Dead Before Sundown

gun-toting loner, always getting in one scrape or another.

Like father, like son, Frank thought wryly. That was how the old saying went, wasn’t it? When he and Conrad had first met, the younger man had been determined to have nothing to do with him and to be as little like him as possible.

Fate, though, had had other ideas.

Some men would have been glad that their sons were following in their footsteps. For Conrad’s sake, Frank would have given anything for that not to be true in their case.

Unfortunately, the clock couldn’t be turned back. The tragedies of the past couldn’t be erased.

This time, even in his musing, he heard the rustle of footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw Meg coming toward him. Enough starlight filtered down into the canyon for him to recognize her slender figure.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

Even from here, Frank could hear Salty sawing logs. He laughed and said, “Yeah, I reckon you’re right. He’ll quiet down after a while, though.”

She sat down on the piled-up logs beside him. “I was thinking about what happened earlier today, Frank.”

“You mean when those fellas grabbed you and Salty?”

“Before that. I’m talking about when you and I walked up the creek from camp.”

Frank had thought that might be what she meant, although he’d hoped that it wasn’t.

He wasn’t going to waste time pretending that he didn’t understand. He said, “We came mighty close to making a mistake there.”

“Would it really have been a mistake, Frank?”

“I think it would have been. Some things, it’s just hard to get past.”

“Like the difference in our ages?”

“Yeah, that and the fact that I’m too blasted old and set in my ways to ever settle down again. At least, not until I get too decrepit to ride a horse, and you wouldn’t want me then.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Meg said. “Anyway, you haven’t heard me say anything about settling down, have you?”

Gruffly, Frank said, “Well, that’s what you deserve. A gal as young and pretty as you ought to have a husband and a home. A passel of kids, too.”

“That sounds good … if I ever met the right man.”

“You will,” he said. “That is, if you ever stop gallivanting around and getting into all these shooting scrapes with a couple of old mossbacks like Salty and me.”

She laughed. “I’ve had more fun the last year than all the rest of my life put together.”

“Well, then, you’ve got a mighty odd notion of fun, that’s all I can say. I seem to recall nearly drowning in the ocean, and being half frozen to death, and getting shot at a lot.”

“I guess it’s the company I was keeping while that was going on that made it enjoyable.”

“Maybe so. But it’s no life for a young woman.”

Meg sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Frank. I’m done. I’m not going to throw myself at you anymore.” She paused. “One of these days you’re liable to regret not taking me up on it, though.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second.”

They sat there in companionable silence for a while. Back at the camp, Salty snorted loudly, then grew quiet.

“Hear that?” Frank asked. “He rolled over.”

“Yeah. I guess I’d better go back and try to get some sleep.” Meg stood up. She rested a hand on Frank’s shoulder and bent over to brush against his cheek. “Good night … Uncle Frank.”

“Get on with you,” he growled in response to her mocking tone. She laughed lightly as she turned to walk back to the bedrolls.

She was wrong about one thing, despite what he’d told her. He wouldn’t regret this, because he knew he was doing the right thing.

But sometimes being an honorable fella was damned inconvenient, he thought with a sigh.

Chapter 14

Palmer had been following Joseph and Charlotte Marat all day without them being aware that he was anywhere around. Their Indian ancestors would have been ashamed of them for being so unobservant, Palmer thought.

For one thing, they didn’t appear to know what they were doing or where they were going. They roamed back and forth among the little valleys between the mountains, seemingly aimlessly.

Maybe there was some method to their madness, but Palmer was damned if he could see it.

Sometime during the afternoon, he heard a single shot. Then, an hour or so later, another shot was followed by a whole flurry of gunfire that echoed through the mountains, sounding like a small-scale battle.