Amanda set the coffee down in front of Darrell Hicks.
“I thank you, ma’am,” he told her.
Amanda looked at Willie with worried eyes. Moss had been gone too long. He, Pappy Lane, and Cal Story had still not returned. She had so much she wanted to say to Moss. Perhaps she would never get the chance now. Perhaps he had died trying to get the crucifix for her. She felt guilty, lonely, and cruel. With all the time she’d had to heal and to think, she’d slowly come to know the real truth. She was in love with Moses Tucker. How she would deal with all the ramifications that love would bring was another matter. The important thing was to have the chance to tell him.
“Why aren’t they back yet?” she asked in a shaky voice, walking over and setting the pot on the stove.
“I wouldn’t fret too soon, Miss Boone,” Johnny replied, “Sometimes these things take time.”
Amanda walked over to the fireplace. “I don’t know what I’ll do if—if something terrible has happened to him,” she said quietly, reddening at the admission. Johnny Pence, Darrell Hicks, Slim and Willie Taggart all sat at the nearby table. They looked at each other. Amanda Boone’s love for Moss was becoming obvious, which made all of them happy. But the fact remained that Moss had still not returned, and they were all more worried than they let on. Amanda had done enough suffering—physically and mentally—in the five weeks since she was first abducted. There was no sense in adding to her woes.
Amanda seemed almost fully recovered physically. But it was difficult to tell just how deeply ran the scars in her mind from being a victim of Rand Barker and his men. Willie suspected the best cure would be Moss Tucker’s arms.
“Well,” Darrell spoke up, “I reckon maybe me and Johnny ought to go out huntin’ for him if he don’t show up by tomorrow. Our orders was to find Derrick and Higgins and come on back here. We found ’em, and we buried ’em—and here we are.”
The statement was made matter-of-factly, as though killing the two men meant nothing to the man. Yet Amanda was beginning to understand these men better. Out in this land men made their own laws. Even outlaws had their own code. These men had helped find her—and they had helped Moss hunt her abductors at a risk to their own lives. But they’d gone anyway, and now two more horrible men from Rand Barker’s gang were dead. The money Derrick and Higgins had been carrying lay in a trunk in the bedroom, waiting for the others to return with the rest of it—if they returned at all.
Johnny got up and paced. “Maybe they ended up all the way down in Mexico,” he commented, rubbing his chin. “That would take some time.”
“Yeah, but that also means ridin’ through Apache country,” Slim Taggart spoke up. Willie looked at him with worried eyes. Slim stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you be fretting, honey. I don’t want you gettin’ all upset. We don’t want that baby to come too soon.”
Willie reached up and took his hand. Amanda turned to look at all of them. What a strange group this was: outlaws—some reformed and some not—and a former prostitute. Yet they were all concerned. They all loved Moss Tucker—and they’d all been kind and helpful to her. Where did God draw the line with people like this? She could not help but care for all of them herself. And she’d had a lot of talks with Willie Taggart, who knew everything there was to know about men.
“Do you think if Mr. Story and Mr. Lane—if they got the two men they were after, would they go south to help Moss?” she asked, now looking at Darrell Hicks.
The man’s eyes quickly scanned her slender body, mostly out of curiosity about the woman Moss loved, and out of admiration. She was all lady. Moss would do well to lay his claim on Amanda Boone—if the man was still alive.
“I think they would,” he replied. He pulled out a cigar and lit it. Then he puffed it for a moment. “My guess is them two Cal and Pappy was after veered south. They was a lot closer to Moss in distance than we was. We ended up goin’ way north. But Cal and Pappy—goin’ east-southeast like they did—they’d be likely to keep goin’ once they caught up with them two. You shouldn’t fret too much, Miss Boone. Even without their help, ole Moss will come through all right. He’ll show up. You’ll see.”
Amanda swallowed back her tears and rubbed her hands nervously down the sides of her dress. She looked at Willie, who gave her a smile of assurance. But Amanda read through the smile.
“I—I’ll start supper if you like, Willie,” she said quietly. “I need something to do.”
