“You all right, ma’am?” Pappy was asking her.
She clung to the crucifix, her arms bent stiffly. She was not able to unbend them.
“Ma’am? You want to go out?”
She swallowed. “No,” she whispered. She managed to turn on rubbery legs and look at him. He was drenched in sweat; his body shook and his head tossed. It was difficult to tell just how conscious he was, but he groaned and said her name again. She stared at the stump, its end wrapped in gauze which was already stained with blood.
“Keep him covered well,” she said, wondering where the voice had come from. “He’s in shock. Keep him warm, Pappy.”
“We know that, ma’am.”
“Get me a chair. I want to sit beside him.”
“Ma’am, maybe you ought to leave for a while.”
“No. I’ll stay right here until he comes around fully. I should be the first one he sees.”
Slim got her a rocker and set it beside the bed. The men seemed to be stumbling over each other to help her. Someone helped her sit down, and someone else brought a quilt to put over her knees while another stoked up the fire. She could not remove her eyes from Moss’s ashen face, nor had she yet let go of the crucifix.
“I guess—I guess all we can do is wait now, ma’am,” Pappy was telling her.
“Yes, Pappy,” she replied. “That’s all we can do, other than to pray.”
“Well, ma’am, I expect that’s one thing you’re real good at—better than any of us scoundrels.”
She looked around the room at them, as they stood there rather awkwardly, some splattered with blood.
“I wouldn’t say that,” she replied. “And I’m deeply grateful.”
Johnny shrugged. “You’re a nice lady, and Moss is our good friend, so we helped. That’s all. Don’t lay no praise on our worthless hides, ma’am.”
“I’ll be forever indebted to all of you,” she replied.
They looked at each other rather sheepishly and nodded to her.
“We’ll, uh, be right outside, ma’am,” Johnny told her. He and the others left the room—all but Pappy, who hesitated at the doorway.
“Moss—he’s, uh, he’s a good man, Miss Boone. I mean, ain’t no woman gotta be afraid of him, you know? Oh, he’s—he’s an ornery bear when he wants to be, and he ain’t wearin’ no halo, that’s for sure. But he’s had a hard life. A woman like you—she could change it all for him. He’d straighten out right good for a woman like you. And I just know he’d like to keep that little girl of his.”
“I know, Pappy,” she said softly. Their eyes held a moment. Then he sighed.
“I expect I’ll go wash up now. You gonna be okay alone for a while?”
“Yes. In fact I’d like to be alone.”
“Oh. Sure. I’ll be back in a while to check on things.”
“Thank you, Pappy.”
He nodded and went out. The room was suddenly silent, except for Moss’s uneven breathing, frequently accompanied by the deep, bitter groaning.
“Mandy,” he muttered again. She could not be sure how conscious he was, but she leaned forward and took hold of his right hand.
“I’m here, Moss,” she whispered. “I’ll always be here.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“What happened, Pappy?” Amanda asked quietly, as she wrung out a soapy wash cloth. She began to gently wash Moss’s neck.
Pappy watched her. She looked tired, and had deep circles under her eyes. It had been a hellish night of intermittent moans and screams, semiconsciousness and unconsciousness. The arm had been rewrapped twice, and more whiskey poured down Moss’s throat. Amanda had been up with him all night. The others had at least been able to take catnaps. Now the normally shy and inhibited girl, who still hardly knew Moses Tucker, was washing him gently, ignoring her own shyness and her own weariness to help the man she loved.
“How did he get those awful cuts on his back? Did the Apache do that, too?” she was asking. She sponged off Moss’s chest and arm as she spoke.
“Barker did it—leastways, one of his men did it,” Pappy replied. He saw her face turn ashen at the mention of Rand Barker. Would she ever get over the rape? Perhaps Moss could help her there.
“After I got done buryin’ Cal, and since I was already down by the Colorado—so far south and all—I figured maybe I’d better keep goin’ south and see if I could find Moss. I figured my best bet at findin’ him would be to hit the Indian camps. Indians have a damned good communications system. You want word spread fast, you ask an Indian to spread it for you. They don’t need no telegraph lines.”
