Scarlet Sunset, Silver Nights

by Leigh Greenwood

  There would have been a confrontation and one of them would have been killed.

  It could still happen, and after his shooting exhibition, no one would believe Mongo had a fair chance, not unless he had witnesses. So Mongo would be killed somewhere else and Slade blamed for it.

  For that reason he had been extremely careful to remain in full view at all times. He sang whenever he rode the watch so no one could accuse him of slipping off in the dark. He slept in full view of the campfire and kept his guns with him at all times. He must have witnesses to his every move.

  Of course he could be imagining everything. He had no concrete evidence, but no other explanation fitted all the facts. Nothing else explained why one of Mongo’s own men would try to set him up.

  Now if he could just convince Pamela his theory hadn’t grown out of a jealous rage.

  * * *

  “I don’t think I’d better,” Pamela said to Mongoas Slade came up.

  “But you’ve turned me down all week,” Mongo complained.

  “It’s just not a good time,” Pamela tried to explain. “You need to be with your men. I would be wanting to see what mine were doing. We’d only get in each other’s way.”

  “I told you I would go anywhere you wanted.”

  “The lady has given you her answer,” Slade said stepping forward. “Why don’t you accept it like a big boy and go away. Didn’t your fancy eastern education teach you it’s bad manners to keep asking after you’ve been turned down.”

  “Damn you,” Mongo cursed, his face flushed from anger and chagrin. “Go back to where you came from before I break your neck.”

  “I need to talk with Miss White, privately,” Slade added when Mongo didn’t move.

  “Do it some other time, dammit. You’ve butted in every time I’ve tried to talk to Pamela these last three days.”

  “Maybe you should wait until the roundup’s over. As Miss White said, this isn’t a good time.”

  “I’ll be damned if I will,” Mongo said, starting toward him aggressively.

  “Anytime,” Slade said, and stepped away from Pamela, hands suspended above his guns. At this range neither man could miss.

  That’s enough,” Pamela said, stepping between them. “Your foreman is waiting for you, Mongo. You’d better go.”

  “Not until I fix this mangy cur so he won’t bother you any more.”

  “He’s not bothering me, Mongo, and I do need to talk to him. You seem to forget he’s my foreman.”

  “I can’t figure out why in hell you hired him. Your father never would.”

  “That’s really none of your business. Now if you don’t mind …”

  “Aw hell, I’ll go, but I’m telling you both. I’m coming back tonight, and I’m not leaving until I’m good and ready.”

  “I’ll be here,” Slade said. Mongo waited a moment, clearly strongly tempted to make his stand now. Then, with an oath that turned Pamela’s ears pink, he turned and stalked away.

  “Your boyfriend doesn’t discourage easily.”

  “Not with you baiting him. You nearly started a fight.”

  “I’m not backing down from Mongo, with or without my guns.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that every time you’re around me, people start fighting or threatening to shoot each other?”

  “I’m not doing the threatening.”

  “Mongo never behaved like this before you got here. He was a perfect gentleman.”

  “Maybe he’s afraid of a little competition.”

  “Competition? Do you think I’m some cheap floozie to be fought over?” she demanded. “If so, you’re badly mistaken.”

  “I just wanted to save you a little trouble,” Slade said. “I didn’t think you wanted him to keep pestering you.”

  “And when did you get to be such an expert on what I do or don’t think?” Pamela demanded. Her temper, rubbed thin by several days of boredom and tension, came dangerously close to being out of control. “And while we’re at it, you can also tell me when I gave you permission to decide what I will and won’t do.”

  “As long as you’re on this roundup, I’m responsible for you.”

  “That’s nonsense. I was never your responsibility, not before this roundup, during, or afterwards. I don’t want to talk to you any more. I’m so angry I don’t even know what to say. We can’t communicate, Slade. You were right when you said we were two people going in different directions. I just didn’t want to believe you.”

  “You can’t deny there’s an attraction between us.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that either. It looks like I managed to miss the truth all the way around. But I won’t any more. Now get out of my way. I’m going to take a ride. I need time to cool off.”

  “I’ve already explained why you can’t.”

  Pamela spoke through clenched teeth, trying very hard not to loose her temper. “And I’ve already told you that you’re imagining things. I don’t know who shot Dave or Jody and I don’t have any idea why, but there’s no danger to me. Certainly not as long as I stay within sight of the men.”

  “You can’t go, Pamela. It really is dangerous.”

  “I am going. Now get out of my way.”

  “No.”

  Pamela attempted to walk around Slade, but he stepped in front of her. No matter where she moved, he blocked her path. Her temper in shreds and ready to scream in fury, Pamela feinted to one side and then ran as fast as she could in the other direction.

  She almost made it.

  She felt Slade’s vise-like grip tighten around her elbow. He reeled her in as effortlessly as a roped calf.

  “Let me go,” she hissed. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Not until you promise to stay in camp.”

  “Never!”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to hold on to you until you change your mind,” Slade said. Pamela could tell some of the anger in his voice had changed to hunger. “Of course I need to take a different hold. This one’s too uncomfortable.”

