Lawless Love

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbled.

  “And now you can apologize to Etta!” Moss snarled, shoving the man over to the other woman. Etta looked contemptuously at Duncan, enjoying the show and secretly stirred by Moss’s power and sureness.

  “Sorry!” Duncan spit out at her, hating her and loving her both at the same time.

  Moss gave the man a violent shove to the ground.

  “You got any more doubts about my authority, mister?” he snarled.

  “Just one,” Duncan sneered. He slowly stood up, panting for breath, then dusted himself off some. “Back in Wyoming, I was top man at Etta’s place.” He pushed some of his hair back and spit out some blood, then backed up a little, planting his feet slightly apart. “It was mostly because I could use a gun. You and this motley bunch here have been talkin’ about how well you handle your gun. So let’s see you use it, boss man!”

  Etta’s eyes widened and Amanda gasped as Duncan went for his gun. But it wasn’t even half way out of its holster before Moss’s was drawn. The movement was so quick that it took a second for them to realize Moss had his gun out. Amanda closed her eyes and held her stomach, and Duncan froze at the sound of the click of the hammer of Moss’s gun. He stood motionless and staring wide-eyed at the barrel that was pointed directly at him.

  “Mister,” Moss growled, “I’m figurin’ all you wanted was to see how fast I was. This is the first time I’ve ever drawn this gun without firin’ it. But my little girl is standin’ there watching, and I don’t aim to let her see a man die—or see how big a hole this thing can make in your brisket! So you consider yourself real lucky! You ever go for your gun against me again, and they’ll be carvin’ out a tombstone for you. Now you get on over to a waterin’ trough, cool yourself off, and wash that blood from your face. That is, unless you’ve got any more questions about my authority!”

  Duncan swallowed and slowly let his own gun fall back into its holster. He was visibly shaken now, and although he still hated Moses Tucker—and considered him competition for Etta Landers—the surprise and new respect was evident in his eyes. He straightened and turned to walk off.

  “Duncan!” Moss called out. Duncan stopped in his tracks, his back to Moss. “You tell all of us who’s runnin’ this outfit!”

  Duncan sighed and clenched his fists. “You are,” he mumbled.

  “I didn’t hear you, Duncan!”

  “You are!” the man yelled out. He stalked off. Moss gently released the hammer of his gun and slipped it back into its holster. Several of the men grinned, finding humor in the sullen Lloyd Duncan. All had eagerly watched the challenge, fully aware of how it would turn out, and enjoying the opportunity to see Moses Tucker in action again. It had been a long time.

  “We leave in ten minutes,” Moss told them.

  “Whatever you say, boss,” Tom Sorrells replied with a smile. “It’s gonna be kind of nice, ridin’ with Moses Tucker again.”

  Moss turned to Amanda and saw the terror in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Mandy. He pushed it.”

  “It’s bad enough you’ll be riding into a camp of enemies, without one of her own men being one!” she answered, blinking back tears.

  “I’ll, uh, go get my things ready,” Etta said quietly, hurrying away. Inside she was jubilant. Moss Tucker was more man than she had figured on.

  “Mandy, he won’t give me no more trouble,” Moss was telling his wife. “He knows better. It’s okay, Mandy.”

  She hugged him around the middle and he held her tightly.

  “Come on, Mandy. There’s nothin’ to worry about. I’ll be back in no time at all.” He kissed her hair and squeezed her, then turned her to face the corral, where men were saddling and bridling their horses, joking together, laughing with the excitement of the impending adventure. “Look at all them men: every one of them is dependable, Mandy. It’s gonna be okay. You know how they are. Oh, I don’t expect there’s many sins they haven’t committed, but at the same time they’d turn right around and die for each other. One of their kind died helpin’ me find Rand Barker. Remember?”

  “Oh, Moss, I’ll miss you so much! Couldn’t you wait one more day?”

  Their eyes held, and she knew he was determined to go, no matter what. “Puttin’ it off another day just means another day before I get back again,” he told her. “Come on, now. You’re gettin’ me all lathered up again. Wouldn’t you be embarrassed if I told all them men to wait while I take my woman back in the house for a while? Hmmm?”