He grinned, and Amanda looked at him and smiled softly. She put the rag into the bucket of soapy water, took a towel, and began drying off Moss.
“And they helped you find him?”
“Well, I have one pretty good friend among the Arapaho—Eagle Beak. He agreed to take me down into Apache country. Most white men ain’t too eager to go into that territory alone, and I’m one of them. So Eagle Beak went with me, kind of actin’ as a go-between, you know? The first Apache camp we come to, the people told us they’d heard six Apache was killed by a white man farther south. The Apache love combat, and they get ecstatic over bravery and fighting skill. So it was a big story to them. Some white men had paid eight Apache with whiskey and trinkets to attack and kill one white man. They’d told the Apache the white man was real bad, raped squaws and all. So the Indians attacked the man, but the man fought back damned good. Killed six of them, some of them after he’d already been gravely wounded with a hatchet. Well, I figured that could be Moss, ’cause I’ve seen him fight, and even a grizzly bear would be best to stay away from Moss Tucker when he’s mad.”
“Help me roll him up on his right side, Pappy. I want to wash his back and sprinkle some cornstarch on it and on the sheets. That will help soothe his back and keep him dry.”
Pappy got up and walked over to her side. He carefully pulled Moss up onto his right side, cautiously avoiding touching the man near his severed arm. Moss groaned but did not speak, and Amanda quickly began bathing his back.
“You still haven’t explained his back, Pappy.”
“Well, when the Apache told me what happened, I knew it had to be Moss—and that the white men who’d asked the Apache to kill him had to be Rand Barker and them other two. They said the remaining two Apache in the bunch that went to kill the lone white man backed off and left him, ’cause he was already wounded and had fought bravely. And they admired him ’cause he could have killed them, but he didn’t. Moss likes Indians in general. He knew they figured he deserved to live after the way he fought them. Moss respected that decision, and he’d know the Apache would look in favor on a white man who’d not kill one of their own unnecessarily. They told me they left the white man to go his own way, but then the men who’d set the Indians on the white man come along and grabbed the wounded one while he lay unconscious. They tied him and tortured him, and when he was fully awake, one of them commenced to lashin’ into him with a bullwhip—while he lay there tied and wounded and helpless.”
“Dear God!” Amanda whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. She began sprinkling cornstarch over Moss’s back. “All for that crucifix! Oh, Pappy, he didn’t have to go after it!”
“Well, ma’am, you don’t know Moss too good. I’ve known him a long time. And I know he feels kind of worthless, ’cause of his background and all. I expect he figured maybe that was one good thing he could do—go after that crucifix. And I don’t reckon he’ll ever forgive himself for lettin’ that one man get the better of him on that train.”
He gently rolled Moss onto his back again. Without hesitation Amanda pulled the blankets farther down and removed the towels between Moss’s legs that had been put there to absorb urine. She quickly washed him, and Pappy could see she was not really looking at anything. Perhaps she was blocking from her mind the realization of what she was looking at, for she acted as though it were nothing more than washing his arm or his neck.
But she did redden, and he knew it had to be very difficult for her to do these things. She powdered him and put fresh towels over him, throwing the used ones into a separate tub of hot water, where she would wash them later. She covered him now, and Pappy wondered what things were going through her mind. Her memory of taking a man had to be ugly and repulsive, yet she’d admitted to loving Moses Tucker. Perhaps these two could help each other, once Moss recovered. Moss would wonder if he was still a man, and Amanda would need her thinking changed about men.
“Oh, Pappy, there he goes again!” she fretted, as Moss’s entire body began to shake violently. “Grab his legs, Pappy.” She sat on the bed and leaned over him, half lying on him and putting her arms around his neck, holding his head to her breast, while Pappy sat next to his legs and held them down. “It’s all right, Moss,” she said quietly, keeping the blankets tucked around his neck and hugging him tightly. “Mandy’s here. It’s all right.”
The only reply was the deep, shuddering groan that tore at her heart. She closed her eyes and quietly prayed, keeping his head against her breast and holding him for over five minutes, until the shaking stopped. Then she straightened slightly and caressed his face—a face lined from the hard knocks of life, but still handsome.
