The Adventures of Dixie Dandelion

by R. H. Burkett

  Donovan slapped his leg. “Aye. That she did.”

  The rocker bucked and pitched with each huge belly laugh. “I never heard of Indians and Chinese living together. Would bet a good pint it wouldn’t work. But what do I know? It had never been tried before. Last I heard they be living nice and peaceful together.”

  Jackson joined in with Donovan’s laughter. “Only Dixie could get away with such a thing. So to get even for her spoiling a perfectly good necktie party and hiding Lin Chow, they burned down her barn.”

  “Aye. ’Tis no secret the lass loves her horses. Most folks know the best way to hurt her is to harm what she loves the most.”

  “Bastards.”

  “Aye.”

  “When I got wind of their plan, I rode out quick as I could. Got here in time to stop a full blown prairie fire but was too late to save the barn. Glory to the saints Inky didn’t go with the girls out to his cabin tonight. He got the mares and their babies out before the roof fell in.”

  “The girls?”

  “Aye. The Doves. All of them except Peg are her ranch hands. Can ye imagine such as thing?”

  “Good God, no. Are you serious? Women?” He shook his head. “Looks like a lot of things have changed since I’ve been gone.”

  “Aye. Dixie hired Inky as her foreman.”

  “Hayes seems like a nice enough fella.”

  “Aye. That he is. Natural around horses.” Donavan took another snort. “Now tell me, lad. How be it you came ridin’ in after being gone for months? Did ye nail Whitaker’s hide to the barn door?”

  “Nope. When I got back to the train, he was gone. Doc Webster thought he’d heal faster in a bed that didn’t bounce. Dropped him off in a little town along the trail called Tumbleweed.”

  “They be wondering what took ye so long getting back?”

  “At first. But when I lied and told them Buck went lame and I had to find another horse, they backed off. Especially when they caught sight of Thunder. I didn’t think Cantrell would pull any shenanigans without his partner to back him up, but I had to stay with the wagons until they cleared the mountains to make sure.

  “I doubled back to Tumbleweed, but the yellow-bellied bastard had left by then. The town’s sawbones said Whitaker talked non-stop about finding, the ‘red-headed whelp’ who crippled him. Since I’d been gone for so long, I thought he’d come back this way thinking Dixie was here. I lit out fast as I could. Heard in town about her ranch. When I saw the smoke, my heart stopped.”

  He ducked his head.

  “Thought Whitaker had found the lass, did ye?”

  “I expected the worse. Thought I’d see her lying face down in the dirt covered with ash and soot.” Eyes squeezed tight, his voice turned to a whisper.

  “Just like Kansas.” A deep breath.

  “Instead I saw her screaming and kicking you.” He grinned. “Prettiest sight I’d ever seen. I started to breathe normal again until I heard what she was hollerin’. I didn’t want to leave her, Mike. But she acted like she didn’t want me to stick around. I don’t understand.”

  “Ah lad, for all her fire and passion, Dixie is still a young girl on the verge of womanhood all alone in the wild west. And that scares her.”

  “She’s so determined and stubborn that sometimes I forget all she’s been through. Whitaker may not have ruined her, but his actions left a scar just the same.” He gazed at his boot and toyed with his spur. “But I hoped…”

  “She’d feel different about you?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  Donovan heaved his big frame out of the rocker, hitched up his pants, and walked over to Jackson. “She’s proud. It isn’t easy for her to say what’s in her heart. But I’ve seen the way the lass looks at ye. She worried over ye. Be patient, laddie.” He winked. “She’ll come around. Now, I think it be time to go fetch the little stick of dynamite back home, don’t ye?”

  “Need a favor first.”

  “Anything, lad. What be it?”

  “Can I borrow a horse? Dixie’s done rode off with mine…again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  I was almost to town when I came to my senses. Well, half-way to my senses. Fire still raged in my belly, but my chest ached from the thrashing of my heart. Dizzy, my head pounded from the blood thundering in my ears. I had to stop. Get my feelings under control. Surprise had been on my side when I rescued Lin Chow. This was different. They’d be expecting me this time. For sure I’d be riding into ambush.

  High in the night sky the full moon bathed the night in ice-crystal brilliance. I dismounted and led Thunder through the brush to the bubbling stream that ran alongside the trail. With long, deep slurps, he drank deep. I pulled him back. Not too much at first. His coat shimmered with sweat. Like me, he needed to cool down. I leaned against rough tree bark and slid to the ground.

  I’d done it again. Pushed Jackson from me. Lord, what a hypocrite. One minute, longing to see his face, the next, angry that he was around. Yearning for his arms yet rejecting his embrace. Relief damn near dropped me to my knees when he rode up tonight. Seeing his face made my heart soar. Still, in spite of all that, I ignored his concern. Pity. That’s all it was. Pity. Didn’t need that. I’d made it this far without him, hadn’t I?

  No.

  I argued with myself.

  If Jackson hadn’t left Joe, you would’ve never escaped Whitaker.

  Not true. Dozens of horses were tied to that picket line.

  He rode ahead. Warned Big Mike. Paved the way for your welfare.

  I didn’t ask him to. I had money. Could’ve made my own way. Got my own job.

