Scarlet Sunset, Silver Nights

by Leigh Greenwood

  She heard no hoofbeats this time, and Pamela allowed her horse its head. It seemed to know where it was going, back to the ranch she hoped. She no longer felt safe anywhere, not without Slade nearby, but at least at the ranch she would have food, shelter, and ammunition. After the time she went looking for Slade without any of those things, she knew how important they were.

  She looked about her apprehensively. Her horse followed a trail that led into the hills. In only a matter of minutes, the trees closed in on her and turned the night as black as ink. Pamela knew her horse would warn her of any danger, but fear gripped her nonetheless. She couldn’t even see his ears to know if they were pricked, always a sign that something lurked nearby.

  The night was so still the muffled sound of the hooves on the hard trail seemed inordinately loud. Every so often an iron shoe struck a slab of rock sending a metallic ring echoing through the night like a warning bell. Pamela prayed Dave was nowhere nearby. The sky was overcast and the air heavy, but sounds could carry for long distances in the night.

  Two hours later Pamela’s cold and tired body sagged in the saddle. She no longer listened for approaching hoof-beats. Her horse continued to walk steadily. Pamela didn’t know how much farther they had to go, but even now the approaching dawn was beginning to turn the sky gray. She hoped the coming of daylight would reveal some landmarks she could recognize.

  She didn’t know what she was going to do when she got home. How was she going to contact Slade? He couldn’t reach her if she went to Maravillas, but would she be safe at the ranch? Would she find Gaddy there? If not, she’d be alone now that Belva had run away.

  And how did Slade plan to prove Dave instigated all the trouble? The other ranchers, the townspeople, even her own crew, wouldn’t accept him without proof. She doubted Slade would stay any place where everyone distrusted him.

  She had to help him, but how? No one had come forward as a witness to Mongo’s or her father’s deaths. Dave had no alibi for those times, but then neither did Slade. Worst of all, two lying witnesses put Slade in the vicinity of both crimes.

  And then there was the gunfight in Texas. Instead of getting better, circumstantial evidence kept piling up until it seemed insurmountable. How could she help unravel the tangle? She was convinced there was a solution if only she could find it.

  Engrossed in looking for answers, Pamela failed to notice her horse’s pricked ears or tensed body. Only when he whinnied did she recognize the danger.

  But it was too late then.

  Dave Bagshot appeared out of the darkness to block her path, his hand firmly grabbing hold of her horse’s bridle.

  “I figured your horse would take you back to the ranch.”

  Pamela didn’t waste time with words. She slipped from the saddle, hit the ground running, and lost herself in the trees.

  “Come back here, you fool,” Dave shouted. “You could get killed.”

  Dave was following—Pamela could hear his boots strike the rocks as he ran—but she slackened her pace just enough to look for a place to hide. The carpet of soft needles under the pine trees deadened her footsteps, but light from the rapidly approaching dawn made it very difficult to hide, even among the tree trunks.

  “You might as well give up,” Dave called out. “You can’t possibly cross that ridge.”

  Instinctively, Pamela looked up and her heart sank. Trees covered most of the ridges running back to the mountains. On this ridge, however, bare rock made the last fifty feet a nearly vertical climb. If she could move along the side of the ridge, perhaps she would find a hiding place or be able to reach her horse before Dave could catch her.

  On she ran. She climbed over rocks, crawled on her belly under lightning-shattered trees, and squirmed her way through thick underbrush. Her breath came in ragged gasps now, but she didn’t dare stop. Dave was much stronger than she was. He might catch up with her any minute. He had to be right behind her.

  But he wasn’t.

  Even though she listened intently, Pamela couldn’t hear a single sound. But this time she didn’t trust the silence. She knew Dave was out there somewhere, just waiting for her to stumble into his arms. But where?

  She looked down at the horses. They had run a short distance, stopping almost directly below her. If she could reach them, she had a chance. Dave must know that too. He would be watching for her, but she had no choice. He would find her easily once the sun came up.

