"Please leave," she said.
It sounded weak to Billy. "You skittery on account o' Willie, or me?"
She didn't answer.
Billy smiled. "Relax, Kate. I got tracks scattered all over the Ben Moores an' up the Verdes. I went south, then north. I had a coupla other guys on my tail. Didn't know Willie was even back there. Anyway, I bet I got a full day's lead on him, even if he got my trail."
"He got it," Kate said steadily. "He has Yavapais with him."
Billy frowned slightly. That shortened the odds, but not much. From what he remembered, the Yavapais weren't all that good. He'd stay a while, then go on. Chat with Kate, find out about Willie.
He scanned around, noticing how good the house looked. "New house, an' you painted it. Everything's neat and clean." He was suddenly envious of Willie. "You gonna ask me in?"
She hesitated.
"Anybody accuses you of harborin' me, Kate, you jus' tell 'em I held a gun on you," Billy advised, taking care of that matter. "But tell Willie the truth."
Kate sighed, "All right, Billy. You must be hungry."
As they started inside, Billy said, "Matter of fact, I am." But he moved quickly past her to the center of the room, checking it, hand not too far from the right-hip .44. He wasn't concerned about Kate, but thought someone else might be around. "You alone here?"
"Yes. We have a hand, but he doesn't sleep over."
Billy nodded, relaxing. "Real female touch here," he said approvingly.
Kate's eyes widened. Same old Billy.
Billy went on bantering, "That ol' Mexican woman we had was sure a good cook. But that's about all." He noticed that Kate was staying warily by the front door, and tried to put her at ease. "Nice furniture," he said, scanning around some more. "And look at the roses."
"Yes, I grow them."
He walked over to sniff the buds as Kate crossed hurriedly behind him, heading for the kitchen.
Billy moved next to the wedding certificate and read it. He remembered misbehaving at the wedding and now felt sorry for it. He shouted toward the kitchen. "I thought maybe you an' Willie would have a kid by now. I don't see any sign o' one."
"There's a grave out back."
Billy winced, frowning off toward the kitchen. He felt badly. "I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't know" He wondered how Willie had taken the loss. Willie had said he wanted to have kids, wanted a boy.
He moved again to stand in the kitchen doorway, watching as she put leftover biscuits into the warmer section of the iron stove. She'd already placed a skillet on it.
Billy asked casually, "Wasn't Willie satisfied with ranchin'?"
Kate spilled some grease into the skillet. "He still ranches when he isn't out chasing..."
Billy smiled thinly, "...outlaws like me?"
Kate jiggled the grate arm to knock ashes down, then shoved in three lengths of wood. "We needed a good sheriff."
"An' you like bein' the sheriff's wife?"
Anger mounting, Kate turned to look at him. "No thanks, Billy. I don't like being the sheriff's wife."
She shifted to the sink board, determined to feed him quickly and make him leave.
Billy was suddenly amused. "I think that you think that I don't like you."
Kate was starting to peel boiled potatoes. "I stepped in between Damon and Pythias."
"Who are they?" Billy squinted.
Kate's laugh was brittle. "A juggling act. They play all the better saloons."
Although he didn't understand what she was talking about, Billy felt the sarcasm. He shrugged. It didn't make any difference who Damon and Pythias were.
"I'll fry these for you," she said, hands busy.
"They'll be tasty. Willie wrote me down in Mexico that you were a good cook."
Kate's knife kept a steady rhythm. The peelings fell away. She made no reply.
He continued to look at her, speculating on what their life might be like if she'd married him. "'Less he's changed, Willie can be pretty dull sometimes."
"So can I."
Billy grinned and walked across the floor to her. "I jus' doubt that." He came to a position beside her, standing with his back against the sink board. He searched her face. "I've often wondered why you an' I didn't hook up. We're the same age. I didn't try very hard, I admit. I didn't try at all, I guess."
Kate kept her attention on the potatoes. "Hook up to a kite when there's no string on it?"
Billy arched his brows. "Might have been a fun ride, Kate."
She turned full face to him. "I love Willis."
Billy regarded her and nodded. "He's lovable."
He suddenly felt grimy and rubbed his beard. "Think he'd mind if I used his razor?"
