or ya could spend most o' it at once't, buy a lil' spread somewheres....."
Crawford told him, "I been drawing army pay a long time, Kennedy."
The trapper's jaw gave off raspy sounds as he scratched his chin. "Always did figger ya fer a practical man," he said. "Yer a'goin' after a wild animal and a crazy hill. Some risk in it fer ya. So why do it fer nuttin' when ya could make yerself seven thousand or more by showin' a little common sense?"
Crawford's thin smile appeared briefly on his face. "Be a good idea, Kennedy, if you headed down to the flat lands until the Utes calm down up here. Army can't protect you here." Turning, he strode out.
Kennedy came shuffling after him. "Ya ain't showin' much smarts, sarge. Ye kin trus' m e t'play fair. Good ol' Kennedy never cheated nobody in his life."
Crawford swung up into the saddle.
"Anyways, whyn't ya stay over till mornin'?" invited Kennedy. "How far kin ya git now, with night a'fallin'? I got a jar in m'place, we kin sit 'round an' chit-chat."229Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAe0ivKJCCq
"I wouldn't like that," said Crawford. He wheeled his horse around, and began to ride away into the darkening twilight.
"S'pose I only keep two thousand?" called Kennedy. "Yer share'd be eight thousand that-a-way. Eight thousand!"
The sergeant kept on going away.
"Now, that's what I calls a stupid man," said Kennedy finally.
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