Sharp looked at him with quick, hard eyes. “You mean, you’ve run into him? Or met someone who has?”
“No, not that. Just talk. We’ve got a man along who came from Natchez and another from up at the north end of the Trace. They were both telling stories about him.”
“I see.” Sharp smoked thoughtfully. “Bardoul, we’ve got some pretty good authority that says both Ryder and Boyne are headed out this way or already here. According to the story, they have an idea of organizing some sort of an independent power out here in the west. It sounds fantastic, I agree, yet it could create a lot of trouble. Murrell had the idea, you know, and before him, Aaron Burr had it. You’ll still find a lot of people who swore by Murrell’s fantastic secret organisation. However, whether that’s the idea or not, Boyne and Ryder are both dangerous men, and they are believed to have come west.
“We’ve word from several places that a lot of bad men are headed this way, and it looks like something big may be afoot. We’ve heard that they intend to ride in and take over Bannock and some of the mining towns, completely clean up and then leave. We’ve heard all sorts of fantastic stories. This is 1877, and you’d think people would stop dreaming, but apparently some of the best of them do.”
“You mean, you have orders to look into such things? That it is considered so serious the Army is putting troops to work on it?”
Sharp laughed. “You make it sound fairly silly. No, as a matter of fact, it is just talk. And I have no orders along that line at all, just some talk with higher ranking officers. Of course, you know what the Army is, always seeing wars around every mountain and behind every treaty. Maybe it isn’t a bad thing: somebody should be on the alert.
“No, as a matter of fact, this isn’t my job. It’s yours.”
“Mine?”
“That’s right,” Captain Sharp reached into his dispatch case. “I have a commission for you as Deputy United States Marshal for the area; it’s a special appointment. They made an attempt to catch you in Cheyenne, but you had already gone on to Deadwood Gulch. And they failed to get you there, so this was sent to me to deliver to you when you passed here.”
Matt Bardoul stared at the document. He remembered vaguely some talk in Cheyenne about this, but he had supposed it to be only talk. He had been footloose and fancy free, and when asked if he would accept such an appointment he had said that he would, but at the time he had not dreamed O’Connor was serious.
“Just what,” he asked, “does this mean? What am I supposed to do?”
“Your orders are there, folded in with your commission. I think, however, you are simply to enforce law in Wyoming, and particularly that area in the Big Horn range country. What they really want is the scalps of Sun Boyne, Dick Ryder, and a few scattered members of the Plummer gang. There have also been some renegades around. I know there are warrants out for Abel Bain.”
Matt looked up. “Bain is dead.” Briefly, he explained. Then he said, “What about this Rosanna Cole affair? Lieutenant Powell was looking for her this morning.”
“Yes, we have been asked to keep our eyes open. She was a youngster, scarcely more than a girl, married to a very wealthy man in St. Louis. Well, she shot him and killed him, and not much that anybody knows about it except that he was found dead with a bullet through his body, and she was gone.
“Some say her lover did it, others maintain she didn’t have any lover. Our only job is to ship her back to St. Louis if we find her. Frankly, I don’t like the job, and am not much interested. It isn’t the Army’s business and but for some political bigwig, it wouldn’t be of interest to us. To you, however, as deputy marshal, it would be.”
“Do you have a description of her?”
Sharp smiled. “Only a very poor one, brown hair and blue eyes, five feet three inches, weight about one hundred and ten. That is all we have, and that could fit a lot of women.”
Matt slapped the paper thoughtfully into his palm. This could be both good and bad. He looked up at Captain Sharp. “I’ll take this, but I don’t want it. I never really expected it would come through. For your information, I am not looking for Rosanna Cole … as for Boyne and Ryder, I’ll bring them in if I can find them.
“In the meanwhile, how many know about this appointment?”
“We two only. It was the business of nobody else.”
“Good!” Matt smiled. “Then mention it to no one. I’ll put this is my pocket and go on with that wagon train. I’ve an idea that’s just where a Deputy United States Marshal will be needed.” He turned away, but Captain Sharp’s voice stopped him. “By the way … you have, Lieutenant Powell said, a Colonel Orvis Pearson in command of your wagon train?”
“Yes, we have. An Army officer.”
Sharp glanced up. “A former Army officer. You might tell him, just this and no more, that Arch Schandler is dead.”
“That Arch Schandler is dead?”
“Yes, that’s enough. He will understand thoroughly.” Sharp grinned suddenly. “Say, Powell tells me you’ve got an uncommonly pretty girl along. Could I meet her?”
“Huh!” Matt smiled wryly. “You and the whole United States Army!”
Jacquine was standing by the fire again, talking to Sarah Stark. She looked up as he approached, then glanced from Captain Sharp to Matt.
Matt bowed very formally. “Miss Coyle, the Captain is very eager to meet you and I thought it best he have his chance.” He put his hand on Sharp’s arm. “Captain Gordon Sharp … Miss Coyle.” Matt stepped back and started to move away.
“Well!” Jacquine said. “Are you going to leave just like that? Have you forgotten our dance? I was waiting for you!”
Humour glinted in his eyes. “Forgotten?” he said gallantly. “How could I possibly forget? But with Captain Sharp and Lieutenant Powell, I didn’t think you would remember.”
They moved out over the grass, dancing. She looked up at him. “I don’t believe you were even going to ask me!”
He smiled. “I wasn’t. It seemed the situation was well taken care of, and far be it from me to step on Clive Massey’s toes!”
“You’re not stepping on his toes!” Jacquine’s eyes flashed at him. “Just because I’ve talked to him a few times ….” Her voice trailed away and she felt her pulse quicken as his arm went around her waist. She looked up at him, half frightened by the expression in his eyes. It was an expression that was half tenderness and half … well, something no nice girl should even think about. But it was something that made her feet falter suddenly … and she wondered afterwards why they should falter right there, at the darkest side of the circle.
Almost before she realized what had happened, he swung her swiftly into the darkness behind one of the wagons, and almost before she stopped moving he bent his head and their lips met. There seemed to be a roaring in her ears and her muscles seemed to melt and her body folded against his, caught in the onsweeping tide of passion. He held her close and their lips clung together and she felt her breast heaving against his chest and her head was back and his lips were on her neck, her ears … she tore herself free and stood there, staring wildly at him.
“Jacquine!” he said. He started toward her.
“No, please!” She tried to hold herself straighter, and his hand caught her elbow.
Holding herself tightly, her breath coming in gasps, she tried to straighten her hat and her bonnet. She looked up at him swiftly. “We’d better get back,” she said, “they are still dancing!”
All the next day the stock rested. Bardoul lay on his blanket under the aspens and chewed on a leaf of grass, trying to think his way out of the situation. He had no idea what Jacquine felt about him. That there was a strong physical attraction, he knew, but he was also aware that it wasn’t enough, and that it could exist without anything else.
Yet he knew he was in love. There was no doubting that. He sat up abruptly. It was not a new thing, for actually he had known it all along. He had known it since that day at Pole Creek Station, and all he had seen and felt or learned since had merely confirmed him in his belief.
How did she feel toward Clive Massey? And how was she going to feel when matters finally came to a head? Was Brian Coyle in the clear, or was he a party to Massey’s schemes? One thing was sure, his actions now would have official sanction. Now it would not be merely a matter of self defense, for the law lay in his hands.