Her clothes dropped to the floor, and she stood there shivering slightly in the cool room. She bent down to pick up the clothes, and when she straightened he was looking at her. She froze, holding her dress in front of her, but one thigh and hip, and part of a breast were still bared. She turned crimson and stood there speechless as Moss slowly sat up, looking at her with surprise at first, then concern.
It was strange, how they just stared at each other. Yet both knew then. They knew.
“You don’t have to do that, Mandy,” he said softly.
“I can’t let you leave,” she said in a near whisper. “It’s the only way I can think of…”
He reached out with his good arm, looking at her lovingly, as though she were a precious jewel.
“Come and lie beside me, Mandy.”
She obeyed, not even sure why. She clung to the dress and sat down hesitantly on the bed. He was still sitting also. He reached out and softly caressed the hair that was undone and hung to her waist. Then she felt his lips on her shoulder, her neck.
“Moss, I…don’t know what to do.” She felt stupid and childish.
“You don’t need to know,” he replied. His hand caressed her shoulder and back now. She closed her eyes and turned her head, and his lips met hers. What a gentle, lovely kiss it was! She was hardly aware of being gently urged down to her back, or that he pulled the dress away from her. He still slept nude. And now he casually moved on top of her, his lips still searching her own. She whimpered at the feel of his chest against her breasts, and the frightening hardness against her flat belly. His lips moved to her cheek.
“It won’t be like you think, Mandy,” he said softly, his lips now relishing the soft neck and shoulder. “You and I have a couple of things to find out, don’t we?” He moved back to her lips, then raised up just slightly.
“Open your eyes, Mandy,” he told her. She had closed them tightly as though anticipating a beating. She looked at him now.
“It’s gotta be, don’t it? You and me. It just scares me, Mandy. ’Cause you’re the most precious thing I ever ran across, and I’m not worth one hell of a lot.”
“You’re worth everything, Moss Tucker,” she whispered. “You’re worth giving my life to.” Her blood ran with fire, and she felt the pleasing ache in her groin that she now understood.
“I love you, Moss,” she went on, a tear slipping down the side of her face. “And I need you. I can’t go to California without you. I just can’t! I never thought I’d ever say something like that to a man, but with you it’s so different. And I need you to show me. I can’t live with the ugly memory. I just can’t!”
Her voice choked, and his heart felt pierced. His lips met hers again, a hungry groaning kiss, filled with a desire to make it beautiful for this innocent—the way it should have been for her. She felt small and soft beneath him. So small and soft. And even with the missing arm, he felt large and masculine above this woman-child he loved so much. It was a very nice feeling. Yes. He would make sure he was still a man, and he would make her feel like a woman. He would show her how nice it could be. She wanted to know and he would show her.
His lips searched her lips, her neck, her shoulder—down to the tender young nipples. She whimpered and grasped his hair then, partially out of ecstasy and partially from fear. He moved back to her cheek, reaching under her neck with his arm and working his own legs between hers. She ran a hand along the hard muscles of his right arm, and it made her feel secure. She suddenly knew that if she asked him to stop right now, he would. She did not have to test him to find out. She didn’t want him to stop—now or ever.
“Don’t be afraid, Mandy. If you want to quit, you tell me, honey,” he was telling her, as though he were reading her mind.
She trembled and cried softly.
“No,” she whispered in reply. How enchanting she looked, lying naked beneath him, the long hair spread out on the pillow, just as he had pictured her so many times. It was like living a dream.
“I love you, Mandy. That’s the only thing I can promise you.”
“It’s all I want except—except to have children,” she replied, her green eyes glistening with love and anticipation and still a trace a fright.
“Hang on to me real tight, Mandy, and remember it’s me—nobody else, nobody that wants to hurt you—just a lonely man who loves you enough to die for you.”
