Sassy and the rest of the girls came out of the house with Mae Ling in tow. At the sight of her father all safe and sound, she broke down crying as well.
“What’s you gonna’ do now, Miss Dixie?”
Huh. Good question.
“Before I do anything I gotta cool Joe down.”
“Me and Becky will take care of him,” Mary Lou said. “You stay here and fix things.”
Fix things?
Every eye trained on me. Guess it was only fitting seeing how I was the one who tore off and rescued Lin Chow, but that didn’t mean I had a plan.
“Did you find Big Mike?”
“Yeah. Tommy Ferrell cold-cocked him. Tied him up in the barn.” The worry in Sassy’s face made me rush on. “He’s okay. Gonna have a whopper of a headache when he wakes up, that’s all.”
“I’m going to town.”
“No.”
Sassy bowed up ready to pitch a fit.
“Not yet. It isn’t safe. That mob may be riding our way right now. You don’t need to run into them on the trail.”
“Miss Dixie, I’ll ride out a ways and stand guard. If I see hide or hair of them, I’ll let you know in plenty of time to get ready.”
“Be careful, cheri.”
I walked over to Lin Chow. He pressed his palms together and bowed so low he could lick dirt. “Missy Dixie save Lin Chow. Can never repay.”
“No need for that, I’m just glad I got you out of there in time.” I motioned to Debbie Ann. “Why don’t you take Lin Chow and his family into the house. There should be some tea stashed in the cupboard.” As soon as the door closed, I turned to the girls.
“They cannot stay here, Dixcee. You know this.”
“Cinnamon’s right,” Sassy said. “They can’t go back to town neither.”
“I know.” I paced. Back and forth. “What bothers me is how did those galoots find out about the One-Eyed Jack in the first place?” I stared all of them in the eye. “We swore to take that night to our graves.”
“Dixie? Uh…I might have accidently let that slip.”
All of us whirled on Fancy.
“What the hell does that mean?” Sassy asked.
“Cody Wayne bad-mouthed Dixie. Said she was too yella to come after me. I couldn’t let him get away with saying that.” Her voice trailed off to a whisper. “So I might have mentioned how Dixie rescued me from Calhoun and that Lin Chow shot him.”
I thought the big vein in Sassy’s neck was gonna pop.
“Fancy, I swear to God, I’d slap you silly, but it would be a waste of time.”
I stepped between them.
“I didn’t mean no harm.”
“Mother of God, how many times are you going to say that? Dammit. You weren’t even there. You don’t know what happened that night.” Sassy took a long breath.
“I killed Calhoun. Not Lin Chow. He just got rid of the evidence. Why can’t you keep your little mouth shut? All a fella has to say is ‘I love you,’ and you spill your guts. When are you going to get it through your head? They don’t love you, Fancy. They’re only using you. We’ve pulled your butt out of the fire twice now, and every time you promise it will be the last. You’ve been saying you don’t mean no harm all your life. I’m sick of hearing it.” She turned to me.
“I’m going into town to take care of Big Mike. You can’t stop me so don’t even try. Doubt I’ll be back any time soon.”
“You running out on me?”
“Course not. But I ain’t going to sleep under the same roof with a nit-wit who’ll probably end up getting us all killed.”
Fancy broke into sobs. Ran to the bunkhouse.
I’d never seen this side of Sassy. She was so angry. Cinnamon stood rooted to the spot, brown eyes bigger than walnuts. Bewildered, Rebecca Sue and Mary Lou watched her stomp past them as they walked Joe.
Thing was, there was a part of me that agreed with Sassy. I was getting weary of handling Fancy with kid gloves. Was she really that naïve? Tears and feigning innocence was a darn good way to get out of trouble.
“Dixcee? Lin Chow and his family? Where are we to hide them?”
One of those out-of-the-blue ideas popped into my head. I grinned.
Spotted Owl and Black Bear were going to kill me.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The next couple of weeks had me on pins and needles. Every night I expected payback from the lynch mob. No retaliation came. I hoped the confusion, rocks, and dust of the stampede masked my identity. But Joe’s brown-patched rump was pretty hard to miss, and who else but me would risk their neck for a Chinaman?
True to her word, Sassy didn’t return to the ranch. I missed her. On several occasions she rode out to check in but returned to town before nightfall. She never spoke to Fancy.
“How long are you going to ignore Fancy?” I asked one afternoon.
“Not sure. Kinda hard to forgive and forget when she almost got the man I loved killed. Not to mention Lin Chow. All because she’s got bad taste in men and silly notions about love.”
“How is Big Mike?”
“He’s fine. Good thing he’s got a hard head. Madder than a wet hen though. He figured out it was Ferrell who ambushed him, but he can’t find that yellow egg-suckin’ dog anywhere. God help him when he does.”
“I’ve been wondering. Why would Tommy Ferrell, a railroad man, care about Calhoun and the One-Eyed Jack?”
“It goes deeper than that, Dixie, but I can’t tell you why.”
“Has it got something to do with Big Mike disappearing all the time?”
“You’re too smart for your own britches, you know that, don’t you? I ain’t saying one way or the other. Let it die. You got enough on your plate to worry about.”
I didn’t want to let it die.
She changed the subject.
“You never told me what those Indians said when you showed up with Lin Chow.”
I laughed. “Black Bear refused to talk to me. Spotted Owl said plenty. I smoothed it over with the cattle. I’d promised six head, but thanks to the generosity of Cody Wayne Daggett, they ended up with ten.”
She snorted. “It was more lust than generosity.”
“I thought for sure that mob would try something with me, but it’s been weeks and nothing. Think they’ve forgotten?”
“Keep your eyes peeled. I heard rumors Cody Wayne was behind the lynching. You can be sure he hasn’t forgotten anything.”
That made me feel about as comfortable as a treed ring-tail coon.
“None of my business but where are you living? With Big Mike?”
“No, Miss Noisy. I’m not. Staying with Peg. Which reminds me, and you’re going to be mighty interested in this. Peg is going to Santa Fe next week on some kind of Opera House business. I’m tagging along. There’s a certain Army captain there I plan to see about a horse. Or horses as the case may be.”
My heart leaped. “My horses? Do you think you can get a contract? How do you know this captain?”
“Of course your horses. Who else’s? And let’s just say I know the captain from a previous relationship.”
I didn’t ask any more questions. If Sassy could get a contract from the Army captain for a shipment of future horses, I couldn’t care less how she met him.
****
Excitement for a possible deal with the Army overrode caution. I should’ve known Cody Wayne wouldn’t give up.
Fang’s howling and the smell of smoke jolted me from sleep. The thunder of hoof beats and gunshots greeted me when I threw open the cabin door. A blanket of red flames covered the barn’s roof. Whinnies of frightened horses cut through my sleepy daze straight into the pit of my belly.
Oh God no. Not the horses.
I grabbed my jacket and raced outside. The wind caught the embers from the barn and carried them to the pasture. The threat of a full-blown prairie fire loomed large. Without hesitation I ran toward the struggling flames. My mind whirled. Take off the jacket. The leather won’t burn, would be
heavy enough to smother the fire.
But the wind wouldn’t stop. It whipped the sparks into a frenzy. Flames took on a life of their own. Like growling beasts, they surrounded me, evil and mocking. They snapped at my boots. Dodged and weaved around my pant legs. Snarled at my desperate attempts to quash them.
I flogged the beast with my coat. Behind me the barn twisted and screamed for help in the grips of a fiery death struggle.
My lips dried and cracked. Eyes burned and itched from the smoke. All around me the scent of burning grass and wood stung my nose. I gasped for breath. Unwillingly, I drank in the smell. Throat raspy and rough, I fought for a deep breath of cool air. I was going to die. Burned alive trying to save my horses and ranch. Deep down panic ate its way up into my gullet.
“Oh God. Help me!”
A shadow loomed beside me stomping out the flames. Who? Didn’t matter. I wasn’t fighting this battle alone. Two could kill the fiery beast.
Inky’s booming voice roared in my ears. “They’s free, Miss Dixie. They’s free!”
The geldings and mares tore past me. The terrified squeals of little foals right behind them.
Safe. All safe.
Relief weakened my legs. The threat of a raging grass fire died as quick as it had started, but the barn still burned. I headed toward it. Heat laughed. Slapped me in the face. The shadow grabbled my arm and pulled me back. No! I fought against the steel band that held me in its grasp.
