Ropin' the Moon

by Deborah Camp

  When his mouth freed hers and she was able to gather a decent breath, she opened her eyes to witness the stark passion in his, leaping like flames, eager to consume her. He was breathing hard and so was she. His gaze moved hungrily over her face, her hair, and then back to her throbbing lips.

  “What am I going to do about this?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “About what?” she asked, her mind still in a soup of yearning.

  “About wanting to make love to you. Here. Now. On this bed of leaves under a canopy of blue?”

  A flock of crows darkened the sky above them, their raucous voices causing the horses to quiver and shuffle in the leaf litter. It was enough to break the spell and allow Lacy a moment to take stock of her situation. She let the silky strands of his hair slip from her trembling fingers. Dalton’s hand ran down her stiffened spine and his expression softened.

  “No? Is that your answer?”

  “That must be my answer.”

  “Even from an independent thinking woman like you?”

  She smiled, admiring his tenacity. “Trying to lasso me with my own rope, Marshal Moon?”

  He shook his head, looking down as he chuckled to himself. Then he slid out of the saddle and retrieved his hat where it had fallen. He brushed leaves off the crown before he set it back on and swung into the saddle.

  “We should head back.” Lacy reined Cry Baby around to face the field. She resisted the urge to touch her stinging lips as she planted her hat onto her head. “Do you court a young woman in every town where you marshal?”

  “Certainly. Several, in fact.” He smirked at her startled look. “Trying to paint me as a heartless cad, Miss Tyrell?” he mocked her.

  “No,” she argued. “You’re a handsome man. You certainly have no trouble attracting women.”

  “I seem to be having some trouble with you.”

  She eyed him. “Because I didn’t want to be debauched outside on the ground like an animal?”

  “I’d be pleased to rent a room at the hotel for the debauchery.”

  She sent him a pointed glare, although she enjoyed his ribald remarks. It wouldn’t do for him to know that his kisses had fogged her mind and set off every pulse in her body. Her skin was still warm and her clothing felt tight and itchy. “No, thank you. I’m not in the market for that today. I just came out for a nice, friendly ride.”

  He heaved a heavy sigh. “Ah, well. Back to being friendly, then.” He clucked Soldier into a canter and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Coming, Little Red Riding Hood?”

  “Yes, Mister Wolf.” She flicked the reins and Cry Baby answered by adopting Soldier’s easy gait. They rode side by side like that even as they reached the road that would lead them to Far Creek and the humdrum of their lives.

  “We should do this again,” Dalton said when they reached town. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes. I enjoyed . . . the ride. And the company.” She felt his grin, but didn’t look at him as her attention was hooked by Dutch, who was standing outside the hotel, apparently waiting for them. She wasn’t late for work, she thought, glancing at the position of the sun in the sky. “Something wrong, Dutch?” she asked, reining Cry Baby to a stop near him.

  “Naw, naw.” He waved her on. “Wanted to talk to the marshal a minute. Okay?”

  “Yes, of course.” She looked from him to Dalton and back. “Something I’m not allowed to hear?”

  A perturbed expression screwed up Dutch’s face, but then he shook his head. “Guess not.” He fastened his squinty eyes on Dalton. “Last night a man in the saloon said he thought he’d spied Louder.”

  Lacy’s nerves jangled and her gaze bounced to Dalton. The carefree, teasing man she’d ridden in with was gone, replaced by one with grim determination stamped on his handsome features.

  “Where?” he bit out.

  “Out by the Sutter cave.”

  “Where is that?” Dalton asked.

  Dutch swung his arm, motioning him to follow. “Not far. Come inside. I’ll show you on the map.”

  Chapter 7

  The day dragged on, slow as molasses in January. Lacy tried to keep her mind off what was happening to Dalton on his search for Sam Louder, but it was pointless. Every time she passed by a window, she looked for him. When she stepped into the restaurant, she looked for him. Several times, she heard someone speak his name and she paused to listen.

  She wasn’t the only one in Far Creek wondering about him. The word had spread that Marshal Moon had set out to arrest Sam Louder again. Everyone seemed to be talking about him. In the snatches of conversation she’d heard, Lacy learned that Dalton had earned respect among the Far Creek citizens and he was genuinely liked. He seemed to have made friends with almost every merchant, or at least, the ones who frequented the restaurant.

