Scarlet Sunset, Silver Nights

by Leigh Greenwood

  Slade had no trouble at all guessing what Pamela had in mind, and though he would have liked to have had a thorough discussion of what she ought to be doing to protect her range, he gave in to the impulse to make love to her. They could always talk about cows in the morning.

  Slade shifted his weight in the bed without waking. The steady rhythm of his breathing had remained unbroken for two hours. Pamela lay next to him, still in the circle of his arms. His eyes were closed, too, but the tears running down her cheeks, the damp places on her pillow, the occasional silent sob that shook her body told her she would get no sleep this night.

  “It’s Mongo Shepherd that’s causing all the trouble,” Dave Bagshot told Pamela between mouthfuls.

  “What’s he doing now?” Pamela wasn’t eating. She had hardly touched anything since Gaddy returned from Santa Fe.

  “Things it’ll be hard to pin on him,” Dave replied. “A couple of the boys have been shot at. But since they’ve been going around in pairs, especially since Slade taught them how to always keep one man under cover, nobody gets too close.”

  “Then how do you know it’s Mongo?”

  “I don’t, not that I can prove, but there’s plenty of hoof prints about that don’t belong to any of our horses. And we’re still finding cows of his we missed during roundup. The other day the boys found a couple dozen.”

  “What did you do?” Slade asked.

  “Rounded them up and swam them back across.”

  “Why didn’t you leave them? We’ve already told him well sell anything we find on our range in the fall.” He was getting so angry he could hardly hold his tongue. He had been trying to talk Pamela into taking a firm stand, and now this had to happen.

  “Pamela figured it was easier to take them back. People get mighty touchy when you start messing with their cows.”

  “I don’t want any shooting,” Pamela said.

  “And what will you do when everybody realizes you don’t mean to stand behind your words?”

  “But we are. We’re driving them back across the river.”

  “That’s what you were doing before,” Slade said. “Mongo’s testing you. He’s shooting at you, but you’re not shooting back. I said you’d keep his cows and sell them, but you’re sending them back. What do you think he’s going to do next?”

  “I don’t think he’ll keep on.”

  “He still has hungry cows, doesn’t he? You have the only range with enough grass, so nothing has changed.”

  “He’s right, Pamela,” Dave said, apparently considering a side of the problem he hadn’t seen before. “If we don’t do something to stand up to him, he’s just going to keep pushing.”

  Pamela acted as though she hadn’t heard either man. “Are you having any trouble with the other ranchers?”

  “No. Slade seems to have scared them off, at least for now, but they’re keeping a close watch on things. The minute they think we’re losing, they’ll rush in to get their share.”

  “Keep driving the cows back,” Pamela said. “I know you don’t think that’s the smart thing to do, Slade, but I don’t want a fight. I couldn’t stand it if I caused any of our men to get killed.”

  “Can’t you see it’ll just cost you more men in the end?” Slade said, trying to hold his temper. “What makes you think Mongo has scruples just because you do? If you haven’t learned one thing living out here for three years, and apparently you haven’t, these last few weeks should have taught you that Mongo doesn’t mean to give up. He’s shot your men and attempted to burn your barn, brand your cattle, and drive his cows on your range. Are you going to wait until he kills somebody before you realize that while you’re sitting here acting like a proper, well-bred lady, he’s out there meaning to take what he can any way he can?”

  Pamela was livid. She knew she and Slade disagreed totally when it came to handling trouble with the ranch, but she hadn’t expected him to attack her position so savagely. Especially not in front of Dave.

  “You know how I feel about violence.”

  “I know all that,” Slade said, interrupting her before she could deliver her speech on the evils of guns and violence, “but we’re not talking about what you believe any more. We’re talking about what you’re willing to do when you can no longer do what you would like to do.”

  “You surely can’t want me to start a fight every time one of Mongo’s cows strays onto our land.”

  Slade made an extremely rude noise when Pamela used the word strays. “We said we’d sell what we found here in the fall. Now, dammit, that won’t work anymore. You stop sending those cows back and Mongo’s going to think you’ve given in. If you’d never returned the first one, he’d be wondering if you meant to keep your word.”

  “That was my decision,” Pamela said.

  “It was a rotten decision,” Slade stated bluntly.

  “I supported it,” Dave said.

  “And that’s rotten judgment on your part,” Slade shot back instantly.

  “So you would recommend that I do something that would force Mongo into a fight.”

  “You still don’t understand,” Slade said, his exasperation beyond hiding. “Mongo is already fighting you. No sane person decides to take something from another person without expecting a fight. Mongo knows that. He’s just testing you to see how cheaply he can win.”

  “I don’t believe land or cows are worth a human life,” Pamela stated, but she had to admit her words didn’t sound quite so lofty as they used to.

  “Suppose, just suppose now, that your father has been laid up somewhere with a bullet in his side, a bullet put there by Mongo or one of his men, a bullet that could have killed him. What would you do about it? Stand around and wring your hands, moaning over the fact that Mongo hadn’t played by the rules?”

