Starbuck settled gently on his heels, eyes on the pistol in Gilder’s white knuckled hand. The hard, crushing pressure of what he was undertaking had caused him to neglect cocking the weapon. Shawn knew the odds for him to draw his own gun and fire before Dave could correct the error were better than good. There had been enough killing—far too much, in fact. “What the hell’s this all about?”
Sweat covered Gilder’s face with a wet shine. “Told you. Gold’s mine. I’m taking it—clearing out.”
Starbuck shook his head slowly. “Forget it. Be the biggest mistake you ever made.”
“No—I made that one a long time ago—when I took my first drink. That gold’s the only way I can make up for all I’ve done. I can square myself, get a new start.”
“It’s not that easy. You think it’ll end here? That mining company won’t ever stop hunting you.”
“Won’t know who to hunt for. Brandon, the posse, and them outlaws—all dead.”
“I’m not.”
“That there part’s up to you. Drop your gun, kick it over to me.”
Shawn did not move, continued to study the man. There was a sullen determination in his eyes but beneath it all he detected a current of uncertainty. Dave Gilder was walking a path he never before had trod, and the tenseness of the experience was getting to him. Shrugging, Starbuck lifted his forty-five from its holster, let it fall to the ground. Gilder was still worth gambling on.
“Kick it over here.”
Shawn complied, folded his arms across his chest. “What’s next?”
Dave, squatting slowly, never removing his gaze from Starbuck, recovered the pistol. Straightening, he thrust it under the waistband of his faded denims.
“Up to you—I don’t want to leave you laying here dead like all them others,” he said, jerking a thumb at the blanket-wrapped bodies of Rome, Moody and the three outlaws lined up on the grass at the edge of the coulee. “Expect it’s what I’ll have to do if you ain’t agreeable.”
“To what?”
“Giving me your word.”
The strain that gripped Gilder appeared to be tapering off as he talked. Shawn breathed a little easier.
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Everything. I want you to say you’ll keep riding, not head back to Wolf Crossing and tell what happened here—and about me taking the gold.”
Starbuck said, “No deal, Dave.”
Gilder frowned, swallowed nervously. “Not even if I was to give you a part of the gold?”
“It’d make no difference.”
Gilder forced a short laugh. “You meaning you ain’t got no use for gold?”
“Sure I have—but not that kind. The blood of ten men has been spilled all over it, and that’s something I’d not be able to forget. Be the same for you, too, if you go through with this.”
“I’ve got to do it!” Gilder said in a high, desperate tone. “Only way I can fix up what I’ve done and make it right with my wife and boys!”
“You think that going to them with your pockets full of money’s going to wipe out the past? Gold’s not what they want from you—it’s something else and you damn well know it!”
“But with the gold I can—”
“You can’t do anything with it but buy more trouble, make things worse.”
Dave Gilder mulled over Shawn’s words in a morose silence. One of the mules stirred restlessly, began to crop at the grass in the coulee.
“No!” Gilder said abruptly. “You ain’t changing my mind. I done thought it all out. Got it figured the same as Brandon—and it’ll work for me same as it would for him.”
Starbuck lifted his hands, allowed them to fall in a gesture of resignation. “It means you’ll have to kill me, too.”
“I don’t want to. You’re the only man I’ve run up against that treated me decent. I owe you for that, but I can’t let nothing stand in the way of my wife and boys. They’re going to have all the things they’ve always wanted for and couldn’t have.”
“You think they’d take any of it knowing what you did to get it?”
“Won’t know—”
“They will, Dave, don’t fool yourself. You’ll show it. You’ll keep remembering those dead men laying there and you’ll always be wondering if somebody’s about to catch up with you and claim the gold—even kill you to get it back.”
“It’s my only chance—hope,” Gilder said doggedly.
“Wrong. You’ve got a different kind of a chance facing you, one that’ll make your family proud of you and let you live the right kind of a life.”
Gilder brushed at the sweat on his face with his free hand. “What’s that mean?”
“Just this—we’re the last of Brandon’s posse, the only ones left. We’ve done what we set out to do, get back the gold that was stolen—and we’ve got the outlaws who did it. Going to be a big feather in your cap.”
Dave laughed scornfully. “Yours—won’t be in mine.”
“I’m only a part of it, and a stranger to boot. You’re the man they know and folks in Wolf Crossing will be looking at you different from now on.”
“With all that gold I can—”
“You don’t need it. You’re licking your whiskey problem and won’t need it for a crutch anymore, and you’ve proved you’re as good as any man and due the respect you’re bound to get now—”
“Sure’n hell can’t raise a family on respect!”
“No, but you can make that respect work for you, provide you with a job that will.”
