Lawless Love

by Rosanne Bittner

  Amanda sighed and looked down at her quilt.

  “Yes. It does. I was headed for California for my own reasons. Before Moss left, he made me promise to take the child to the mission where I’m headed. I would like to do that. He was a good friend for those few short days we knew each other. It’s all very strange. As soon as I met him there was…something there. I don’t know what, but it was as though someone were forcing us together.”

  “God? Fate? Who knows? But personally, I think you belong to Moses Tucker, Amanda. That man worships the ground you walk on. He’d be ever so good to you. And I know that what he’d like more than anything is to marry you and keep his little girl.”

  Amanda looked away. “No,” she said quietly. “I can’t…be any man’s wife. I can’t let a man—”

  “It’s not the same, Amanda. Not the same at all.”

  “But I—I wouldn’t be just his. I always thought a woman should be touched only by her husband.”

  “You were forced, Amanda. You’ve not been touched at all—not really. Do you think that with a woman as special as you, what Rand Barker did to you would make any difference to Moss Tucker? Besides, a woman can be touched by many men, but she can only be owned by one. And that one is all that counts. The physical aspect means little compared to the emotional, the heart, the soul. Slim Taggart owns my heart and soul—and my body—but others have touched me, Amanda.”

  Amanda met the woman’s eyes. Finally, it came to her. This woman had been a prostitute before marrying Slim Taggart! Why else would she know so much about Moss and men like him? And how else would she obtain this deep understanding of men? Willie blinked back tears, and looked much the same way Moss had looked when he feared Amanda would turn him away and look down on him because he’d been an outlaw.

  “I belong to one man now,” Willie said, holding up her chin. “And it’s wonderful. I’m having my first child: Slim’s child. And he doesn’t care about the others, because he loves me—just me. And as far as I’m concerned, I’ve never belonged to anyone else. And on our wedding night, Slim Taggart was my first man—in my mind. Because he was the first man I ever really wanted to give myself to—all of myself—not just physically, but in every way. I didn’t have to tell you. But I wanted you to know. Because we all like Moss Tucker very much. It would be very nice to see him happy. And I know that what happened to you—a girl like you—that would hold you back. But you shouldn’t let it. You’re everything I would have liked to be. You’re beautiful and innocent; completely innocent and untouched. To Moss Tucker you’re a spotless angel.” She smiled nervously and wiped at tears. “In that respect I guess I could never be like you. But I’m loved. And I thought you should know that as far as I’m concerned, to be loved and cared for by a good man—a woman couldn’t ask for more than that. And maybe that God of yours means for you to be Moss Tucker’s wife and means for you to have children. A woman can serve God in many ways, Amanda. And if you’d not think of yourself for a while, and consider the other side…I mean, perhaps God sent you to help Moss, rather than sending Moss to help you. Did you ever think of that?”

  Amanda frowned and pulled at a tuft of yarn on the quilt.

  “It is something to think about, isn’t it?”

  “I think so.”

  “Oh, but I wasn’t very nice to Moss earlier. He might not even come back. And what if—what if he gets killed?” She looked sorrowfully at Willie. “I’ll feel so guilty if he gets killed!” she said in a near whisper.

  A faint smile passed over Willie’s face.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” she told Amanda. “If you knew Moss better, you wouldn’t worry so much.”

  “But he could get hurt.”

  “Of course. It’s possible. Anything is possible. But I can just about guarantee he’ll get that cross back for you. He feels responsible. Right now I think you’d better get some more rest. There’s nothing to do but wait. And it’s kind of nice for me to have a woman’s company. It’s been a long time. Slim will be coming home soon. I’ll bring him in to meet you. He’s a lot like Moss, except he fits his name. He’s a tall, gangly ole cowboy whose own big feet get in his way sometimes.” She laughed lightly and picked up the tray.

  Their eyes held a moment when Willie straightened up with the tray in her hands.

  “I’m glad you found him, Willie,” Amanda told her. The woman smiled.

  “Well, so am I.”