Willie sighed and put her hands on her stomach. “Lord knows I’d just as soon stay in this chair, Amanda,” she replied with a light chuckle. The others grinned. Amanda suddenly wondered if Darrell Hicks and Johnny Pence had both done business with Willie before she married Slim Taggart. Moss had, and they’d all been friends over the years. Yet it didn’t seem to matter. It had little effect on her opinion of Willie. Perhaps the woman had reasons why she had done what she did, and they were none of Amanda’s business. The important thing was that Willie had changed her ways, had married Slim Taggart and was apparently true to the man. Sometimes love worked in strange ways, but everyone had a right to it. Even former prostitutes—and former outlaws like Moss Tucker. Amanda Boone was ready to love him, but perhaps now it was too late. If there was to be a man in her life, it had to be Moss or no one. She’d already decided that if he didn’t return, she’d go to the mission and take her final vows. The only nagging question remaining was whether God intended for her to marry or to be a nun. She was still not positive which God expected of her, and she hoped she would not be forced to choose between God and man. Yet that was what it seemed to be narrowing down to.
Amanda turned to walk to the pantry, taking out some potatoes. The house was quiet, everyone quietly worrying and contemplating what might have happened. Darrell puffed his cigar thoughtfully.
“Riders coming!” one of the help hollered from outside. Amanda’s heart pounded. She threw down a potato and the knife she held and ran to the door, reaching it before anyone else and throwing it open. The others followed her out, Slim keeping a supportive arm around Willie and grabbing a jacket first to put over her shoulders.
It was a chilly, crisp day, the sky a deep blue. Two horses had appeared on the horizon, riding slowly. Amanda’s heart fell. Perhaps it was Cal Story and Pappy Lane, returning without Moss. She walked out a little farther, oblivious to the cold.
Now they came closer. Moss! It was Moss! He had a beard again, and wore the wolf-skin coat. But something was wrong. He sat slightly slumped in the saddle, and he rode slowly. She was sure the other rider was Pappy Lane. She’d never been formally introduced to the men before Moss rode out with them when she’d been so sick. But she knew by the description the others had given her that it had to be Pappy who rode with Moss now. Where was Cal Story?
As Moss came closer, his eyes met hers. It was difficult to read them. He looked pale. Was he perspiring? How could he be in this weather? Something was very wrong! He pulled his horse to a halt.
Pappy quickly dismounted and came over to Moss’s side, reaching up for him.
“I can get down by myself!” Moss snapped in a strained voice.
“You’re hurt!” Amanda cried out, tears coming to her eyes.
“It’s…nothing,” he replied, trying to smile for her. He dismounted, but he clung to the pommel with his right hand and half slid out of the saddle, supporting himself only with his right arm.
He grimaced with pain and clung to the pommel for a moment even after he got down, seeming to need the horse for support. Amanda watched helplessly; their eyes remained glued on each other.
“They’re…dead, Mandy,” he told her in a weak voice. “Barker…Weber…” He swallowed. “And Monroe. I got…all three of them…at once. They’re dead…and no man’s ever gonna…hurt you again.”
“Moss, you’ve got to get inside!” Pappy spoke up with concern. “You’ve got to have that arm looked at.”
“Not yet,” Moss told him, his eyes still watching Amanda.
“Moss, what happened!” she asked, stepping closer. “If you need help—”
“Wait,” he told her. He let go of the pommel and stood on his own two feet. He moved his hand back and reached into his saddlebag, pulling out the crucifix. Amanda’s heart overflowed with love when she saw the precious cross. Moss held it out to her.
“I believe this…belongs to you,” he said quietly. She looked up at him, tears running down her cheeks. Then she reached out and grasped the crucifix.
“Moss, I—you didn’t need to—can you ever forgive me, Moss?”
“For what? I’d say…I’m the one…who needs forgivin’, I failed you…bad…real bad. And I…stole a kiss before I left…that didn’t belong to me. That was the second time I stole…a kiss. Maybe the cross…will make up for all your…sufferin’…at least a little. And for…me steppin’ out of line like that.”
She just shook her head, swallowing to find her voice, loving him with all her heart.
