Sweet Cherry Ray

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “Yer sure good at shootin’ off yer mouth, that’s for dang sure,” he said.

  “I’ll prove it to ya,” Cherry said. “Give me yer gun, and I’ll prove it.”

  “Darlin’, I ain’t gonna give ya nothin’ that might get ya in more trouble than ya already manage to get into yerself.”

  “Yer afraid I’m a better shot than you,” Cherry said, stopping and yanking her arm from his grasp.

  “I ain’t afraid of nothin’,” Lobo said. “And you ain’t a better shot than me.”

  “Then prove it, stranger.”

  Lobo felt his eyebrows draw together in a frown. This girl was getting under his skin. The banter she had started in trying to distract him from the fact he’d found her hiding in a barrel and eavesdropping on a conversation…had actually worked! Furthermore, she’d somehow pushed him into verbally revealing his skills with a gun.

  He studied her for a moment—head-to-toe studied her, more than pleased with what he saw. She looked so different all gussied up in a pretty dress, hair softly piled high on her head. Not that she wasn’t pretty dressed up like a boy—but she was more akin to “cute” the first two times he’d seen her—as compared with now, when everything masculine in him was drawn to the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, the soft pink of her lips, and the perfect curves of her body.

  “I told ya the other day…ya ought not to be flirtin’ with the likes of outlaws and gunmen,” he said. “You might find yerself in a pickle ya can’t get out of.”

  “And I told ya I ain’t flirtin’. If I was…you’d know it.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, entirely intrigued by her confidence.

  “It is. And besides…I am a better shot than you are.” The confidence of her expression lessened a little, and she added, “Or at least as good.”

  Black Jack wasn’t back in town, his horse was getting shod—what else did he have to do on a Sunday afternoon?

  Cherry’s heart was pounding like Mr. Murphy’s hammer on an anvil! Just being near him, in his presence—it was the most invigorating experience of her life. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to spend Sunday afternoon with him! She thought of the Saturday evenings Oklahoma Jenny and Sheriff Tate would spend together—shooting old whiskey bottles off fence posts. Of course, Jenny was a better shot than Sheriff Tate, and Cherry doubted she could outshoot Lobo McCoy. Still, she’d give it a try—if only he’d agree.

  

  When Lobo told Cherry to stay put behind the church while he went back to town to pick up some old bottles from the saloon, she was near certain he wouldn’t return. But he did! Half an hour later, she watched as Lobo McCoy set the last whiskey bottle on the last fence post. She stood watching him as he sauntered back toward her, having placed one bottle on each of the six fence posts in front of them. Cherry wasn’t as accurate with a pistol as she was with a rifle, but she really was a better shot than anyone else in Blue Water—save her pa and Black Jack. She’d even beaten old Lefty Pierce every time he’d challenged her.

  “All righty then, Cherry Ray,” he said, drawing his pistol from its holster at his hip and handing it to her, butt first. “Let’s see how good ya are. I’ll even offer to give ya a nickel for each bottle ya hit.”

  Cherry smiled at him. “I don’t need yer money, mister. Showin’ you I’m as good as I said I was is all the motivatin’ I need.”

  He chuckled, and the sound sent goose bumps rippling over her arms.

  “There ya go then,” he said, nodding toward the first bottle.

  Cherry took a deep breath. She knew his presence would distract her and might cause her hand to be unsteady. Still, she was determined to get Lobo McCoy’s attention—one way or the other. Maybe she didn’t have the charm and beauty of some of the girls in town—but she was a better shot.

  Taking the pistol in both hands, she took her aim. She was careful at first, making certain her hands were steady and her aim true. Squeezing the trigger of the Colt belonging to Lobo McCoy, she smiled when she saw the whiskey bottle shatter from the fence post.

  “Nice!” he chuckled as Cherry took her second aim.

  The sound of the pistol shot, and the second whiskey bottle shattering drew another awed response from Lobo. Cherry smiled and shot the third bottle from the next post. Moments later, she smiled as Lobo pulled six more bullets from his gun belt, took the weapon from her, and reloaded it.

  “How accurate are you from farther back?” he asked.

