Max tied his horse to a post and then wondered if he should stable it. No—he didn't expect to be here that long.

He wasn't.

He found the information he was after in the first saloon he entered. "I'm looking for Randall Macomber," Max told the bartender. "Has he been in here?"

"No. But two other men came in looking for him."

"Where did they go?"

"There was a rumor he was at the Jarvis ranch, so I reckon that's where they went. Though nobody ever knows where Randall is. He's supposed to be one place and turns up another." Max nodded. He knew that as well as anyone. "Are you bounty hunting, or is this personal business? If you don't mind my asking."

"I don't mind." But Max didn't answer. "Where can I find the Jarvis ranch?"

"Ride west out of town till you come to a clump of scrub oaks. The Jarvis ranch is just after that." Max thanked the bartender and tossed a coin on the bar, even though he hadn't drunk anything. Then he unhitched his horse and rose west.

The Jarvis ranch looked rundown, with a sagging house and outbuildings. Max wondered what connection Randall had to these people. He knocked at the door and a woman answered. She looked as dispirited as the property. In answer to his question she said "Randall Macomber isn't here. That's what I told the other two men who were looking for him."

"But he was here," Max persisted. The woman compressed her lips and nodded. "He's no relative of yours, is he?"

"No. He and my husband ran together years ago. Then John married me and went to ranching, and Randall Macomber became . . . well, what he's become." Max knew very well what that was. "They were drunk for two days," the woman said. "I was glad when he left."

"Where did he go?"

"I'm not certain. But I think it was up Valero." She pointed to a mountain in the distance. "That's where the others were tracking him."

"Much obliged, Ma'am." Max touched his hat, got back on his horse, and rode toward the mountain. He thought about going back to town, getting a night's sleep, and starting out early in the morning. But he decided he'd better get as far as he could tonight.

Max camped at the foot of the Valero mountain that night. As soon as it was light enough to see, he started up. There was only one trail a horse and rider could use, and he took it. He could tell there'd been others riding ahead of him. He came on them around dusk, ready to make camp for the night. "I'm riding after Randall Macomber," he said. "And I'm guessing you are too." He got off his horse. The two men got up slowly, watchfully.

"I'm Jake," one of them said. He was older, taller than the other one. "This is Hiram." Hiram was fair and stoutly built.

"I'm Max." He shook hands with each of the men.

"There's a five thousand dollar bounty on Randall Macomber's head," Jake said. "I want it."

Hiram said "Macomber killed my best friend and my uncle in a shoot-out. That's why I'm after him."

"Hiram and me are going to split the money if we catch Randall Macomber together. The bounty holds good whether we bring him in dead or alive, and I don't figure he'll be taken alive." Jake narrowed his eyes and gave Max a sidelong glance. "We hadn't figured on a three-way split."

"I'm not interested in the money," Max assured him. "But I wouldn't mind riding a piece with you." The two men looked at each other and nodded assent. "And if it's all right, I'll share your camp. I've got my own food—beans and biscuits and a little side meat."

"Sure," Jake said, affable now that he knew money wouldn't be a problem. "We've got jerky and corn cake."

Max talked easily with the men that night, but never revealed anything personal about himself or what his business was with Randall Macomber. As he lay down to sleep, he wondered if they really were going to catch up to Macomber. He'd whored, drunk, and gambled all his life, but Randall was smart. He could easily be a hundred miles away right now, laughing at the idea of them searching for him here. Max figured he had just as good a chance on Valero as anyplace else. He'd stay with Jake and Hiram for awhile . . . 

The next morning, as soon as there was light enough to see by, they began searching the top of the mountain—every cave, every rock, every clump of bushes. There was no sign of Macomber; more important no sign of a horse. He might have hidden himself, but he couldn't easily have hidden his mount. "I don't guess he's up here," Jake said. "I think we'd better go down before it gets dark and figure out what to do tomorrow morning." Max and Hiram agreed, and they took the only good trail leading off Valero.

The other two were dispirited that night as they made camp, but Max was philosophical. He'd catch up to Randall sooner or later—it didn't matter when. He didn't want money or revenge.

When they mounted up in the morning and started down the trail, Jake wasn't sure he wanted to go on. "Bounty 's my trade," he said. "I can't waste my time on one hombre when there are other rewards being offered for those easier to catch."

"I'm not in this for money," Hiram said. "I'll go on without you."