  “Thank you for telling me about Moss. Do you mind if we talk some more, after I sleep a while? Perhaps you’re too busy.”

  “I don’t mind. Slim and the other help do a lot of the work now that I’m so big. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Just…things.” She reddened. “There’s so much I don’t know. I’ve…never had anyone to talk to.”

  Willie walked around the bed. “Well, there isn’t much I don’t know about, and not much I haven’t done. I’d be glad to talk to you, Amanda. And I’d certainly like to see Moss happy again. I can’t tell you how many times he cried in his whiskey over the hard times…” She reddened again. Amanda felt a pang of jealousy, and questions flooded her now. This woman had been with Moss! Of course! She’d been a prostitute before marrying. No wonder she knew so much about Moses Tucker!

  “I, uh, tend to open my big mouth a little too much,” Willie said, looking embarrassed and flustered.

  “Moss never mentioned—”

  “Of course not,” Willie interrupted. “Moss is a good man. We were…good friends once. And I belong to Slim Taggart now. Moss and the others, they respect that. A married woman is a man’s property. They’ll steal horses and money, but they won’t steal a man’s wife.” She smiled. “Not that anyone could steal me from Slim!” Their eyes held again. Two women from different paths, yet both good in their own ways, each admiring the other for different reasons.

  “Thank you for all your trouble, Willie,” Amanda told her.

  The woman shrugged. “I don’t mind. Like I said, it’s nice to have a woman to talk to.”

  “You’re very courageous. You don’t give up. I’d like to be like that.”

  “You are like that. You’ll make it okay, Amanda. I’m just sorry you got such a quick and terrible introduction to this lawless land. A woman needs a man out here; men like my Slim, and like Moss, men who know the land and understand it. But those same men need a good woman at their side.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “You’d be Moss Tucker?”

  The man who asked the question had bellied up to the bar where Moss stood, in a little tavern in Moab, Utah Territory. Moss and the others had traced Rand Barker to this little town east of Robber’s Roost—partly by trail hunting, and partly by word of mouth from other outlaws who had kept a careful eye open. The other four men with Moss were hitting other places in the small, one-street town that consisted mostly of saloons.

  “I am,” Moss replied, eyeing the man carefully.

  “Heard of you,” the man replied. He was a medium built man with a two or three-day-old beard and wary eyes that had long ago learned not to trust or believe every man who walked his way. He ordered a beer and gulped some down, then rubbed foam from the grizzly beard with his shirt-sleeve.

  “Word’s out you’re lookin’ for Rand Barker.”

  “I am,” Moss replied. “I’ve traced him this far.” Moss took a sip of whiskey.

  “And just how do you figure to take Rand Barker?”

  Moss leaned against the bar and twirled the shot glass in his fingers.

  “Same way I took him before—only the bastard lived then.”

  He took another sip of whiskey while the stranger watched him. This man had information, and Moss knew the man was making sure of his own hide first. The man pulled his hat down a little and looked around. Then he looked back at Moss.

  “Why should I tell you anything? I ain’t one to rat on my own kind. And I wouldn’t like havin’ Rand Barker after me neither.”

  “He took a
woman—a good woman—and raped her. You know how that sets with most of us.”

  “Your woman?”

  “Not exactly. There wasn’t nothin’ between us, if that’s what you mean. She was just a nice girl: young, untouched—headin’ out to California to teach at a mission, one step away from bein’ a nun.” He finished his whiskey and turned to face the stranger. “Now does that sound like the kind of girl that ought to be in the hands of Rand Barker and Duke Sage?”

  Their eyes held.

  “Barker and the others was here, but they’re gone now,” the man told Moss. “And they split up.”

  Moss frowned. This was something he hadn’t expected.

  “You got any idea who went which way?”

  “I do. Ordinarily I’d be expectin’ somethin’ in return. But since there was a woman involved, I’d just as soon see Barker get his due. You sure he raped her?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “How come he didn’t just save her for Mexico? Virgins bring big money in Mexico.”