Kate replied coldly, "I don't know."
"Well, at least, Kate, he'd let me water my damn horse."
Kate murmured, "Use his razor," tossing a peeled spud into the bowl.
Billy snorted with frustration and started for the door but had an urge to stick another pin in. "You ought to get a new stove. We got that one secondhand when we built that pine-board shack out there." He couldn't resist reminding her of the old days.
Kate turned to stare at him. "I can trust this one. Like Willie, it stays around and doesn't get into trouble." She flipped another potato, much in the manner that Billy had flipped her wedding ring two years before.
Billy was planted in the center of the living room, gazing around again. There'd been two bunks, a few wooden chairs, and a battered table in the shack where they'd lived before Kate arrived. There'd been good times in it. Kate even had done away with his antlers, he noticed. She'd probably put them out in the barn.
Billy glanced toward the kitchen, thinking she should have seen the old place some Saturday nights—a couple of hardworking cowboys drunk and flopping around.
Where were the chairs, the old table?
He yelled toward the kitchen, "Willie's probably a deacon, too."
"Yes, he is, Billy."
He caught the smile in her voice. "Godalmighty," he moaned. Deacon Monroe.
He shook his head in disgust, sighed, and scratched around his ribs, wishing Willie were there Then he went on out the front door and led the mare around the house to the trough, unsaddling her.
He couldn't help but wonder what all she'd done to Willie. Maybe he'd be a total stranger? Maybe it was best he never saw him again. Coping with her, an educated woman with a smart tongue, he'd have to be different now. Billy sighed once more.
He found the feed bin and poured a bucket; then, finishing with the horse, he headed back for the house, trying to think of something else to say that would nettle her.
His eye caught an object about fifty feet from the barn. The moonlight illuminated it. He recalled Kate saying there was a grave out back.
He hesitated a moment, and then went over to stand by the tiny mound, looking down. Striking a match, he bent over. In the flare he read the etched granite slab: WILLIAM BONNEY MONROE. BORN, JANUARY 22, 1879. DIED, MARCH 12, 1879.
As the flame touched his fingers and went out, Billy barely felt the pain. Willie had a son who died in less than two months, and he'd named him after me.
Face tortured, his head came slowly around. He looked toward the house. Kate's shadow behind it, he saw the kitchen curtain fall back into place. She'd been watching him. William Bonney Monroe.
There were fried beef slices, warmed home fries, biscuits, and a mug of coffee on the table. Kate stayed at the sink board, her back to it, well away from him.
"You know," Billy said, subdued, "nothin' seemed to go right after I left you an' Willie. I seen the inside of too many saloons, Kate."
"We didn't chase you off," she answered with sincerity.
Billy smiled over sadly. "No, but that week I was here the view was awful clear. You movin' around in that ol' shack, livin' in there with Willie. Me sleeping on the ground outside. Sometimes I'd hear your voice..." He laughed at himself. "I got a whiff o' perfume that last day. I—"
Kate was
touched, he saw.
"Well, it's hard on a man like me. You understand"
She nodded, then said reflectively, "If they could take half of you and half of Willis, mash you up into one human being, it'd be something."
Billy laughed at the idea of it. Aiming his fork at a beef slice, he suggested, "Maybe it'd be best to take only a quarter o' me."
Kate smiled and waited until he swallowed the meat, then asked, "What happened, Billy?"
"Long story," he said. "I stayed around Durango for a while. Worked a year down there, goin' after rustlers, shootin' them. Then just drifted the last year. Down on my luck, I mean it." He wouldn't tell her he'd killed a cardsharp in El Paso.
Kate said, "But you didn't need to pull a gun, rob a train. You know Willis would have lent you money."
Billy put his fork down. "This is the first time I ever robbed anyone. I swear that. An' you can tell Willie I didn't mean to put him in a bind. Last thing I'd do. Oh, I was in a little trouble now an' then, Kate." He paused. "After this is over, I'll—"
Kate broke in, shaking her head. "You sound like you know you'll get away."
Billy nodded while clearing his mouth of food. "These fellows I met in McLean said they wanted to hit the train up here but didn't know the country, so I—"
"So you just stuck guns in people's faces." Kate was appalled.
