Death Rides the Night by Brett Halliday Read Free Book Online Page B

if she didn’t know when he came in for his guns, but she shuddered and declared obstinately that then she would be worried all the time when he was out. In the end, Pat gave up arguing with her and left the two cartridge-studded belts hanging from the wall at the head of the bed.
    He took off his boots and left them standing in the living room, began moving cautiously down the hall in his sock feet. There was a loose board along here that creaked when it was stepped on. It had been loose for a long time and Pat had meant to nail it down but kept forgetting it. He cursed himself now for his negligence as he moved each foot ahead and felt for the board. He found it and withheld his weight before it creaked under him.
    He took a long step over it and reached the closed bedroom door. His heart was pounding as he gently turned the knob. It was a crazy thing to be doing, creeping along through his own house like a thief, but right at the moment it seemed the most important thing in the world to get into the bedroom and out again without disturbing his sleepy wife.
    He sure didn’t want to do any explaining to Sally. Not tonight. If he could get his guns and get out again without her knowing it, she would have one more night of good sleep anyway. He could leave a note for her on the kitchen table in case he wasn’t back before she woke up in the morning. But’ if she wakened now—
    He had the door open and the dim light behind him threw his shadow waveringly across the bedroom onto the wall. He could hear Sally’s steady breathing now. The bed was right beside the door. She was sleeping less than two feet from where he stood. He took another cautious step into the room and stood looking down at her. Moonlight crept through the open window and lay lightly upon her slender form curled up beneath a blanket. She lay on her side turned away from the edge of the bed, with her left palm beneath her cheek, her right arm flung forward as though she sought in her sleep for the reassuring presence of her husband beside her. Her breath was strong and even.
    Pat loved her so much that it hurt as he stood silently beside her. It was a wonderful kind of love that had grown between them during the dozen years they had been married. It made the fierce passion of youth seem pale and inadequate by comparison. This was so much richer and deeper, built upon understanding and tolerance, compounded of mutual respect and strengthened by all the misunderstandings that had come between them, an essence distilled from all the precious moments they had known together;
    Pat’s hand strayed out and would have touched the soft blond hair that lay like a halo about her face on the pillow if he hadn’t checked himself.
    It was because of their love that he mustn’t awaken her now. He lifted his hand toward the heavy belts suspended from the wall above her head.
    He lifted one down soundlessly and transferred it to his right hand. He had to lean a little further over her to reach the other gun-belt.
    Sally stirred and turned her head on the pillow. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, waking as easily and trustfully as a child. “Is that you, dear?”
    Pat said, “It’s me.” He lifted down the other belt, hoping she would close her eyes again and not see what he was doing.
    Sally sat upright, clutching the blanket up about her throat. Her eyes widened in the dim light and she asked, “Are you coming to bed?”
    â€œJust a minute,” Pat mumbled. He put both gun-belts behind him to hide them from her searching gaze.
    â€œYou’ve got your guns,” she cried out with a sharp note of alarm. “You’re trying to slip out with them. You weren’t going to waken me, Pat.”
    â€œWell now, I didn’t want you to worry, old lady,” Pat drawled defensively. When he called her ‘old lady’ in that tone, Sally knew he was badly upset. She threw the cover aside and