Scarlet Sunset, Silver Nights

by Leigh Greenwood

“What?” Her brain felt like cotton. She couldn’t think when he smiled at her like that. His smile sent delicious shivers down through her body which all seemed to center in the hidden area between her thighs.

  “Those coins are too small for the audience to see. Besides, the glare inside a tent makes it impossible to see them.”

  “You mean you’ve never shot the center out of a coin?”

  “Not before today. Besides, it’s too expensive. At a hundred and twenty dollars a pop, I’d be ruined before the end of the night.”

  Pamela swayed. She had no idea why she didn’t go ahead and faint. Thinking about what would have happened if Slade had missed all those coins certainly made her feel weak enough. Fainting seemed like a small price to pay for the chance she had taken.

  “But I take it as a great compliment you had that much faith in me.”

  “Get away from me, Slade Morgan,” Pamela said. She didn’t feel at all steady on her feet, but she firmly removed his arm from around her waist. “Before you came ambling into my front yard, I was a normal, sane, responsible, happy and contented adult. Knowing you has reduced me to a ball of nerves. I never know what’s going to happen next. Disaster follows you like sunshine follows rain. Get yourself filled full of lead over a few cows if you insist—they aren’t even your cows, for God’s sake—but don’t expect me to bandage you up this time.”

  She stalked off toward camp, but a broad smile of satisfaction settled on Slade’s lips. For the moment he forgot about Mongo and the coming struggle. Right now he didn’t want to think about anything except Pamela. If he knew only one thing, he knew nothing would keep her from his side if he were wounded.

  For such a reward as that, he just might get himself shot at again.

  Gaddy stood in the mouth of the canyon and pondered the situation. It was all right for Slade to tell him to guard the ranch, but he couldn’t stay up all night. Not even thunder and lightning had the power to wake him up. He hadn’t waked up the night they tried to burn the barn until Slade’s gun had gone off right under his window.

  What would it matter if he fell asleep? Pamela wouldn’t blame him. Neither would her father. After all, he was only sixteen. Hell, Dave didn’t believe he could protect a henhouse from a three-legged coyote. Of course he’d never be able to keep awake all night, so why should he worry so much about it? He’d just stay up as long as he could. Probably nothing would happen anyway. Nothing ever had before.

  But even though Gaddy had fallen into the habit of taking refuge behind any handy excuse, he knew enough about Slade to know that no excuse would work this time. Slade had told him to watch the ranch, and he expected it to be done. Period.

  What would Slade do to him if he failed?

  Nothing.

  But Gaddy realized Slade didn’t expect him to fail. Slade didn’t make excuses for himself, and he probably wouldn’t accept them from anyone else. It only mattered that you failed. For the first time in his life, Gaddy decided he would not fail. He couldn’t. He’d rather be sent to his Ma’s relatives in Alabama than confess to Slade he’d fallen asleep and let someone burn the ranch.

  But how could he stay awake? Even if a confirmed killer held a gun at his head, he doubted he could keep his eyes open all night. He’d probably fall asleep and miss his own murder.

  He thought of and discarded idea after idea as being too fraught with possibilities for disaster. He could strip down to his underwear. The frigid night air would keep him awake, but just the thought of being surprised in his long Johns, especially by Pamela or Belva, caused him to turn crimson. He would have to stay on his feet. He couldn’t go to sleep standing up. Or could he?

  Gaddy decided to take no chances. He would booby-trap the canyon.

  Working with feverish haste to get the job finished before nightfall, he stretched a roll of wire across the opening and prayed no one would try to come in during the night. Just in case some intruders should see the wire and try to climb over it, he laid tin roofing across the trail. It would be impossible for anyone to cross that, even on tiptoe, without waking him up. For added insurance, he raided Pamela’s box of Christmas tree ornaments for the dozen small crystal bells she had brought back from Baltimore. He tied them to the limbs of the bushes near the canyon walls. Now it would be impossible for as much as a coyote to slip through unnoticed.