  “She got sick, too sick to travel. Then somebody in his bunch accused him of bein’ a coward. He figured he’d show me he wasn’t afraid of me by doin’ the very thing that would bring me after him for sure. When Rand Barker gets mad he does stupid things. Rapin’ that woman was the dumbest thing he ever did. ’Cause it’s gonna mean his death.” The words were cold and matter of fact, with no doubt whatsoever in them. The other man sighed.

  “Did she live?”

  “She lived.”

  “Come on outside,” the stranger told Moss. He finished his beer and Moss pushed his glass aside and followed the man. Moss Tucker filled the room with his big frame covered with the wolf-skin coat. Others in the tavern all watched out of the corner of their eyes. Most of them knew his reputation, and most of them were outlaws themselves. As Moss walked out, there was hardly a movement he did not notice; for Moss Tucker had long ago learned to be wary of the men in these parts, and to always watch for the one who might want to make a name for himself. But none of them made any strange moves. None of them felt up to facing Moses Tucker. Moss walked through the swinging doors.

  “Barker was here to rest up for a couple days,” the man told Moss. “Him and his men sort of took over the town while they was here. I’d heard the rumor about what he’d done. Most was waitin’ for him over by Robber’s Roost, but Barker took a left and come east. He knows, Tucker. He knows a lot of us want him.”

  “I figured that. So he’s tryin’ to confuse us by splittin’ up, huh?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Another man ambled up to them, his spurs jingling.

  “Got news, Moss?” the older man asked.

  “This man says Barker and them split up.”

  “Split up? That son of a bitch is thinking, ain’t he? He figures that’ll split you up from the men you’ve got with you. That makes you a better target for him, Moss.”

  “No matter. The fact remains we have to do just what he expects us to do. If we want to get them all, we have to split up, too.”

  “We don’t even know for sure who all it was.”

  “I know,” the stranger spoke up. “They was here long enough for me to remember. They bragged about the robbery, spouted off their names to be sure all us less-intelligent outlaws remembered who was the best.”

  “What’s your name, mister?”

  “Preston Foster.”

  “I’m Pappy Lane.”

  “Oh! I’ve heard of you, too. You and Moss Tucker both.”

  “We’ve been around. Tell us about Barker.”

  Moss lit a cigar and pushed his hat back, staring down the street at the black outline of mountains. They’d done a good job of tracing Barker, and men along the way had kept tabs, just like Moss knew they would. But Barker had veered just slightly out of outlaw territory. Moss had been able to track him this far. But now things had become more complicated.

  “Well, like I say, they split up when they left here. I don’t know who took what along. But I watched. Me and a couple others watched, to be sure, ’cause we’d heard Tucker might be comin’ a-huntin’ for Barker.”

  “I want them all,” Moss said quietly. “Any one of them could have helped her, but none of them did.”

  The stranger swallowed. “Well, I wish you luck, Tucker. But they’re a mean bunch—real mean.”

  “I can be meaner.” Moss turned to look at the man. “Which way did they go?”

  “Well, Barker and a real nice-lookin’ blond guy called Sollit Weber—they went out that way, straight south.”

  Moss breathed a sigh of relief. At least the two he wanted most of all were together.

  “There was another man went with them—kind of a crazy-actin’ guy who laughed a lot. Called himself Clyde Monroe.”

  “Go on,” Moss told him, stepping off the landing and looking up at the stars.

  “Two others—Wade Gillette and some big guy called Booner—they lit out east. Probably figure on veerin’ south later on and joinin’ up with the others. Two young, kind of strange-actin’ guys by the names of Henry Derrick and Manley Higgins, they lit out goin’ north, believe it or not. I expect they figured nobody would know them or know they rode with Barker. They must have took their share of the bounty before they left.” The man removed his hat and scratched his head. “I just can’t figure why they’d leave without their share of the cross, though.”

  “Cross?” Moss asked, coming back and facing the man. “A crucifix?”

  “Yeah. Barker waved it all over the place, laughin’ about how he’d borrowed it from God. You know, that whole time he never mentioned the woman.”