  “As accurate as anybody.” Already they were farther from the fence posts than she was most comfortable with—but she didn’t want him to know it.

  She smiled, watching him saunter back toward the posts to set up more bottles. A pang pinched deep in her chest—as if something were being slowly driven into her heart as she watched him. He was so much more the man of her very dreams than any man she had ever before met! She thought of Oklahoma Jenny’s sister, Pearl—of the time Pearl lost her egg and milk money to a handsome drifter, all for the sake of one kiss. Cherry wondered what she would be willing to give up for one kiss from Lobo McCoy. She didn’t have much—a silver locket that had been her mother’s and her Oklahoma Jennys. She doubted Lobo McCoy would find either one of her most cherished possessions worth kissing her for.

  “Okey dokee,” he said upon his return. “Let’s move back.”

  Taking hold of her arm, he led her back farther and farther until Cherry’s nerves and confidence were both a little rattled.

  “It’s pretty far back,” she said as she looked at the bottles sitting on top of the fence posts off in the distance.

  “We can move closer.” He smiled then, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. “Or are ya just tryin’ to set me up to be the fool?”

  Cherry shrugged, forced a confident smile, and held out her hand.

  Lobo’s eyebrows raised in daring as he handed her the pistol. “If you can get ’em all again, I really will give ya a nickel each,” he said.

  Cherry swallowed hard. The bottles were far off—just small specks on the horizon— and she was best with a rifle, not a pistol. Still, Lobo’s pistol was a good weapon—and accurate. She drew in a deep breath and took aim.

  Six shattered whiskey bottles later, Lobo McCoy whistled! Shaking his head, he smiled with approval and clapped his hands several times.

  “You’ve made a believer outta me, Cherry Ray,” he said as she handed his gun to him. “You’re a mighty fine shot. A mighty fine shot at that!”

  Cherry smiled. Surely her shooting skills had captured his attention. She smoothed the skirt of her dress and tried not to blush too boldly with delight.

  “I’m much better with a rifle,” she said.

  “You’re surprisin’ enough with a pistol, girl,” he said, chuckling as he reloaded the gun. “Ever draw from a belt and holster before?”

  Cherry shook her head and said, “No. Pa never would let me.”

  “Well, let’s give it a try.”

  Cherry giggled as she watched Lobo unfasten his gun belt.

  “Here now,” he said as he reached around her with the gun belt and began fastening it at her waist. He frowned for a moment as he took hold of the two thin leather ties at the tip of the holster. “Hmm. Maybe we shoulda done this the other day when you were wearin’ yer britches.”

  But Cherry was too delighted to let such a simple thing as attire interfere with her stolen moments with Lobo McCoy. “Oh, it’ll be fine,” she said, slapping his hand gently and stunning him into dropping the leather ties.

  Quickly, she hitched up the side of her dress and tied the straps at the back of her knee. She was wearing Lobo McCoy’s gun belt! What better thing in the world could there be?

  Looking back to him, she felt just a little self-conscious when she saw the high arch of his brows as he looked at the exposed, yet stockinged, calf of her leg.

  “Now,” she said, drawing his attention back to her face. For a moment, she was near certain his face was a little redder than it had been a moment before
. “Show me what to do.”

  “Um…um…” he stammered looking from her face to her leg and back. “Just…just draw and fire. Best use just one hand, though. In fact, let’s move ya a bit closer.” He reached out and took hold of her arm, walking her toward the fence posts once more. He hurried over to the first fence post. Picking up one of the few remaining bottles lying on the ground, he set it on top of the post and hurried back.

  “Now…ya just…draw and fire. Keep yer hand relaxed but ready,” he said, taking her hand and pressing it against the holster at her thigh. “Slide yer hand up, grab the butt, and trigger on yer way…draw and fire.”

  “It’s harder than it looks,” she said, glancing down at the gun.

  “Don’t look down,” he instructed, pushing her chin up with one hand. “Keep yer eye on the target, and feel the gun instead of looking at it. And go slow at first—it ain’t like someone’s steppin’ out in the street to gun ya down. It’s just a bottle.”

  Cherry swallowed. He liked the fact she was a good shot—she could tell he really liked that fact—and she didn’t want to disappoint him now. Still, she’d never drawn a gun from a holster, and she wasn’t good with a pistol using only one hand.