  Then he laid out his bedroll behind a rock off the trail just in case he wanted to get off his feet for a while. If trouble did come, he’d be right on top of it. He laid his shotgun on one side and his rifle on the other. He kept his hands on the pair of tied-down six guns at his waist. He used to wear just one until he noticed Slade wore two. If he had to protect the ranch all by himself, he needed as many guns as possible.

  When he had finished, Gaddy stood back and surveyed his handiwork. He had to admit to a feeling of pride. Wouldn’t anybody get across this barrier without him knowing it, not unless they had wings.

  Next morning when Belva came up to milk the cow, she saw Gaddy staggering back and forth across the mouth of the canyon like a soldier on a picket line. At first she thought he had been drinking, but after a moment she realized he was merely very sleepy. Intrigued, she started toward him only to be flabbergasted by the barricade he had erected. “What in the name of thunder have you been doing?” she commanded. “You better clear that right away. Mr. White will skin you alive if he comes back and sees this mess in his front yard.”

  “Got to leave it,” Gaddy mumbled almost incoherently. “Slade said to watch the ranch.”

  “Maybe, but you can bet he didn’t mean for you to wrap it up in bailing wire and tie it up with Miss Pamela’s Christmas bells.”

  “Leave it alone,” Gaddy repeated and started toward the bunkhouse at a stumbling walk.

  “Well I never,” Belva said to herself as she examined the barricade a second time. “I didn’t think a branding iron could keep that boy on his feet all night. Looks like Mr. Morgan knows something the rest of us don’t.”

  “How did your first day go?”

  Pamela jumped. Slade had come up on her unexpectedly as she stared into the fire. She didn’t realize it had gotten so dark. A person could stand just outside of the ring of light, no more than a dozen feet away, and not be seen. It was black as ink.

  “A little boring, if you want the truth,” Pamela confessed. “After watching them brand half a dozen calves, I lost all interest. Besides, I always did hate cows.”

  “You hate cows!”

  “What’s to like about them?” Pamela asked. “They’re noisy, dangerous, and smelly. The filthy-tempered beasts won’t even let you milk them.”

  “They’re wild,” Slade said, his eyes dancing in the firelight.

  God, if he keeps looking at me like that, I’ll go crazy Pamela thought. Doesn’t he know what he does to me?

  “I know that,” she replied, pulling her mind back on the conversation. “I don’t like them anyway.”

  “I’m afraid you’re in for a long week.”

  “It won’t be so bad once I start riding three or four hours a day. I’m actually looking forward to it. At last I’ll get a chance to see some of the range that’s causing so much trouble.”

  “I don’t want you to leave the camp.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Don’t start that again. You can’t make me believe anyone is going to try to kill me. Western men practically worship a good woman.”

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Slade said holding out his hands to help her up. Pamela quickly grasped his fingers and pulled herself up close to him. She didn’t want to go walking, but she never refused the chance to be with Slade. The touch of his hands on hers felt like a burning brand. It marked her.

  “It’s too dark out there. I can’t see a thing.”

  “It’s easier to see once you’re away from the fire,” Slade explained. “Firelight actually blinds you rather than helps you see.”

  Pamela felt a littl
e doubtful, but she wanted to be alone with Slade too much to care. As long as he walked at her side, she would enter the blackest cave in the world.

  But he was right. Five minutes away from the fire and she realized she could see the entire panorama of the roundup, the herd in the distance, the cowboys riding the night watch, the glow of the campfires of the other crews, and the dark shapes of the extra horses in the ramuda.

  “It’s the moon,” Slade explained.

  “You seem to have a most extraordinary affinity for the moon.”

  “Moonlight never lies.”

  Do you, she wondered, then quieted her doubts before she spoke. “What does it say about me?” Pamela felt brazen, but rather than feel ashamed of it, she felt exhilarated.

  “It says you’re an extremely beautiful woman. A mere smile from those lips, or a single glance from your eyes, can drive an ordinary man crazy. Just your presence can make him lose his control.”

