Diamond Buckow Read Free

sinister. “Now, Gerald, don’t be too hard on the lad. Of course, I can’t afford to lose any of my hay, but I’ll be satisfied as long as this never happens again.”
    â€œYou bet it won’t,” Gerald Hamm breathed. He fixed an ugly glare on the helpless Pete, who was still wiggling in his grasp.
    â€œLooks like some smallfry got to develop a callus on their hinder afore they learn how to behave. I’ve told this’un more’n once not to play in the stackyard. Now, Mr. Kirtos, you can see why I won’t never give my last name to this no-good whelp of my wife’s first man.”
    He pulled Pete’s face closer to his own. His stepson could smell a sour mixture of corn liquor and garlic on the man’s breath.
    â€œBoy,” Hamm sneered, “you get on home to the woodshed and pick out a board I can use for a paddle. And mind you’re there where you’re supposed to be when I come to find you.”
    Abruptly, he released Pete’s shirt as he turned to have a further word with Alexander Kirtos. Once again the boy’s dirty bare feet slipped, but this time nobody tried to stop him. Regaining his balance, he darted off as fast as his skinny legs would carry him.
    Thinking only to put distance between himself and Gerald Hamm, he took the homeward route that went through the alleys and behind the stores. If he was lucky he wouldn’t meet anyone until he made it to Uncle Ed’s
    Edward Malvers, it seemed to Pete, was the only person in the world who understood him and cared about him. Certainly Ma didn’t, or she couldn’t have up and married that stinking black-bearded monster who made his boyhood such a hell.
    And Hamm—the less he reflected on that man, the better. His sister Rebekah was no help at all. She was three years older, just enough that they didn’t have much to talk over. Besides, all she cared about was girl things.
    Pete’s heart ached with loneliness for his father, Seth Buckow. The tears no one was around to see clouded his vision as he made his way through town. Pa had been a lot of fun, he remembered. Good and gentle, too, but firm in his own quiet way. Seth had also believed in the rightness of the law and in helping to protect his town.
    Through hazed and watery eyes, as he stumbled toward home and his inevitable beating, Pete saw his father’s last moments of life....
    It was an early Sunday morning, and a loud cowboy came shooting into town. The women and children huddled in the churchhouse for protection while the sheriff and his men slipped out the back door, cautiously circling the wild man who had leaped off his horse.
    After an eternity, standing like he was frozen, the stranger looked around. He seemed to want to find his loose mount and ride away. Thinking it was all over, Seth Buckow relaxed his guard and stepped out in the open.
    Through the arched church window where he had been watching, Pete saw the big red-haired fellow draw his gun left-handed and shoot. Pa dropped on the front steps.
    The whole town went crazy. The posse took chase, but Seth’s assassin was able to get away scot-free. Things eventually settled down again, but not for Pete.
    The killer was known in the area. He was a loco named Red Pierce, who would occasionally go berserk and come shooting up a town for the plain fun of it. He was a dead shot regardless of his lame right hand, and most people would back clear off his path rather than fight.
    No, things were never right for young Pete after that, and he swore someday he’d get even...even with Pa’s murderer...even with Ma, for marrying a bastard like Gerald Hamm. And most of all, even with his stepfather—who wouldn’t let Uncle Ed live with them when Pete needed him most, and who treated Seth’s son like some mangy old cur to be kicked around.
    None of this would have happened but for Red Pierce. If the boy could hope to get him someday, then at least