Billy frowned at her. "Kate, there's enough money in that saddlebag out there to buy a ranch."
She laughed barrenly. "Well, at least you had a purpose."
Billy nodded emphatically. "Soon's it's safe, an' after I go to California, I swear I'm headin' for Durango. I'll buy a ranch, an' maybe even get married. I got a girl there, Helga. You an' Willie can come down. Like old times. We'll have a few beers and some laughs."
Kate said hopelessly, "He'll keep lookin' for you, Billy. Those times ended on the railroad tracks."
Buttering a biscuit, Billy grinned confidently. "Just this once, I think he'll look the other way."
2
WILLIE AND THE TRACKERS had reached the fork in the wagon road, reined up, and were viewing the dim lights of the Double W, about a thousand yards away.
Big Eye mused, enjoying himself once again on this white man's outing, "Now he wouldn't go to your place, would he, Sheriff?"
Willie stared at the low outline of his own ranch house. With disbelief he answered, "Billy Bonney? No! No, Big Eye, he wouldn't do that."
All day they'd followed the bell mare tracks north, flanking the Ben Moores, then cutting west a bit, climbing again into the Sierra Greens, skirting Polkton well after dark.
Willie's astonishment had grown with each mile, after Big Eye found the prints on the low mountain overlooking the short grass basin, four miles south of the arroyo. Early morning on, he'd twisted and turned the intriguing thought that Billy might head for the Double W. The kid was crazy enough to do it.
Since he couldn't ride two ways at once, Willie had decided to let the other two robbers go. The law, especially Pete Wilson, would want local boy Billy alive, if they had a choice, Willie knew. Maybe he was learning something about politics? He'd wire on to the border to have lookouts set up for the other two. They were likely trekking steadily south toward Mexico.
While he felt anger, mixed with some humiliation—what train robber ever paid the tracking sheriff a visit?—he also had to give Billy a measure of respect for sheer audacity. On the ride up, he'd even permitted himself a wry smile or two over the possibility of Billy's direction.
"All right, let's go flush him out," Willie said, chagrin coming through.
Big Eye reminded softly, "We're paid to track, not to shoot."
Willie blinked at the Yavapai, not expecting that reaction. But then he considered it. Big Eye was entirely right. It was his own fight, not theirs. They'd done their job and expertly. Willie said, "Come by the office in the morning. I'll have your money."
Big Eye glanced at the house thoughtfully, and then turned in the saddle to speak to the others. He rattled Yavapai. Turning back he said, "I told them to go on. I'll come with you."
Willie thought it over. The less people riding up, the less chance of anyone getting hurt. He was certain he could talk the kid—if he was still there—into giving up. But if Big Eye came along, it might go another way. The Indian might set off a shooting.
"Thanks, Big Eye," said Willie appreciatively, "but I've decided I'd rather do it alone. It's safer for both of us." He reined around and trotted Almanac toward the house.
The Yavapais lingered a moment, and then rode off.
Soon Duke and Cotton began to yelp.
In the kitchen Billy asked tensely, "Willie?"
Kate nodded, fear gripping her. She watched as Billy galvanized, grabbing a handful of biscuits, his hat, and his gun belt. He bounded out the back door.
Kate stayed by the table, closing her eyes. Then she took a steadying breath and walked toward the front door, hoping her face would not reveal what was in her mind.
Willie paused on the porch a moment, scanning around. He couldn't spot Billy's horse. His hand dropped to his holster, but then he decided against it. If anybody had to fire, it would be Billy.
Passing quickly through the front door, almost colliding with Kate, he asked brusquely, "Where is that idiot?"
Kate swallowed. "He's gone."
Kate was pale and drawn, wide-eyed. Her hands moved up in a helpless gesture, then dropped to her sides again.
Willie stared at his young wife, not quite believing her, then moved cautiously by her into the kitchen. Billy's half-eaten meal was scattered across the plate; the chair was pulled away from the table. He looked at the back door.
Outside, a bucket toppled and rolled.
