When a Texan Gambles (35 page)

His life with Sarah was about to end.

THIRTY-ONE

SARAH WATCHED THE FOUR MEN WALK TOWARD THE barn. She had no idea why they’d come, but from the look on Sam’s face, it couldn’t be good news. Sam had told her to stay in the house as he stared at her with a longing in his dark eyes. She’d seen the look before in the silence of the night when he thought she was asleep. A gaze that memorized her as though he knew he’d never see her again.

She waited as he’d told her, until they closed the barn door. Then she hurried through the kitchen and ran to the corral opening near the back of the barn. She slipped into the shadows between the stalls and tried to figure out what they were talking about.

“We all know why we’re here,” Willoby started. “I knew Sam Garrett and Sam Gatlin were the same man when he bought the land. I’d seen him before down in Waco when I was keeping books for an undertaker. He had no reason to even notice me as he brought two outlaws and a body into town.” The part-time sheriff looked at Sam. “I didn’t believe all those stories I heard about you then, and I don’t believe them now. You had the decency to offer to pay me for burying the man strapped over his horse, and not many would do that.”

Sheriff Riley sat down on a stool, then stood slowly, looking older than he had when he married Sarah to Sam months ago. “We’re all here because we know Sam ain’t a bad man. But he’s never going to know any peace if we don’t do something.”

Jacob agreed. “He’s a legend. It’s getting so bad his legend grows when we know he’s down here doing nothing. I can think of three tales that have started about him since he’s been building his house.”

“There are probably boys practicing their shooting now hoping to get a chance to gun him down in a fight.” Riley pulled out his papers and pouch and started rolling a cigarette. “It’s just a matter of time before one finds him.”

Sam had had enough. “I don’t care what you three think of me. I’m not a wanted man. I can live anywhere I want to live. So if you think you’ll gang up on me and get me to run, you’d better think again. My wife wants to live in this place, on this land, and as long as there is breath in me, that’s exactly the way it’s going to be.”

“Now, hold on Sam.” Jacob squared his shoulders. “There’s no point to you going off half-cocked. We’re just here to help you. A bounty hunter doesn’t just hang up his guns and decide to be a farmer.”

“Help me? You’d all three help me by forgetting you ever knew me.”

“Now, wait a minute.” Sheriff Riley pointed his tobacco-stained finger at Sam. “Sam’s got a great idea.”

The other two look confused. Sam didn’t look as if he cared if he heard the sheriff’s point.

“Sam said as long as there’s breath in him.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting, Riley? That Sam dies?”

“Of course not.” Riley looked offended. “I think it would be much better if someone killed him. If he’s dead, there ain’t no one going to be looking for him, and we all know that once the man dies, the legend fades.”

Sarah gasped for air, and all the men, except Sam, turned toward her.

After a silence Sam said calmly, “Come on out, Sarah, love. I had a feeling you wouldn’t stay in the house.”

She stormed to the center of the barn. “Why should I stay in the house when you men are out here thinking of killing my husband?”

“It’s the only way, darlin‘.” Sheriff Riley sounded as if he were talking to one of his daughters. “Don’t you see, if Sam is dead, no one will be looking for him. No half-grown kid wanting to make a name for himself. No outlaw getting out of jail, planning to even the score for Sam bringing him in. No relative who blames Sam for his brother or father or son dying.”

Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to him. “It’s the only way. I got to die.”

“And you’ve got to stay dead. No coming back in a few years to pick up extra money by bringing in a few outlaws.” Riley shrugged. “The only problem is which one of us is going to kill him.”

Jacob stepped up. “I could do it. Claim he got caught in the crossfire with an outlaw.” Jacob grinned. “I could shoot him in the head, where there’s likely to be little damage.”

Sam glared at the young Ranger.

“No,” Riley said. “You’re too good a shot to let that happen.”

“I could do it,” Willoby spoke up. “I could say I thought he was breaking into a store, and I shot before I saw who it was. I’m not that great a sheriff. An accident wouldn’t be that unusual.”

Riley shook his head. “No one would believe you were that good, or that lucky. Men like Sam Gatlin don’t get shot by accident. Haven’t you heard the tales? He can move like darkness over the land without making a sound.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

Sarah finally figured out what they were talking about. “I could shoot him. I’m a good enough shot, I could hit him in the shoulder and then patch him up.”

“Too risky.” Riley began to pace. “No one would believe you’d shoot him. You’re always patting on him like you can’t stay away from the man.” The old sheriff shook his head. “Hell if any of us can figure out why.”

All at once everyone in the barn was arguing over who would get to shoot Sam.

Finally Sam yelled for them all to stop. “Enough!” He added when they settled down, “How about I shoot myself. If you all keep this up, I might do it just to get some peace.”

Riley looked as if he was considering the possibility, but said, “That wouldn’t work.”

Before anyone could start arguing again, a low southern voice sounded from the shadows. “I’ll shoot you, Sam. It’s the least I can do.”

No one moved but Sam. He walked to the edge of the lantern’s light. “Forget it. It would put you at too great a risk. You’ve got the kids to think about.”

“Who is that?” Riley whispered as Jacob rested his hand on his gun.

