Scarlet Sunset, Silver Nights

by Leigh Greenwood

  “You do that all the time. What are we going to do about the people in Texas?”

  Slade took a moment to realize that Pamela had changed subjects.

  “We can’t spend the rest of our lives hoping no one from Texas will wander through and recognize you as Billy Wilson.”

  “I could go back and try to convince them it was self defense.”

  “I won’t let you go back there. I’ll follow you all over the world before I’d take a chance on them hanging you.”

  “What kind of man would I be to ask you to live with a husband who’s wanted for murder? Have you thought about what it would mean to our children to have their father hunted for the reward? Hell, I might as well be a criminal.”

  “My children would be much happier having a father who was alive than one who was found innocent after he had been hanged.”

  “They wouldn’t leave us alone, Pamela, not for that much money. Anybody can come along and shoot me and be within their rights.”

  “You wouldn’t have wanted to marry me if you’d known about that warrant and the reward, would you?” Pamela asked.

  “I’d have wanted to marry you if the whole army of Hell was on my heels.”

  “But you wouldn’t have agreed to, would you?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  “Are you going to change your mind now?”

  “No, but don’t ask me what I’m going to do,” Slade said fighting for time. “Let’s get through this problem first.”

  “I’ll follow you no matter where you go. Slade Morgan. I don’t care if you’re wanted or if the posse is on your heels. I intend to be at your side for the rest of your life.”

  Fortunately for Slade, they could hear Dave returning, and Slade had to go.

  “Remember everything I said, and don’t believe anything you hear about me.” Slade kissed her quickly and melted into the night just as suddenly as he had materialized from it minutes before.

  The first shots were fired just before two o’clock. They were accompanied by a chorus of yells and hoots. A moment later, five thousand cows came to their feet and stampeded toward the river. The thunder of twenty thousand hooves supporting twenty-five million mounds of flesh, bone, and sinew caused the earth to shake under Pamela even though she stood a half mile away.

  The bobbing mass of white faces was visible on even such a dark night as this, and Pamela tensed as they neared the river. Would Slade’s plan work? Would the fires turn back the herd?

  Then, just as the first of the cows reached the river, the night sky erupted into a wall of flames. A pile of brush a half-mile long fed by oil tar from a seep back in the hills illuminated the night like a blaze of orange-red sunlight.

  Blinded by the conflagration and panicked by their instinctive fear of fire, the stampeding herd came to a shuddering halt. The followers tumbled over the leaders until they were all caught in one deadly, milling mass in the middle of the river. Now it was the Bar Double-B’s turn to hoot and yell and Tire shots into the air. Some threw flaming brands into the water above the heads of the terrified cows. In no time at all, the herd turned and thundered out of the river, headed back toward Mongo’s camp. Mongo’s crew fled before them in a desperate race to escape the churning hooves that could pound a man’s body into an unrecognizable mass in seconds.

  They abandoned their camp and their belongings. The herd raced through the campsite scattering bedrolls, cooking utensils, and overturning a sleeping wagon. Mongo Shepherd was inside. But no cloven hoof threatened his life. He had already been shot to death.

  The night had grown quite cold. Since they didn’t need to conceal their presence any longer, Pamela had Dave build a Are before she sent him down to evaluate their success. She put on a pot of coffee.

  Pamela was expecting Slade when he materialized at her elbow. She had remained behind for this very reason.

  “For a girl who’s more used to the parlors and ballrooms of Baltimore, you make a pretty mean cowgirl,” Slade said, coming to stand next to her, his arm instinctively going around her waist, drawing her to him. “That ought to make Mongo stop and think before he tries taking anything else of yours again.”

  “You don’t think it’s over?”

  “No. Dave’s still here.”

  “Are you sure he’s the one behind it? Couldn’t you be mistaken? Maybe it’s one of the other ranchers.”

  “You still can’t bring yourself to believe me, can you?”