  She smiled through her tears and pulled away to blow her nose. “Moss Tucker, don’t you dare!”

  He smiled and pulled her close.

  “One good kiss before they all gather around too close again,” he told her, relishing the feel of her breasts against his chest and wanting to remember it. He bent down and met her lips, and for the next few seconds they both forgot anyone else around. They hungrily grasped at the last sweet kiss, both realizing there was no telling how long it would be before they could do this again. He finally left her lips and moved his mouth over her cheek to her neck.

  “You stick close to the house and the school and take one or two of the men with you wherever you go, understand?” he said softly.

  “I will.”

  “And keep the bed warm.”

  “You know I will. It will be hard to sleep at night, Moss.”

  “Hard for both of us.” He kissed her again. “I love you, Mandy. God, I love you. Don’t you ever, ever forget that for a minute. Don’t be makin’ up crazy things in your head, understand? I’m goin’ up there to straighten things out fast as I can, and then I’m comin’ back here to my woman. You know how much I love you, how much you mean to me. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “You watch yourself, Moss. Please be careful. Oh, Moss, I love you! Come back soon!”

  They kissed again, hungrily, desperately trying to make time stand still just a little longer. Then they heard someone clear his throat. Moss released the kiss and kept a tight hold on Amanda as he looked up at Johnny Pence, who sat astride his horse near them.

  “Keep that up and we’ll never get started!” Johnny said with a grin. Moss chuckled and released Amanda, who turned crimson. “’Course,” Johnny added, pushing his hat back and eyeing Amanda up and down, “I reckon I’d have a little difficulty leavin’ somethin’ that looks like her myself, Moss.”

  “You bet you would,” Moss replied, walking over to pick up his hat, which had been knocked off in his fight with Lloyd Duncan. Becky ran up to him for a last hug, and Moss picked his daughter up and whirled her around, nuzzling her neck and kissing her cheek. “You take good care of mommy, and you get your learnin’ done, you hear? I don’t want you growin’ up talkin’ like your uneducated pa.”

  “I’ll study hard, daddy,” the tiny voice replied. She hugged him around the neck. “When you come back, we’ll see who can spell the best.”

  “I already know who can spell the best!” Moss told her with a hearty laugh. “You can out-spell me already!”

  “Daddy, take me with you!” the child asked, looking him in the eyes. “I wanna go. I’m big now!”

  Moss studied the blue eyes, so full of love and happiness. She reminded him very much of her mother, the mother she could hardly remember now. To her, Amanda was the only real mother she had ever had. And it was likely best that way, although the child’s mother had not been bad—just lonely. And she had been very pretty. It was obvious Becky would look just like her, and Moss already was planning how he would handle the men in his daughter’s life. If they hurt or insulted or abused her, Moses Tucker would simply shoot them and ask questions later. Nothing but the best would lay a hand on Becky Tucker. And even then he’d best be gentle.

  “Now, Becky, you know you can’t go. Ridin’ the trail isn’t somethin’ for a delicate, pretty little thing like you to be doin’.”

  “But that pretty lady is going,” the girl replied with puckered lips. “She’s del
icate, and all dressed up, and—”

  “Yeah, but that pretty lady is only goin’ ’cause it’s her home she’s goin’ to. She has to go.”

  Amanda looked over at Etta, who now sat sidesaddle on her splendid palomino. Today the woman wore a deep purple riding outfit, with a wide-brimmed hat to shade the still young-looking skin of her face. Amanda wondered how Etta Landers had remained so perfectly coiffed and cool looking on this already hot Utah morning. Yes, she trusted Moss. But still, Etta was so beautiful, and he would be with the woman night and day for weeks now, and Amanda Tucker was not foolish enough to believe that Etta would not try to prove to herself that Moss Tucker still loved her. Amanda’s only consolation was the knowledge of how much Moss loved her. Of that love she was sure. And she felt a warm flush inside herself at the memory of their love-making just that morning. And, after all, Moses Tucker was a grown man who knew how to handle himself. She didn’t want to be a nagging wife, or stand in the way of Moss’s decisions, and she knew full well how destitute Moss Tucker would be if he lost her. He was not likely to do something to risk that. Amanda had given him the love he’d never had before he met her; and she’d given him a home, and given her soul and body to Moses Tucker. Now if only she could give him a child.