  Doing what? Working for Peg at the White Dove?

  Shut up.

  Jackson put the idea of the ranch in your head.

  I would’ve gotten around to the notion sooner or later.

  He loves you.

  No argument there.

  What is wrong with you?

  Nothing.

  I picked up a flat rock and threw it. The sound of the splash echoed loud in the moonlight.

  Thunder’s soft nicker told me I wasn’t alone. I stood but didn’t turn around. Didn’t need to. I knew it was Jackson. I smiled. He was late. Expected him a lot sooner.

  Heat warmed my back when he walked up behind me. Eyes closed, I waited for his familiar scent of shaving soap, wind, and rain to engulf me. Strong arms reached around and hugged my back to his chest.

  This time I didn’t pull away. This time I surrendered. Reveled in the rhythm of his easy drawl.

  “Howdy, darlin’.”

  Two words. Two words that made me weak in the knees, smile, and tear-up all at the same time.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I saw trusting and depending on others buried in a hole in the middle of nowhere with only the four strong winds to sing hymns. Hard to forget that. To let it go.” It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was all I could manage.

  His hold tightened.

  We stood together and quiet, surrounded by moonlight and singing water. Bull frogs grunted. Crickets chirped. The wind touched the moonbeam water with a gentle finger and the stirred the ripples into silver ribbons. Wrapped in his warmth, the tight band around my chest loosened. The itching to keep fighting, keep running eased. I wanted to freeze that moment in time. Never move. Never step away.

  His soft sigh tickled my ears.

  “When I saw the smoke, I thought I’d find you dead.”

  “Not quite. They want me to suffer first.”

  “They?”

  Cody Wayne Daggett, his daddy, Tommy Ferrell, and probably every horse rancher from here to Santa Fe.”

  “Dang, darlin’, what did you do to piss them off?”

  “I had the guts to become a rancher. I threatened them. I dared to beat them at their own game with only the help of a Negro and a handful of women.”

  “What about Lin Chow and the One-Eyed Jack?”

  I grinned. “Sounds like you’ve been talking to Big Mike. Yea
h, that little ruckus lit the fuse.”

  “You did wonders with the ranch. Quite a feat. Never would’ve thought of using Peg’s gals for ranch hands. Smart thinking, darlin’.”

  “Should’ve seen it before sneaking coyotes burned the barn.”

  In a whisper the magic spell of harmony Jackson had woven shattered. I could taste the burning wood and grass on the tip of my tongue, hear the foals terrified whinnies. My breath quickened. Anger returned. I squirmed in his arms. “Let me go.”

  He turned me loose without a word. Surprised at his quick release, I stumbled a few steps then turned to him.

  “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Dixie.”

  “What did you come for?”

  “Whitaker is on the prowl. Thought maybe he doubled-back to Six Shooter.”

  “It that the only reason?”

  “No.”

  I waited. He said nothing, just kept simmering my blood with his chestnut-eyed stare.

  I’d forgotten how good looking he was. His strength and charm. His little boy smile and white teeth. The smooth glide of his walk. His catlike grace and speed. Wide shoulders. Flat chest. His overall masculinity he wore like armor, unaware of its allure. But not his dimples.

  Those I would always remember. Till the day I died.

  I walked back to him. Stopped within a whisker of his solid frame.

  “You come back for me, lawman?”

  God Almighty. That was bold.

  The heat that passed between us could burn down a hundred barns.

  “You are damn hard to forget.”

  Good enough…for now.

  Guess our fever scorched the tail feathers of an owl. The night bird swooped down from the tree standing beside us. Let out a screech that made my toes curl and the horses spook. The scream dissolved the moment and brought me back to the present. I marched toward the horses, intent on making Cody Wayne and his bunch pay. Jackson caught my arm, whirled me around.

  “You can’t fight them alone.”

  “The hell I can’t.”

  “What? Ya gonna ride in there and shoot every man that walks? Ya got no proof who was responsible.”

  “I know who they are. Don’t need no proof.”

  “Well, ya need a plan. Got one of those?”

  Damn the man. He had me there.

  “No. But I’m not going to roll over and play dead. Forget the whole thing happened.”

  “I’m not asking you to. Let me and Big Mike poke around. He’s had his eye on Tommy Ferrell for a while now. Followed him here from back east.”

  “Why?”

  “Has something to do with the Molly McGuires.”

  “Who are they?”

  “More like what are they. They’re a secret society come over from Ireland. Bad bunch of hombres. They’re Irish American coal miners mostly. They’ve been known to kill and maim. Destroy property. New Mexico has a lot of coal mines, and the trains will be hauling cars of it back east which means big money. The railroad hired the Pinkerton Agency to make sure the gang wouldn’t get a foothold here. Up until now, they’ve haven’t shown their hand. Burning down your barn may be the break Mike’s been looking for.”

  “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

  “Build a new barn.”

  “You gonna help me?”

  “Are you asking me to stay?”

  “I can always use an extra hand.”

  He chuckled. “Good enough…for now.”

  Chapter Forty

  Jackson and Inky wasted no time in getting the barn framed. Big Mike even sent a few of his railroad crew to help. I asked how the railroad would react if they knew their labor was building my barn.

  “’Tis not your concern, lass,” