Gideon, Robin - Desire of the Phantom [Ecstasy in the Old West] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Robin Gideon

  “W-Why? Why you?” Pamela asked her brother. “I thought you only went after murderers. The Midnight Phantom has never murdered anyone. I’m sure he hasn’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Richard asked with a dismissive sneer. “He’s a thief. He’s probably a murderer as well.”

  “You don’t know that,” Pamela snapped back. “The newspapers have never said he’s fired a gun against anyone. He’s only been seen a couple times, from what I’ve read, and then it was from a great distance.”

  Richard, his face stern, turned toward Jedediah. “See, this is exactly why the Midnight Phantom has to be brought to justice. The newspapers have turned a common thief into some kind of hero. This kind of reaction to the Midnight Phantom has got to be crushed, I tell you.”

  Jedediah nodded his head slowly, but he could not completely dismiss what his sister had said. As a bounty hunter, he read the wanted posters and decided for himself who he’d go after, made his own judgment as to who most needed to be brought to justice, who presented the greatest danger to decent people. The reward for the capture of the Midnight Phantom would be five hundred dollars from the businessmen of Whitetail Creek. Jedediah knew that the Darwells had spearheaded the drive to make the Midnight Phantom a wanted man with a price on his head. The ten thousand dollars was an additional inducement put up by Darwell. There really was no good reason for a “Dead or Alive” tag on the wanted poster since the Midnight Phantom hadn’t killed anyone. He hadn’t even stolen a cent from the general public, only from Jonathon Darwell.

  “You see what I’m talking about, I trust,” Richard said, forcing the last of the cheap whiskey down his throat. He hated the taste of it, and he didn’t really like being in such close proximity to men like Jedediah Bragg, but he needed the bounty hunter’s services, and until he had them, he would continue to pretend to be enjoying the companionship. “What about giving you an advance against the bounty?”

  “Advance against the bounty?” Jedediah was puzzled. He’d never heard of getting paid for a job not yet begun.

  “Call it working expenses. Say two hundred dollars?” He reached into his pocket, extracted a wad of bills folded in half, and began counting them out in front of Jedediah, making sure the bounty hunter could see each bill as it flipped forward.

  “I don’t know about that,” Jedediah said quietly, distracted by anticipated delights. The young lady he had been seeing would be enormously impressed. Still, he couldn’t quite shake the notion of a trap, and if he accepted the money, he’d be stepping into it. “Somehow, it doesn’t seem quite right to get paid for something that isn’t done yet.”

  “Don’t you worry about that. I have every confidence in you.”

  “Still…”

  “Perhaps five hundred would be more in keeping with your expectations,” Richard said, sensing Jedediah’s weakening resolve. He flipped several more bills over in his hand. Five hundred dollars was every penny he’d taken with him from his home, so he counted the money out slowly, realizing the effect it had on a man like Jedediah.

  “I don’t think you should do it,” Pamela said. “You only go after killers.”

  “This is business for men,” Richard said crisply, no longer finding the voluptuous blond’s companionship so appealing. “Why not leave the decision up to your brother?”

  “Jedediah, I just—”

  “Shut up, woman!” Richard snapped. He positively loathed women who didn’t know their place.

  He saw the dangerous glint in Jedediah’s eyes and knew instantly that he’d made a terrible mistake. In a flash of precognition, he pictured himself in a duel with Jedediah Bragg, and that was horrifying. Richard had never been particularly good with guns. The two men he’d shot had been hit in the back, one from ambush and the other as he was running away. He wouldn’t have a similar advantage with Jedediah.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” Richard said, not to Pamela but to Jedediah. He hated apologizing to anyone, but most especially to people of inferior station. “This business with the Midnight Phantom has gotten my family, and me most especially, terribly upset. I apologize for what I said to Pamela. I’m sure she’s only trying to do what’s best. Jedediah, what about you taking this five hundred and considering it just half of your advance? You can ride into town, and I’ll have another five hundred in cash waiting for you.” Richard saw the stony anger in the bounty hunter’s eyes. “Well, as soon as I get back home, I’ll draw out another five hundred and have a rider bring it straight here to you. How would that suit you?”

