“I’ll make it a point to speak to Dave. Will he lead your crew on roundup?”
“If Dad doesn’t do it himself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to deliver this food.”
“Would I be too bold if I asked who it’s for?”
Yes, you would, Pamela thought to herself, but aloud she said, “It’s just something for a drifter riding the grub line.”
“Do you provision every idle cowhand who wanders through?”
“No,” Pamela said, irritated at having to tell Mongo about the fire after all, “but he saved our barn from being burned last night. It’s the least I can do for him.”
“Your barn was burned!” Mongo exclaimed. While he stared in shock at the charred side of the bam, Pamela hurried inside the bunkhouse. But she found no one inside, and all of Slade’s things had disappeared.
He was gone.
She didn’t understand why she should feel so disappointed.
“Don’t be a silly little fool,” she told herself, too angry to realize, or care, that she spoke aloud. You knew he meant to slip away without coming up to the house again. He just managed to get away before you caught him.
“Is he gone?” Mongo asked when she came out still carrying the package.
“Yes. I thought he would be. He was rather self-effacing, not the kind to draw attention to himself. I’m afraid the size of the house and my rather formal way of treating people made him feel uncomfortable.”
“How did the fire start?” Mongo asked. “We didn’t see any lightning over at the camp.” He had no interest in anonymous cowboys.
“It wasn’t lightning,” Pamela told him, resignation sounding in her voice. “Two men stole up the canyon last night and set the fire. If Slade hadn’t heard them, we wouldn’t have awakened in time to put it out.”
“How much damage did it do?” Mongo asked as he walked toward the barn. Pamela had to follow.
“Not much. We lost some hay, but the fire only scorched the bam.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if you were married to me,” Mongo said, rounding on Pamela. “I would surround the place with men. An army wouldn’t be able to get through. When are you going to let me announce our engagement?”
“Mongo, I’ve told you several times. I don’t want to marry a rancher, and I don’t want to live in Arizona. I’m still planning to go back to Baltimore as soon as Dad sells the herd.”
“I know how you feel,” Mongo said, changing his position to one he thought Pamela would favor. “There are times when I can hardly wait to get back to Boston. I especially miss the libraries and the concerts. But Arizona isn’t so bad, at least it won’t be in a few years when more people move out here. Give them a little time, and they’ll be as genteel as anybody you can find in Boston.”
“It’s not that…”
“I know. It’s the coarseness of their manner you don’t like. And that’s as it should be. I wouldn’t expect any woman I’d ask to be my wife to concern herself with the hands, but I promise you will live in more luxury, be more pampered than you could be in Baltimore,” Mongo said as he removed the package of food from Pamela’s hands. “You know I’m rich, and I don’t mind spending my money. Nothing is too good for you. You’ll have all the servants you want, the biggest ranch house this side of Texas, and we can go to San Francisco or New Orleans as often as you like.”
“Please, Mongo….”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t give you, Pamela.”
“I’m sure you would. And I just might stay in Arizona if I loved you, even without the big house and servants, but I don’t love you. I never have, and I don’t think I ever will.”
Slade knew he shouldn’t be listening to Pamela, he especially shouldn’t be listening to Mango’s impassioned attempts to convince Pamela of his devotion, but he couldn’t move without being seen.
At least he no longer suffered from the harsh pangs of jealousy which had attacked him when Pamela greeted Mongo with easy familiarity. He had never felt anything like that in his life, not a jealousy that made his stomach turn somersaults. Mongo represented everything he could never be. You only had to look at him to know he enjoyed the advantages of wealth, education, and being comfortable in the most exclusive social circles. He was also taller than Slade, expensively dressed, and quite handsome. Slade felt certain this was exactly the kind of man Pamela wanted to marry.
He could hardly believe his ears when Pamela said she didn’t love him. He found it even harder to accept her statement that she might stay in Arizona for the man she loved.
Did that mean she might be able to love him?
Slade shook his head hard to rid it of the insanity which seemed to be invading his brain. He had first set eyes on this woman less than twenty-four hours ago. She hadn’t said or done anything to suggest she had any interest in him other than ordinary curiosity, possibly combined with loneliness and boredom.
You’re as dumb as your father, Slade told himself angrily. That hapless man had been so overcome by the loveliness and cultivated manners of Miss Sara Anne Billingsworth he couldn’t see past her luminous eyes and slender curves to the hide-bound intellect and ingrained prejudice that pervaded every sinew in her body. He never even suspected his pleasures in life would be redefined as sins or that, as his wife, she would disapprove of virtually everything he did.
You have no excuse this time Slade said to himself. This woman has told you how she feels about you.
But lecturing himself didn’t seem to have any effect on his heart. It kept right on beating a little faster. His breathing became shallow, and he almost forgot the pain in his shoulder.
“But you shouldn’t be left to run this place by yourself,” Mongo was saying. “You should never be left alone.” By now he had set Pamela’s package on the ground and taken both her hands in his.
“Mongo, I’ve already told you….”
“I know you say you don’t love me, but you do like me. How do you know that isn’t enough, at least at first? And you will come to love me, Pamela. I swear I will do everything in my power to make you love me.”