  Pamela edged down the slope, moving with extra care. She wanted no accidentally dislodged stone to betray her location. She strained her ears to catch any sound of movement, but the morning was quiet. Not even the birds had begun to sing.

  She was so close she could almost taste success when Dave stood up from behind one of the boulders along the trail.

  “You’re a very predictable woman,” he said.

  Instantly, Pamela whirled and started back up the slope, but Dave pounced on her before she had gone ten feet.

  “Let me go!” she demanded. “You might as well kill me here. I’ll never marry you.” She fought to free her wrists from his grip, but he was too strong.

  “Oh, come now. It won’t be so bad. You might even get to like me after a while.”

  “I’m going to marry Slade.”

  “If Slade’s not dead already, he will be before morning. I’ve got all my boys looking for him.”

  Pamela struggled to keep fear from taking control of her brain. They wouldn’t catch Slade, he was safe she told herself. No one could shoot like Slade. They wouldn’t touch him.

  “All my men carry rifles. No fool would get close enough for Slade to use his guns.”

  She couldn’t restrain her panic so easily this time, but Pamela determined to remain calm. What kind of wife would she make if she fell apart in the face of trouble?

  “Even if Slade were dead, I wouldn’t marry you. I’d go back East.”

  “You have no choice,” Dave told her. The coldness in his voice indicated he had finished trying to cajole her into accepting him as husband. “You’re going back to the ranch and you’re going to stay there. By now Sid is already paid off the crew and replaced them with men loyal to me. Your cousin’s gone, too.”

  “You can’t just keep me here. The marshall…”

  “Did you hear those shots a while back?”

  Pamela nodded, suddenly too fearful to speak.

  “That was the last of your marshall. Now there’s nobody to stop me from doing anything I want.”

  “The other ranchers?”

  “I’ve got men on their crews, too. Before long they’ll be fighting each other. They’ll all be dead before spring.”

  “Then Slade was right all along.”

  “I didn’t kill your father,” Dave insisted, “but I’ve always wanted his land.”

  Pamela didn’t know why he continued to insist upon his innocence—maybe he thought she’d be a more willing wife if she didn’t think he killed her father—but he apparently didn’t realize it would be even more impossible for her to endure marriage to him if he killed Slade. If Fate forced her to become Dave’s wife, she would also be his executioner.

  He dragged her to the horses and unceremoniously tossed Pamela into her saddle. But before he could climb into his own, she hopped out of her saddle and escaped into the woods again.

  “Damn you,” he said when he finally caught up with and wrestled her to the ground. “Let’s see if a rope can teach you to stay where you belong.”

  “You can’t teach me anything,” Pamela replied, furious. “I’ll fight you for the rest of my life.”

  “You’ll change your mind when you see how easy things will be if you cooperate. Like I said, I don’t mind spending money on you.”

  He tied the ropes so tight they cut into the soft skin of her wrists, but she refused to let him know he was hurting her. She had to concentrate on getting away, on helping Slade.

  Neither one of them was prepared for the sound of Slade’s voice coming suddenly out of the
grey dawn.

  “Let her go, Dave,” he called out. “This is between you and me.”

  Pamela’s heart soared with happiness.

  “Slade, he means to kill you,” she called out. She caught a glimpse of Marshall Alcott and her heart swelled with hope. If Slade had somehow managed to rescue the marshall, then he would rescue her, too.

  But as quickly as hope blossomed, it withered. In a single incredibly swift movement, Dave whirled and fired. She saw Slade’s body jerk and then pitch from the saddle.

  She started toward him with a scream of soul-wrenching agony, but Dave yanked on the rope. She fell hard on the ground. When she looked up, Slade was gone. He wasn’t dead. He must be terribly hurt, but he wasn’t dead. She kept telling herself that over and over again as Dave hauled her to her feet and dragged her behind the trunk of a pine that was six feet straight through. He held her in front of him, close to his body.

  Slade had thrown himself from his horse and crawled to shelter behind a boulder, clutching a badly bleeding wound in his side, cursing the streak of common decency which made him call out Dave’s name instead of shooting him in the back.