“Oh, Moss!” she whispered. She encircled her arms about his neck. And in the next moment came the pain—at first terrifying. She cried out, but the cry was stifled by his own lips, as he grasped her hair with his hand and pushed deep inside of her. From there it was automatic—natural and necessary. As soon as he entered her and heard her cries of pain, and then ecstasy, he knew he was still a man. The slender body beneath him only brought out his masculinity. And his missing arm did nothing to deter from the beautiful moment.
And Amanda finally knew the beautiful side. She was giving herself willingly to a man—at one with the man she loved, in union, lost in a glorious swelling of desire and the sudden knowledge of how it was supposed to be. She arched up automatically. It was something no one had to tell her. He groaned her name, his breathing hard, and she knew she was pleasing him. This was all something she had never imagined she would ever do. But now she knew. Here was where she belonged: here, beneath this man of courage and gentle love.
He was all man, even with one arm. The shoulders broad, the arm rock hard. He’d just learn to do everything with one arm instead of two. And she knew his heart was full of courage—and of love. Surely God had led her to him. Surely God meant for it to be this way. She would be Moses Tucker’s wife, and she couldn’t think of any more wonderful goal than that, except to have lots of babies.
Then it was over. They lay there for several minutes in one another’s arms, neither of them speaking. Finally he raised up on his elbow and looked down at her—her hair a tangle, her eyes glowing softly with love.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her softly, kissing her lips lightly.
“So are you.”
“You’re also deceitful, little girl. Who put you up to this—Willie?”
Amanda grinned. “Sort of.”
“Mmm-hmm. Willie knows men pretty good.”
Amanda ran her hand over the hairs of his broad chest. “She knows you pretty good—too good, I might add. I don’t intend for any woman to ever know you like that again, except me. You belong to me now.”
He smiled. How good it was to see his handsome smile. It had been so long since she’d seen him last smile. He bent down and kissed each breast, and again the fire was building deep in her loins. She could hardly believe it had been so wonderful.
“Is that so?” he asked. “And do you belong to me, Mandy?”
Their eyes held, and she saw a sudden, boyish fear in his.
“Yes,” she whispered, reaching up and touching his hair. “Willie told me once that a woman can be touched by many men but only one man can own her, possess her. She can give her heart and soul to only one, and that one man then becomes the only man who’s ever truly touched her. I believe that now. I’ve given everything to you, Moss Tucker. And you erased the ugliness.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You can’t chase me away now because I belong to you, whether you want me or not.”
“Oh, I want you, all right. I didn’t really mean all them things I said, Mandy.”
“I know that.”
“I swear to God I’ll be good to you, Mandy. I’ll figure out a way to provide for you and my Becky.”
“And our own children,” she added.
“Yeah. And our own.”
“We’ll go get Becky and come back here to live. You’d like to live in Utah, wouldn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you be afraid to live in these parts?”
She smiled. “Not with you at my side, Moss. Did you know the Apache think you’re one of the bravest and most skillful men they’ve run into?”
“That so?”
“Yes.”
She sobered slightly. “You can be just as good with one arm as you were with two, Moss. You’ll see. I’ll help you. And at the same time you can help me. I have so much to learn about men, about living out here. I don’t have to live fancy, Moss. I don’t expect a gold mine and riches. I just want a roof over my head—and babies.”
He looked down at the tender, young breasts.
“Well, now, I expect I can provide them things.”
“Maybe I could start a school out here, Moss. They must need one. I could still serve God—only right here. I think that’s what He wants, Moss.”
“Sure you can. You can do whatever you want, Mandy. Just so I’ve got you beside me in the night.”
Their lips met again in a long, hungry kiss. Then he held her tight against him with his strong right arm.
“God, I love you, Mandy! I’ll never let you regret marryin’ me—never.”
“I know you won’t. And I’ll be a good wife. When we go to get Becky, I’d like to go to the mission and have Father Mitchel marry us. Is that all right with you?”