Pamela attempted to evade his embrace, but Mongo would not be denied.
“You know I can’t be around you without being overcome with your loveliness. I want to hold you in my arms and kiss you until you forget all about Baltimore.”
“Mongo, please….”
“Don’t push me away. Just give me a chance.”
“Stop it, Mongo. Let me go.” Pamela struggled to avoid his lips. He seemed determined to kiss her despite her objections. In desperation, she pushed his face away.
Before Mongo could mount a second attack, Slade stepped around the corner of the barn.
“The lady has asked you to leave. Get on your horse and ride.”
Mongo spun around to face this unknown man. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
“Slade,” Pamela said, almost under her breath. For a moment it didn’t matter that Mongo still held her in his arms. Slade hadn’t left her.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re annoying Miss White, and that does matter.”
“This is Slade Morgan,” Pamela said, trying hard to keep a foolish grin off her face as she slipped from Mongo’s slackened embrace. “He saved my barn. He even managed to shoot one of the intruders. In the dark, too,” she added nervously.
The two men faced each other like snarling, battle-ready beasts.
“A gunslinger, eh?” Mongo growled. “This is peaceful country, mister. We don’t want the likes of you around. Take those provisions and get on your horse.”
“That’s what I had in mind,” Slade replied, his eyes hard an and cold. “What say we ride out together?”
“I’ve got business with Miss White.”
“Sounds to me like your business is finished.”
“Who do you think you are to be telling me what to do? Do you know who I am?”
“I don’t need your name to know you’re a loud-mouthed braggart who’s not wort
h five minutes of her time. Get on your horse and ride out now.”
Mongo eyed the tied-down guns cautiously. “I know your type. Give them a pair of guns and they bark like real bad men. Take the guns away and they whine like the mongrels they are.”
“You got an itch to test that theory?”
“You taking off those guns?”
In answer, Slade undid his gun belt and let it drop to the ground. “I’m still telling you to get out,” he said.
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t beat you to death,” Mongo snapped, his hard hands gathered into tight fists.
Pamela stood speechless, unable to believe that Slade had come to her rescue in such a dramatic fashion, horrified to realize they were about to fight because of her. Abruptly what had seemed somewhat thrilling had turned into something ugly and vicious.
“No,” she suddenly shouted. “Stop.”
“He asked for it,” Mongo said, so furious he didn’t see the shock and revulsion in Pamela’s eyes. “No saddle bum tries to order me around and gets away with it.”
“But you can’t fight him,” Pamela insisted. “He’s hurt.”
“He should have thought of that before he stepped from behind that barn.”
Pamela’s expression of shocked horror finally registered on Mongo’s rage-clouded brain, and he realized she was shocked and horrified at him, not this unkept cowpuncher. With superhuman effort, he reined in his anger.
“Of course. I’ll let him go if he apologizes. I could forgive a man almost anything as long as he thought he was defending you.”
For the first time in her life Pamela thought a flowery compliment was going to make her sick.
“I’d have stepped from behind that barn if it took my last breath,” Slade told him, scorn evident in the cadence of his voice. “Your kind is worse than a rabid dog. You go about hiding behind your fancy clothes and smooth talk, but you’re rotten all the way through. You destroy everything you get your hands on.”
“I’ll kill you!” Mongo roared and charged Slade.
“Stop, both of you!” Pamela cried, but apparently neither man heard her.
Stunned and helpless, she watched the two men lunge at each other. She wasn’t surprised at Slade. He had already shown himself ready to fight. But Mongo was from Boston. He knew she didn’t approve of violence, yet he completely ignored her.
But if the fight upset her image of Mongo, it also shook her faith in her own ability to influence the actions of the men around her. She had never controlled her father, and she obviously had no power over Slade; apparently she had none over Mongo when he got angry.
As Pamela watched in growing horror, Slade sidestepped Mongo’s rush and drove his right fist deep into the big man’s stomach. Mongo staggered, the breath nearly knocked out of him, but he was tough for all his fancy clothes. He was also smart.
He couldn’t move as quickly as Slade and received several punishing blows in his attempts to bulldoze his opponent, but in less than a minute he seemed to realize all Slade’s punches were delivered with his right fist. He immediately went after Slade’s left shoulder. But try as he might, he couldn’t get his hands on Slade.
His feet might be covered in blisters, but Pamela couldn’t tell it to see him move. He danced around like a trained professional, landing punches with skill and precision, always keeping Mongo off balance. Once Mongo moved for an opening, but he had no sooner rushed in than Slade’s suspect left fist smashed Mongo in the face and broke his nose.
Mongo went crazy.
Slade was moving awkwardly now; his feet obviously hurt him. Mongo aimed a blow at Slade’s head. Slade ducked and rammed his own head into Mongo’s midriff, lifting the bigger man off the ground.
But that proved to be a tactical error. As Mongo fell to his knees, he got a grip on Slade’s shirt. Holding with the iron grip of a desperate man, he drove his fist hard into Slade’s left shoulder. Even though the expression in Slade’s eyes never changed, he turned white and staggered. That was all the time Mongo needed. Rushing his smaller opponent, he rained blows at his head and shoulder.