“How did Moss get away from them?” she asked Pappy. The old man got up and lit a pipe. He walked to the window.
“Well, the Apache, they ain’t much for jumpin’ on a man who’s fought bravely and has already been wounded. And they wasn’t too fond of Barker and them doin’ it, neither. They stopped the whippin’ and waited for Moss to come around so they could hear his side. When he got through talking, and when the Indians found the stolen money and the crucifix—well, then it was Barker who was in trouble for lyin’ to them and trickin’ them. The Apache don’t like bein’ made fools of. They said they’d kill them for Moss, but Moss asked to be allowed that privilege. Standin’ up and facin’ him like a man, and lettin’ them have their own weapons so it would be fair and square. That’s where the Apache get all excited tellin’ the story. I guess none of them figured, with the condition Moss was in, he’d ever be able to take them three, but if I’d been there I’d have told them he could do it. And he did do it.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Them Apache got excited as little kids tellin’ about it. Old Moss got all three of them, even as badly wounded as he was. Then I guess he passed out for a while and the Indians loaded up his horse with the stolen money—even found some more money on Barker’s person and under his saddle. They stuck the crucifix in Moss’s saddlebags and took Moss, his horse, and Barker’s three horses to their camp. They was gonna keep Moss there till he healed, but soon as he came around, he insisted on headin’ out of there. Said he had to get the cross back to a woman farther north.”
“Perhaps if he’d waited there, maybe the arm would have healed.”
“It’s possible. But I doubt it, ma’am. It was already cut almost clean through. Them villagers told me he insisted on leavin’ the camp where he’d been kept, so the Apache packed him up and helped him get on his way. But they watched him without his knowin’ it. Word spread fast that a very brave and skilled white man was passin’ through goin’ north—badly wounded by an Apache tomahawk. They felt it their duty to keep an eye on him, but they knew the man in him didn’t want no help. So they sort of helped from a distance, sendin’ word along the way to watch out for him in case he should pass out again or maybe die. That’s how I found him so easy. Them villagers knew exactly what direction to point me in so I’d find him. I caught up with him near Fort Wingate. We rode in there to deliver what money we’d recovered, and they actually gave us a little reward.” He chuckled. “Can you imagine that? Givin’ us outlaws a reward ’cause we’d recovered stolen money and returned it!” He laughed harder. “That’s a switch! You’ve had quite an effect on ole Moss, ma’am. On all of us for that matter. There just ain’t no way we could have kept that money.”
He turned to look at her and she smiled at him. Then he walked over to look down at Moss.
“I wanted him to stay at Fort Wingate and have that arm looked at. But he refused. He was like a crazy man, wantin’ to keep ridin’ and get that crucifix up here to you. Well, you know the rest.”
She sighed and stroked Moss’s thick, dark hair.
“Yes. I feel so guilty about it. He didn’t even know me.”
“He admired you, ma’am. Somethin’ as special as you don’t often come into the life of a man like Moss.”
“Well, I think he’s very special, too, Pappy. And I made a pact with God. I told Him if Moss died, I’d know the Lord meant for me to go on to that mission and take my final vows. But if Moss Tucker lived I’d have to marry him. Because I’d know I could never go out of his life, Pappy—or let him out of mine. It frightens me, yet I know I have no choice. We’ll go get Moss’s little girl, and I guess Father Mitchel will just have to find another teacher at the mission. I’d like the Father to marry us, and then I’d like to come back here. Moss likes it out here, and I know with men like you around, we’d have friends we could depend on. The biggest problem will be convincing Moss he’s no different now that he has only one arm. Do you think that will be difficult, Pappy?”
Pappy sighed. “Ma’am, I’m afraid it’s gonna be just about impossible. A man like Moss—that ain’t gonna be an easy thing to take. Not an easy thing at all.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Pappy’s prediction had been more than right. It was the third morning after the amputation when Moss became fully conscious. Amanda had her back to him, as she stood looking out the window, watching Darrell Hicks break a horse.
