“Bullshit! You’re just sayin’ that ’cause of my arm!”
“No! No! It’s got nothing to do with your arm!”
His eyes softened slightly. But he shook his head.
“I still love you, Mandy,” he told her in a choked voice. “But a man—he’s no good to a woman when he’s only got one arm. He’s no good to nobody!”
“That’s stupid talk!” Pappy sputtered. “You big, stupid son of a bitch! I never thought I’d see the day when you was afraid of something! You ain’t never been a coward, Moss Tucker! You gonna be one now, in front of your woman?”
Moss stayed huddled against the wall, his breath coming in short gasps, his whole body shaking. He stared at Pappy, tears running down his face, his eyes a mixture of hatred and fear and confusion. How she wanted to hold him! How she wished she knew the right things to say!
“You’ve still got your shootin’ arm!” Pappy hollered at him. “Hell, with your skill with a gun, that’s all you need, Moss! You can make it as good as any man!”
Moss put his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“I’m not a man!” he groaned through gritted teeth. “I’m half a man!”
“You stupid son of a bitch!” Slim spoke up, standing up now and holding his stomach. “It wasn’t no half a man that just punched me in the gut! Felt more like three men!”
“Get out!” Moss groaned. “Just leave—all of you!”
Willie returned with more men, who now entered the room. Moss looked down at the stump, wrapped in bloody gauze. He made a strange grunting sound and lifted his head again.
“God help me!” he muttered.
“Moss!” Mandy whimpered, reaching out to him.
“Go away! Don’t touch me!” he groaned.
“Moss Tucker, that woman’s been with you night and day since we got back!” Pappy shouted at him. “She ain’t eaten and ain’t hardly slept. She’s done nothin’ but pray, and it’s her that’s been washin’ you and cleanin’ up after you! And she loves you, Moss! It ain’t got nothin’ to do with the damned arm! It ain’t even got nothin’ to do with you gettin’ that crucifix back! It’s just you! She loves you! Jesus Christ, man, the best thing that’s ever happened to you is standin’ right in front of you! Don’t go and throw it away! You’ve had enough bad luck in your life. Now some good luck is starin’ you in the face. You mess this one up, and it’ll be your own fault!”
“Get out!” Moss retorted. “I promise to get back in the bed. Just get out—all of you. I gotta think!”
“Moss,” Amanda started to speak. He whacked his right arm across the dresser, sending objects flying to the floor and startling everyone. The blanket fell and he quickly knelt and grabbed it up in front of him again.
“Get out!” he screamed. “Get out and don’t look at me! Leave me alone!”
Amanda crumpled in devastated sobbing; Willie hurried over and put an arm around the girl.
“Hasn’t she been through enough, Moss?” Willie snapped. “I’ve talked and talked to her to get her thinking straightened out! She’s talked about nothing but how much she loves you all this time—long before she knew you’d lose an arm! Are you going to make things worse for her by making her feel even more guilty than she already does for what’s happened? Is that how you show your love? I guess maybe you are just half a man—but not because of your arm, Moss! You’re half a man for the way you’re treating the woman you love, and the way you’re treating all these men here! Do you think it was easy for them? To cut off the arm of one of their best friends, to go through the horror of an amputation and watch you suffer? They did it because they love you, Moss Tucker! And because they couldn’t let you die!”
She led Amanda out of the room. Some of the other men left. Pappy stared at the broken Moses Tucker.
“So you’ve lost an arm, Moss. So what? Men have lost limbs before. The important thing is are you gonna let yourself lose somethin’ a lot more important than that damned arm? You lose Amanda, and you’ll suffer a lot more than you’re sufferin’ now.”
“I’m no use to her this way.”
“That’s a fool talking! You’re still able to love—and you’ve still got all the parts a man needs to love a woman physically. And you’ve still got your shootin’ arm. You’re still…” He waved Moss off disgustedly. “The hell with it,” he went on. “You get back in that bed, and you do some thinking.” He walked to the door.