  “That’s ’cause he knew better,” Moss grumbled. “He took the cross?”

  “I don’t know for a fact, but I expect he did. After all, he was their leader.”

  Moss looked at Pappy Lane.

  “There’s only one thing to do, Pappy. Darrel and Johnny will have to go after the two that went north. You and Cal—you lit out of here east for the other two. One of them is Wade Gillette. He’s experienced, so he’ll take some work to get down, but I’m bettin’ you can do it.”

  “And you? You’re goin’ after Rand Barker alone?”

  “You bet.”

  “He’ll be wantin’ that, Moss. It’s risky. Too risky. Let me go with you. Them others won’t ever come back. Besides, them two that headed east—Gillette and that one called Booner—they might join up with Barker later, and there you’d be, one against four.”

  “I can take them. You do like I say, Pappy. And if they do head south, you’ll be right behind them and you can help me out if I do get in a fix.”

  “I don’t like the smell of it.”

  “He’s got the cross, Pappy. I want it. I aim to get it back to her.” He turned to the stranger. “I’ll get my men together, and you go over them names again with them and describe the men to them. Will you do that?”

  “Just keep my name out of it.”

  “Done.”

  “I’m doin’ it for the woman—no other reason.”

  “Is there a better reason?”

  The man suddenly grinned. “I can’t think of none.”

  They all snickered. And it made Moss think of Amanda Boone. He felt an ache deep within himself, a hunger that he knew might never be fulfilled. The taste of her lips lingered in his mind—but he’d frightened her with that kiss. It had been a stupid thing to do, just like the first time he had kissed her, but she’d been there in his arms: so close, so frightened and vulnerable. And he longed to show her the other side of men and love-making. But he’d frightened her right out of his reach. There was nothing to do now but get the cross back for her, even if he had to die doing it. He’d not done one thing right, except maybe the time he’d chased off the two men who had accosted her at Council Bluffs. That seemed like years ago now. He’d get the cross back, get her to California, and then get his little girl settled. Then he would leave. Where and what for, he didn’t know. Neither did he know
just how he would be able to forget Amanda Boone, nor his little girl once he saw her. But there was no doubt that both of them would be better off without Moses Tucker in their lives.

  “We’ll stay here one night at the hotel,” he spoke aloud. “Mister, you come over there later and give us more details.”

  “Sure. Say, what about that Duke Sage that you mentioned. There wasn’t no Duke Sage with Barker and them. I’ve heard of that man, heard he’s bad—real bad—especially around women.”

  “Duke Sage is dead,” Moss replied, stamping out his cigar. “He won’t be givin’ no more women no trouble.”

  “You kill him?”

  “I killed him,” Moss replied. “Enjoyed every minute of it.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Red’s hooves splashed and the horse whinnied as Moss urged the animal into the cold waters of the San Juan River. It had been five days now since he had seen another human being, five days of riding ever southward from Moab. He was close to Arizona Territory now, still east of the common outlaw trail and west of the old Spanish trail. He knew that Rand Barker would avoid both routes, where there might be people who would recognize him. He was not wanted in outlaw territory, nor would he be wanted anywhere else where there might be civilization. There would be a danger of soldiers on the old Spanish trail. So Moss smelled out the route the same way he figured Rand Barker would: through uncivilized territory, naked of man and even most animals, mountainous, rocky terrain that few men bothered to enter.

  Man and horse forged a narrow part of the river. It was growing late, and now his feet were wet. Moss found a hollow surrounded by a thick growth of yucca bushes. There he unsaddled Red and opened his bedroll, plunking the saddle down to use as a pillow. Then he broke off pieces of the yucca branches for kindling and walked to a spot nearby where he’d seen remnants of a small cart. He yanked out a few pieces of wood for a fire. There were trees on the hills of the mountains around him, but in the spot where he’d made camp there was nothing but sand and rock and a few scrubby bushes and sagebrush. He wondered for a moment how that cart had come to be there. It was very old. Perhaps some Spaniard had left it there, maybe to flee Apache Indians.