  “Go on,” he urged. “Go on and give it a try.”

  “All right.” Taking a deep breath, she looked at the whiskey bottle sitting on the fence post. Sliding her hand up and over the holster, she grasped the butt and trigger firmly, drew the gun, and fired. Disappointment nearly drowned her as she saw the chip of wood fly off the fence post below the bottle. She’d missed. Lobo’s whistle drew her attention to him, however, and she grinned when she saw him smiling.

  “Excellent!” he said, smiling at her. “Try it again. Slow and easy. It’ll come to you.”

  It took four more attempts and Lobo moving her closer to the target, but with the fifth bullet out of the pistol, Cherry hit the bottle.

  “I thought you were just tellin’ tales when you said you could outshoot me, girl,” he said as she handed his gun belt back to him. She watched as he quickly strapped it on and secured the leather ties at his thigh. “But ya weren’t, were ya?”

  “Nope,” Cherry said, smiling at him.

  She thought of the first moment she’d seen him—riding in so serious and menacing—intimidating everyone in town with such an intimidating air about him. She’d never imagined he could be any more handsome than he had been in that first moment. She’d never imagined he could be any more handsome than he’d been the day he’d marched her home without his shirt or hat on—but he could be! His easy manner with her now—it sent her entire body to tingling, her mouth to watering for some reason.

  He shook his head as he reloaded his pistol and slid it into the holster.

  “But what about you?” she asked then. “Who’s the better shot out of the two of us?”

  Lobo chuckled. “Probably you.”

  “Were ya sittin’ a horse when ya shot that prairie dog?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he said, as if the circumstance were unimportant.

  “And where were ya when ya shot it?”

  Lobo shrugged. “I don’t know…behind the general store, I guess.”

  Cherry smiled. He was so completely distracted by her shooting skills that he didn’t even realize what he’d just revealed to her. To hit a prairie dog dead in the head while in the saddle and all the way back at the general store? It was incredible.

  “Come on,” he said, as he sauntered back to the posts. “One more round.”

  “But we’re out of bottles.”

  “Yer good enough,” he said as he hunkered down in front of the first post. “We’ll just use what’s left. See here?” He picked up several bottlenecks—the remains of the whiskey bottles Cherry had already hit. “We’ll just use these.”

  Cherry giggled, shook her head with disbelief at his attention being so drawn to her shot. She watched as he flipped the bottlenecks upside down, balancing them on the smooth, unbroken lips of their tops.

  He was chuckling as he hurried back toward her. Drawing his gun, he held it out to her. “Go on,” he said. “See what ya can do with those.”

  “You go,” Cherry said however. “You ain’t shot one bullet. How do I know ya weren’t just talkin’ big about yer own skill with a gun?”

  As a rule, outlaws were good shooters—gunmen with lethal aim. Although her heart assured her Lobo McCoy was no outlaw, her eyes doubted the fact. If he’d really dropped the prairie dog from the distance he’d said, then Lobo McCoy was as deadly with a pistol as any outlaw she had ever heard of.

  “Oh, I—I ain’t—I ain’t that accurate,” he stammered. “My shootin’ goes more toward fast than exact.”

  “Then show me,” Cherry said.

  Lobo shook his head. “It ain’t important,” he mumbled.

  He was lessening the quality of his skills, she was certain. But why? Furthermore, she had to know—she had to know, once and for all—how good was Lobo McCoy with the pistol at his hip?

  “If ya show me…I’ll tell ya why I was in the barrel in town today.”

  He smiled and seemed to study the bottlenecks on the fence posts. “I know why ya were in the barrel today. You was listenin’ in to what them men were sayin’. Ya probably have yer eye set on that Remmy Cooper feller. I hear he’s considered a right handsome man.”

  It wasn’t going to work. Oh, he was dead wrong about the Remmy Cooper part—who would ever look at Remmy Cooper once they’d laid eyes on Lobo McCoy? Still, he was right about the eavesdropping. Though he didn’t know what had attracted her to the conversation between Remmy and Mr. Murphy in the first place—the subject being Lobo himself.