  Moss put Becky down and stepped up to Amanda again, and she was struck by tears in his eyes.

  “Take care of yourself,” he said in a strained voice.

  Her lips were pressed tightly together to keep from crying. She nodded. They studied each other as Pappy Lane rode up, leading Moss’s horse behind him.

  “She’s all saddled up, Moss. We’d best get riding.”

  Moss continued to look at his wife. “You remember what I told you this mornin’…what you promised me about not worryin’ about things you don’t need to worry about.”

  “I’ll remember,” she said in a near whisper.

  Moss reached out and put his big hand to the side of her face, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat.

  “You’re all right here, Mandy. You’re safe.”

  “I know,” she replied, giving him a reassuring smile.

  He bent down and kissed her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered. She grasped the wide, solid wrist.

  “I love you, too.”

  He slowly and reluctantly let go of her and walked over to mount his horse. He looked down at Mandy and Becky.

  “Good-bye, ladies,” he said with a sad grin.

  “Bye, daddy,” Becky replied, waving a fat hand.

  “Good-bye,” Amanda whispered, an unwanted tear slipping down her cheek. “God be with you. I’ll…pray for you, Moss.”

  “Well, then, I reckon I don’t have anything to worry about, not with the likes of you prayin’ for me,” he answered with a wink. He started to turn his horse.

  “Moss!” she called out, quickly removing a crucifix she wore around her neck. She reached up and handed it to him. Moss enclosed her small hands in his own large one for a moment, then took the cross. “Wear it, darling,” she told him. “Keep it close to your heart.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “I’ll do just that. And thank you, Mandy, for understandin’ why I have to do this.”

  “I love you,” she told him again.

  He nodded, then forced himself to turn away, digging his heels into the large, buckskin-colored quarter horse he rode, heading it out in front of the others.

  “Bye, Amanda. You take care,” Pappy told her.

  “Watch out for him, Pappy,” she said pleadingly.

  “Don’t I always?” he replied with a wink. He reached down, patted her cheek, and rode out after Moss.

  Next came Etta, who slowed her horse and nodded to Amanda. “Good-bye, Mrs. Tucker,” she said sweetly. “I won’t keep him too long. I promise.”

  The two women looked challengingly at one another.

  “See that you don’t,” Amanda replied. “He’s my husband. I love him. And he has needs no one else can fill for him. He’s doing you a great favor, Etta. I hope you appreciate it.”

  Etta scowled slightly and rode off after Pappy and Moss. She was followed by her two men, the moody Lloyd Duncan and young Danny Green.

  The others all followed, each nodding their farewell to Amanda, some removing their hats first in a gesture of respect.

  “We’ll take real good care of him, ma’am,” Lonnie Drake promised her. “Don’t you worry one little bit.”

  “Thank you, Lonnie. You’re a good man—you’re all good men. God bless you.”

  “Ain’t no God gonna bless the likes of me,” Max Cornell spoke up with a chuckle.

  “He will, Mr. Cornell,” Amanda replied. “I’ll be praying for all of you.”

  Cornell shook his head. He held a great admiration for Amanda Tucker.

  The rest rode by: Darrell, Johnny, Slim, Brad, Les, Tom, Bullit, Dwight, Hank, and Sooner. Counting Moss and Etta’s two men, there were sixteen all together. A tiny army headed north to Wyoming to set things right for a woman. Hopefully, the woman was worth it.

  Amanda watched as the string of horses became smaller, difficult to see through the cloud of dust they stirred up and left behind them. Then one rider appeared through the haze, one who had turned back for a moment. He waved. It was Moss.

  She waved back. He seemed to hesitate there a moment. Then he turned and rode off again.

  “How long will daddy be gone, mommy?” Becky asked.

  “I’m not sure, darling,” Amanda replied. Her heart felt like a piece of lead. “But he will come back. You can be sure of that. He’ll come for us both, just like he searched for us and found us five years ago. He’ll always come back to us that way.”

