“Mister, what I call myself is my business.” He met the man’s glare with a steady gaze. “What’s on your mind?”
“Ha!” he snorted. “I’ll tell you what’s on my mind. I got a wanted poster on you right here in my pocket, and I reckon I’m hoping you make a try at that there rifle so’s I can put a bullet right between your eyes. That’s what’s on my mind. What you say to that?” He glanced briefly in his brother’s direction, a smirk painted on his face.
Tom’s expression remained the same, showing no sign of being overly concerned. He studied the man before him and then the younger one behind him for a moment before answering. “I say that would be a damn fool thing to try with a pistol aimed right at your balls.”
This sobered the expression on the man’s face momentarily as he considered Tom’s reply. Then the smirk returned to his face. “Is that so? You ’spect me to believe you got a gun under the table?” The smirk spread into a wide smile. Without taking his eyes off Tom, his hand resting on the handle of his holstered pistol, he commented to his brother, “Says he’s holding a gun on me under the table. What you think, Quincy? Think he’s got a gun under there? Or maybe he might be thinkin’ he can buffalo us.”
Quincy scoffed, “He’s lyin’. He ain’t got no gun.” With that, he pulled one of his pistols from the holster and leveled it at Tom. With the appearance of the drawn pistol, the other customers in the saloon immediately backed away, giving them plenty of room. A couple of the less stouthearted patrons bolted for the door. Pete edged over toward the shotgun under the bar.
The older brother grinned openly now. “You know what, Mr. Dakota? I think Quincy’s right. I think you ain’t got no gun under there.” He slowly drew his pistol from the holster. “Watch him, Quincy.”
“This is all the warning I’m going to give you,” Tom stated with a fatal calmness in his voice. “You and your brother put those weapons away and get out of here.”
“Ain’t he the feisty one, Quincy?” His smile stretched even wider. “You’re bluffing. If you got a gun under there, then let’s see it.” When Tom did not respond to his challenge, he said, “I thought so.” He slowly bent down to look under the table, his eyes locked on Tom’s until his face was level with the table. “Watch him, Quincy,” he warned before letting his gaze drop beneath the tabletop.
The explosion of the pistol sounded as loud as a cannon in the crowded confines of the saloon, startling everyone there as if the whole room had blown up. The bounty hunter’s face could not have been more than a foot from the muzzle when the bullet knocked a hole right through his forehead. It was followed a split second later by another shot from the doorway that dropped Quincy where he stood, his gun still leveled at Tom.
Tom, expecting a shot from Quincy as soon as he pulled the trigger, kicked the table over and rolled on the floor behind it. He thought at first that Quincy had fired the second shot, and he stared in amazement as the younger of the bounty hunters slumped to the floor, dead. Tom whirled around, ready to return the fire, only to find himself aiming at Will Proctor standing in the doorway. They froze, their pistols aimed at each other. Then Will suddenly grinned and let his gun hand drop to his side.
“I reckon it’s a dang good thing I was in the office when Jimmy here come running in,” Will said, replacing his gun in his holster. “Aaron’s out to his ranch, be there all week. Looks like I got here just in time.”
Tom relaxed. “Looks like you did.” He stuck his pistol in his belt and slowly got to his feet. “I’m damn glad you did, too. I wasn’t real sure I could get the other one before he got me.” He instinctively reached for his rifle, feeling more comfortable with it in his hand.
Will walked over to look at the two bodies sprawled on the floor in grotesque fashion. He rolled the younger one over with his foot, revealing the pool of blood that had gathered under the man’s chest. Satisfied that no spark of life remained, he then looked at the older brother. The bounty hunter wore a look of horrified surprise, an expression no doubt affixed no more than an instant before his death. His face was covered with a gray powder burn spreading from the ugly black hole in his forehead. “I reckon you broke him from peeping under tables,” Will said.