  “Sam Louder is as mean as a snake,” one of the patrons noted when Lacy was in earshot.

  “He is, but Marshal Moon got him once and he’ll grab him again,” another commented. “That young fella is all grit and guts.”

  A table of ladies enjoying an afternoon repast flung about descriptions of Dalton that included “heroic,” “kind,” “honest,” and “handsome as the devil.” When one of them – the widow Thomas – caught Lacy’s eye, she motioned her closer.

  “Lacy Tyrell, we were talking about our good looking marshal,” Mrs. Thomas said with a impish glint in her eyes as she glanced around the table at the other nosy women. “If I recall correctly, he singled you out at a dance. Walked in, danced with you, and then left. Are you sweet on each other?”

  Lacy managed a scoffing laugh. “One dance doesn’t create sweethearts, Mrs. Thomas. He is far too busy chasing down and arresting Sam Louder to spend much time courting, I imagine.” By their expressions, she could tell she hadn’t changed any minds. They all thought she and Dalton were spooning. She saw her uncle across the room and excused herself, thankful for his timely appearance. “Uncle Otis, is Dalton back yet?”

  “No. Haven’t seen or heard a thing.” He looked as antsy as she felt. Clutching his hat in his red-knuckled hands, he cast a glance about the restaurant. “Is Bobbie Sue around? She ain’t at the front desk.”

  “She’s upstairs. Willa’s moving back to her room at the saloon today and Bobbie Sue is helping.”

  “Willa’s all healed up, is she?”

  “Enough that she wants to get back to work. Although, I don’t think Dutch will allow it. She can barely manage solid food and she’s still muscle sore.”

  “Got word by telegraph just now that a jail wagon is coming through here tomorrow. Heading for Topeka.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep, so if Moon manages to bring Sam in, he can be transported to Topeka by way of that wagon. Assuming he’ll be alive. Might need a hearse for him.”

  “Do you think Sam Louder would draw on Dalton? You think they’d get into a gunfight?”

  Her uncle shrugged. “Who can say?” He eyed her carefully. “You ain’t sweet on Moon, are you? Cause that would be foolish, honey. He’s got tumbleweed in his blood. He ain’t settling nowhere and with no one gal. You keep that in mind when he’s filling your ears with sweet nothings.”

  “I simply don’t want anyone to get hurt,” she said, looking at her hands twisting a hanky into a tight band. She stopped the fidgeting and told herself to quit obsessing over Dalton Moon. She spotted Bobbie Sue and Willa on the stairs. “Oh, here they are, Uncle Otis.”

  He turned and ambled to the staircase, reaching for the satchel Bobbie Sue had in her hands. “Here now. Let me take these things over to the saloon. How you feeling, Miss Willa? You’ve got color back in your cheeks.”

  Willa gave him a wan smile. “I’m all right, I guess.”

  Bobbie Sue relinquished the satchel. “Is the marshal back, Otis?”

  “No.” He hefted the carpetbag. “Might not show up until tonight or tomorrow. I offered to go with him.” He shrugged. “He said I was needed here.”

  Bobbie Sue re
sted her hand lightly on his shoulder. “He’s right. You are.”

  Otis blushed up to his hairline. He plopped his hat back onto his head, grinned at Bobbie Sue, and shuffled toward the door. “Come along, Miss Willa.”

  Lacy leaned against the registration desk, watching her uncle escort Willa to the saloon. She arched a brow at Bobbie Sue. “You have that man wrapped around your finger.”

  Bobbie Sue simpered. “He’s such a dear.”

  “Uh-huh. He needs to marry you and put himself out of his misery.”

  Bobbie Sue swatted at her. “Oh, you! I’m not sure I want to marry again.”

  “Ha!” Lacy laughed up at the tin ceiling. “You’re a jokester, Bobbie Sue Brand.”

  A current of excitement buzzed from the restaurant behind them and Lacy automatically looked toward the street-facing windows. Sure enough, a big buckskin horse with a darkly clothed rider came into view, followed by a black gelding carrying a hulking, sloop-shouldered man.

