The Stranger from Abilene

“Three years of drought and poor cattle prices,” Clayton said. “But I’m not looking for a job.”

“Do ye know coos and grass and water?”

“Yes, I do, and a lot more besides. But, as I told you, I don’t need a job.”

“And getting wed too.” McLean shook his head. “Ah, weel, you’re a fine young man and you look a person in the eye, and that’s all to the good. So, if you change your mind . . .”

“I won’t.”

McLean nodded. “It’s me for my bed. The drive out to the ranch and the bargaining has fair wore me out.” He lifted his hat. “Good night to ye both, gentlemen.”

After McLean was gone, Kelly said, “Marry Emma and take the ranch manager’s job. Settle down, Cage, and forget Lissome Terry.”

Clayton smiled. “Maybe I’d consider it if I thought for one moment that Terry’s forgotten me.”

Chapter 40

“Think of it, Shad. We can go east—Boston, New York, even Europe. All the wonderful places I’ve only dreamed about,” Lee Southwell said.

“Until the money runs out,” Vestal said. “What then?”

“I don’t care. By then we’ll have lived, Shad, lived my dream. And you by my side, sharing it with me.”

Vestal smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll have thought of a way to make money by the time ol’ Park’s dough is spent.”

Lee put her hand on his arm. “Of course you will, my darling.”

“Before we leave, I have a little job to do for the Hog.”

The woman was alarmed. “Not me, Shad. Please say it’s not me.”

“No, it’s not you.”

A shudder shivered through her and she pulled her shawl closer. “I couldn’t bear that sweating pig grunting on top of me again.”

“He paid us well enough.” Vestal smiled. “We’ll spend his money in Paris.”

Lee lifted her beautiful eyes to Vestal’s face. “It was worth it, Shad, wasn’t it? All the times I let him ride me like a mare?”

“Of course it was worth it. Count the money in your dresser drawer if you need convincing.”

“You don’t mind? I mean, that I was with him for so long?”

Vestal shook his head. “No, I don’t mind. It was only business, just like gunning Park was business.”

The moonlight caught in Lee’s hair and cast one side of her face in shadow. “I thought Parker would never die,” she said.

“Me too. That’s why I helped him along. He rode my bullet into hell.”

The woman laid her head on Vestal’s chest. “You’re so good to me, Shad, and I love you so much.”

“You proved that today, Lee. You proved that when you told the Scotsman that we were the co-owners of the ranch.”

The woman smiled, her mouth still close to Vestal’s chest. “You suppose his check is good?”

“It’s good all right. That little man still has the first penny he ever earned.” Vestal grinned, his voice affecting McLean’s accent. “Dealing with you two rrrobbers will put me in the poorrrhouse.”

Lee drew her head back and laughed. “Let’s go back to the house, darling, and make some plans.”

“No, it’s nice out tonight. Let’s walk some more.”

“I’m getting tired, so only to the cottonwood and back.” She smiled at Vestal. “Where will we go first? Boston? New York? Or should we spend a few weeks in Denver before heading east?”

Vestal smiled. “Well, Lee, I can’t answer that because we have a problem.”

The woman stopped walking and showed alarm again. “What sort of problem?”

“The Hog wants me to kill Cage Clayton first.”

Lee sighed her relief. “Oh, for a moment there, I thought it was something serious.”

“Killing a friend of Kelly’s could be serious.”

“You can take care of Kelly.”

“Sure I can.”

“Then there is no problem.”

They stood under the cottonwood, the moon bright enough to cast skeletal fingers of shadow on the grass. The wind was rising, blowing a tendril of hair across Lee’s forehead.

“We have a bigger problem,” Vestal said.

Lee looked up at him and smiled. “Shad, now you’re just being silly. You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Vestal shook his head. “When I was a boy, my ma didn’t stick around for long, but before she left she taught me how to read and do my ciphers.”

Lee’s perplexed face asked the question that Vestal now answered.

“I can add, subtract, and divide real well. After the Scotsman left, I added up the money for the ranch, the money we saved, and what I’ll get for killing Clayton.”

His voice like death, he said, “Then I divided by two.”

Lee shrank from him, her back bumping against the trunk of the cottonwood.

“Shad,” she said, her words trembling, “what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that there’s only enough money for one person—me.”

“But I love you, Shad. We’ll make the money last. We’ll be happy.”

“Sorry, Lee. It just wouldn’t work out.”

Vestal slid a carving knife from his waistband and in one fast, fluid motion, rammed it into the woman’s chest to the hilt, just below her left breast. She slid down the tree trunk, her eyes on him, a mix of disbelief and horror. Blood stained the front of her white dress like a scarlet heart.

“Why . . . how . . . how could you . . . Shad . . .”

“It’s only business,” Vestal said. “Nothing personal.”

But he was talking to a dead woman, and out among the shadowed hills the coyotes were already singing Lee Southwell’s desolate elegy.

Chapter 41