  “But what if he gets hurt?”

  “He won’t,” Amanda said quickly. “Remember the Holy Mother and pray to Her, Becky. We’ll pray together. And I gave daddy my crucifix. A crucifix saved him once. It will save him again. Come inside now and we’ll pray for him at the little altar in our bedroom.”

  Becky ran into the house to get her rosary beads and Amanda turned to look at Wanda, the Navaho woman who would stay and help her.

  “He is good man,” Wanda told her. “He will be fine.”

  Amanda nodded, then burst into tears and hugged the robust Indian woman. Wanda patted her shoulder.

  “Not to worry,” she told Amanda. “Moss Tucker good man. Many times I wait for my warrior husband to come home from battle. I know how it feels. But Moss Tucker is good warrior. He will come.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The rather quiet procession moved from Moss’s ranch, which was nearly on the Utah-Arizona border, northward across the San Juan River, then along the Colorado River to where it branched into the Green River. The small troop of rugged, hard-muscled men would follow the Green River through the famous outlaw hangout of Robber’s Roost and catch the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad, which would take them into northern Utah and to its junction with the Union Pacific, which they would ride east to Rock Springs; there they would disembark and ride to Etta’s ranch.

  Etta and her two men kept slightly apart from the others, but Etta listened with interest to some of the stories they swapped along the way, amused at the efforts the men made at avoiding foul words in a lady’s presence. She wondered what kind of tales they would tell if she were not present.

  Moss watched all of them carefully, fully aware of eyes that rested longingly on Etta Landers’ lovely form as they rode. Riding the trail could bring out a hungry need in a man; appetites that only grew more painful with time and the loneliness of riding outlaw country, where jackrabbits were a more common sight than humans, and beautiful women were in very short supply.

  But all of them kept their distance and obeyed the strict rule Moses Tucker had given them to keep their minds on business. However, Etta Landers did not lack for servants. Pappy did the cooking, and there was always a scuffle over who would take a dish of food to Etta. Not a physical scuffle, but teasing words and daring looks and near threats
. Her canteen was always full, shady spots were always picked for resting, the softest places were always offered to her for sleeping, and no one complained when he was appointed the one to keep guard over Etta Landers for the night. And when the woman did her bathing and changing behind blanket screens, the tension among the men would have been humorous if not for the ache that gripped their insides as their imaginations wandered; each man fantasized in his own way over what he would do with the woman if she were willing.

  But Moss knew that as long as Etta kept her distance and conducted herself properly, not one man in the bunch would make an advance of any kind. He often smiled to himself as he watched them out of the corner of his eye: burly, rugged men, outlaws and killers, yet all of them a little nervous and even somewhat uncomfortable around a beautiful and proper lady. It made him think of the time some of these men had helped him search for Amanda. They respected Moss’s feelings for her, and they were all just as angry over her abduction as Moss had been.

  Moss sighed and leaned against a scrubby oak tree that was half dead. He lifted a tin cup of coffee to his lips and listened to the crickets. It was their fourth night on the trail, a black night, with seemingly zillions of stars overhead. Tomorrow they would ride through Robber’s Roost and catch the Denver and Rio Grande. Somewhere in the background someone played a mournful tune on his harmonica, and Moss closed his eyes. How he missed her! He wasn’t even at his destination yet, and he was ready to go back. What was she doing now? Asleep, most likely. And a restless sleep it would be, just as his own would be.

  “Miss her bad, hmmm?” Hank Stemm spoke up. He sat nearby rubbing his toes.

  “You bet,” Moss replied, lighting a cigarette.

  “I gotta get me some new boots,” Stemm told him, now wiggling his toes. “These things hurt my feet.” He sighed. “You’re a lucky man, Moss. That woman of yours, she’s beefsteak and potatoes, know what I mean?”

  Moss shifted, longing to be in his own bed beside Amanda.

  “I know exactly what you mean.” He took a deep drag on his cigarette, and a welcome cool breeze ruffled his thick hair. “How come you never settled down, Hank?” he asked.