“It’s all my fault!” she choked out. “I allowed myself to look to you for help. No one would have expected you to help me on that trip like you did. You—you didn’t even know me! How can you say you failed me, when you didn’t need to be concerned for me in the first place!”
“I was concerned…because you were so much more…special…than anybody else on that train,” he replied. “And the only reason…I messed up so bad…was ’cause…’cause I was so wrapped up in that…pretty face and them…green eyes…that I wasn’t payin’ no attention to things at hand, Mandy…like that Sollit Weber.”
She reddened and hugged the crucifix to her bosom.
“Thank you, Moss Tucker,” she said in a near whisper.
“All I want…is to see you smile again,” he told her, his voice sounding even weaker now. She struggled to find a smile, but her tears only flowed harder. It was more than obvious this man was gravely wounded.
“Please, Mandy,” he continued. “I’m…dying, Mandy. I gotta see you…smile…before I do.”
Her eyes widened and she looked at Pappy, who seemed ready to cry himself.
“We gotta get him inside, Miss Boone,” the older man told her.
She turned her eyes back to Moss. And she finally managed to put on a smile for him.
“You won’t die, Moses Tucker,” she said assuringly. “Who’s going to take care of me if you die? I happen to be in love with you. If you go and die on me, you’ll have failed me worse than ever! I’d never forgive you for it!”
He grabbed the pommel again and groaned.
“You’re…just…sayin’ that…for now,” he gasped.
“No!” she cried out. “It’s true, Moss! I swear it!” she said, coming closer. She reached up and touched his right hand as it rested on the pommel. “I love you, Moss. I loved you before—before any of this! It’s just so hard for someone like me to admit to something like that!”
He looked at her as though she were a saint to be revered. Then he slowly shook his head.
“I’m…no good for you,” he said in a near whisper. “I…” His eyes suddenly looked desperate. “Mandy?” He swayed and she reached out for him, but his big frame was far beyond her ability to support, and he fell to the ground before Pappy Lane could grab hold.
“Moss?” she cried out.
“I told him he was pushin’ himself too hard,” Pappy grumbled. “We gotta get him inside, Slim!” he spoke up louder, as Amanda knelt over him. “Apache got to him down near Arizona Territory, sliced into his left arm with a tomahawk!”
Amanda gasped and stood up as Slim, Darrell, Johnny, and one of the hands picked Moss up to carry him into the house. Another hand hurried to help as the four men struggled with Moss’s big frame.
“I wanted him to go to the nearest fort and see a doctor,” Pappy fretted as he and Amanda and Willie followed. “But he insisted on comin’ straight here, babblin’ on about givin’ that cross to you, Miss Boone. Said nothin’ else mattered.”
Amanda clung to the cross and sobbed. All this had happened because Moss Tucker had felt sorry for a young woman who was traveling alone. He’d taken on the responsibility of watching out for her without being asked.
They all hurried into the house and hustled Moss to the bed. Amanda followed, clinging to the cross and feeling helpless. Moss groaned and shook as the men began peeling off his clothes. The coat was not so difficult, but the buckskin shirt and jacket beneath it were partially stuck to him from dried blood. Amanda felt nauseous as an ugly odor began to fill the room from old blood and rotted flesh.
“Willie, you get out of here!” Slim demanded. “This ain’t nothin’ for you to see in your condition.”
“But I want to help.”
“You can help relieve my mind by leaving—please, Willie!”
Willie wiped at tears and turned to leave the room.
“One of you boys go with her,” Slim ordered. “Have her get her coat and get out of here for a while. You’d best leave, too, Miss Boone.”
Amanda looked lovingly at Moss, her heart filled with pity and sorrow, mixed with horror at the ugly wounds on Moss’s back as the men cut off his shirt.
“I’m staying here,” she said quietly. “I have to stay. Please let me stay!”
“He ain’t a pretty sight, missy.”
“It’s all right. It’s time I—I learned to be stronger. And he might need me.”
She walked around to the foot of the bed, while Slim ordered lots of whiskey and asked someone to boil some water. They cut the sleeve off Moss’s arm. Amanda gasped, and even a couple of men gasped. It was greenish yellow, and nearly black around the horrid wound. The smell was very bad. At first they were all speechless.