  “It’s Dalton,” she said to anyone interested. “He has Louder!” She flung open the hotel door and stepped out onto the boardwalk, but Dalton didn’t glance her way. His clothes were dusty and his shirt sleeve was torn at the shoulder. Louder looked worse. Blood crusted around his mouth and one eye was swollen shut. His hands were tied to the saddle horn, his feet to the stirrups. He glared balefully ahead, his round, whiskered face set in an expression of pure hatred. Lacy shivered as she watched them ride by.

  Her uncle bounded from the saloon next door. “He’s back, huh? I’ll be whipped. He got Sam again.”

  “Yes, he did,” Lacy said, staring after them. She wanted to know if Dalton was injured and to hear about the capture, but she forced herself to stay rooted to the spot.

  “I’ll go see what happened and tell him about the jail wagon a’ comin.” Uncle Otis hurried away, his arms swinging and his boots rapping smartly on the boardwalk.

  Bobbie Sue sidled up to Lacy. “Somebody walloped Sam Louder, looks like.”

  “Someone named Dalton Moon, I’d wager.”

  “Is Dalton hurt?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t seem to be.” She fashioned a shrug and went back inside with Bobbie Sue following her.

  “You’re dying to know what happened,” Bobbie Sue said. “Why don’t you go on to the jail and see about him?”

  “He’s no concern of mine. If he needs doctoring, he’ll see to it himself.”

  Bobbie Sue folded her arms and shook her head. “Lacy, I saw you two at dinner last night. And didn’t you ride off with him early this morning? Something’s cooking between you two. It’s got folks talking and Otis worried.”

  With firm resolve, Lacy took her place behind the registration desk. She pulled out the business ledger and opened it. She knew that Bobbie Sue studied her, but she didn’t look up again, preferring to stare blindly at the ledger page and the rows of numbers on it. It was unnerving to realize that she and Dalton had become fodder for town gossip. She was used to being teased about “breaking hearts” and giving bachelors “calico fever,” but this was different somehow. It made her feel panicky like there was a storm on the horizon that was building up to be a full-blown blizzard. The sensible part of her warned her off dwelling on Dalton Moon, but there was another, more insistent voice that spoke to her wild, rebellious streak.

  Oh, that streak! It had gotten her in a peck of trouble. She’d snuck out of the house once to watch a band of Gypsies set up a big circus tent on the outskirts of town. Her pa had rounded her up and applied a switch to her backside for disobeying. She’d followed her brothers when they set off to forage for wild turkeys one morning. They marched her back home, angry that she’d ruined their hunt. Her pa had paddled her good that time, too. She’d hidden a pregnant cat in her bedroom trunk where it birthed eight kittens. Her mother had discovered them after a few days and had pitched a fit because the cat and kittens had soiled Lacy’s winter clothes. Lacy was made to laundry and iron all of them and do her own laundry and repair her own clothing from that day on.

  Yes, her penchant for choosing her own path had given her a sore backside and other punishments more times than she cared to remember. While she trod the straight and narrow mostly, she couldn’t resist veering off into the wilds every so often. The chilly finger of the unknown slipping down her spine always gave her a thrill. Not knowing what might be around the next bend enticed her and kept her interested in what life offered. Opening herself up to Dalton Moon’s lascivious kisses and heated caresses made her feel alive – more alive than she’d felt in years. There was no denying that.

  She closed the ledger with a snap and rested her fists on top of it. Everything inside her screamed for her to go to the jail, but she shut her eyes and willed herself to stay behind the desk. She would not chase after him. She would not fall victim to his charms and be the broken heart in Far Creek that he left behind. No, she would not!

  The mayor opened the hotel door and stuck his head inside. He wore a grin from ear to ear. “Did you hear, Miss Tyrell? Marshal Moon arrested Sam Louder again!”

  “Yes, I heard,” she replied, proud that she sounded coolly indifferent.

  His smile faltered and his brows met above his eyes. “It’s great news, isn’t it? That’ll show ʼem who runs this town.” When she made no more comment, he sighed, closed the door, and hurried toward the jail.

  His enthusiasm reminded her of how men had hooted and hollered and shot off their rifles in wild glee when they’d heard that the south and north were at war. Ah, yes. It had been a joyous time until the land was awash with blood, and tears filled buckets, and good farm land became impromptu graveyards.

  Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Foolish people here were crowing about how Marshal Moon was showing Junior Pullman who was boss, but she couldn’t share their exuberance. She feared for him. That storm still sat on the horizon, darkening the sky with its threat of destruction. Panic rose in her, freezing her heart and curling tightly in her throat. She already cared for Dalton and the thought of him losing his life because he underestimated Junior’s venomous character sent a fresh wash of tears to her eyes. Batting them away with trembling fingers, she seized control of her tumult of emotions and hoped that Dalton Moon lived up to his towering reputation.

  Two days crawled by with Lacy busy at the hotel and only catching sight of Dalton every so often through a window or doorway. She heard from her uncle that Sam Louder had been placed in the jail wagon and carted off to Topeka. Dalton planned to travel there in a few weeks for the trial. He’d asked Willa Hollister to go with him when it was time and testify in front of the judge about being beaten by Sam Louder. Willa had made no promises other than to think about it. Nobody had heard much from the Pullmans, although there were all kinds of predictions.

  “He’ll retaliate, don’t you doubt it. Probably shoot out windows.”

  “His boys might start some fires. Could burn the jail to the ground!”

  “The marshal had better watch his back. Pullman’s painted a bullseye on it.”

  Lacy had refrained from going to the jail to see Dalton, telling herself that she should keep more distance between them. He was a rolling stone, after all.

  She’d relied on her uncle to deliver news of his whereabouts and actions. Railroad agents had been to the jail and had a long talk with him, Uncle Otis had reported. They had learned more meetings of the “Leaguers” had been held and others were imminent, which meant that the railroad opposition was growing stronger.

  The storm clouds thickened on the horizon and each day seemed to grow darker and more ominous. A bitter wind whistled around the corners of buildings and pushed tumbleweeds down the middle of main street.

  With a heavy heart and her nerves fraying, Lacy walked through the restaurant kitchen. It was hot with the cook stove blazing. Appolonia pulled a sheet of biscuits from the oven and sent her a smile as sweat beaded on her forehead.

  “Smells good,” Lacy said, returning the cook’s smile. S
he glanced back over her shoulder. “Full dining room tonight.”

  “And they’re all hungry,” Appolonia said with a chuckle. “I’ll swan, these folks can’t get enough of my biscuits.”

  She went to the back door and opened it. The wind seemed to have died down, so she stepped out to gaze up at the thick blanket of stars overhead. The nip of November was still in the air and she crossed her arms, hugging herself. She was about to go back into the kitchen when she felt the light change. She peered into the shadows and recognized the man who moved closer.

  “Forrest Cole?” she asked. “Is that you?”

  “It is, Miss Lacy.” He stepped into the light spilling from the kitchen door. He touched the brim of his hat. “You look mighty pretty in the moonlight.”

  She smiled. “There is no moon, Forrest.”

  He glanced up and chuckled. “Starlight, then.” Shuffling his boots in the dirt, he made a wide arc with the toe of one as he looked at her from beneath his pale lashes. “I haven’t seen much of you lately. You’re not cross with me, are you?”

  “Why would I have reason to be?”

  “Oh, you know. About Sam Louder and all.”

  She rested a hand on his forearm. “That had nothing to do with you, Forrest, did it? You didn’t know where Sam was hiding out, did you?”

  He swallowed hard enough for her to hear. “Uh, no. He, uh, well, I knew he was hid out somewhere, but not exactly where.” Running a finger around his shirt collar, he was the picture of nervousness. “Anyhow, I’m glad you and me is still friends. I’d like to buy you dinner some evening. I heard that you’d supped out in the open with Moon.”

  She blinked at him, confused by his choice of words. “Yes, we dined together.”

  “You ain’t letting him court you, are you, Lacy? He’s not long for here. He’ll be gone before you know it.”

  “Forrest, I don’t think that’s any of your business.” She started to turn away, but he captured her hand on his forearm before she let go of him. Her gaze flew to his and then she let out a little gasp when he swooped in for a quick, hard kiss. “Forrest!” She wrenched free of his hold and put some distance between them. “That was mighty forward of you!”