By this time, the customers who had fled when the shooting started were crowding back into the saloon, along with a few other curious spectators. Will was about to send Jimmy for Doc Brewster, who was also the town’s undertaker, but Doc walked in at that moment, having heard the gunfire. Doc paused to scratch his scraggly chin whiskers thoughtfully as he glanced from one corpse to the other, which was the extent of his examination of the bodies. “Well, gentlemen, I suppose this will delay the poker game for a bit.” He asked a couple of the spectators to help carry the bodies out.
Will turned to Tom. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”
As they stood at the bar, Tom tossed his whiskey down quickly and watched for a moment while Jimmy went to work on the bloodstained floor with a scrub brush and a pan of water. After a moment, he turned back to Will Proctor and asked, “Are you gonna be in any trouble over this?”
“With Aaron? Naw. Hell, everybody saw it. I couldn’t just stand there and let him shoot you. Besides, Aaron don’t care much for bounty hunters coming in town here and taking the law in their own hands.” He gave Tom a pat on the shoulder. “Anybody here would say you shore as hell didn’t start it.”
“I guess you’re right. I appreciate what you did. I just wouldn’t want you to get in any trouble for saving my bacon.” Now that it was over, Tom began to reflect on the circumstances that had resulted in yet another notch on his kill stick. This, he supposed, would further complicate his life, adding more to his already too-infamous reputation, no doubt sending more bounty hunters his way. When he glanced around him at the curious patrons of The Miner’s, he noticed that the respectable distance they had always maintained was now even wider. They stared openly at him as if gawking at an animal in a zoo, looking away the moment his gaze met theirs. He didn’t like the portrait they had painted of him. Once again it was time to move on.
* * *
It was a gray, cheerless morning. The sun seemed to have abandoned the town entirely, having not shown its face for more than a week. Tom had thought to wait for good weather, but he decided it would never come and besides, he felt he had worn out his welcome in Bozeman. Though Will was friendly enough, Aaron Crutchfield made it plain that Tom’s presence there was not exactly comforting to the townfolk, and this was before the shooting. He wasn’t likely to be overjoyed when he heard the latest news. Tom figured it best to leave right away, before Aaron came back. So, on this cold and cloudy morning, he tied Billy and his two packhorses up in front of Clay’s Store and went in to say good-bye to Jubal.
Jubal truly hated to see him go, but he understood why he felt he had to leave. Tom expressed his desire to say farewell to Ruby, and Jubal encouraged him to do so. Tom said he would swing by Carlton Clay’s farm on his way. Not wanting to prolong the departure, he quickly shook Jubal’s hand and wished him well. Jubal watched from the door as Tom wheeled Billy and rode out of town.
It was about an hour’s ride to the farm, but it was still the middle of the morning when he turned into the narrow path that led to the house. Carlton Clay had built himself a cozy little log house atop a grassy knoll. There were no trees around the house, making it easier to defend in case of attack by hostiles, a feature that Tom figured to be of prime importance a couple of years back. Now, the threat of Indian trouble had diminished to the point where it had become a rarity this close to town. He could already feel a chill down in his bones from the short time he had spent in the saddle, and the sight of the stone chimney, with its thin ribbon of smoke cheerfully reaching up toward the gray clouds, was a mighty welcome sight. He admonished himself for getting soft, sitting around in a saloon in town. He would have to get used to the bitter cold again.
The door of the log house opened as he crossed the yard, and Ruby Clay stood in the doorway. Sh
e watched him as he pulled Billy up and dismounted stiffly. Not until he tied his horses did she speak.
“Well, good morning.” She glanced toward the pack animals, then back at him. “Looks like you’re getting ready to light out for somewhere.”
“Morning, Ruby. Yeah, I guess it’s time for me to move on.”
“It’s kind of a bad time of year to go traveling, ain’t it?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is. Believe me, if I thought I had a choice, I’d wait till spring.”
He was beginning to wonder if she was going to keep him standing out in the cold when Charlotte Clay, Ruby’s aunt, looked over Ruby’s shoulder and greeted him. “I bet you could use a good hot cup of coffee. Ruby, are you gonna ask him in or make him stand out there all day?”