“Pappy,” Moss groaned.
“Yeah?” the old man asked.
“I—I didn’t mean to push her. Tell her I’m sorry, Pappy. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You tell her yourself!” the old man replied. He went out and closed the door.
Moss looked down at the stump again. He grimaced in pain and disgust. Then he sat down on the bed, suddenly feeling dizzy. He lay back and tried to gather his thoughts. How could he be of any use to Amanda now? And what about his little girl? How could he be responsible for a child and a woman with only one arm?
He rolled onto his stomach and wept.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next four days were a living hell for all of them. Now that he was fully conscious, the pain in Moss’s arm seemed unbearable at times, its dull throb worsened only by the awful realization that he was missing a limb. And it was hell for the rest of them because they felt so helpless, not knowing just how to help Moss. It was worst of all for Amanda. Moss refused to allow her into the room. He refused anyone’s help. It was like living with a wild bear in the next room.
Amanda, Willie, and Slim slept on cots in the main room while the other men slept in the bunkhouse, ready to come if needed. A deep depression was setting into Moss, which had been heightened by his learning of Cal Story’s death. Cal had been a good friend; he had volunteered to help Moss and had died for it.
On the fourth day after he’d become fully conscious, Amanda insisted on being the one to take Moss’s tray to him. She wondered if she’d get all the way inside without dropping it, her hands trembled so. But Willie had given her a wink of assurance and a little nudge, and a moment later she found herself standing next to Moss’s bed. He lay turned away from her.
“I brought your lunch,” she said quietly.
He turned to look at her, then pushed himself up with his good arm into a sitting position.
“Leave the tray and go out, Mandy,” he said, reaching for some cigars on the dresser. She watched him put one in his mouth. He struck a match and lit it. She set the tray on his lap, then sat down in the rocker next to the bed.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she replied. “I need to know that you understand how grateful I am to have the crucifix, and how sorry I am for…” She looked down at her lap, unable to go on. She could not stop her tears.
“Fate is fate, Mandy. That’s just how things worked out, that’s all. None of it is your fault. People make their decisions. I made mine. You just—you have one of the boys take you up to catch another train. You get yourself out to California and out of my life, and I’ll stay out of yours. I would like it, though, if you’d go get my kid. That’s the only thing I’d ask of you.”
“Moss, stop it!” she choked out. Her body shook in short little gasps as she wept quietly. “Don’t you…love me…like you said?” she sobbed.
He put his head back and sighed deeply, then puffed the cigar.
“Of course I love you, Mandy. But all this—it just shows me even more how wrong I am for you. A man can’t take care of a family when he’s not even all there. It’s all different now. I was worthless enough to begin with—”
“But it’s not different!” she cried. “You’re still Moss Tucker, and I’m still me—and I love you! Before you left I said some cruel things, but I was just afraid, Moss. And I—I couldn’t forget your kiss. I’ve never been kissed like that. And I knew down deep inside I wanted you, needed you. I still need you. Don’t make me go on to California alone, Moss. I couldn’t be happy alone now. I’m—I’m scar
ed, Moss. I want to be with you. And I—I want children, and you’re the only man I could…” She covered her face and wept harder. “Please don’t make me go away, Moss!”
For several seconds there was just silence. Finally he spoke up again.
“Mandy, I’ve been around. Believe me, it’s best in the long run. I love you too much to see you stuck with a no-good like me. I’ve got no right claimin’ somethin’ like you. You were made for better things.”
“Moss, I love you. I don’t want you to be alone any more. And I don’t want to be alone. Don’t you see? You’ve never really had anyone and, even though we grew up differently, I’ve never really had anyone either. I need you as much as you need me. I’ve never had anyone in my life.”
His eyes met hers and held them for a moment.
“Remember how it was on the train, Moss? It was so…nice between us. Surely you knew then I was falling in love with you. Surely you knew that, Moss. It’s got nothing to do with your past or your arm. How can you think I’d be that shallow?”