“I didn’t know it was this bad!” Pappy finally spoke up in a choked voice. “He wouldn’t let me look at it—just kept sayin’ we had to get back up here first.”
“Oh, dear God!” Amanda whimpered, putting her hand to her mouth. “Moss!” she whispered.
Pappy turned and walked to the window.
“It’s got to come off, or he’s gonna be dead in a matter of hours,” he said quietly.
“No!” Amanda wailed.
“There’s no choice, ma’am—unless you want him dead,” another one of them told her.
“Losin’ an arm would be worse than death to a man like Moss,” Darrell put in. “I don’t know, Pappy.”
“You aimin’ to just let him lay there and die?” Pappy growled, whirling to look at all of them. “I say it’s got to come off! Look at it! The damned thing is dead! And Moss will be dead if we don’t get that stinkin’ flesh off him!”
“And what’s he gonna think when he realizes what we’ve done?” Johnny asked. “What’s he gonna have left to live for—a man like Moss?”
They all looked at each other, and then Pappy’s eyes met Amanda’s.
“Could be he’d have plenty to live for, if the right person made him want to live.”
Amanda still held the crucifix close to her breast.
“I love him,” she said, looking steadily into the man’s eyes.
“Well, I reckon maybe that love could pull him through, ma’am, ’cause it’s surely a fact that man loves you. Our biggest problem will be to keep him alive after it’s done, and then convincin’ him he’s still a man, even without one arm.”
“You do what you have to do,” she told the man. “I’ll take care of the rest.” She looked down at the crucifix. “God will take care of seeing that he lives, and I’ll take care of seeing he knows he’s still a man,” she added, looking back at Pappy confidently. A faint smile passed over Pappy’s lips.
“I reckon you could do a right good job of that, ma’am,” he told her. Amanda reddened slightly, but she smiled.
“You’d better hurry, Mr. Lane.”
Pappy sighed and looked at Johnny.
“Go get a saw from outside, son,” he said, his voice choking slightly. Then he looked at Amanda. “You staying?”
“I am.” She walked to the
window. “I—I can’t watch, but I’ll stay here…and pray.”
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m awful sorry, ma’am. You’ve been through hell these last few weeks.”
“And so has Moss,” she said quietly, looking out at a cloud.
Pappy turned away and began giving more orders. “Tie his legs down. Tie his free arm down. Somebody sit on him—he’s unconscious, but he won’t be when we start cuttin’. Get some whiskey down his throat—as much as you can. Throw some on his arm. Be ready to tie it off good near the armpit. We’ll cut it about five or six inches above the elbow.” There was the sound of shuffling feet after that, and little talk. Someone else came inside. It must be Johnny with the saw. Pappy ordered him to hold it in boiling water first.
She wondered where the awful, ugly stripes on his back had come from. The Apache? Rand Barker? No matter now. There would be time later for explanations.
“Pappy, where’s Cal?” somebody asked.
“He’s dead,” came the reply. “The one called Booner got him. But then I got Booner and the other one. I buried Cal down on the Green River, near the Colorado—a real pretty place.”
“Damn!” somebody whispered.
Amanda wanted to scream. These man had made sacrifices for her revenge. And none of them had been forced. They had all volunteered. Cal Story had lost his life. And now perhaps Moss would lose his. There was a terrible grating sound, and then a moaning that began to build. She hung her head and wept and prayed, clinging to the crucifix. The more Moss screamed, the harder she prayed. It seemed hours before it was over—hours of horrible screams and the sound of men cursing and swearing. Someone even seemed to be crying, and she could hear them scuffling, most likely trying to hold down Moss Tucker. She knelt to her knees by the window and continued to pray and weep.
Then things quieted. There were footsteps, and someone went out. More orders. “Tie it off. Get some clean sheets under him. Douse it in whiskey and wrap it up.” There was a terrible moaning, as though from the depths of someone’s soul.
“Mandy!” someone sobbed. She trembled and could not get up. Now someone was helping her to her feet.
Lawless Love Page 20