Willie stepped to the lamp and blew it out, debating about his gun. Finally he pulled it, but he kept it down by his thigh as he slipped out the door, trying to adjust his eyes.
From the porch he saw Billy's form in the cul-de-sac by the corral fence. His horse was saddled, but he hadn't mounted. Willie saw the black barrel of Billy's drawn .44 in the moonlight. The boy's face was a blur, barely visible.
Willie had an overwhelming desire to run up to him, pound his back, punch his shoulder, yell at him. But he moved slowly down the steps, gun aimed to the dirt.
Billy said, "I told Kate you'd look the other way. You fooled me, Willie."
Yes, it was that old familiar voice that Willie heard. But taut now, strained and dry.
Heart pounding, Willie ordered, "Drop it, Billy."
It didn't seem possible they were looking at each other across guns. Willie moved a step at a time, slow but steady, until he heard Billy's frantic, "Stop there!"
They stayed poised a long, shattering moment, separated by a hundred feet. Then Willie decided he'd have to take him, or try, no matter what happened. The face ahead of him was still in willow shadows. He could not see his friend's eyes.
"Why did you have to go an' become a big fat sheriff?" Billy asked, a strange grief in his voice. "Didn't punchin' cattle satisfy you?"
Willie shook his head at the inane question. "Drop it, Billy," he demanded, finally raising his Colt. "Let's don't do this." He started again toward Billy, feeling stone in his feet with each slow step.
Billy said tensely, "Don't force me, Willie. Please don't. I can get three shots off while you're tryin' for one. You know that. Let me ride out."
The tall man moved steadily.
Then the back door slammed. Kate suddenly rushed past him to stand in the line of fire. Both men were stunned at the turn of events.
Billy said weakly, "Now that's a silly damn thing to do, Kate"
She stood firm, ten feet from Billy, staring at him.
Willie snapped, "Get out of the way, Kate."
Kate didn't budge.
Willie shouted, "I said move!" Sweat dotted his forehead. His mouth was dry.
Kate moved—directly toward Billy. He seemed transfixed as she walked up to him, the .44 pointed at her waist. r />
"Give it to me, Billy," she said quietly. "Or shoot me. One of the two."
Willie held his breath and watched as she reached out to grasp the gun by the barrel, a dangerous thing to do. He felt limp as Billy carefully eased his finger from the trigger guard, opening his palm from the cocked gun. He heard Billy's defeated murmur, "You've got a helluva deputy here."
Then his breath surged out. "You're still the same, Billy," the sheriff said gratefully, realizing it sounded ridiculous at the moment.
Billy's laugh was hopeless. "You sure ain't, Deacon."
Billy went over to him as Kate, her face pasty in the moonglow, bolted for the house, Billy's .44 still in her hand.
Willie looked at his old friend. He hadn't aged much in two years.
***
WHILE BILLY FINISHED his meal, Willie dug through the kid's saddlebag with his right hand, still holding the Colt in his left, although he wasn't aware of it. He yanked out a mammoth biscuit watch on a gold chain, dangling it. "Why you takin' stuff like this?" he asked in dismay.
Billy swallowed some food and protested, "I could live five years off that jewelry in Durango."
Willie laughed and held up a handful of cash but turned serious again. "I'll ask you about it later, but we saw a corpse out on that mesa. Looked like an overgrown boy."
Billy shook his head in regret. "He threw down on me, Willie. It was me or him."
"That why those other two were chasin' you?"
"Also the money," Billy admitted. "I took all of it when they got cute."
Willie said, "Oh my."
Billy stayed silent a moment, then indicated the gun. "You can put that away, Willie. I'm not goin' anywhere"
Willie laughed. "Kate'd probably stop you if you tried."
"I'm still shaking," she said. "I don't understand either of you."
Willie holstered the gun, sitting down at the table beside Kate, reaching for a slice of beef. "How you like the place now?"
"Great." Billy grinned.
They'd resumed their old relationship, Kate realized. She'd never fully understand it, but it was there.
Billy again wondered what might have happened if Kate hadn't come between them. He kept his eyes on his plate. He said hesitantly, "I saw ... what was out back, Willie. Thanks. Wish I'd had the chance to know him." Tears were in Billy's eyes.