  “Be careful, Jedediah,” Pamela said, her tone softer now. “You don’t want to find yourself too obligated. Rather than making a decision now, why don’t you sleep on it?” she suggested softly, her hand resting on her brother’s forearm. “You were going into town tonight, right? Why let this ruin your fun?”

  Jedediah looked first at Pamela then at Richard Darwell. “My sister’s got a point. This kind of job is real different for me. Bank robbers that murder folks, rapists and those kinds of varmints, they’re no more than animals. That’s why I hunt them down like animals. But this Midnight Phantom, he’s never killed anyone. Sure, he’s stolen from you and your family, but it doesn’t seem to me that he’s exactly taken your last penny. I don’t have to be a lawman to know that you Darwells haven’t exactly been on the right side of the law in all you do.”

  “Neither have you,” Richard said, grinning falsely. “Perhaps we’ve bent a rule here and there, Jedediah. I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise. But you can’t say that the Darwells have ever had anyone murdered, now can you?”

  Actually, the Darwell name had been linked to several murders, though nothing had been proven. Jedediah kept this to himself.

  “Sometimes you’ve got to bend the rules to make money,” Richard continued, his tone friendly, man to man. He didn’t look in Pamela’s direction. “That’s just the way life is.”

  “Your life, maybe,” Pamela said.

  Jedediah hooked his thumbs into his gun belt. “Let me sleep on this one. Maybe I will take it on, and maybe I won’t. Either way, I won’t be pushed for or against by either one of you two. The offer is real generous, and I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “When can I have your answer?” Richard asked. At that moment he was so furious with Pamela he could have slapped her to the ground then put a boot to her—but for Jedediah and his deadly skills.

  “Soon. Tomorrow, maybe. I’ve got some celebrating to do. I just returned after being gone better than a month, and I want to find out what it’s like to sleep in my own bed again.”

  After Richard had ridden away, Pamela started in again on why her brother should turn the job down, even though it promised a substantial amount of money. Jedediah, though, was more interested in getting to Whitetail Creek and in seeing the pleasure in a certain young woman’s eyes when he gave her the necklace he’d bought.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pamela waited until Jedediah had ridden away before heading for the Randolph ranch to warn Garrett. Unfortunately, Daisy had been killed, which forced her to make the twelve-mile walk on foot. It was not something she looked forward to. The prairie was filled with dangers during daylight, even more at night.

  But what choice did she have? She couldn’t consider doing anything else until she had warned Garrett of the possibility of being Jedediah’s prey.

  If she kept up a brisk pace, she could arrive at the Randolph ranch in three to four hours. With a large canteen of fresh water slung over her shoulder, Pamela headed out, Richard’s words and the threat in them playing over and over in her mind.

  * * * *

  “What do you mean he’s not here? He’s got to be here!” Pamela said to Juan, the butler, who flatly refused to allow her through the gargantuan front doors of the Randolph ranch house.

  “Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” a male voice said from inside.

  The butler stepped away, after giving Pamela one last disdainful look.
Apparently, he was unaccustomed to women who wore Levi’s arriving at the ranch long after sundown and requesting a private meeting with Señor Randolph, the younger. The butler’s incredulity only served to heighten Pamela’s awareness of the differences between her world and the one Garrett lived in.

  Paul Randolph, Garrett’s older brother, opened the door wide and stepped aside for Pamela to enter. “I’m sure whatever the problem is, it isn’t nearly as bad as it now seems.”

  His smile was polite and politic—not friendly, to be sure, but at least polite—and that was about as much as Pamela could expect.

  “Thank you for letting me in. I’ve got to speak with Garrett immediately. It’s terribly, terribly, terribly important that I do.”

  “Three terriblys in one problem?” Paul’s eyebrows did a little dance of amusement. “Let’s step into the library and we can discuss this terrible problem. You look exhausted, if I may be so bold as to say so.”