“You know it is. Won’t he be upset—you marryin’ me instead of stayin’ there to teach?”
“He’ll understand. I have to do what’s right in my heart, Moss. I’ll give him the crucifix and…”
Their eyes met again. How ironic life was! She remembered how afraid she’d been to even let this man fix the handle of her bag because the crucifix was inside. She remembered his kindness: the way he’d watched out for her, stepped in when the two men bothered her in Council Bluffs.
“It all seems like such a long time ago,” she said with tears in her eyes.
“Yeah, it does,” he replied softly.
“You’d better hurry and get well enough to travel, Moss. We have your little girl to get, and a cross to deliver.”
“And a train to catch?” he asked with a smile. She smiled back, but tears slid down the sides of her face.
“And a train to catch.”
“Well, plenty of trains go by everyday, Miss Boone. Right now I’ve got my woman beside me, and she feels mighty good. We’ll catch that train later.”
“That’s fine with me, Mr. Tucker.”
His lips met hers again, and their love-making began all over. He wondered suddenly what had ever happened to the little jewelry box he’d bought her. No matter. He’d buy her another one. There would be plenty of time.
A lonely coyote howled in the distance, a part of the untamed land that had introduced itself so cruelly to Amanda Boone. Now she would become a part of that land. Far to the north a whistle wailed its long, solitary cry over the rocks and canyons and deserts of the American West; the Union Pacific continued to rumble its way into the new frontier.
In that year of 1869, and the immediate years to follow, more railroads invaded once quiet, untamed places. There was an ominous moan in the Chinook winds that scooped down from the Rocky Mountains across the plains and prairies, the cry of wild things dying—the buffalo, the Indian. It was a painful time, those growing years. Painful not just for those things becoming extinct, but for the settlers who came to replace them. It was that “middle period”—when there was only the law of survival, when men set their own rules, and those with money and power could own whole towns and the people in them—in which Amanda and Moses Tucker found themselves struggling to cut their own niche in the land of sand and rock and harsh, cruel reality.
Only the devoted love they shared kept them going. Fate had led them together and Amanda found a life far different from anything she had known before. Yet she knew this was her true calling: to bring happiness to a lonely, struggling man, to give love and a gentle upbringing to his child, to minister—in her own quiet way—to the rough and rugged men in this land who knew little of love and gentleness, and to do what she could to help the Indians she came to know, whose pride and freedom had been destroyed.
It was Utah they chose in which to settle, in the midst of Indians, outlaws, and settlers alike, all sharing the same western sun, all struggling to survive, all caught in the wedge between lawlessness and civilization.
Part II
Chapter Twenty-Nine
1874
Amanda Tucker pulled the biscuits from the oven of her wood stove, breathing deeply the wonderful scent of freshly baked pastry, and smiling in anticipation of how pleased her husband would be when he came in. She set the biscuits on the table, then turned when she heard a shout outside. Someone had called out, as though hailing an approaching stranger. In this untamed land called Utah, strangers were always suspect at first; all who rode onto Tucker property were stopped and questioned.
Amanda hurried to the window, her eyes widening at the sight of a very beautiful woman, who presented a picture of wealth by her exquisite clothing and the grand palomino she rode sidesaddle. Two men rode with the woman, and one of them helped her down while a ranch hand questioned all three of them.
Amanda turned from the window and hastily patted back the sides of her hair, suddenly aware of her appearance. It would be fun to have a visitor, especially someone as mysterious as the woman outside; but she had been baking all morning, and she was sure her dark hair must have flour in it. She quickly untied and removed her apron, just as footsteps could be heard on the porch and someone knocked at the door.
Amanda hurriedly pushed some strands of hair back into hairpins and walked to the door. Today she wore her long, thick hair in a plain bun to keep it out of her face. If only she’d had time to fix it differently, in a prettier do. Had Moss seen the woman yet? Then she felt disgusted with herself for her vanity and she quickly opened the door, smiling kindly at the somewhat older and very striking redhead who stood there.