“I wouldn’t have my kids if it hadn’t been for you. I said I’d pay you back one day. Be in Fort Worth in the streets where lots of folks will see you die on New Year’s Eve. At midnight, when the shooting starts celebrating the new year, you’ll fall.”

“It might work,” Riley said. “You’d die in front of half the town. No one would know who made the shot, but any fool who wants to can claim it was him.”

Jacob pulled his Colt. “Step out from the shadows, stranger.”

All was still. No one moved or heard anything but the wind from the open window in the loft.

Sarah thought she heard the sound of a horse riding fast in the general direction of a place known as Satan’s Canyon.

THIRTY-TWO

SARAH PACED THE WOOD PLANKS IN FRONT OF THE general store waiting for the mail delivery to come in on the noon stage. For the hundredth time she wished she’d gone with Sam. He needed her.

“They may be late today, ma‘am, what with yesterday being the first and all. It usually takes the drivers a few days to sober up enough to make their runs.”

Sarah tried her best to act calm. “I know, I’m just expecting a letter from my husband.” Sam had been gone over a month. Riley convinced him he needed to be everywhere in the state, except around home. That way folks could say they saw him in Waco or Abilene just before he got shot.

“There’s the stage now!” someone yelled.

Sarah didn’t move. She’d been trying to keep from throwing up her breakfast all morning. This plot of Riley’s must be upsetting her more than she’d guessed. She almost laughed. Who wouldn’t be upset to know that two nights ago her husband had been shot on a street? A hundred things could have gone wrong. What if Frank’s aim was off? What if Sam moved at the last second and the bullet hit his heart? What if someone realized he wasn’t dead?

“Mrs. Garrett,” the store owner said. “I’m sorry, there was no letter from your husband, but here’s the paper from Fort Worth you asked for.”

“Thanks.” Sarah forced herself not to look at the paper. “Maybe there will be one tomorrow.” She needed to talk to someone if only for a moment. “We’ve never been separated before.”

“Don’t you worry none, that man of yours will get his buying done up in Kansas City and be home before you know it.”

Sarah nodded, wishing it were true that Sam had gone to Kansas City to buy horses. No one in town knew where he really was. No one but the sheriff would ever know. If Sam lived through his killing, he would be Sam Garrett from now on. They’d work the farm and raise horses and grow old together.

She drove halfway home before she could wait no longer. Sarah stopped the wagon and opened the paper. There, in the comer of the front page, were the words she hated to read. “Sam Gatlin murdered at midnight.”

She tried to blink away the tears long enough to read the details. No one knew who fired the shot. A Texas Ranger confirmed his identity and his death. A sister of the church knelt beside him and prayed while everyone else passed by, staring at the man who had been a legend.

Sarah couldn’t read more. She moved on toward home, glad that Ruthie had been with him, but heartbroken that Sam wouldn’t allow her to go to Fort Worth. This time, he’d said, he didn’t need an angel to save him.

As Sarah rounded the last bend, she saw a wagon pulled up to her house.

Jacob Dalton stepped off the porch and waited for her. He was alone.

Sarah hurried, jumping from the wagon even before her horse stopped. “Jacob! How did it go?”

He caught her and held her close as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

She felt her heart stop.

“I did the best I could to keep him sober, but the damn fool thinks he needs to drink when he’s been shot.”

Sarah jerked away. “He’s alive?”

Jacob lifted the tarp off the wagon’s bed. “And meaner than hell. He’s threatened to kill me several times since I picked him up at the cemetery. Claims we left him in the coffin too long.”

Sarah stared at her husband, dirty, covered in blood, and smelling like a saloon.

“I tried to get him to let me clean the wound and bandage it for him, but he said he wanted you to do that. Wouldn’t let anyone touch him. So I bought enough whiskey to last, and we headed here.”

The smell of blood and dirt and whiskey made her stomach turn over, but she knew what she had to do.

“Help me get him up and in the house.”

Jacob pulled on Sam’s arm. “Whoever did the shooting caught him on the left arm. All Sam had to do was lay his wound over his chest, and everyone thought he’d been shot in the heart.” Jacob took the weight of Sam’s arm across his shoulder. “I tried to tell where the shot came from, but it was like a ghost made the shot and disappeared. I’d like to have known the man Sam Gatlin trusted with his life.”

Sam swore, then looked up. Pain-filled eyes met hers. “Morning, ma‘am. Name’s Sam Garrett.”

She smiled. “I know who you are, you id ... who did
you say you were?”

He took her hand. “Sam Garrett.”

Suddenly the blood and dirt didn’t matter; she hugged him wildly.

He moaned in pain. “Could you wait a few days before you kill me again, Sarah, my love?”

An hour later Sarah had bandaged Sam’s wound and scrubbed him clean. He offered Jacob his hand. “Thanks, friend.”

Jacob nodded toward Sarah. “You don’t deserve her,” he said.

“I know, but I plan on being right here by her side until they bury me instead of rocks in my coffin.”

“Did you tell her she can get out of the marriage if she wants to?”

“How about you tell her.” Sam grinned. “I’d like someone to see her temper if she even thought you might take her away from me.”

Jacob shook his head. “Unlike you, Sam, I’m in no hurry to die.”

Standing, Jacob reached for his hat. “Rest in Peace, Sam.”

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