  “I had to walk here.”

  Her answer brought Paul up short. “From your house?” he asked, knowing how far away it was. Pamela nodded, and suddenly Paul Randolph was taking this “terrible” problem much more seriously. “You can take your gun belt off. You won’t need your pistol while you’re here, I can assure you.”

  Pamela had never before given up her guns for anyone. However, now it seemed the proper thing to do. Though wealthy, the Randolphs were entirely different from the Darwells. After a second or two of doubt, she removed her gun belt and handed it to Juan, who took the weapon, his only visible response the faintest wrinkling of his nose.

  In the library, Paul chased out the maid, Gretchen, who was busy dusting the books. Then, alone with Pamela, he poured a glass of wine for her and a small glass of brandy for himself. Garrett was the height of propriety—from all that training as a lawyer, Paul suspected—and Pamela was not considered “proper” by those deemed fashionable in Whitetail Creek. Besides, her anger toward wealthy people was something many in and around Whitetail Creek were familiar with.

  “Now why exactly must you see my brother immediately?” Paul asked.

  It occurred to him that Garrett might have gotten Pamela pregnant. Such an event would cause more than just a ripple in his brother’s political plans. Though Garrett’s career wouldn’t get completely derailed by such a scandal, it was something to worry about.

  Pamela looked at Paul, wondering exactly how much she could tell him, fighting her own prejudices against men from his world. Until she’d met Garrett, Pamela had never had any respect for a wealthy, highly educated man. Paul, as patriarch of the Randolph cattle empire, was wealthy, but he did not have the advanced formal education Garrett did.

  Could she trust him? Had Garrett confided to his brother that he was the Midnight Phantom?

  “I’m waiting for some kind of answer,” Paul said, his patience wearing thin even though politeness was in order.

  “I’m sorry. It’s really nothing that critical, I suppose. Just something between my brother and your brother.” This was partly true, partly a lie, and though Pamela didn’t like deceiving Paul, she realized that for now it was necessary.

  “Jedediah and Garrett? I thought that problem with the reward money from Cold Ridge was straightened out,” Paul said.

  “Apparently not,” she said, not at all certain where her story was headed. She felt she was being sucked into a whirlpool, unable to stop her own destruction.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Paul asked. Something was not as it should be, though what that something was he couldn’t say. His brother had been acting strangely lately, and he hadn’t found out what had been bothering him.

  “You’re sure Garrett’s not here?” Pamela asked softly, a plaintive quality to her voice that she barely recognized. She didn’t really believe Garrett was simply trying to avoid her.

  “I’m afraid not. A problem came up, and he had to leave for Fort Richmond. We sell some of our cattle directly to the government through Fort Richmond.”

  “Yes, I know.” Everyone had heard of the magnificent contract Garrett had negotiated for his family with the U.S. Government for the sale of cattle to feed the cavalrymen.

  “Some general or captain in charge of purchasing sent a frantic telegram, and Garrett left as soon as he read it. It’s not a big problem. Sometimes these men just want to rattle their sabers to make us Randolphs jump. I think it makes them feel important.”

  Pamela found it odd that the powerful Randolphs could be inconvenienced by anyone or anything. She was just beginning to understand that she didn’t know nearly as much about the world of the wealthy as she thought she did.

  “Why are you on foot?” Paul asked.

  Pamela shrugged. What could she tell him? That her horse had been shot out from under her while she was riding away from Darwell’s men after stealing the payroll money?

  “Miss Bragg, I’m willing to help you if I can, but in order for me to do that, you’re going to have to be more honest with me than you have been. Now please, why are you here, what involvement has my brother with your considerable anxiety, and what has happened to your horse?”

  “I had to put her down,” Pamela said. “She tripped in a badger hole and broke her leg.”

  “Listen, whatever it is you have to say to my brother is clearly important enough to march through the night. We have a guest bedroom here that you can have for the night.”