“Good day,” the woman said, giving Amanda the once-over. “And you must be Moss Tucker’s wife?” The woman’s voice purred like a kitten, and her English was exact. But in that respect, Amanda felt on an even course with the beautiful intruder. For Amanda herself was well educated, and even ran her own little school for local children—Indian and white alike—three days a week in a separate building on the ranch.
“I’m Amanda Tucker,” she replied in her own smooth voice. “What can we do for you, ma’am?”
“She says she’s here to talk to Moss,” a ranch hand spoke up. Amanda forced back a small pang of jealousy.
“Oh? Why would you need to talk to Moss?”
“I’d rather wait and tell him that, Mrs. Tucker, if you don’t mind. My name is Landers. Etta Landers. It was Etta Graceland when Moss knew me. But, of course, that was some years ago.”
Etta Landers enjoyed the rather fallen and jealous look on Amanda Tucker’s face at the mention of her name. So, Moss Tucker had told her about the love he once had for Etta Graceland.
“You’re Etta Graceland?” the ranch hand spoke up with a scowl. The redheaded beauty turned to look him over, frowning at the old man’s work-worn clothes.
“You say that as though you don’t approve,” she said haughtily.
“You bet I don’t!” the old man growled. “What are you doin’ here, botherin’ Moss now for? You walked out of his life a long time ago, and caused him considerable trouble besides! He’s married and settled now, and—”
“Pappy, don’t be so rude!” Amanda interrupted. “If Miss Graceland, or rather, Mrs. Landers, wants to talk to Moss, then she can talk to him.”
“Why, thank you,” Etta said in her purring voice. “Then may I come in and sit down? I’m very tired. It’s been a long ride, and this hot, Utah country has me drained! My goodness, I must say, the weather up in Wyoming is certainly better than this!”
“One gets used to it,” Amanda replied, stepping back and allowing Etta to enter. “Please come in and have a seat. Pappy will go and get Moss for you.” She turned to the old ranch hand and winked. “Go find Moss and Becky, Pappy. Lunch is nearly ready anyway. And see that the two gentlemen who rode in with Mrs. Landers are comfortable, and water their horses.”
“You’re bein’ awfu
l gracious to that no-account woman, Amanda,” the old man grumbled. “Appears to me you shouldn’t be too anxious for Moss to be seein’ her.”
Amanda folded her arms in front of her. “Pappy Lane! If I felt that way I wouldn’t be married to him! Now just go and get him, will you?” She smiled lightly and patted his arm, and the old man grudgingly stepped off the porch.
Amanda watched him a moment. Pappy Lane was probably Moss’s best friend. And in spite of what she’d told him, it did upset her somewhat to have Etta Landers make a sudden appearance out of nowhere, looking for Moss. She turned and reentered the house, studying the lovely form of Etta Landers as the woman removed pins from her hat.
“Have a seat, Mrs. Landers, in the rocker there. It’s the most comfortable chair.” The jealousy rose to Amanda’s throat again, seeming to choke her. She felt plain and ordinary, and had never felt more self-conscious. She knew it was foolish; if only Moss hadn’t once loved this woman, it would not seem so bad.
“Please, call me Etta,” the woman replied with a smile. She quickly glanced around the simple log cabin. The Tuckers’ home consisted of one main room and two bedrooms, one for themselves and one for the little girl Moses Tucker had fathered by another woman before he met Amanda. The girl, Rebecca, was seven now, a lovely little blond girl with dancing blue eyes and a close, loving relationship with her father.
“All right—Etta,” Amanda replied, walking up to shake the woman’s hand. It struck her that Etta’s hand was cold, in spite of the very hot, July weather. “It’s nice to meet you. Moss has told me about you.”
The woman’s eyes turned rather icy. “I’ll just bet he has. I don’t suppose he had anything good to say?”
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