This Calder Sky (Calder Saga 3)

“Let’s go see what the trouble is,” he urged, but Chase caught his arm to stop him.

“How much money do you have on you?” he demanded.

Buck pulled back, appearing confused by the question. “What? A few dollars. What’s that got to do with anything? Come on. I want to see what’s happening.”

But Chase wouldn’t let him pass. “I thought you hit it good at the poker tables.”

“Okay. So maybe I got a couple hundred bucks in my pocket.” Buck’s temper had a short fuse. It was sputtering now as he angrily shrugged a challenge.

“Fred told me you were busted at the tables tonight.”

“I had a run of bad luck,” he admitted.

“Then where did you get the money in your pocket?” Chase threw the previous remark back in Buck’s face.

“I said, ‘maybe’ I had it. I didn’t say I did!”

Chase grabbed him by the shirtfront and slammed his back against the wall, shaking the dust loose from the woodwork. “Goddammit! Don’t lie to me!” He tightened his hold on the material and shoved his clenched hand up to Buck’s throat. “I saw you sneak out the front door a couple of seconds after Fred left. Now he’s laying out there with his head bashed in. I’m willing to bet he’s been robbed like the others, too! And I want to know what you had to do with it!”

“Chase! You’re crazy!” Buck argued, his anger strictly focused on his own defense. “I didn’t have anything to do with it!”

With an effort, Chase relaxed his hold on the shirt and stepped back. “Prove it,” he challenged. “Empty your pockets.”

Buck licked his lips and looked away from the unwavering stare of Chase’s eyes. “It didn’t happen the way you think,” he murmured, and Chase found himself wishing he had never pushed the issue. A bitter disillusionment was rising in his throat, choking him with its bilious taste. “I just wanted my money back,” Buck insisted, but his voice had taken on a wheedling tone. “The game was crooked. Fred had been dealing from the bottom of the deck. I couldn’t let him get away with that, could I? I mean, I had to teach him a lesson. All I did was just tap him on the head a little.”

“What about Anderson? Jeffers?” Chase named the other two victims and felt the cold hand of betrayal touch him. It hardened him to ice. “Both times you used me. I provided the alibi because you were my friend and I believed you.” He turned and walked away, afraid of what he might do to this man, who had been like a brother, if he stayed.

Buck followed him into the main room of the saloon, whispering urgently. “Chase, it won’t happen again—I swear it! Let me explain how it was so you’ll understand.” There was suppressed anger and impatience in his voice as he exhorted Chase to listen.

The saloon was nearly empty. The few customers who remained were clustered together talking about this latest assault and robbery. Before Chase reached the bar, the front door opened to admit Sheriff Potter. His weary eyes scanned the remaining group, immediately bringing silence. His search stopped when he saw Buck and Chase.

“Buck.” He walked forward, his boots shuffling on the wood floor, as if it was too much effort to lift them. “You’re going to have to take a ride with me.”

“You’ve got no call to take me in,” Buck denied and edged closer to Chase. “If anybody says they saw me out there, they are lying.”

“It’s different this time, Buck,” the sheriff said. “Fred Dickens regained consciousness before the boys took him to the hospital. He named you. He recognized you just before you hit him over the head.”

“He made a mistake! I was with Chase. Ask him!”

The sheriff pulled his mouth down at the corners as he reluctantly glanced at Chase. “Was he with you?”

Chase didn’t have to think about his answer, or look at Buck. “No.” His reply was flat and final.

“What are you doing to me, Chase?” Buck protested and tried to prevent him from walking to the bar by getting in front of him, but Chase looked right through him. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. We grew up together. My momma raised us both. Tell the sheriff I was with you!”

Chase made no reply and brushed past Buck as if he wasn’t there. Buck had lied to him and deceived him. For the sake of the friendship they had shared, Chase would not add his voice to the condemnation. And neither would he offer anything in Buck’s behalf, because what he had been was not what he had become. So anything good he might be able to say did not apply.

“You’d better come with me, Buck,” the sheriff said again and took him by the arm.

“No!” Buck whipped his arm away to rage at Chase’s back. “What kind of a friend are you? You’re supposed to be my buddy, my pal! You think you’re so damned high and mighty just because you’re a Calder! Well, it could have been me instead of you!” He punched a finger against his own chest to emphasize the point. “It could have been me, you bastard!”

Chase glanced down the bar to where Jake was standing. “I’ll have a whiskey, straight,” he ordered.

“Buck, you’re coming with me.” This time the sheriff’s voice was more decisive. “Don’t make me add resisting arrest to the other charges.”

Buck continued to yell and curse at Chase until the sheriff led him out of the saloon. The area at the bar around Chase remained clear. Not even the Triple C hands approached him. They left him alone to mourn the loss of his friend in private.

Chapter XX