  “No…. I …”

  “Because if that’s what you’d do, you might as well pack up now and run after Amanda. Let Dave sell the ranch and the herd while you still have something left to sell. Believe me, come fall, you won’t have anything. You won’t have anybody’s respect either.”

  Dave mumbled his apologies and quickly left the table, but Pamela was so furious she hardly noticed his departure.

  “I have no intention of going over the same ground again,” she began, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, tears she wanted to shed because the cruelty of Slade’s words were breaking her heart, “but I had thought you would have the courtesy, the decency, to allow me to express my opinions without ridiculing me.” Suddenly her reserve cracked. She was no longer the boss of a ranch and its crew. She was simply a woman who was about to cry because the man she loved had hurt her. “How can you say you love me, how can you make love to me at night and treat me like this during the day?”

  Slade jumped out of his chair and pulled her into his arms almost before the words were out of her mouth. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody or anything,” he said, “and I’ll prove it to you as often as I have to, but I …”

  “But you won’t stop treating every opinion of mine that you dislike with scorn.”

  “I told you I don’t know how to talk to women,” Slade said.

  “But you do. When you talk to me about anything except this damned ranch, I think you’re the most wonderful man in the world. But just let us mention cows, ranches, or Easterners and you turn as mean as a sidewinder.”

  “I don’t mean to be cruel, but I get plenty riled up when I see you acting like Arizona is some fancy country club and everybody is going to behave according to some gentlemanly code of behavior. Did you ever ask yourself why a rich man like Mongo Shepherd decided to leave the comforts of Boston? Did you ever ask anybody who knew him what he was like?”

  “He said he wanted to see the West, that he didn’t like living where it was so crowded.”

  “He probably left because he’s the kind of person who can’t get along in a society governed by rules, who can’t stop himself from taking advantage of anybody weaker than himsel
f. What will you do if he takes everything you have?”

  “He isn’t. I mean, he won’t. Not as long as we keep driving him back. He’ll know we mean to keep our land.”

  “No he won’t. He’ll take it as a sign you’re soft. Then he’ll make a big move, one you’re not ready for.”

  “You think you know everything about everybody.”

  “No, I don’t. I’ve acted the fool far too many times in my life to think that, but at least I can face the truth when I see it. No matter what I say, no matter what that man does, you’re determined to go right on believing that somehow being born, reared, and educated in the East automatically makes a person better. I thought seeing Amanda again had taught you better.”

  “Amanda may not feel the same way I do about love, but both she and Frederick were appalled by the shooting.”

  She put her palms against Slade’s chest and pushed him away, partly to see him better and partly because she was still furious with him, but he took her hands, put them around his neck, and drew her back into his arms. She didn’t resist. She could feel the beat of his heart against her breast. It sent chills throughout her body.

  “Listen to me closely because I mean every word I say. I love you. I will say it today, tomorrow, and every other day we have together. I will prove it to you every way I can. I would do anything for you I could, but I will not stand by and watch you throw away something your father gave twenty years of his life to build just because you’ve got a blind spot. You don’t know it, but you’re still a snob. You can’t look at Mongo with the same eyes you use for the rest of the world.”

  “And you’re still an egotistical male who thinks females are incapable of understanding the tough, brutal world of the western man.” She ought to be thrilled by his loving words, not feel so cold and alone because of his critical ones.

  “Not all women, just some. Ask Belva what she thinks. You might be surprised.”

  “What have you been doing? If you’ve been badgering that poor woman, and her practically ready to have that child any minute, I’ll… I’ll…” Pamela couldn’t think of anything strong enough and left the sentence unfinished.

  “I haven’t spoken to Belva at all, but I’ve watched her eyes. Ever since that evening Dave was shot, she’s been scared of something. Maybe you should ask her what it is. Now before you have a chance to become screaming mad at me again, I’m going away. I have an idea I want to work on a bit. I may be gone for a day or two—I’ll stay in one of the line cabins—so don’t worry. I don’t write much, but I always come back.”

  “Slade, do you remember what you said about my father?”

  The altered tone of her voice rivetted Slade’s attention. He nodded.

  “If he is lying somewhere with a bullet in him,”—her voice broke before she could say the next words—“or if he has been killed, I want the man responsible for it to pay. I know what I’ve said before, but if somebody killed my father, I want him dead.”

  “I can’t find anything you can put your finger on,” Gaddy reported, “but there’s something going on. And I don’t mean this business with Mongo’s cows. The boys keep looking over their shoulders like they don’t trust their best friend.”

  Slade and Gaddy were relaxing in the shade of a huge old pine. Gaddy leaned sleepily against the trunk which was about six feet in diameter. Slade stood with his foot resting on a small boulder as he looked out over the valley that stretched before him. It looked like an oasis of green in an ocean of brown. The air was cool and incredibly clear. The ridges rising up to the mountains on the horizon seemed only a short distance away. They were high up on the crest of the ridge which separated the valley from the open desert. Gaddy had come in the back way so no one would see him.

  “I heard one of the boys say that Hen McCafferty and Thurston Peck have had some trouble, too.”

  “What kind?” Slade asked. This surprised him. Why would they be having trouble when they were only waiting to cause trouble for Pamela?