"I feel the same way," Max agreed.

"I'll ride on a ways with you," Jake finally said. "Not too much further."

Then they came to the trading post. The three of them went inside, though not with much hope. "We're looking for a man named Randall Macomber," Jake said, starting to pull the wanted poster out of his pocket.

"Never mind that," the proprietor said. "Everyone knows who Randall Macomber is. He was here maybe an hour ago, maybe less. He took all my money and as much food as he could carry. And one of my horses. It's funny—he was on foot.

The three men looked at each other. "Here's the way I make it out," Jake said. "Macomber lost his horse. I don't know how. But he was hiding on Valero all the time we were looking for him."

Hiram shook his head. "We looked everywhere on that mountain there was to look."

"Then Macomber found someplace we didn't see. Someplace nobody would have thought to look. He's a slippery, savvy bastard, don't forget that. Anyhow, he waited till full dark and climbed down the mountain. He sneaked past our camp while we were sleeping. He had to go a good piece to get a horse, and now he doesn't have much of a lead on us. We can catch him."

Which way did Macomber go?" Jake asked.

"You're on the right trail," the trading post owner told him. "It leads to Salinas."

"Are you sure that's where he went?"

"Pretty well has to be. He filled a canteen with water, but Macomber's not fool enough to go off into the desert with no more than that."

"All right then—we go on to Salinas. Everyone agreed?" Max and Hiram nodded. They got back on their horses and soon left the trading post behind.

They rode hard now, not speaking, intent on only one thing. Suddenly they heard a shot. Jake spurred his horse to a gallop, and the others did the same. It wasn't long before they came across a dead horse. There was a bullet through its skull. A man was walking away from it.

Jake grabbed his pistol." "Stop! I've got you covered. Take out your guns real slow, put them down where I can see them, and turn around." The man obeyed. "Now come over here." He looked Randall Macomber up and down. "Seems like you've had bad luck with horses."

Randall shrugged. "Seems like. I took a horse from the Jarvis ranch, but it spooked at something on the mountain, threw me, and ran off. I couldn't catch it. This one stepped into a hole and broke its leg. I had to shoot it."

"Bad luck for you, good luck for me," Jake said. He raised his pistol. "Now. Seeing you're worth as much dead as you are alive . . . "

"Stop." Max raised his own gun and leveled it at Jake. "You and Hiram throw down your weapons."

"Jake shook his head in bewilderment. "What is this?"

"Throw down your weapons," Max said again. "I won't kill you, but I can shoot you through the leg, and I will." Hiram and Jake hastily dropped their guns. "But Max kept his gun on Jake. "You've got a derringer in your boot. Take it out and hand it to me, butt first."

Jake did, asking again "What is this. Are you in cahoots with this varmint?"

To which Max answered simply "He's my brother. Hello Randall."

"Hello yourself. You're not planning to turn me in for the reward, are you?"

"No. I've been trailing you a long time, but I just met up with these men yesterday. Hiram wants revenge, and Jake wants money, but I don't want either."

"Randall pushed his hat back on his head. " Why are you here?"

"Mother died in June. The last thing she said to me was 'Find Randall. Make sure he's well.' I promised I would, and I've been tracking you ever since. So. Are you well?"

Randall half smiled. "As well as I can be, considering that most of the country wants to lynch me. Considering that this hombre here—he indicated Jake—wants to shoot me and sell my body for five thousand dollars."

"He's not going to do that. I don't suppose you'd come peacefully into Salinas with us?"

"No. There's nothing but a rope waiting for me. I won't be taken alive."

Max nodded "Okay then Hiram, he's taking your horse. Also both canteens. You can ride pinion with Jake. Randall, pick up your guns. I'll give you fifteen minutes head start."

Randall touched his forehead in a salute. "Good bye. And thanks, little brother." He began to ride.

Max pulled out a battered timepiece and consulted it keeping one eye and his gun trained on Hiram and Jake. Nobody spoke. At last he said "All right. You can pick up your weapons and go. But I'd advise you not to go after Randall Macomber. He's armed now and mounted, and he'll be watching for you."

"They'll get him sometime," Jake growled.

"Maybe so. But not today." Hiram got on Jake's horse and the two headed for Salinas. Max turned his horse around. He was finished here. He'd made a promise; he'd kept that promise. Now it was time for him to ride away.

And he did.