  “All right then,” she said, smiling as an idea began to form in her mind. “If ya show me how fast ya are…I promise to tell ya what else I saw while you were bathin’ in the crick the other day.”

  That was it! Lobo McCoy looked up—looked at her with a frown that spoke of unquenchable curiosity.

  “Deal,” he said. An instant later, he drew, shattering all six bottlenecks from the fence posts before Cherry had even finished gasping!

  She knew it then—Cherry knew her heart was attaching itself to a gunman! Lobo had drawn his gun with such lightning speed that she hadn’t even realized he’d done so before two shots were already off! He triggered with his right hand, hammering with his left—the fastest shooter Cherry had ever seen.

  “What else did ya see?” he asked.

  “Wh-what?” Cherry stammered, still stunned by Lobo’s speed and accuracy.

  “What else did ya see when you was spyin’ on me at the crick?” he repeated. His brow was deeply furrowed with a frown—any hint of the smile he’d worn only moments before completely vanished.

  “N-nothin’,” she admitted. “I…I was just tryin’ to draw ya out.”

  Lobo breathed a quick sigh. He shook his head as he reloaded his gun and looked at her once more as he holstered it. “You gotta quit this, girl,” he said. “Do ya understand? Hell, yer gonna put yer pa in the grave over worrying about you.” Taking hold of her arm, he turned her toward the ranch and began marching her home once more.

  Cherry’s heart was beating wildly—with both excitement at Lobo’s touch and disappointment at having turned his admiration to near instant frustration.

  “I was in the barrel because I was tryin’ to see into the saloon…to see if you were takin’ up with Pinky Chitter,” Cherry blurted.

  Lobo instantly stopped their march and turned her to look at him. “What?” he asked.

  “Pinky’s Black Jack’s girl, and I…I was afraid you’d take up with her and he’d come back to Blue Water and—” she stammered.

  “Why would ya care if I ‘took up with Pinky Chitter,’ as you put it?” he asked.

  “Black Jack will kill ya if ya do.”

  “Pinky Chitter’s a…a…”

  “A harlot,” she said.

  “That’s one word for it, yes…and I’m sure Bla
ck Jack knows it. So why would it matter if—”

  It matters to me, Cherry wanted to scream. Instead she told the second truth. “But yer one she might fancy enough to leave him for,” she explained. “And Black Jack would shoot ya dead cold for it. So—so that’s why I was in the barrel. I wanted to make sure ya weren’t doin’ somethin’ that might get ya killed.”

  “You were in the barrel because ya were lookin’ out for me?”

  “Yes,” she said. She thought his expression softened some.

  “Well,” he began, “I don’t need nobody lookin’ out for me, Cherry Ray.”

  But I don’t want you with her, Cherry’s silent voice screamed inside her head. Instead she said, “But Black Jack will drop you in the street if—”

  “But since you were lookin’ out for me,” he interrupted, “I mean, hidin’ in a barrel in yer pretty pink Sunday dress and all…I guess the least I can do is to thank ya proper.” Cherry’s eyes widened as he took hold of her arms with strong hands and pulled her closer to him. “And…after all…you are just about the best female shooter I ever did see. I guess that deserves somethin’ as well.”

  She held her breath as his head descended toward hers. He meant to kiss her! He did! Her entire body erupted with goose bumps—the butterflies in her stomach increased a hundredfold.

  “I-I ain’t scared of you, Lobo,” she stammered. “I won’t run this time if that’s what yer thinkin’.”

  “Oh, I’m countin’ on the fact that ya won’t, Cherry Ray,” he said, his dark eyes burning with devilish intent. Taking her face between his powerful hands, he mumbled, “I’m countin’ on it.”

  Chapter Five

  Cherry didn’t breathe but closed her eyes and tried to calm her trembling as Lobo McCoy’s mouth lingered a breath above her own. Her lips quivered as his thumb brushed them in a soft caress.

  “I came to Blue Water for a reason, Cherry,” he said. “And you ain’t it.”

  “I-I know.”

  “And I ain’t some nice cowboy that’ll do a little sparkin’ on the porch swing and then ask yer daddy for permission to come courtin’,” he mumbled.