She came over and said, "He's just confused is all, Clem. Don't call him my 'darned' boyfriend, all right?"
His dark eyes gleamed. In the lamplight they looked like glass. "You're loyal after he broke your heart. You're a true-blue gal, Lucy. I'll say that for you."
She went over and sat next to him in the rocking chair by the kerosene stove. The fumes had darkened the walls years before. "I think he may be in trouble, Clem."
"Eh? What kind of trouble?"
"I'd better not say. He tried to explain it to me, but he was nervous. His voice had a tremble in it. He sounded sort of scared. I'm afraid for him, Clem, I really am. He's got these dreams—"
"What sort of dreams, youngster?"
"Oh, you know, the usual thing. Money and being somebody important and all that."
He had a crone's laugh, old Clem, almost a cackle. "Well, now, I'll tell you somethin', Lucy. If men didn't have dreams like that they'd never accomplish anything. They'd sit around on their lazy backsides and let somebody else do all the work. You think I woulda mined all them years if I didn't have a dream like that? I can't fault him for that, Lucy. And you shouldn't, either."
"I don't. It's just . . ."
"Just what?"
"Well, when you're a lawman you have certain temptations . . ."
He stared at her, not speaking for a time. "Maybe usin' his badge in a way he shouldn't ought to, you mean."
"Yes."
"I can see where it'd be temptin', have to say that. A lawman has a better chance of gettin' away with a crime than somebody like me does, that's for sure."
She checked her watch. She needed to be getting on home. She stood up. "Thanks for listening to me, Clem. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anybody anything I said."
That high-pitched crone's laugh again. "You don't have to worry about me, youngster. Nobody ever comes out to see me anyway, 'ceptin' you and this old Pawnee fella I've known since I came out here. And all he wants to talk about is who's gonna get my cabin when I die. I guess he thinks since he spent so much time puttin' up with me, it's his by squatter's rights."
She kissed him on the forehead. The sticky forehead. Someday she planned to drop him into a tub of water and work on him head to toe with soap and a scrub brush until she raised welts.
"G'night, Clem."
"G'night, Lucy. You say a prayer for me and I'll say a prayer for you. How's that?"
She smiled. "I couldn't ask for better than that."
"I'm getting cold," Cassie said.
Prine had moved away from her, perched himself on a small boulder near the timber. He rolled himself a cigarette.
"Aren't you going to say anything, Tom?"
"What am I supposed to say?"
"That you understand. That you don't think I'm just a foolish little rich girl. That you don't hate me. The only reason I did this was so that my brother would notice me. Maybe value me a little. I didn't do this for selfish reasons."
He got his cigarette going and thought for a moment. There was no sense hurting her feelings. She was doing a good job of that herself. She was trying to justify a stupid, reckless act and having a hard time doing it.
The romance of her was gone. When he looked at her there in the moonlight, she didn't even look so pretty anymore. Just dirt-smeared and sort of pathetic. No allure at all in standing near an outhouse that had been turned on its side and an ancient wagon with only three wheels.
"You wanted Richard's attention," he said. "You got it. And I feel sorry for him. He damned near came undone this afternoon. Judging by what I saw today, I'd say he loves you a lot more than you think he does."
She walked up and down to keep warm. "You're seeing it from the outside. You're not seeing how he orders me around and never takes me seriously and makes up these stupid rules. I'm an adult, and he doesn't seem to understand that. I just wanted to teach him a lesson, scare him a little. Maybe he'll appreciate me now."
He couldn't resist. "Do you have any idea how much turmoil you've caused today? How worried people are? I don't think an adult would do anything like that."
"Oh, fine, now you sound just like Richard. So high and mighty all the time. Why don't you just leave?"
"Not without you."
"Well, for your information, I'm not going anywhere. Tolan and Rooney are coming back. They're my partners in this, remember?"
"How'd you meet those two, anyway?"
"Tolan came to the church basement one afternoon. He was looking for a winter coat. I'd had this idea for some time. I think he has a little crush on me. He kept coming back. One day I told him about the idea. We're friends, sort of."
"Some friends, Cassie. These are dangerous men. Ruthless."
"They haven't hurt me, have they?"
He flipped his cigarette into the darkness, watched as it struck a tree, disintegrated into a dozen stars. "You're coming back with me. Now."
"You're not my boss."
"Looks like somebody needs to be." He sounded, and felt, disgusted. He was tired of her whining, tired of her dramatics. "Let's get going."
The Colt came from the front of her butternuts. Tucked behind her blouse. "Head back to town, Tom. Now. You keep my secret and I'll see that you get the reward. That's more than somebody like you'll see in the next thirty years if you're lucky."
The scorn for workingmen was clear in her "somebody like you" remark. He'd been around rich people enough to know that many of them divided the world into two groups—peers and everybody else. And "everybody else" fell into the category of servants. Even if you weren't in livery, they used you anyway. Sometimes they paid you; other times they forced you to do it free. But one way or the other, you did their bidding. And sometimes you didn't even know about it.
"I need you to drop your Colt and your Winchester, Tom."
"Do you know what the hell you're doing?"
"I know exactly what I'm doing. I don't want you coming back here threatening Tolan and Rooney. They just went to have a few beers. But they'll be here soon. I've got my cash payment ready for them. I don't want anything to go wrong here. So I'm taking your guns. You head back and sit on the outskirts of town. I'll meet you there. I've got a horse in the barn over there. Then we can ride into town together and I'll tell everybody you rescued me."
He hadn't complied with her request for his guns. She reminded him of this by stepping close to him and bringing the barrel of the Colt down hard across his cheek. She was capable of much more force than he realized.
"Your guns, Tom."
He would've fought back, but what was the point? As much as he despised her now, he despised himself even more. Going against all his principles to make it appear that he'd "rescued" her so that he could get the reward and maybe her hand. He was just as foolish, just as selfish, just as mercenary as she was. A good lawman would've broken up the "kidnapping" before it happened.
The sharp wind was beginning to freeze his nose and give him an earache. He just wanted away from here, away from her. If only he could get away from himself, too.
"Don't bother with the reward," he said. "Just ride back to town and tell everybody you got yourself free."
"I'm going to pretend I don't know who kidnapped me. I want you to go along with that, too." An ironic smile. "I'm a lot smarter than you thought, aren't I?"
"Not smarter," he said. "Just more foolish. And I'm even more foolish than you are."
He dropped Winchester and Colt on the ground. "I want my guns back. You know where I live."