  “What about the extraordinary man?”

  “AH men are equally susceptible when it comes to women.”

  “Then when did you succumb to my wiles?”

  “Long ago.”

  Pamela gave him a look of patent disbelief.

  “I just haven’t lost control.”

  Pamela laughed. She wasn’t sure whether she laughed at his words or herself. She guessed it was more important that she still could laugh.

  “Okay, what did you bring me out here to tell me? It obviously isn’t that you love my hair or that my eyes are your favorite color of brown.”

  “No, but I do like to feel your hair against my cheek. It feels just like silk. And I adore brown eyes. They’re so much warmer than blue.”

  “Get on with it, you shameless flatterer,” Pamela said. “I don’t like to mix business with pleasure.”

  “Which do you prefer?” he asked.

  Pleasure, she answered silently. “Business,” she said aloud. “It doesn’t confuse my senses.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve never been confused.”

  “I didn’t used to be, but lately I feel that way all the time. Now you’ve destroyed the mood, so you might as well tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “I’m not sure,” Slade said, allowing himself a few minutes before he tried to explain. “Right now it’s just a feeling, but there’s something very wrong here.”

  “You can’t expect me to take action based on feelings.”

  “I’ve been a performer all my life. One thing all successful entertainers have in common is a feel for the audience. Sometimes the lights are so bright you can’t even see them. Sometimes there are so many faces you’d swear they represented every emotion in the world. But work the crowd a few minutes and you begin to feel their mood. It’s nothing you can put your finger on, but it’s just as real as you or I are.”

  Pamela listened, suspended somewhere between total disbelief and wonder at the continually unexpected facets of this man. One minute he shot branding irons out of people’s hands and challenged every gun-hardened rancher in the area. In virtually the next, he rhapsodized about moonlight and the mood of a carnival crowd. Sometimes he moved completely beyond her experience. For all she understood of him she might just as well have never met a man in her life.

  “There is something wrong here. And it’s more than Mongo trying to set fire to one of your barns so you’ll marry him. There are too many questions about that. If all he wants is the ranch, marrying you won’t necessarily get it for him. Your father is still alive. You could leave it to your children or even divorce him. Besides Mongo is already rich. He might be greedy enough to fight for your land, but he doesn’t have to have it. He could just as easily go somewhere else. Who told him about this place?”

  “I don’t think anybody did. He just stopped when he got here.”

  “That sounds right. He’s too impatient to lay out a careful plan and stick to it. He’d blow up and cause some kind of confrontation, like he did today, like he did at the ranch.”

  In spite of herself, Pamela felt a shiver of fear. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “I feel like we’re all being manipulated. I think there’s somebody somewhere pulling strings and making us dance to his tune.”

  “That’s preposterous.” How could she keep from laughing at such an absurd suggestion?

  “Then why didn’t that gunman kill Dave? Why did he just shoot him in the leg?”

  “He missed.”

  “Has Dave ever been shot at before I came to the ranch?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s possible they shot him so I would have to take over his job.”

  “But they couldn’t be sure of that. I could have chosen someone else.” Slade might be jealous of Mongo—Pamela rather liked that idea—but it wasn’t like him to talk so irrationally.

  “Not if no one else would take it.”

  “This is all crazy,” Pamela said, openly skeptical. “What makes you think there’s someone behind all this?”

  “A lot of little things, but I didn’t start to put them all together until after we got here. Remember, I spent most of that afternoon looking about? Well, I saw six cowboys sitting together under a tree some distance from here. I didn’t think anything of it at the time because I didn’t know any of them. But I saw them again after we arrived in camp. They each belong to a different crew.”

  “You think …”

  “I think somebody is out to cause trouble, and he’s got a man planted at each ranch to keep him up-to-date with what’s going on.”

  “Is that why you sent Gaddy back to the ranch?” Slade nodded. “You should have sent one of the men.”