  “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

  “It’s no inconvenience.” He tugged at an embroidered pull cord near his chair. “Gretchen can help you.”

  “But…”

  “Please, allow me to be a gracious host. You’re tired and I’m sure you’d appreciate cleaning up some. Gretchen can provide whatever you require.”

  * * * *

  Pamela awoke the next morning, first in panic, then with a wonderful sense of well being.

  When she opened her eyes, she did not recognize the room she was in or the bed. Then she remembered the events of the previous evening—the long walk, the conversation with Paul Randolph, and Gretchen’s loving, maternal attention.

  Though the problem of Jedediah’s considering hunting the Midnight Phantom still existed, Pamela realized that as long as Garrett was at Fort Richmond, he was safe.

  Sitting up in bed, she stretched, raising her hands high above her head. The bed was huge, magnificently comfortable. The nightgown she had been given was also huge, made of cotton. It was, she suspected, Gretchen’s. It hung on Pamela in flowing waves of cotton. Pamela had learned that Gretchen would never serve any food she hadn’t tasted herself, and since the kind woman was nearly always cooking, she was also nearly always eating, and it showed on her in a grandmotherly, loving way.

  A soft knock on the bedroom door was followed by Gretchen entering with a large silver serving tray covered with an assortment of breakfast foods giving off mouthwatering aromas. Pamela tried to rise—she’d never before been served breakfast in bed, a decidedly decadent thing—but Gretchen would have none of it.

  “You just stay there ’til that’s all gone, and I’ll come back later to see to you,” she said as she left the room.

  Alone again, Pamela smiled. She’d hardly been able to say a word to the fast-talking older woman. Gretchen had proved again that she was an independent force at the Randolph ranch.

  Pamela ate scrambled eggs, fresh-baked bread sliced thick, toasted with care and slathered liberally with butter, two peach halves in sauce, and four strips of bacon. With this, she drank a small glass of tomato juice and a cup of coffee. And all before she’d gotten out of bed.

  I could get used to living like this, she absently thought as she rose and walked to a large bay window facing west.

  The thought surprised her. Live like a pampered debutante and like it? Unthinkable. Only it wasn’t.

  Pamela sensed that she would have to be very careful or she might get swallowed up by this world. She might enjoy living in luxury so much that she would sacri
fice her principles to attain them.

  In her mind’s eye, she saw the Darwells waking up and receiving exactly the same type of treatment from the hired help. Pamela tried to cling to this thought, but it was virtually impossible. She simply couldn’t imagine anyone like Gretchen working for Jonathon Darwell for any length of time, just as she couldn’t envision the Darwells treating their servants with respect.

  Sipping her coffee, looking out to the west, Pamela surveyed the Randolph range, a vast spread. At one time she’d heard the Randolphs had about a hundred cowboys on their payroll, and when driving a herd from one range to another, or to the stockyards or northward to Fort Richmond, that figure could nearly double. She tried to imagine the responsibility entailed in employing so many men, but she couldn’t.

  If Garrett and I married, I’d look out at a scene like this every morning.

  Where had that thought come from? It shocked her so she spilled some of her coffee and very nearly dropped the fine china cup.

  She and Garrett married?

  A bitter smile spread across Pamela’s mouth. They could be lovers—correction, she and the Midnight Phantom could be lovers—but they could never be husband and wife. Their worlds were too far apart to be bridged with matrimony. The most she could hope for was to be a secret lover, to share passion in the dark, keeping whatever feelings they shared—lust or perhaps an even deeper and more lasting emotion—to themselves.

  “I’ll have to be content with that,” Pamela said aloud.

  She could hear the sadness, the frustration, in her tone. Garrett Randolph would one day be mayor of Whitetail Creek and, after that, the territorial governor. Even the newspapers had speculated on it, and everyone agreed that Garrett would get the votes necessary. Such a man could not have a common wife, a woman whose family name meant nothing to the people in power.

  “Damn,” she murmured, sadness and anger tightening once again around her heart. “Damn, damn, damn!”