  “You stay here,” he said hoarsely to the marshall who crawled up next to him just a few moments later. “I’m going after her.”

  “You can’t. You’re wounded. If you don’t get a doctor, you’ll bleed to death.”

  “Not if you bind it up as tight as you can. It ought to hold long enough.”

  One look at the expression on Slade’s face told Marshall Alcott there was no use arguing with him. “All right, but take off your shirt. I’ll be damned if I’ll ruin mine.”

  “Dave’s going to use her for a shield,” Slade explained as Alcott ripped his shirt into strips and began to bind up his side. “I’m the only one who can shoot well enough to get him before he kills her.”

  “He wouldn’t hurt Pamela.”

  “If he had a crew of tough gunfighters, he could probably hold the ranch without Pamela. I don’t trust him not to reach the same conclusion.” A grunt of pain escaped Slade as the marshall roughly pulled the bandage tight.

  “I’m not very gentle,” the marshall apologized.

  “Just make sure it won’t come undone.” Slade had himself under control now. No sound escaped his lips nor did his expression change.

  Dave’s voice called out from behind the tree. “Morgan, come out or I kill the girl.”

  “Don’t,” Pamela screamed. “He means to kill you.”

  The sounds of scuffling behind the tree galvanized Slade into action. “Keep him busy so I can circle around and get a shot.”

  “Be careful. I don’t put much past him.”

  “I will. He’s holding my future in his arms.”

  Slade worked his way along the trail, trying to find a way to get across without Dave seeing him. He ignored the pain in his side. He couldn’t think of anything else until Pamela was safe.

  “I think he’s dead,” Slade heard the marshall call out. “Your bullet caught him in the side.”

  “No!” Pamela cried. She whirled on Dave in the full frenzy of her grief, and for a moment she almost broke free. When he finally subdued her with a fist to her jaw, his face was covered in scratches and his groin throbbed painfully where she had kicked him.

  “Drag him out where I can see him,” Dave called out, breathing heavily from his exertions.

  “Hell no,” replied the marshall. “You tried to kill me once tonight. I’m not giving you a second chance.”

  “I’ll kill Pamela.”

  “Go ahead. She’s not my woman.”

  Dave cursed viciously. “Look, all I want is Slade. Drag him where I can put a couple more bullets into him and I’ll let you go.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  The pain in Slade’s side cut so deep he feared he might fall and not be able to get up again. He managed to cross the trail while Pamela fought with Dave, but the effort cost him a lot of blood. The bandages held, but the heat of his own blood soaked through and warmed his hand. Somehow he had to keep the creeping weakness from claiming him for just a few more minutes.

  He dragged himself up an embankment, but every inch was harder for him than the last. Finally he found a place where he could steady himself against a boulder. He could see Dave’s head and shoulder. He drew his gun, but a dizziness came over him and everything spun before his eyes. Sheer will-power enabled Slade to clear his vision. Pamela’s life depended on his being able to remain conscious just a few seconds longer.

  He focused as Dave shifted position. Now Pamela stood between the two of them. Slade steadied his hand against the boulder and took careful aim, but Pamela began struggling once again. Slade didn’t dare risk a shot at the precious moving target. An engulfing blackness threatened to sweep over him. He couldn’t dredge up the strength to fight it off any longer. If he was going to do anything to help Pamela, he had to do it now. He took careful aim and fired.

  Then the blackness swallowed him.

  The first thing Slade felt was the pain in the side. Then he realized he was being carried. He might as well have been a side of beef for all the care they took to keep from putting pressure on his wound.

  “He didn’t look to be this heavy,” Gaddy complained to Pamela as he and Taylor Alcott dragged more then carried Slade from his horse and into the kitchen. “You should have gotten Pete and Mercer to help.”

  “I would have if I’d known you were going to maul him,” Pamela said holding the door open and then pulling out a chair to prop him up in. “If the ride home didn’t tear open his wound, your rough handling has.”