  “It’s not a question of believing you. I know you honestly believe everything you say. It’s just that Dave acts so normal, just like he would if he were innocent.”

  “I know. And that’s why I have to stay in hiding a little longer.”

  “Slade, no!” Pamela protested. “I can’t stand having you out there, not knowing if you’re all right, worried sick that someone has shot you and you’re dying all alone.”

  “I don’t want to stay away from you any longer than I have to, but I’ve got to find some proof of Dave’s guilt. The man has been amazingly careful. He’s at a stand now, but I don’t think he’ll give up. He’s come too far. He may do something soon, or he may decide to wait a few years. I have to force his hand. I can’t live here knowing he’s just waiting for the first good chance to shoot me in the back.”

  “We could fire him. Then he would have to go somewhere else.”

  “Then you’d always doubt me. I can’t live with that either. And there’s still the man who killed your father. Do you want him to escape?”

  Pamela didn’t understand why everything had to pull her in different directions. Why couldn’t Slade stay with her and find out who killed her father? “No,” she said, knowing she couldn’t keep Dave on as foreman, wondering all the time if he really was the killer, “I don’t want him to escape. Will that be the end of it? Will we ever be able to live like normal people then?”

  “I hope so,” Slade said, but the Texas warrant hanging over his head mocked his words.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Pamela asked. “I worry about you having enough to eat and being warm at night.”

  “I’m more used to those hills than I am to your house,” Slade replied. “It’s going to take some time to domesticate me.”

  “I kind of like you a little wild,” Pamela said. She was beginning to experience the familiar sensations she always felt when around Slade. “I never would have believed I’d say this, but I’m glad you’re not like Frederick.”

  “I told you he’d be here. He never could stay away from that woman.” It was Sid Badget’s voice. Dave and Marshall Alcott accompanied him.

  Slade had drawn both guns before Sid had finished his first sentence.

  “It would be a lot better if you would come along without any trouble,” the marshall said.

  “I told you why I couldn’t three days ago, marshall. The reasons are still the same.”

  “Can’t you talk him into giving himself up, Pamela?” the marshall asked.

  “And have him identified as a killer by a liar?” Pamela said indignantly. “Slade told me there never was any family in Brazos by the name of Warren.”

  “Maybe he changed his name,” Sid said maliciously. “A lot of men do that to hide their past.”

  “Like you did, Sid?” Slade said. “Is there something in your past you’re trying to run away from?”

  “We’re not talking about me,” Badget replied. But even in the dim light of the fire, they could see his color fade perceptibly. His voice didn’t seem to be so strong now either. “Why don’t we go for him, marshall? There’re three of us and only one of him.”

  “There are two of us,” Pamela said. No one had noticed she had picked up her rifle from where it lay against the rock.

  “And Slade could kill all three of us before even one of us could get our guns out of the holster,” Dave volunteered.

  There was a commotion of several horses approaching. Mercer Isbel and Pete Reilly emerged from the dark, Jud Noble
between them.

  “There he is,” Jud shouted, starting forward and then coming to an abrupt halt when he saw the guns in Slade’s hands. “He’s the one I saw coming out of Mr. Shepherd’s wagon. I’d swear it on a stack of Bibles.”

  “You don’t have to swear anything,” Slade said calmly. “I went to see Mongo to try and talk him out of driving his herds across the river. I told him he was playing into the hands of the man who killed Josh White. But he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “You never told us you knew who killed Mr. White,” Mercer said to Slade.

  “I told the marshall here and Miss White. They weren’t inclined to believe me. I didn’t see any point in telling anybody else.”

  “Who is it?” Mercer demanded.

  “Slade believes Dave Bagshot is behind all the trouble,” Pamela announced. “He believes Dave killed my father.”

  “That’s a lie,” Dave said.

  “I can’t believe it,” muttered Mercer. “Dave wouldn’t do anything like that.”

  “Morgan killed Josh White,” Sid shouted. “I saw him on the trail that same day.”

  “Why would he do that?” asked Pamela.