“Mandy?” came the raspy voice. She turned to face him.
“Moss! Are you—are you really awake now?” she asked, hurrying to his side.
He put a hand to his head. “What—what’s been goin’ on? I—I remember comin’ back…givin’ you the cross…and you…” His eyes met hers. “You said you loved me.”
She took his hand. “And I meant it. I’ve had time, Moss. Time to heal and to think, and to talk with Willie.” She reddened. “I’m not—I’m not ready for everything, Moss, but I do love you. And Willie told me all about you. And she—she knows so much, she’s been a wonderful help.”
“Mandy, I wouldn’t want you lovin’ me out of pity…over my past and all. I’m not worth much, Mandy, and you—you’re too special to be givin’ yourself to somethin’ like me.”
“Moss, it has nothing to do with pity,” she replied quickly. “I loved you before I knew anything about you. Don’t you remember me telling you that? I loved you from almost the first moment. But love is so—so new and different for me, Moss. At least that kind of love is. I just—I didn’t know how to tell you, but I knew inside that I was falling in love.”
Their eyes held another moment. She trembled on the inside, but she bent over him and brought her lips close to his. She closed her eyes, and their lips met gently. He reached up with his right hand and grasped her hair at the back of her neck, pressing her harder against his lips. Then he tried to reach around her with his left arm.
She felt him go rigid. He moved his lips away from hers and held her hair so tightly it hurt.
“What the hell…” he whispered hoarsely.
“It’s all right, Moss,” she whispered, caressing his hair.
He let go of her hair and pushed her back, reaching over to feel for his left arm.
“It’s gone! Jesus God, it’s gone!” he cried out.
“Moss, it was dead—rotted!” she told him firmly. “It had to be done, Moss, to save your life!”
“For what!” he groaned, looking at her with frightened and horror-filled eyes. “So I could live out my life bein’ half a man? So people could laugh at the cripple? So you could take pity on the man who lost his arm for you and marry him ’cause you feel obligated? I’d be better off dead!”
He threw back the covers, oblivious to his nakedness, and started to get up.
�
��Get me my gun, ’cause I intend to use it on myself!” he shouted. She grasped his shoulders.
“Moss, you can’t get up!” she shouted, tears flowing.
“You stay away from me, woman!” he yelled back, shoving her violently with his right arm. “I don’t want you lookin’ at me! Don’t you look at me!”
She fell against a dresser.
“Slim! Pappy!” she screamed, now sobbing. She immediately went back to him and threw herself against him before he could get all the way up. Three men came charging into the room: Slim Taggart, Pappy Lane, and Darrell Hicks. Willie followed, putting a hand to her mouth and immediately beginning to cry at the sight of the struggling and desolate Moss Tucker. He shoved Amanda again, then fought with the three men who wrestled him back down to the bed.
“You stay in this bed or we’ll tie you down, damn it!” Pappy yelled.
“You goddamn sons of bitches!” Moss screamed at them. “You cut off my arm! What kind of friends are you! You should have let me die!”
He landed his right fist into Slim’s middle and sent the man flying, and none of them doubted at that moment that Moss Tucker would be any less ferocious and dangerous with only one arm. Amanda stood back, crying and confused.
“A man isn’t a man when he’s only got one arm!” Moss shouted. Willie hurried out to get more help. Moss Tucker was a big man, and he was mad and frightened. Now he punched Darrell Hicks in rage and tried to get up again, shaking violently and half crying. Then came a punch to Pappy.
“Bastards!” he roared. “Why’d you go and cut it off! Why’d you do it!”
Pappy wiped at the blood on his mouth, while Moss pushed his way out of the bed and stood up, holding a blanket in front of himself. He backed himself up to a wall, glaring at all of them.
“How does it look!” he shouted. “Real ugly ain’t it?”
“Oh, Moss, please don’t,” Amanda whimpered, her arms crossed in front of her as though in pain, and tears streaming down her cheeks. “We all love you. We didn’t want you to die! And I—I don’t want to live without you, Moss!”
Lawless Love Page 21