Ruby blushed. “I’m sorry, Tom. Come on in.” She stood aside to let him pass. “You want a biscuit? There’s some left from breakfast.” The sight of his horses all packed up and obviously ready to travel had caused her to forget her manners for a moment. She had been here at her uncle’s house for almost two weeks, and she wondered when, if ever, Tom Allred was going to show up for a visit. Now when he did, it was apparent it was just to say good-bye.
Charlotte poured coffee from a large gray pot that sat on the back corner of the stove and placed the cup on the table next to a plate of biscuits. It had been a long time since he had had the opportunity to eat a biscuit baked by a woman who knew how to bake biscuits, and even longer since he had been served coffee in a china cup. Charlotte, pleased by the obvious enthusiasm he showed for this simple fare, stood watching him eat, her hands on her hips, ready to fill his cup again if necessary. Ruby poured herself a cup and sat down opposite him at the table.
When Tom had finished the second of the two biscuits he had taken from the plate, Ruby broke the silence. “So, you’re moving on again. Where are you heading to?” She attempted to make her voice as casual as possible.
“I don’t know for sure, west I guess, Flathead country maybe.” She made no comment, but the look in her eyes searched for an explanation. “I reckon Jubal told you about the trouble last night.”
“He said you shot a man.”
Although it was a simple statement with no apparent condemnation, he felt the need to defend his actions. “I didn’t have any choice. He was gonna kill me as sure as I’m sitting here now.” He searched her eyes for understanding.
“I know. Pa told me. He said Will Proctor shot the other man, so I don’t see how anybody’d blame you for it.”
“He didn’t give me any choice,” he repeated.
“Then what are you running for?” she asked.
He had to think for a moment before answering. “I don’t know, to avoid more trouble, I reckon. It seems like it has a way of finding me.”
“Tom,” she implored, impatient with him now, “it wasn’t your fault, no more than it was with that soldier in Pa’s store.”
“Huh,” he responded, the irony of her remark etched in his tone. “That’s true. It wasn’t my fault. But it sure landed my name on a wanted poster.” He shook his head when Charlotte Clay started toward him with the coffeepot. “No thank you, ma’am, I’ve had plenty.” Turning back to Ruby, the fire still in his eyes, he continued, “That fellow last night won’t be the last one. There’ll be another one, and another one. I don’t know how much I’m worth now, but you can be sure the ante’ll keep going up every time something like last night happens.”
She shook her head, exasperated with him. “You’ve got to stop running sometime. Maybe, if you settle down around here, Aaron Crutchfield might help you get your good name back.”
“Ruby,” he replied impatiently, “Crutchfield already gave me two weeks to get out of town and that was before last night! He’ll probably want to put me in jail now!” He threw up his hands in exasperation. “I’ve got to find someplace where I can get a new start, where nobody knows me. Hell, I’m probably putting a noose around my neck now for sitting here when I ought to be riding.” He looked into her eyes, searching for understanding, wanting her to see what he could not yet bring himself to say. “I just didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye to you.”
Charlotte Clay was still standing at the corner of the table, listening to the conversation between the two young people. It took but a moment more, as they sat in silence, gazing into each other’s eyes, for Charlotte to realize there was something stronger than mere friendship smoldering between the two, and she at once felt her intrusion there. “Well, I’ve got chores I’m getting behind on.” Pulling a heavy coat down from a peg by the door, she said, “I’m going out to the barn to see to the chickens.”
They sat for what seemed a long time after the door closed behind Charlotte, still looking deeply into each other’s eyes. Finally, Tom broke the silence. “Ruby, I don’t know what to say. I just wanted to see you again before I left.”
“I know,” she whispered. Her eyes softened. Then, as if she realized she had shown a weakness, she laughed and added, “You better know you couldn’t leave without saying good-bye.”