He studied the tear-stained, tired face. She seemed smaller than ever, she’d lost so much weight. Again it burned at his insides to imagine Rand Barker taking her. It could all have been so different. And he’d dreamed about taking her himself, showing her how it could be, and perhaps now she would be willing—but now the ugly stump was there. He could not put two arms around her. He could not pick up a child in two arms. The arm changed everything.
“You go on to California, Mandy,” he told her quietly, his own eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sorry I ever told you I loved you. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t have no right lovin’ you, and no right kissin’ you like I did. I’m sorry, Mandy, for offendin’ you, and I’m sorry for the other day—pushin’ you away like I did. I just felt…crazy, you know? I’ve never hurt no woman before, and I hope I didn’t hurt you then.”
She pressed her quivering lips tight together, trying to suppress more tears.
“Just get yourself to California like I said, Mandy. In a while you’ll forget about lovin’ me—you’ll be doin’ what you was cut out to do. And I promise to stay out of your life.”
“But I don’t want you to stay out of it,” she whimpered.
“Mandy, everything I touch turns sour. I’m not about to let it happen with you. Look what’s already happened. I failed you miserably, Mandy. I’m feelin’ pretty good now. So in a day or two, I’ll be on my way and get myself out of poor Willie’s hair. I expect her and Slim would like to have this bed back. I’ll see one of the boys gets you to California, and—”
“I’m not going to California without you!” she retorted, rising from the chair.
“Mandy, startin’ out life as a young married woman, well, it’s not right startin’ out married to a man sixteen years your senior, who’s spent time in prison, who’s a border line outlaw, and who’s a cripple besides! I’m a bastard, Mandy! A bastard and a cripple and a loser! So find yourself some other man, ’cause I’m not the one! You hear? I’m not the one!”
She burst into renewed tears and fled the room. Moss punched a pillow and sent it flying across the room. Amanda closed the door behind her and looked at Willie, who came up and put her arms around the girl.
“Just give him a little time, Amanda,” the woman told her. “Men like Moss—something like this is awfully hard on them.”
“He said he’s leaving in a couple more days, and he means it, Willie! He means it! I can’t let him ride out of my life! I can’t! Oh, Willie, I don’t know what to do.”
Willie led her over to the table, and Slim sighed and got up from his chair.
“I’m goin’ out to feed the horses, honey,” he told his wife. “And don’t you be overdoin’ yourself in here.”
“I’m fine, Slim,” Willie replied. Slim walked over and leaned down to kiss her cheek. Then he patted Amanda’s shoulder and went out. Willie took Amanda’s hand and held it between her own.
“Amanda, I have an idea.”
Amanda looked at her, wiping at tears.
“What is it?”
Willie studied her a moment. “How brave are you, Amanda?”
“I—I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, I just think Moss Tucker needs to be shown how much you love him, and reminded how much he loves and needs you. There’s one way you could help each other out.”
“But how?” Amanda asked innocently.
Willie smiled and leaned back. A naughty, wicked look came into her eyes.
“I know how I’d handle it,” she said with raised eyebrows.
Amanda stared at her for a moment. Then her eyes widened.
“Oh, no, Willie! I—I couldn’t do that! I’m not even ready for that myself! And—and we’re not married!”
“All I know is Moses Tucker thinks he’s not a man any more. You could change that for him. And you have a certain problem of your own that he could help you with. You do love him, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, but—”
“Do you think God really would condemn both of you for helping each other out through and because of your love?”
Amanda swallowed and looked at the table. The thought was terrifying, yet a strange warmth ran through her veins. She felt the same pleasant urging inside that she had experienced on the train when she talked with Moss, the desire she had not fully understood.