Slade fought back with incredible tenacity, but the blows to his wounded shoulder had almost exhausted his strength. If that happened, nothing could stop Mongo from beating him to death as he threatened.
“Stop it,” Pamela cried. “He’s bleeding.”
“All of him will be bleeding when I get through,” Mongo grunted.
But even with his strength draining away, Mongo couldn’t overpower his opponent. Using both fists, Slade gradually turned Mongo’s aristocratic face into a mass of bruises.
Pamela tried to pull Mongo away from Slade, but he shook her off, throwing her to the ground. She saw Slade stumble and Mongo pounce on him. Slade managed to twist away, but Mongo followed after him immediately. Pamela knew Slade wouldn’t be able to keep away from Mongo for much longer.
Without thinking, she jumped to her feet, pulled Slade’s rifle from its scabbard, and fired it into the air.
Both men froze in their tracks, but as soon as Mongo realized that Pamela, rather than some man, held the rifle and that she had fired into the air, he turned back toward Slade.
“Stop it!” Pamela shouted furiously. “If either of you tries to keep fighting, I’ll shoot.”
Slade got slowly to his feet, all the while staring at Pamela in surprise.
Mongo’s temper got the better of his judgment. “You won’t use that rifle on me. No woman would,” he said, and started for Slade once more.
Pamela shot the heel off his right boot.
Both men stared in undisguised amazement.
“Get on your horse and leave this moment,” she said to Mongo. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t come back until you’ve apologized.”
“You’re protecting him instead of me?” Mongo asked, gawking at his boot in disbelief. “He’s nothing but a trail bum.”
“He defended me, so right now I’m not very particular about what he is or where he came from. You, of all people, should know better than to try to force yourself on a woman.”
“I lost my head,” Mongo said. His anger had cooled enough for reason to tell him he must recover his ground as quickly as possible or risk losing Pamela altogether. “I can’t think straight when I’m around you. You’re like an obsession.”
“You’d better go,” Pamela said. “I don’t want anybody to know what happened.”
“I’ll be back.”
“Not unless her father or Mr. Baphot is around,” Slade added.
“As for you,” Mongo snarled, whipping around to face Slade, “you’d better ride out of this country as fast as you can. If I ever see you again, I’m going to kill you.”
“That’s been tried before,” Slade replied.
The coldness in Slade’s eyes made Mongo decide that killing Slade Morgan might not be an easy thing to do.
“Just make sure I never see you again.”
“You don’t have to see anything you don’t want to,” Slade replied.
Mongo wasn’t quite sure how to take that, but he reminded himself that Slade was unimportant to his plans. Gaining Pamela’s regard lay at the center of his strategy. Even though she was obviously impressed by this cowpoke playing the hero, ten to one she’d forget him quickly. There was nothing like opposition to make an underdog look good. Give her a little time to see through his valiant front and she would send him on his way herself, if Bagshot didn’t do it for her.
“I’ll be back after the roundup,” Mongo said. “I love you, Pamela. I’m not going to let you marry anyone but me.”
Chapter 6
Slade took a minute to dust himself off and watch Mongo ride out before he turned to Pamela. He needed time to think. In less than ten minutes things had changed considerably. Pamela had admitted she might be willing to stay in Arizona for the man she loved, and she had used a rifle, quite effectively too. What else might this surprising woman do if given some time? Could she change her opinio
n about him?
“I thought you didn’t approve of guns,” Slade said. He allowed himself to smile in hopes it would aggravate Pamela.
It did. “Would you rather I let him kill you?”
“No, but if I had known you were good enough to shoot the horns off a steer, I wouldn’t have given up my guns.”
“Is that why you called out to those men last night instead of shooting them?”
He was supposed to be asking the questions. Besides, he didn’t want her getting this close. “I’m new here,” Slade said, trying to make his words sound off-hand. “I thought maybe some of your boys were coming back and trying not to wake you.”
Pamela had never used artifice on Slade. She considered it now, but decided against it. Nothing worked with his kind like a direct attack. Somehow they never expected it from a woman, especially a lady. “I don’t know who you are,” she said fixing him with an accusing gaze, “where you came from, or why you’re here, but I do know you’re not stupid. You knew none of my men would creep along the creek carrying torches.”
“They didn’t light the torches until after I called out. I guess you could say that was a tactical error.” Now that Pamela was after him tooth-and-tong, Slade felt like he was in control again. If she had looked even the slightest bit helpless—God only knows what would have happened if she had shed a tear—it would have been all over with him.
“What happened?” Belva cried. She had covered most of the distance from the house under cover of the cottonwoods along the bank of the stream, a shotgun under her arm, but the minute she saw Pamela and Slade standing in front of the bunkhouse talking, she waddled out of the trees.
“Slade was just helping out again,” Pamela explained. Clearly annoyed at having her interrogation interrupted, her baleful gaze said she wasn’t through with him yet. “Come on up to the house. That wound’s got to be cleaned up.”
“What happened?” Belva repeated impatiently as they started toward the house. “Why were you firing a rifle in the middle of the day?”
Scarlet Sunset, Silver Nights Page 8