Her attempt to lighten the situation was lost on him. He already felt the pain of having to ride out of her life again, especially now, when he had all but admitted to himself that his feelings for her ran a lot deeper than he thought sensible. He got up from his chair. “I guess I better get going.” He paused. It was hard for him to say it. “I mean to tell you what I wanted to say Christmas when you brought my supper up on the hill. What I mean to say, I guess, is that I think about you a lot. Hell, I guess I think about you all the time.” She started to reply, but he stopped her, holding up his hand. “Wait. For God’s sake, let me finish. It took me long enough to get up the courage to say it. What I want to say is, if I wasn’t in the trouble I’m in, I’d be asking you to marry me.” Again, before she could respond, he quickly added, “You’d probably say no, but at least you know how I feel about you.”
She stood up and faced him. “Maybe not,” she said, her eyes softening again. She took both his hands in hers. “Tom Allred, you know damn well I’ve loved you since you first set foot in Ruby’s Choice, half-froze to death.” That said, she reached up to put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to meet her lips.
Her kiss was like fire to him, not hot and burning, but warm and soft like the flames on a warm hearth, and he could feel the loving gentleness of her passion. The sensation caused his brain to whirl. He drew her up tightly against him, feeling the softness of her body on his. In that instant, all impressions he had had about the girl, her flippant and cocky manner, her bold and callous attitude, all of it was swept away. At this moment, she was everything he could ever want. He had never known a moment like this, and his only thought was that he never wanted it to end. He kissed her hard and long. She eagerly returned his passion, pressing her body even more tightly against his until suddenly she broke away from his embrace.
“We better not go too far,” she whispered breathlessly. “Aunt Charlotte may be back any minute.”
He felt desperate. “Dammit, Ruby, I don’t know what to say to you. You know I love you and I want to marry you, but I don’t have the right to ask you to go with me. I can’t stay here. You see that, don’t you?”
She took his hands in hers. There was a sadness in her eyes as she spoke. “I know that. I know you have to run. And I love you, Tom, but I can’t go running off into the wilderness with you. I just can’t. I’m not some squaw that can follow you everywhere, from camp to camp.” She dropped her gaze from his and looked down at her feet. “I reckon the Good Lord has His reasons for things happening the way they do. I know you’re a good man, but you’re an outlaw, and, even though it ain’t your fault, they’ll still be coming after you until you’ve found a place to hide…or you’re dead. And I don’t want to be around when that happens. I couldn’t stand it. I won’t stand it. I’d rather not know about it.” She hesitated a moment, then reached up quickly and kissed him once more before she broke
away from him. “Go on now, run, before I start crying.”
His helplessness was paralyzing. “Ruby—” he started, but she placed her fingers over his mouth, silencing him.
“Don’t say anything, Tom. Just go. It won’t work for us. For God’s sake, go!” She opened the door and pushed him toward it.
His heart felt like a lead weight as he slowly placed his foot in the stirrup and stepped up into the saddle. Billy immediately backed away from the hitching post. Tom could only gaze forlornly at her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured softly. She could not look at him and, closing the door, left him alone in his despair. He turned Billy and rode out of the farmyard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charlotte Clay standing in the doorway of the barn, watching him as he rode away. He pretended not to notice her, ashamed for her to see the tears in his eyes.
* * *
Charlotte put down the bucket of chicken feed she had been carrying and closed the barn door. If she knew anything about young girls, she was sure Ruby needed someone to talk to right about then. Ruby was a cheerful and hardworking girl. There wasn’t much that could serve to dampen her mood. But Charlotte had sized up the situation as soon as Tom Allred walked into the house. Ruby was not the type to share her intimate thoughts with her aunt, but Charlotte would have to be blind not to see the fire burning between Ruby and Tom. Judging from the look on Tom’s face when he left, she decided she had better give Ruby a few minutes more alone, in case she needed time to regain her composure.
When she felt enough time had elapsed, she started back across the yard toward the house. She had almost reached the door when she heard hoofbeats on the road up to the house. Thinking that Tom had decided to come back, she waited, looking down the road until she caught sight of the rider approaching. As soon as he came into view, she could see that it wasn’t Tom after all. It was a single horse. Curious as to who might be their second caller in a single day, she waited outside the house, watching the rider. When he was close enough, she recognized Will Proctor.
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