Gilder wagged his head hopelessly. “Job! What kind of a job could I get—a swamper in Ed Christian’s saloon?”
“That’s the kind the old Dave Gilder could get but not the new one. I’m talking about the man you can be now—not the one you were.”
“Still don’t mean nothing to me.”
“It can. Wolf Crossing needs a marshal now. You can ask to fill in till election time, then run for the job.”
Gilder’s jaw sagged. “Me? Get elected marshal? Hell, folks’d laugh themselves sick.”
“Maybe a little—at first. You’ve got to expect that. They only remember what you were and it’s up to you to prove that things have changed—that you’re different now.”
“You’re talking loco. They’d never let me pin on that star—even if it was just till election.”
“I figure they will after I tell them how you dragged yourself down that slope, shot in the leg, to help Brandon when you thought he was in trouble and needed you. That kind of proof they’ll understand.”
Dave Gilder’s expression slowly changed. The strain faded from his features and a flicker of hope touched his eyes. “You really meaning that? You ain’t just talking, saying it because I’m holding a gun on you?”
Starbuck smiled. “One that’s not even cocked? Not much. I’m only saying what’s the truth.” He raised his hand, pointed to the blackened pot balanced over the low fire. “It’s been a long night. All right if I help myself to some coffee?”
Gilder was staring at the pistol he was holding. He nodded woodenly, a strange look on his face.
Shawn stepped to the circle of stones, picked up a cup. Dumping its cold dregs, he filled it with simmering black liquid. Taking a long drink, he sighed gratefully.
“Needed that. Brandon forgot to take grub with him.” Reaching into the spider sitting nearby he helped himself to several strips of fried meat and began to eat.
“It just wouldn’t work out—not for me,” Gilder said finally, his tone forlorn. “I know how it’d be. Nothing’ll ever change.”
“Nobody’s saying it’ll be easy. You’ve got a long hill to climb, but you can do it if you set your mind to it.”
“And if folks let me—”
“They’ll throw in with you, work with you.”
“I ain’t sure,” Dave Gilder murmured. “And about this here marshal’s job—I can see you getting elected, but me—”
“I’m out of it. I’ll be gone, which leaves you the only member of the posse still in Wolf Crossing—the one man left there that got the job done. That’s a big recommendation—and people won’t be overlooking it.”
“Seems kind of funny—me—talking about being the marshal.”
“It’s the chance you’ve been waiting for but couldn’t find because you were looking for it through the bottom of a bottle. You’ve got rid of that bottle now, so there’s nothing standing in your way.”
“I ain’t so sure I have—”
“You have, if you keep on believing it.”
Hunkered on his heels, Starbuck stole a glance at Gilder. Dave had lowered the pistol, was staring at the ground.
“What’s it to be?” he asked quietly. “Put a bullet in me, run with the gold—and spend the rest of your life waiting for a lawman or a Pinkerton detective to step out of the dark with a gun in his hand? Or do we go back to Wolf Crossing and start building a new life for you and your family?”
Gilder stirred helplessly. “I don’t know ... I just ain’t for sure about anything.”
“No problem deciding which is right and which is wrong.”
“No, it ain’t that. It’s not for sure I can do all the things you figure I can. I tried before and couldn’t make it.”
“That’s not hard to understand. You hadn’t convinced yourself that you could—didn’t believe in yourself. And a bottle was the wrong kind of courage. It’s not that way now. You’ve already proved yourself and you’ve got yourself the chance to grab onto something good—a lawman’s star.”
Dave Gilder slid his weapon back into the holster. Taking Shawn’s pistol from his waistband, he stepped up to the fire, passed it over, butt first. His eyes were solemn and there was a resoluteness to his features.
“I’ll sure as hell try—”
Shawn came to his feet. “That’s all any man can do,” he said, and reached into his shirt pocket. Taking the star he had removed from Harry Brandon’s body, he pinned it on Gilder’s shirt. “You might as well get used to wearing this. I expect it’s going to be yours for a long time.”
Dave Gilder looked down at the emblem. His hand rose slowly. His fingers touched the cool metal, traced the lettering hesitantly. He swallowed hard.
“I—I don’t know—” he mumbled. “Maybe I ought to wait—see—”
“No need. We’re the only ones left of Brandon’s posse, and I’m just riding through. Only right that you take charge.”
Gilder gave that consideration. After a moment he nodded, smiling faintly. And then once again his features clouded.
“Only thing—what about me throwing down on you, planning to take the gold—”
Starbuck shrugged. “It’s between you and me, and best forgot. Let’s get these bodies loaded up and head out ... It’s a long way back to Wolf Crossing, marshal.”