“’Tis too late, lassie.”
I kicked and screamed. Battled against Big Mike’s meaty arms when he pinned me against his whiskey-barrel chest. Helpless, I watched the hungry beast gorge itself full of wood, nails, straw, and hay. One last death rattle, and the barn’s charred shoulders folded and collapsed to the dirt.
Dead.
Anger gave strength back to my shaking legs. With one mighty shove, I broke away from Big Mike and stormed the cabin. Hands trembled when I notched the Colt around my waist and grabbed the Winchester.
Those son-of-bitches! I’d shoot every last one of them.
Big Mike caught my arm as I ran past. “Ya can’t kill them all, girl. Let it go.”
I whirled and gawked at his ruddy face. “Let it go? Are you loco? They burned down my damn barn. Tried to kill my horses.”
“Let me and Jackson handle it, lass.”
“Jackson?” I sputtered. “Jackson ain’t here, remember? He rode away. Just like that day on the wagon train. Rode away and left me there to fight Whitaker. All alone. Always alone.”
“Dixie!”
And there he was. Bigger than life. Jackson McCullough.
He stepped down from his magnificent black stallion like a knight returning from some far-off crusade. Long legs ate up the ground between us. He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a shake. My breath caught as the look of worry and concern inched across his square face.
“Damn it, Dixie. Why didn’t you say the word?”
He dropped his arms. The heat from his stare blazed hotter than the hissing, spitting brimstones of hell and scorched the edges of my heart.
“I waited, Dixie. But you never said it. Ya never once said ‘Stay.’”
I heard the plea, the hurt in his deep southern drawl. Saw the pain in his chestnut eyes
Sweet Jesus, daughter. Say something. Explain to the boyo how it would be weakness if you asked him to stay. Tell him how dreary the days be without the hope of seeing him again.
How hollow the nights without his laugher to fill them up. He deserves an answer, lass. Just tell him.
No.
I ran.
I dashed around his solid frame, caught Thunder’s dangling reins, stepped up into the saddle, and heeled the black toward town and away from Jackson McCullough.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“A wee bit harsh on the lass, weren’t ya, lad?”
Jackson tore his gaze away from Thunder’s disappearing rump to stare Donovan square in the eye, but said nothing. He couldn’t talk, not yet. Feelings of anger, confusion, hurt, and relief swam too strong in his head. A minute passed then two. His voice came rough.
“What caused this?”
The big man’s chuckle irked him. His eyebrow cocked.
“Ah well, ye know Dixie. Always in the thick of things. ’Tis a long story.”
A figure loomed large out of the smoke. Jackson’s hand tightened around his gun butt.
“Easy now, son.” Donovan put his hand on Jackson’s wrist. “That be Inky Hayes. He’ll do ye no harm.”
“Who’s Inky Hayes?”
“Dixie’s foreman.”
“A Negro?” Jackson stared at the grizzly bear of a man striding toward them.
“Told ye it was a long story. He’s an ex-Buffalo Soldier. Rode into town a couple of months back. Took up with Peg’s girl, Cinnamon.”
“Mr. Mike, all the horses, Matilda, and pigs are safe. I’m gonna corral them up for the night. Just wanted you to know.”
“Aye. Inky? Meet Jackson McCullough. He’s—”
“I knows who he is.” Inky extended his hand to Jackson. “Miss Cinnamon told me all about you, Mr. McCullough. Glad to meet you at last. Just wish it was a better time.”
Jackson shook with the man. He could tell a lot about a fella by his handshake. Inky’s was strong, firm, and direct. A gentle giant, Jackson reasoned. Slow to anger but a force to be reckoned with if pushed. “So do I, Mr. Hayes.”
“Inky.”
Jackson smiled. “Jackson to you then.”
Inky grinned back. White teeth dazzled against his dark skin. “You’s going after Miss Dixie, or should I?”
A frown crossed his face. “Let her run. Town’s a long ride from here. I wager she’ll cool down and start thinking straight before she gets there.”
“You don’t think she’ll go through with it?” Inky asked. “’Cause if you think Miss Dixie won’t shoot the low down polecats that did this, you got another think coming. Miss Dixie don’t back down from nothing or no one.”