  “For the same reason he killed Mongo Shepherd,” Jud Noble announced.

  Pamela’s face went white. “Mongo’s dead?” she asked.

  “Shot through the chest and head, and Morgan here did it. I saw him.”

  Just like Dad, Pamela thought.

  “I admit I went to see Mongo tonight, but he was alive when I left him.” Outwardly Slade appeared calm, but Pamela knew him well enough to know this new killing shocked even Slade.

  “I don’t believe you,” Sid said. “Arrest him, marshall.”

  “There seems to be a small problem,” the marshall observed dryly. “Did you happen to notice he’s holding a gun on us?”

  “He can’t get us all?”

  “He can get enough, and quite frankly I’m not anxious to die just yet.”

  “But you just can’t let him get away.”

  “I don’t notice him trying to go anywhere.”

  “Aren’t you even going to ask Slade for his side of the story?” Pamela asked. “Are you always going to take everybody’s word except his?”

  “I haven’t accused him of anything, Pamela. All I want him to do is come into town for questioning. You have to admit there are a lot of questions that need answering.”

  “There’s only one question I want answered,” Pamela said turning to Dave, “and that’s who killed my father.”

  “But I thought…” Mercer began, but no one paid him any attention.

  “Slade told me from the very first what was going to happen,” Pamela said “turning to Dave. “But I can’t believe you killed my father.”

  “I didn’t, Pamela. There’s no man in the world I thought more of than Josh White.”

  “But Slade didn’t kill him either.”

  “Then let him come to town with me,” the marshall said. “Once we clear up this Texas business …”

  “No,” Pamela interrupted. “Not as long as you’re willing to accept the word of a perfect stranger over Slade. Slade, get your horse and go. I’ll hold them so you get a good start.”

  “Don’t let her do it, marshall,” Jud said, his body tense and waiting for the signal to draw. “We can get them both.”

  “Are you willing to fire on a woman, Jud Noble?” Pamela demanded, swinging the rifle in his direction, “because that’s what you’ll have to do.”

  “Move so much as an eyebrow, and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground,” Slade said quietly. Jud relaxed visibly.

  “Pamela…”

  “Go, Slade. You know there’s no other choice.”

  “But …”

  “For God’s sake, Slade, for once in your life can’t you do something I ask without arguing?”

  “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

  “Do you think any one of us would hurt her?” Marshall Alcott asked.

  “I’ve thought so from the very first. Pamela, Jud and Sid were two of the men I saw under that tree. They’re both Dave’s men.”

  “Looks like a Mexican standoff,” the marshall said.

  “No, it ain’t,” Gaddy said, suddenly rising from his hiding place. He pointed his rifle at the center of Sid Badget’s chest. “I don’t know who killed Uncle Josh, but it dang sure weren’t Slade. And I ain’t letting anybody put his neck in a noose.”

  “I don’t know nothing about these killings,” Mercer said, “but I ride for the brand. If Miss White says Slade is to be let go, then I’m with her.”

  “Me, too,” Pete Reilly echoed. Both men came to stand next to Pamela.

  Only for the barest moment did Dave show surprise, anger, or any other emotion. When he spoke, his face was a calm and impassive mask. The boys have spoken for all of us, marshall,” he said, taking his place in the line. Sid immediately followed.

  “Go,” Pamela ordered harshly, and Slade vanished into the darkness.

  “Do you mind if I sit?” Alcott asked. “A half hour is a long time to stand up in these boots.”

  “You’re just going to sit down and do nothing?” Jud asked incredulously. “You’re letting a killer get away.”

  “What do you propose to do with six guns aligned against us? You may think Pamela White won’t shoot, but I assure you she will. There’s an old saying I’ve kept in mind for years. He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day. You might say it’s part of the reason I’ve lived so long. And I intend to go on living. If you want to try to stop him, go ahead.”