  “Don’t you dare, Slade Morgan,” Pamela said in a fierce whisper as his arms started to slip around her waist. “The men are watching.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I do.”

  “Then promise.”

  “Okay, blast you. I promise not to try to slip out of camp. Are you satisfied?”

  Slade released her arm, still unconvinced. Pamela had given up too easily, and that made him feel uncomfortable.

  “You’re a brute. No woman is ever going to be able to love you until you can trust her. You can’t go around making people do what you want them to do, whether they want to or not, and expect them to like it.”

  “Not even when it’s for their own good?”

  “Not even then. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to my wagon.” She spun on her heel, leaving Slade to wonder what she wanted so badly from her wagon.

  He found out soon enough.

  Pamela emerged seconds later carrying her rifle. “Now get out of my way. I intend to go for that ride.”

  “You just promised you wouldn’t leave camp.”

  “I promised I wouldn’t try. I said nothing about actually doing it.”

  “I’m not going to waste time playing word games with you. You might as well put your rifle up and settle down. You’re not going anywhere.”

  Pamela raised the rifle. “Get out of my way.”

  “You’ll have to shoot me.”

  “Don’t tempt me. Right now I just might.”

  “I’m not moving, Pamela.”

  “The hell you won’t,” she said, so angry she didn’t realize she had cursed. She put a bullet into the ground between Slade’s feet.

  “You missed.”

  “I didn’t miss. That was just a warning.”

  “I’m still not moving.”

  Pamela fired off three rapid shots, but Slade’s eyelids didn’t so much as flicker. Neither did the eyes of the crowd which materialized virtually out of nowhe
re to watch the proceedings.

  “You’re going to have to be a little more careful. You might hit one of the spectators,” Slade taunted her.

  “Damn you,” Pamela hissed. “You’re no gentleman. You don’t play fair.” With a very unladylike growl of rage, she broke into a run and didn’t stop until she reached her wagon and had closed the flaps behind her.

  Then she broke into tears.

  “What do you suppose the boss could have said to make Miss White so upset?” Clem asked Angus as the hands from the other outfits dispersed to their own campfires. “Never seen her move faster’n a slow walk before.” He had been detailed to watch Pamela for the morning and had nothing to do but idle around camp.

  “Whatever he did, she didn’t appear to like it much.”

  “Naw, and it don’t seem to be sitting too well on Morgan’s stomach either.”

  “When two people start sparking, there’s bound to be a little too much fire now and again.”

  “You mean Slade and Miss White?”

  “Well it ain’t you she’s been taking long walks with, and it ain’t you she’s crying over?”

  Clem whistled between his teeth. “I never would have figured them two.”

  “Neither did they. And the idea don’t seem to be going down too well.”

  “What’s her Pa going to say?”

  “Don’t know’s it’ll matter much. It’s what Miss Pamela says that’ll make the difference in the end.”

  Beans again! Pamela shoved her lunch away. She couldn’t eat with her stomach so wrought up, and her stomach wouldn’t calm down until she stopped being furious at Slade. And she couldn’t stop being furious at Slade Morgan because he forbade her to ride. Not only did he do so in front of men from all six crews in the roundup, he had remained in camp all morning. Oh, he always appeared to be busy, but she knew he kept a watch on her wagon just in case she decided to try to sneak away.

  And that had made her so furious her tears had ceased to flow. Now she had another point to add to her growing list of grievances against him. No man had ever made Pamela cry, and she would never forgive him for being the first. She had washed her face, combed her hair, and climbed down from her wagon determined to show him she didn’t care where he went or what he did.

  But he had disappeared.

  An hour passed with no sign of him. The men finished their lunch, and still he didn’t reappear. Maybe he got bored and rode out.

  But he had forced her to stay in camp.

  “Clem, have you seen Mr. Morgan?” Pamela asked the boy as he handed in his empty plate.

  “Not for a while. Did you want him for something?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait.” Pamela replied.

  “I’m riding out. If I see him, you want me to tell him you’re looking for him?”

  “No. I’ll wait until this evening.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Well, you have a good afternoon, ma’am.”

  “You too. Be careful of those cows. I haven’t seen one that looks the least friendly.”

  “Cows are naturally ornery when they don’t get their own way,” Clem explained. “It’s their nature.”

  “I guess that’s why I don’t like them,” Pamela muttered to herself as Clem walked off to saddle his horse. “They’re too much like Slade Morgan. At least now I don’t have to worry about running into him every time I turn around.”

  But as the afternoon wore on, she couldn’t relax. Just the opposite. If she had been upset Slade would stand around watching her, her anger increased tenfold that he would go off while she had to remain in camp. He didn’t even have to be present for her to do exactly what he wanted. Finally it got to be more than she could stand. She came to her feet and headed toward the rope corral where they kept the horses.

  Every time she looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody followed her, she got madder and madder. Slade had reduced her to sneaking out of her own camp. It was intolerable. She would show him once and for all that she would not be bullied by him or anyone else. It only took a moment to saddle a horse.

