Apache Moon (29 page)

He came to an envelope that said:

DUANE BRADDOCK

General Delivery

Morellos, Texas

The address was written in a woman's hand, and the envelope carried the faint trace of perfume, and was postmarked Shelby. Simmons dropped the envelope into the box that contained other letters addressed in the same handwriting to Duane Braddock, General Delivery. The postmaster was tempted to open them but had controlled his curiosity thus far. I guess I'll have to send 'em back someday, he thought philosophically. The Pecos Kid don't live here no more, and it don't look like he's a-comin' back.

Big Al Thornton awakened in the night due to faint sobs down the hall, as his daughter cried herself to sleep yet again. He stared at the ceiling and frowned because all his vast holdings—ranch, herd, and wealth—couldn't buy happiness for the person he loved most.

He figured that she'd get over Duane Braddock after a while, but weeks passed and she didn't seem to be pulling out of her sorrow. She usually held up fine during the day but wept pathetically into her pillow every night. Big Al ground his teeth in frustration. He'd rather get skinned alive by Apaches than hear his daughter cry.

A fancy lawyer had quashed all proceedings initiated by the late Lieutenant Dawes, but now the Pecos Kid was in new trouble. He'd killed a federal marshal in Morellos, and American officials were negotiating with
Mexico about sending the Fourth Cavalry after him.

He's probably livin' in a cave with coyotes and rattlesnakes, but one day he'll get lonely and that's when they'll catch him. I thought he was a-gonna be my son-in-law, but he'll end up with a rope necktie, if they don't shoot him first. It's a damn shame ‘cause he was a good, hard-workin' cowboy.