“Listen, Slim’s taking me to visit late this afternoon,” Willie told her. “We have new neighbors to the west of us. They’re from Salt Lake City. I’m thrilled to death to have a woman neighbor, even though they are five miles away. I want to go and meet her. The house would be empty, Amanda, for several hours, except for the men outside. They never come in unless someone asks them to. So you’d be alone with Moss.” She squeezed Amanda’s hand. “Alone, Amanda. Take it from an old pro. Moss Tucker is saying one thing, but he means another. That man doesn’t want to ride out of your life any more than you want him to. He’s screaming out for you, Amanda.”
“Do you really think so, Willie?”
“I know so.”
“But…what if he gets angry or—or hates me, or loses his respect for me.”
“Amanda, you’ve got to trust me on this one. None of those things will happen. I guarantee it.”
Amanda looked at the table again, reddening deeply.
“I don’t know, Willie. I don’t think I could.”
“Amanda, haven’t you been listening to me all the times we’ve talked? Sure, it might hurt a little. Moss is a big man. But I know he’d be ever so gentle, and you’ll find out that pain can be lovely and welcome. It wouldn’t be anything like what you’re thinking, Amanda. And in the long run you’d be helping him.”
Amanda smiled nervously.
“I—I wouldn’t even know what to do.”
“With Moss you don’t have to know. He’ll take care of that, once you get him into a helpless situation.”
Amanda raised her eyes to Willie’s, and the woman smiled slyly.
“You think about it, Amanda. If you’re going to straighten out Moss Tucker, you’d best do it soon, or he’ll stick to his stubbornness and ride right out of here—and out of your life. I know Moss. He’ll do it. He’s too stupid to accept happiness when it’s handed to him on a silver platter, I guess because he figures he doesn’t deserve it. You’ve got to serve the happiness, Amanda. Not just present it to him on that platter. You’ve got to go one step further.”
Amanda got up from the table and walked over to pick up the coat Willie had loaned to her.
“Where are you going, honey?” Willie asked.
“Just out for a walk. I have to think, Willie, and pray.”
Amanda put on the coat and turned to face the woman.
“I’ll think about what you’ve said, Willie.”
“Good,” she answered with a smile. “You’re quite a girl, Amanda Boone. I’ve enjoyed knowing you.”
“And I’ve enjoyed knowing you,” the girl replied.
She quietly went out into the cold, November air. A few light snowflakes were falling. She walked a short distance from the house and studied the colorful Utah horizon. How beautiful yet dangerous this country was. The things that had happened to her out here seemed incredible. And the girl who had been raised in an orphanage by nuns seemed like someone else now—not Amanda Boone. She’d learned more in these past three or four weeks than she’d learned in her whole lifetime.
She was unaware that Moss Tucker stood at the window watching her. How he loved her! And how he hated hurting her!
“Mandy!” he whispered. “God, I love you, girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Amanda swallowed back her nervousness and opened the bedroom door with a trembling hand. Was she crazy? Would she burn forever in hell? So much of her thinking about what was truly right and wrong had been altered. Surely God did not want her to let Moss Tucker ride out of her life, to live out his life forever alone and lonely—away from his child, away from the woman he loved, with no one to love him and teach him that his past and the missing arm did not matter. Surely God had led her to this moment of decision.
She quietly entered the bedroom on shaking legs, closing the door softly and sliding down the latch from the inside so that no one could enter. Moss lay on his right side, his back to her, breathing steadily and deeply. He was asleep. The curtains were closed, and the house was empty and quiet.
She walked around the bed, her eyes filling with tears because of her nervous indecision. She was terrified to be taken by a man again, yet fascinated by Willie’s description of how it could be with the right man. If any man was the right one, it was Moses Tucker. And if any man needed a woman at the moment, Moss did. They both had a need that the other could fulfill: she to know the lovely side of sex, and he to know he was still a man.
She stood before him and began undressing—quickly now, deliberately—before she could change her mind and run out of the room. She felt foolish. She knew nothing about how to trap a man or lead a man on. Willie knew all the right moves, the right looks, the right words. Amanda knew nothing—nothing except fear of pain, fear of the memories it could bring her, and fear of failure.
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