  “I don’t know how he can bleed so much and not be dead,” Gaddy said, totally impervious to his cousin’s strictures. “Hell, now I’ve got the stuff all over me.”

  “You wait until you’re bleeding like a stuck pig, Gaddy Pemberton, and see if I lift a finger to save your worthless hide,” Pamela scolded as she threw open cupboards and pulled out drawers looking for the things she needed.

  “If it hadn’t been for me telling Slade what Dave meant to do, you wouldn’t be here now,” Gaddy replied, his youthful pride affronted. “Neither of you,” he added, including the marshall in his glance. “You didn’t know where to find Slade.”

  “Then you let him go off by himself while you watched a man too wounded to move.”

  “Slade only grazed his wrists. He could have been out of the territory before morning.”

  “If you two could postpone this argument until Pamela can plug up my side, I’d appreciate it.”

  “You’re conscious,” Pamela cried, and threw herself at Slade.

  Slade wasn’t quite sure how he managed to keep from giving vent to a howl of agony when the pain in his side suddenly magnified itself a hundred fold.

  “Oh my God!” Pamela cried, throwing herself backwards almost immediately. “I didn’t mean to do that. I was just so glad to see you awake. You don’t know what it’s like to have seen you looking like the dead for hours and hours.”

  “It’s okay,” Slade replied, pain turning his lips white. “It was only a twinge.”

  Pamela laughed in spite of her worry. “You wouldn’t admit you hurt if your life depended on it. I’d give a lot to hear just one good moan of pain.”

  A twinkle appeared in Slade’s eyes. “Ouch,” he said softly.

  “What?” demanded Pamela, her eyes swiftly moving from her work to his face.

  “Ouch.”

  A laugh threatened to erupt from Pamela. “Is that all? You get this awful hole ripped in your side, bleed over fifty yards of mountainside, travel three unconscious miles on horseback, and all you can say is ouch?”

  “Ooowwww?”

  After the strain of the last twelve hours, Pamela was on the edge of hysteria. Unable to contain her laughter, it bubbled up and spilled over. She was so helpless she had to lean against the table for support.

  “You all right?” Gaddy asked, completely at a loss to explain Pame
la’s mirth.

  “I think it’s a private joke,” volunteered the marshall.

  “Well I don’t think it’s fair for them to keep it to themselves,” Gaddy said, aggrieved.

  “You’d better get used to it. Married people do it all the time.”

  “Damn,” Gaddy said in disgust. “I wanted him to stay, but I never thought he’d go and get married.” He said it with such disgust Slade sputtered with laughter.

  “Maybe it’s not so bad,” Gaddy conceded. “I never heard him laugh before.”

  But Slade’s laugh had turned to a yelp of pain. “That’s the last time,” he said, embarrassed at his show of weakness, “at least until this thing heals.”

  Pamela sobered immediately and resumed cleaning the wound. “What happened to Dave?” Slade asked the marshall, hoping to keep his mind off the pain.

  “He’s dead,” Gaddy answered first. “Shot right through the heart.”

  Slade turned white.

  “My bullet killed him,” the marshall added quickly. “I figured you didn’t need any more to worry about.”

  Slade’s color improved even though an agonizing pain radiated from his side.

  “Your bullet laid open a gash along his shoulder and the back of his neck. It was the prettiest shooting I was ever privileged to see.”

  “Then why …”

  “I got away but tripped over the roper Pamela explained. “He had a knife.”

  “Then we can’t prove he killed Mongo or Pamela’s father,” Slade said.

  “Yes, we can. Gaddy got a confession from Reese Jerigan. I’m not sure how, but Reese kept mumbling something about wanting to save his toes.”

  Gaddy flushed but didn’t explain.

  “Reese said Sid Badget lied about seeing Slade on the same trail as your Pa, so I guess that just about clears everything up.”

  “Except Texas,” Slade said.

  “I don’t think I’d concern myself overly much with Texas. Out here in Arizona we like to do our own thinking.”