EXCERPT

Chapter 1

Amos Dillard studied the man carrying the rifle. Once again he adjusted the focus on the binoculars. Probably just another deer hunter, he muttered.

Sure doesnt want to show much of himself, though.

Amos decided he was looking at someone who was trying to avoid being seen, whether by deer or man he couldnt know. Hes careful where he puts his feet so as not to make noise, the youth thought. Not easy to be quiet walking through quaking aspen. But, he realized, it would be still more difficult after the rest of the bright yellow leaves had fallen.

Amos shivered from excitement and from the cool October weather that prevailed in Utahs Cache National Forest. He squirmed to make himself more comfortable as he lay concealed under a spruce tree. With his free hand he reached under his chest and pulled out a rock that threatened to wear a hole through his skin. He studied the rock for a moment before tossing it aside.

Looking at Amos, one would see a rather average youth of stocky form that gave the impression he was less than his six feet in height. He appeared powerful, and he was. Years of strenuous farm work, along with tramping in the mountains at every opportunity, had hardened his muscles and enhanced his stamina. Those of his acquaintance swore he could jog all day long and not draw a deep breath.

When he was quite young, hed wondered why his coloring was much darker than either of his parents. His mother had finally told him there was Indian blood in the familynot much, however. She said his father might have been one-eighth Shoshone or Ute. While evidence of this was not borne out by his fathers appearance, it was quite obvious in his son. As is often the case, certain distinguishing characteristics of an ancestor may all but disappear in offspring only to resurface several generations later. Amoss black hair and swarthy complexion gave credence to the fact. The young man didnt mind. He wore his Indian heritage as a badge of honor, often telling his friends they risked being scalped if they messed with him.

Different people thought of the nineteen-year-old in different ways. Those in his hometown of Newton, Utah knew him as a hard working, helpful and friendly neighbor. To teachers he was thoughtful and intelligent. His pals rated him a good buddy and the coach admired his hard-driving competitiveness. None would have considered him a bounty hunter, but at that particular point in his life, he was. This was his first experience as a pursuer of man. The reason was simplehe needed the money. And Ramsay Stockford was going to provide it.

As he continued studying the man across the canyon, Amos wondered what should be his next move. Hed heard that Stockford was armed, but that didnt mean he was a killer. On the other hand, a man charged with a serious felony might take drastic steps to avoid capture.

So what are you going to do now, Dillard asked himself. Should I follow him to find out where he goes? If hes holed up somewhere, he could be my man. If hes leaving the canyon, hed be just another deer hunter. The young man noted that his quarry was staying in the trees above the more exposed bottom of the canyon. It was only due to the suns reflection off something the man was carrying that Amos had spotted him in the first place.

Probably just a deer hunter, he said aloud. Wearing red like me.

It was the first weekend of the deer season opening and Amos had dressed accordingly. If its Stockford, he thought, that would be the smart thing for him to do. Dress like a deer hunter, carry a rifle and naturally youre a deer hunter to anyone youd meet up here. But there was one thing wrong with that picture, he decided. Only someone very inexperienced would be hunting this near the head of the canyon. Too far to bring the deer out. Road ends more than a mile down the canyon and he doesnt have a horse, else hed be riding it. Hunting on horseback has its advantagesdeer are less likely to be spooked by a four-legged animal than they are by one on two legs. Besides that, a horse can come in real handy for packing out the carcass.

Amoss glimpses of the red jacket became less frequent as the man moved further up the ridge into the darker, dense evergreen forest. Well I cant just hang around here, the young man thought. Im going to lose him all together. Of course Ill be wasting a lot of time and effort if he turns out to be just another deer hunter.

He stood, put away his binoculars, pulled on his pack and picked up his rifle. I dont want to get caught trailing him, he decided. That would definitely make him nervous. Best I cross over to the ridge and hope to intercept himaccidentally.

Keeping to the best cover available, Amos began making his way down to the bottom of the canyon. As he climbed the opposite ridge he began his stalking technique, stopping every few steps to look around and listen. He had traveled only a few hundred yards when a voice caused him to nearly drop his gun. He turned and saw the man watching him. Excuse me, he said.

The owner of the voice held his rifle at a ready position. I asked if you were having any luck.

Amos managed an embarrassed chuckle. Not much, he said. How about you?

The man shook his head. Ive seen a few doe. Thats about it.