  “Gaddy doesn’t know what to do around cows, but he’s more than capable of watching the ranch house. By the way, if you really want to turn that boy into a man, give him something to do. Keep him sitting around while everybody belittles him, and he’ll become as worthless as you expect.”

  “Okay,” Pamela agreed, too preoccupied with what Slade had just said to give Gaddy’s situation much thought just now. “I still don’t understand what you think is going to happen.”

  “I don’t know, but somehow I think Mongo is the key.”

  “Really, Slade, I can’t believe he would do any of this. I know he’s greedy, but to shoot Dave? I can’t believe that of him.”

  “Okay, have it your way,” Slade said, tired of trying to warn her against Mongo, “just don’t leave camp.”

  A wave of anger swept over Pamela. She didn’t know whether he wanted to keep her in camp because he really believed this nonsense or whether he just didn’t want her going off with Mongo. Either way she had had enough.

  “I’ll go where I please and with whom I please. I promised to support you,” she continued before he could respond, “but I thought you were referring to the roundup. It never occurred to me it would extend to a jealous attempt to keep Mongo and me apart.”

  Slade saw red.

  “You think all this is just jealousy of Mongo?” By God, not even Trish had been that conceited.

  “What else can it be? You start a fight with a man you’ve never seen before the first morning you’re here. Two days later you have a confrontation over my riding with him. You shoot at one of his men, and you accuse him of I don’t know what kind of crimes. I’ve known Mongo for six months. He’s always been a perfect gentleman. I’ve only known you for a few days, and you’ve been in trouble the entire time. What am I supposed to think?”

  “Think what you damned well please,” Slade said in a strangled croak. “I quit.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Pamela grabbed his sleeve as he started to stride past her. “If I can’t fire you, you can’t quit.”

  Slade was too mad to consider his words. They just tumbled out. “Look, lady, I can do anything I damned well please. And you can take it from me that hanging around you is high on my list of things I don’t want to do.”

  Pamela’s gaze didn’t waver. “So is quitting a job you’ve
started.”

  Slade didn’t move. She had him there.

  “Look, I don’t mind your being jealous over me. In fact, if the circumstances were different, I think I’d probably like it. “Slade looked absolutely furious. Pamela wondered if she could finish everything she wanted to say before he exploded. “But you can’t run a ranch or be foreman of a crew if you can’t make objective judgments. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Now you listen to me, Pamela White, and you listen good. I haven’t been in my right mind since I got here. I couldn’t be, not and do all the crazy things you talked me into doing, but I’m not a lovesick fool. You’re right. I am jealous of Mongo Shepherd. I’m jealous of Frederick too, whoever the hell he is. I’m jealous of every man you’ve ever smiled at, talked with, dreamed about. I wish they’d all been me. If I walk out of here tomorrow. I’ll never stop wishing I’d stayed.”

  “But,” he added before she could interrupt, “no woman—do you hear me?—no woman has ever got me so crazy mixed up I couldn’t think. You’re right. I won’t quit. I’m going to stay and prove I’m right. I’m also going to prove that all those notions you learned in Baltimore aren’t worth a hill of beans.” He grabbed her and pulled her so close she could feel the heat of his skin through her clothes.

  “I’m also going to prove that one drifting cowboy is worth a dozen of your Fredericks and Mongos. I’m going to prove you made one hell of a mistake when you looked down your beautiful nose at me.”

  Pamela woke up with a start. She had been dozing fitfully. Her argument with Slade still upset her, but the way he left her disturbed her even more. He had marched her back to her wagon, told her to get inside and stay there and then walked away. Just like she was a tenderfoot being disciplined for misbehaving. She had simmered with rage before finally talking herself into getting some sleep.

  At first she couldn’t figure out what had waked her. The night seemed perfectly silent. Even the cows had stopped their incessant complaining about their confinement. Then she heard it, softly at first, but gradually growing louder. It was a man, and he was singing with the most beautiful baritone voice Pamela had ever heard.