watched the Pontiac convertible kick gravel off the shoulder, roar down the highway. “Hold it, Ralph. Before you describe the job you have in mind, I would like to point out—for the benefit of any law-enforcement authorities listening in on a tapped line—that I do not commit murders for hire, or any other felonies. Or for that matter, petty misdemeanors.”
“You are such a card, Charles.”
“And I won’t give you a kidney or lung. I need all my organs.”
Ralph sniffed. “The task I have in mind cannot be discussed in detail over the telephone—but I assure you that it is not only legal, it serves the cause of justice. And the American Way of Life. Mom and her apple pie will thank you.”
Pie is good . “I’m all for that.”
“I knew you would be. When the deed is done, sweet little rosy-cheeked children will sing songs about your derring-do, and those who had formerly pined to become astronauts or antiquarians will hence dream of growing up to be overly tall, joke-cracking tribal investigators.”
“That’s just a little over the top, Ralph.”
“You are right, of course.” A wistful sigh. “I never know when to stop.”
“Last thing I want to know is—do I have to get myself horribly maimed or killed?”
“Only if you are determined to be a tragic hero.”
AS CHARLIE Moon rolled on down the blacktop ribbon toward Granite Creek, he concentrated on pleasant thoughts. Like picking up Miss James. And finding out precisely what Ralph Briggs wanted in exchange for the item . After that, he and the lady would have a late dinner. A romantic dinner. Then, if he could work up the nerve…
AT THE COLUMBINE
SIDEWINDER DID not leave the rough plank surface of the Too Late bridge. The singular beast was still howling when the sun slipped into Dead Mule Notch, and a blood-red moon surfaced over the snowcapped Buckhorn range.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SUNDOWN
When twilight drops its gray veil across the face of the land, the fabric of reality sometimes takes on an oddly pitched web and weave. Charlie Moon was not a superstitious man, nor given to fanciful imaginings, but the oddest notion kept running through his mind—that the woman at his side was not made of flesh and blood. The lady was composed of something less tangible. At any moment, she might simply…go away. As he piloted his automobile along a sinuous road lined with dark rows of spruce and pine, the Ute made an effort to banish the absurd idea from his mind. But every few minutes, he felt the urgent need to glance at the passenger seat—just to make sure the lovely, dark-haired woman was actually there.
She was. Miss James’s delicate hand reached out. Touched his arm.
This got his attention.
Her dark eye caught his.
The happy man smiled.
His sweetheart had lost track of precisely where they were. As if someone might overhear, she whispered, “Is the restaurant way out here?”
“No,” Moon said, adding in a casual tone, “I have a stop to make.”
Miss James studied his dark profile. “Stop? What for?”
He shrugged. “Just some business.”
She persisted. “What sort of business?”
“The kind it’s better not to talk about.” Moon managed an adequate poker face. Inside, he was grinning from ear to ear.
The woman made a pretense of being annoyed. “Very well. If you must be mysterious.”
Better tell her something so she doesn’t get overly curious . “I’m stopping at an antique store.”
A doubtful look creased her brow. “I did not know that you were interested in antiquities.”
“I like all kind of old stuff. Rusty pickups. Broken-down horses. Eighteen-year-old hounds.” He grinned. “And—ah—mature women.”
This earned him an elbow in the ribs.
“Ouch.”
“I am almost sorry.” Miss James reached out to caress the back of his neck. “Which antique store?”
His skin tingled under her touch. Suddenly, he could not remember the name of the business. “Belongs to a fella by the name of
“You are such a card, Charles.”
“And I won’t give you a kidney or lung. I need all my organs.”
Ralph sniffed. “The task I have in mind cannot be discussed in detail over the telephone—but I assure you that it is not only legal, it serves the cause of justice. And the American Way of Life. Mom and her apple pie will thank you.”
Pie is good . “I’m all for that.”
“I knew you would be. When the deed is done, sweet little rosy-cheeked children will sing songs about your derring-do, and those who had formerly pined to become astronauts or antiquarians will hence dream of growing up to be overly tall, joke-cracking tribal investigators.”
“That’s just a little over the top, Ralph.”
“You are right, of course.” A wistful sigh. “I never know when to stop.”
“Last thing I want to know is—do I have to get myself horribly maimed or killed?”
“Only if you are determined to be a tragic hero.”
AS CHARLIE Moon rolled on down the blacktop ribbon toward Granite Creek, he concentrated on pleasant thoughts. Like picking up Miss James. And finding out precisely what Ralph Briggs wanted in exchange for the item . After that, he and the lady would have a late dinner. A romantic dinner. Then, if he could work up the nerve…
AT THE COLUMBINE
SIDEWINDER DID not leave the rough plank surface of the Too Late bridge. The singular beast was still howling when the sun slipped into Dead Mule Notch, and a blood-red moon surfaced over the snowcapped Buckhorn range.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SUNDOWN
When twilight drops its gray veil across the face of the land, the fabric of reality sometimes takes on an oddly pitched web and weave. Charlie Moon was not a superstitious man, nor given to fanciful imaginings, but the oddest notion kept running through his mind—that the woman at his side was not made of flesh and blood. The lady was composed of something less tangible. At any moment, she might simply…go away. As he piloted his automobile along a sinuous road lined with dark rows of spruce and pine, the Ute made an effort to banish the absurd idea from his mind. But every few minutes, he felt the urgent need to glance at the passenger seat—just to make sure the lovely, dark-haired woman was actually there.
She was. Miss James’s delicate hand reached out. Touched his arm.
This got his attention.
Her dark eye caught his.
The happy man smiled.
His sweetheart had lost track of precisely where they were. As if someone might overhear, she whispered, “Is the restaurant way out here?”
“No,” Moon said, adding in a casual tone, “I have a stop to make.”
Miss James studied his dark profile. “Stop? What for?”
He shrugged. “Just some business.”
She persisted. “What sort of business?”
“The kind it’s better not to talk about.” Moon managed an adequate poker face. Inside, he was grinning from ear to ear.
The woman made a pretense of being annoyed. “Very well. If you must be mysterious.”
Better tell her something so she doesn’t get overly curious . “I’m stopping at an antique store.”
A doubtful look creased her brow. “I did not know that you were interested in antiquities.”
“I like all kind of old stuff. Rusty pickups. Broken-down horses. Eighteen-year-old hounds.” He grinned. “And—ah—mature women.”
This earned him an elbow in the ribs.
“Ouch.”
“I am almost sorry.” Miss James reached out to caress the back of his neck. “Which antique store?”
His skin tingled under her touch. Suddenly, he could not remember the name of the business. “Belongs to a fella by the name of
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