“Oh I have no doubt she’ll shoot the varmints.” Jackson’s laugh held no humor. “But not tonight.” He turned to Donovan. “I need to hear this long story.”
“Aye. But we be needing whiskey. Wager there be a bottle in the house. I’ll fetch it. Better sit outside and talk, keep an eye out for any unwelcomed guests.”
“I’s got to tend to the horses, Mr. Mike.” Inky nodded at Jackson. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Jackson.”
“Likewise.”
Weary, Jackson sank to the porch steps and leaned his back against the railing. The whiskey Donovan handed him slid smooth down his gullet. He sat the Mason jar down beside him and waited for Donovan to plop his beefy butt on the willow rocking chair. Stray wisps of smoke from the smoldering mound of the barn floated across the yard in an eerie frost. The scent of scorched wood surrounded him. Burning down someone’s barn was the greatest sin since Eve gave the apple to Adam. Whoever did this had a big ax to grind. What could Dixie have possibly done to bring on such madness? He glanced at Big Mike.
“Well?”
“Hold ye horses, lad. First things first.” He took a big swig and smacked his lips. “Ah, better now.” A deep breath. “Remember the ruckus at the One-Eyed Jack a few months back?”
“Of course I do.” Jackson’s voice hardened. “Dixie shot the place up, and Sassy killed Calhoun. The way I heard it, Lin Chow took care of the bodies.”
“Aye. That be the long and short of it. Someone let slip the details about the whole donnybrook and how the evidence got disposed of.”
“Who would be stupid enough to do such a thing?”
Big Mike squirmed. The rocker creaked. He ran his hand through his carrot-orange hair and refused to meet Jackson’s intense gaze.
“Donovan?”
A huge sigh lifted Big Mike’s shoulders. “Keep in mind it weren’t done on purpose. Bedroom talk. ’Twas all it was. She meant no harm.”
Understanding crossed Jackson’s face. He clicked his tongue. “Fan
cy?”
“Aye.”
If it had been anyone other than Fancy, Jackson could stay angry. But Fancy was an innocent trying to make her way through this harsh, guilt-ridden land the best she could. She loved Dixie and would never purposely direct harm at her. He took another sip of whiskey.
“Go on.”
“As ye know, there be no love toward the Chinese. The hooligans of Six Shooter saw this as a chance to rid the town of one of the slanty-eyed bastards. Their words, lad. Not mine. Plus Dixie’s made some enemies here, which is another long story. A mob hauled Lin Chow out of bed. Dragged him to that mammoth oak outside of town. They intended to lynch him sure as the sun shines down on the Emerald Isle itself.”
“Did they?”
“I be comin’ to that, laddie. Just hold on.”
Jackson bit his lip and waited. Donovan always loved to spin a yarn.
“Lin Chow’s snip of a daughter, Mae Ling, slipped out her back door and ran straight to Dixie’s front door. I got bushwhacked by one of me own men. Knocked senseless and tied up in the barn. Well, it don’t take much imagination to know what Dixie done.”
Jackson sighed. “Oh, I have no doubt.”
Donovan leaned back in the rocker and took another drink. He grinned. “Ah, lad, you’d been proud of the lass. As I hear it, she started a stampede and rode like a banshee direct out of hell, guns blazing.”
“She hit anything?”
“A few branches. William Dooley’s fat arse. And a bullet through Tommy Ferrell’s shoulder.”
“She’s getting better.”
“Aye, that she is. Now this next part of the story will be hard to swallow. But I be tellin’ ye the God’s honest truth.”
Jackson extended his empty Mason jar. “Better hit me again.”
Donovan chuckled. He filled his own cup as well and took a massive gulp. A huge belch followed. “After Dixie rescued Lin Chow, she had no place safe to hide him and his family. So she did the next logical thing. Well, logical to Dixie anyway.”
“Where did she take them?”
“Think, lad. Have ye no idea?”
“Donovan, enough. I ain’t got time for guessing games. Just tell me.”
“Spotted Owl.”
The jar slipped from Jackson’s hand and crashed on the wood porch. Whiskey trickled down the steps and wet the dirt in front of him. “You’re joshing! She took Lin Chow to live with the Indians?”
The Adventures of Dixie Dandelion Page 15