  She breathed a sigh of relief as she rode away and didn’t hear the galloping hooves of Slade’s hammerhead dun behind her. The success of her escape momentarily made her forget the humiliating circumstances surrounding her success. Okay, it was something less than scintillating victory, but at least she had shown Slade Morgan she wouldn’t meekly obey his every command.

  But she had hardly taken three calm breaths when a horseman emerged from the brush down the trail in front of her.

  She first thought it must be Slade, but almost immediately she realized her mistake. She couldn’t confuse anyone with Slade, not even at this distance.

  When a second horseman emerged from the brush on the other side of the road and he, too, brought his horse to a standstill in the middle of the trail, Slade’s warning sprang into her mind. A chill of fear ran through her body. Suppose these men did mean to hurt her. What could she do? She had left her rifle in camp, no one knew where she had gone, and she had gone too far from camp for anyone to hear her scream.

  Should she run for it? She hadn’t saddled her own horse, she hadn’t wanted to attract attention, and she had no idea how much speed the little mare she had chosen possessed. Maybe the men could outrun her. They weren’t far away.

  Then she recognized them. They were her own men, Mercer Isbel and Pete Reilly.

  “How are things going?” Pamela asked as she rode up to them.

  “As well as can be expected, ma’am,” Pete replied. The boys looked real nervous, but Pamela guessed they were merely shy about being around her.

  “You boys aren’t helping with the herd?”

  “Naw. Mr. Morgan told us to keep an eye out for strays.”

  “I don’t see how there could be any strays here,” Pamela said. “Surely you covered this area first.”

  “You never can tell,” Pete said, looking even more uncomfortable than before.

  “Well, I’ll see you back at camp.” But the men didn’t move from her path.

  “Wouldn’t you like to go back now?” Pete asked anxiously.

  “Yeah,” Mercer chimed in. “It’ll soon be supper time.”

  “It won’t be time to eat again for nearly three hours,” Pamela said, mystified. “Now move so I can get by.”

  “It would be a lot better if you went back, ma’am. Too hot out here and no shade.”

  “There’s snakes, too. Sidewinders. Could spook your horse and leave you stranded.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I’m in need of a good ride. Now let me by.”

  “Please, Miss White, won’t you go back?”

  “No.”

  “But you have to.”

  “May I remind you I’m the boss of the Bar Double-B, and I’ve just given you an order.”

  “Mr. Morgan made us promise not to let you leave camp, ma’am. He said if you tried to sneak out while he was gone, we was to take you back.”

  “Take me back!”

  “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Morgan says it’s too dangerous for you to be riding around by yourself.”

  “Mr. Morgan and I disagree on many things. This is just one of them. I have every intention of going for a long ride.”

  “Sorry, ma’am, but we can’t let you go.”

  “You can’t let me?” Pamela began to feel like an echo.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m your boss, and Mr. Morgan’s employer. You don’t have to worry about any repercussion. I shall see that he knows you relayed his message.”

  “He didn’t say nothing about relaying no message.”

  “He said we was to keep you in camp or he’d notch our ears.”

  Pamela looked blank.

  “It’s the brand of a coward, ma’am. We’d be marked for life.”

  “Now you see why we can’t let you go?”

  “I can fire you both.” Pamela didn’t know why she said that. She
would never fire them because of something Slade had done.

  “It won’t make no difference to Slade Morgan. Hell shoot our ears off anyhow.”

  “We might as well shoot ourselves.”

  “You’d take me by force if you had to?” She still couldn’t believe Slade had turned her own hands against her.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but yes we would.”

  Pamela considered digging her spurs into her horse and driving between them. She considered turning off the trail and making a dash for some brush-filled canyon. She considered screaming her rage loud enough for everyone in Arizona to hear, but she fell back on dignity. She would not allow them to usher her back to camp like a prisoner. She would ride with pride.

  But Slade Morgan had better watch out. She now understood what people meant when they spoke of a murderous rage. When she got her hands on Slade Morgan’s ears … well, never mind his ears. He’d be lucky if he had a head left.

  Pamela jerked her horse around and headed back to camp.

  She had barely arrived at her wagon when she heard several horses approaching at a gallop. She was still too angry over Slade’s treachery to pay any attention, but even the red haze of her fury couldn’t block out the shouts and the sudden commotion in the camps. She looked up in time to see them ride by her wagon. Somebody had been shot, and they were bringing in his body across the saddle.

  It was Mongo Shepherd!

  By the time she reached his campsite, his men had laid him on the ground.

  “What happened?” she asked, though from the look of the wound she could guess.

  “Somebody shot him in the back.”

  Pamela stared down at the body which had been so very vital only that morning. She didn’t love Mongo, but any death made her sad. She felt even worse that he should have died by the gun. It only proved what she’d been trying to tell Slade all along.

  She knelt down beside him. His arm lay under him at an awkward angle. Somehow it made her feel better to straighten it. But no sooner did she place his arm across his chest than she paused an instant to take his hand in hers once more. It felt warm and pliable. The sun might have kept the body from getting cold, but would it still be so flexible? Frantically Pamela searched for a pulse. Finally she slipped her fingers inside his collar until her fingertips moved over his jugular.