“Outlaws workin’ the high country; he’ll be lucky if he makes it to Big Rock.”
“Bountiful,” Paul said, sitting his horse in front of the Morrow cabin. “I’ve come for you.”
Bountiful blinked her baby blues. “You’ve…
“Yes. Now get your things. I’m a rich man, Bountiful. We can have a beautiful life together. I’ll buy you everything you ever dreamed of.”
“Paul, everything I have ever dreamed of is right here.” She waved her hand. “What you see is what I want. I have it all.”
“But…I don’t understand, Bountiful. The way you looked at me…I mean…I was sure about your feelings.”
It had been that way all her life; men were constantly misreading her. Mistaking friendliness for passion. It was very difficult for a beautiful woman to have men friends.
“Paul, I like you. You’re a good man. And I’m happy that you found gold. I hope it brings you a lot of happiness. And you’ll find a nice lady. I just know it. Now you’d better leave.”
Smoke and Ralph rode into the yard. Sally stepped out of the cabin where she had been helping Bountiful make curtains.
“Hello, Paul,” Ralph said. “How have you been?”
“Very well, thank you, Ralph. I’ve come for your wife.”
Ralph blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Bountiful looked at Sally and shook her head. Sally knew the story; Bountiful had told her that Paul was infatuated with her.
“Leave, Paul,” Sally told the man. “You’ve got everything all mixed up in your mind. It isn’t the way you think it is.”
“Is too!”
“Now Paul,” Ralph said soothingly. “You don’t want to make trouble for us. Why don’t you just leave?”
Paul shook his head and dismounted. With a knife, he cut open one saddlebag, the yellow dust pouring out onto the ground.
“See, Bountiful?” Paul cried. “See? It’s all for you. I did it for you. You can have it all.”
“I don’t want it, Paul,” Bountiful said softly. “It’s yours. You keep it.”
Paul stood like a big, dumb ox, slowly shaking his head. It was all so confusing. He had thought he had it all worked out in his mind, but something was wrong.
Then he thought he knew what would bring Bountiful to him. “I know,” he said. “You’re afraid to leave because of Tilden Franklin. I can fix that for you, Bountiful. I really can.”
“What do you mean, Paul?” Smoke asked.
Paul turned mean eyes toward Smoke. “You stay out of this. You’re one of the reasons Bountiful won’t go with me.”
Smoke blinked. “Huh?”
“I can use a gun too,” Paul said, once more looking at Bountiful. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you all.”
Smoke looked at Paul’s pistol. It was in a flap-type holster, the flap secured. Smoke figured he could punch Paul out before any real damage was done—if he went for his gun.
“I’ll come back a hero, Bountiful,” Paul said. “I’ll be the hero of the valley, Bountiful.” He cut the saddlebags loose and let them fall to the ground. He tossed the reins of the packhorses to the ground. “You keep this for me, Bountiful. Play with it. It’s not as pretty as you. But it’s pretty. I’ll be back, Bountiful. You go on and pack your things. Wait for me.”
Paul swung awkwardly into the saddle and rode off.
“Paul is not very bright,” Ralph said. “What in the world do you suppose he’s going to do?”
No one would even venture a guess.
Smoke squatted down and fingered the dust and the nuggets. He looked at them closely. Then he stood up with a sad smile on his face.
“It’s all fool’s gold.”
“If it wasn’t so pitiful, it would be funny,” Ralph said. “But Paul really believes, after he does whatever in the world he plans to do, that Bountiful is going with him. I wonder what he has in mind.”
“What was that about Tilden Franklin?” Sally asked.
“He said I was afraid to leave because of Tilden Franklin,” Bountiful said. “But that’s silly. Why should I be afraid of that man?”
No one could answer that.
And in a few hours, it wouldn’t matter to Paul either.
12
“Rider comin’, Boss,” Valentine called to Tilden.
Tilden stepped out onto the porch and squinted his eyes against the sun. It was that fool shopkeeper’s brother, Paul Jackson. “What in the hell does he want?”
“That one ain’t playin’ with a full deck,” Slim said. “That’s the one used to foller the preacher’s wife around with his tongue a-hangin’ out like a big ugly hound dog.”