  “Seems some of their boys have been shot at. Maybe one of McCafferty’s got killed. I don’t know, but they seem to think we did it. The only time one of our boys set foot on McCafferty range, he just about didn’t get out with a whole skin. Must have been three or four McCafferty hands pouring lead in his direction.”

  “It’s a good thing cowboys don’t shoot too well,” Slade muttered, but his brain was feverishly trying to fit this new piece of information into the puzzle. “Are we the only ones they suspect?”

  “No. They ain’t trusting Mongo’s crew neither. Some of their hands had a terrible fight in town last week. At least two boys are laid up with busted ribs. One nearabout got his eyes poked out.”

  “You go back and see what else you can pick up. Somebody’s trying to set the ranchers against each other. Though for the life of me I can’t figure out who would benefit if there was a range war.”

  “Seems to me like the last man to survive would pick up all the marbles,” Gaddy suggested.

  “I know, but who will be the last man? And how’s he going to make sure he is the last man?”

  “Maybe he’ll stay out of the fight.”

  “None of the men I met at the roundup will stand back from a fight. They got their land by fighting. That’s all they know. That’s one of the reasons Pamela’s father was killed. He had enough sense to know the day of the gun was over.”

  “You think he’s dead?”

  “He’s got to be. From everything I’ve heard about Josh White, nothing would have kept him from returning or sending someone to tell his daughter where he was. No, if Josh White were still alive, he would be here and we wouldn’t be having to deal with this problem.”

  “Pamela thinks he’s still alive. You made her believe that.”

  “For weeks now she’s been afraid he was dead. Haven’t you noticed how strained she looks when a stranger rides up? I only wanted to give her hope, anything to ease the blow when it comes.”

  “Why?”

  “Pamela doesn’t have anybody now except you. It’s a terrible thing to be alone, especially at a time like this.”

  “But you’re here.”

  Slade’s expression was bitter. “Maybe I won’t be able to stay. Sometimes a man can’t do what he wants, even when he wants it real bad.”

  “You got to,” Gaddy protested. “You promised. Worse than that, you made her fall in love with you.”

  “Son, you’ll soon learn that nobody can predict when they’re going to fall in love. And when they do, there’s not much anybody can do to stop it.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Gaddy said angrily. “Anybody could see Pamela had gone nutty on you. If anybody else had come in here looking like you did, she’d have thrown them out.”

  “I never intended to stay. …”

  “Then there was all those times during the roundup when you had her off somewhere to yourself, sweet-talking her, making her think you were the only one who could save her bacon.”

  “Gaddy. …” But the boy was too full of his disappointment to stop for something as fragile as a soft word or a look of understanding.

  “What did you do it for? Just so you could get her in bed?”

  Slade’s eyes narrowed in surprise. He didn’t realize anybody knew their secret.

  “I know she’s been sneaking into your room since the night of the storm. I went up to the house to see if she was all right. She wasn’t in her room, but I heard these … sounds coming from your room.”

  “If you’ll just let me …”

  “I couldn’t believe it at first,” he said, and Slade could see the bewilderment in his eyes, “not of Pamela. But then I figured that you’d stay and take care of her.”

  Slade wanted to say something that would ease the boy’s hurt, but nothing would help but getting it out.

  “But now you got what you wanted and you’re running out. Must make you feel like quite a man, you coming in here a two-bit saddle bum and seducing the beautiful daugh
ter of a rich man. It’ll make a good story when you tell it in the saloon or around the campfire. Yes sir, this girl was so hot to get into my bed I had to get myself wounded to keep her from climbing my frame right from the start. I had to get away before she wore me down to a nubbin.”

  “You don’t think I would …”

  “Well you ain’t never going to tell such a story about Pamela, not if I die for it.”

  Gaddy drew his gun faster than either of them thought he could. But the shock of seeing his gun pointed at a man who, until a few moments ago, he believed to be the epitome of what he wanted to become, effectively dried up Gaddy’s torrent of words.

  “Go ahead and use it if you think that’s what I deserve.”

  “I do,” Gaddy said, his nerve badly shaken but his purpose still unchanged.

  “Only let me give you a warning first. Once you pick up a gun, it’s hard to put it down again. You kill me, and they won’t let you put it down.”

  “W-what do you mean?” Gaddy asked, suspicious but interested.

  “You shoot somebody and you make yourself a name as a tough man. You kill him, and you’re a bad man. You shoot someone with a reputation, and every cheap crook will be out after you.”

  “But I’m no gun hand,” Gaddy protested.

  “It won’t matter. You’ll be the man who killed Slade Morgan. You’ll be famous. If they kill you, they’ll be famous.”

  “You kill somebody?” Gaddy’s anger was almost completely forgotten now.

  “Yeah, and I’ve been running from it ever since. Do you want that, boy? What good will it do Pamela if you shoot me? That’ll just mean she won’t have anybody to stand beside her. Kill me and you’ll be the one heading to California or Montana.”

  Gaddy’s gun wavered and then dropped. “I didn’t want to kill you.”

  “I know that.”

  “I was just so mad you would make Pamela love you and then leave her.”