  But Jud wasn’t foolish enough to attempt to go up against such a superior force. “You wait,” he said as he prepared to remount. “I’m going to get our boys together. We’ll comb those hills until we find him.”

  “These are my hills,” Pamela said. “Set one foot in them and you’ll be carried out in a pine box. Besides, after the way your herd stampeded through your camp, I doubt you’ll find enough men to round them up.”

  “You realize I’m going to have to arrest you for aiding a suspect to escape, don’t you?” the marshall said to Pamela as the sound of Jud’s horse’s hoofbeats began to die away.

  “Nobody’s arresting Pamela for anything.”

  “Shut up, Gaddy,” Pamela said bluntly, but there was a good bit of affection in her voice. There was also a lot of fatigue. “I don’t care what you do to me as long as Slade escapes.”

  “Just as long as we understand each other,” the marshall said. “Now, can I pour myself a cup of coffee? It’s mighty chilly out here. The cold gets in my bones a lot worse than it used to.”

  Chapter 22

  Slade had been gone for an hour. Gaddy still mounted a personal guard over Pamela, but all the other men had disappeared except for the marshall.

  The tension and hostility between them dissipated as they shared a cup of coffee next to the fire. The last of the blazes along the river died down to red coals, and the night once again became a blanket of black velvet. “Do you think Dave killed your father?” the marshall asked Pamela.

  “I don’t know. Everything Slade says makes sense, but I’ve known Dave for years. I just can’t believe he would do anything like that.”

  “But you also believe Slade?” he asked.

  “He’s never lied to me, even when I wished he had. Besides, he has nothing to gain.”

  “He got you. I consider that quite a prize.”

  “I’d thank you for the compliment, marshall,” Pamela said with a teasing smile, “if I didn’t know you were referring to the ranch. Would it surprise you to know that Slade has more than a hundred thousand dollars in the bank? He got it from selling his share of a carnival.”

  The marshall whistled long and low. “So that’s the money those men were after?”

  Pamela stared hard at Taylor Alcott. The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. “I won’t let you take him back to Texas, no matter how many warrants you have for his arrest. Tho
se men tried to kill him. They did kill the boy who went to get that money.”

  “You really love him, don’t you?”

  “More than anything on earth.”

  “And you don’t worry that he’s after your money? He could be lying about that carnival, you know.”

  “You don’t know Slade very we’ll,” Pamela said. She laughed softly. “He spent the first few days after he got here telling me I was a narrow-minded snob and swearing he couldn’t wait to get back on the road to California. If Mongo hadn’t been stupid enough to send those men to burn my barn and then try to force me to marry him, I wouldn’t have been able to keep him here.”

  The marshall tossed the last of his coffee into the dust and stood up. “Well, I must say I hope things turn out for him. I rather liked him myself. But there’s too much against him for my taste. I like a man to be more forthcoming.”

  “He always has been. It’s just that neither of us believed him.”

  “Perhaps,” the marshall admitted. “But if you don’t believe him …”

  “I said I can’t believe Dave would kill my father, marshall. There is a distinction.”

  “So there is. Nevertheless, why do you hold to his innocence?”

  “Besides the fact that I love him and would lie to you and every living person to protect him?”

  “Besides that,” the marshall said with an answering smile.

  “I have always been a rotten judge of character. People I like from the beginning always turn out to be a lot less admirable than I believed them to be. I thought the very worst of Slade in the beginning. So he must be the best of the lot.”

  “A woman’s instinct,” the marshall said disgustedly.

  “Never discount feminine instinct. It’ll lead you straight to the truth many times where facts won’t.”

  “Maybe so—Slade gave me the same advice once—but quite frankly I’d rather depend on logic. I get nervous when I have to rely on hunches. Now we’ve chewed the fat long enough. Slade has had time enough to be halfway to Mexico.”

  “You believe that?”

  “No. Strangely enough I don’t, but it doesn’t much matter what I believe. We’d better be going. I’d like to get to town before everybody wakes up. It’ll cause less talk.”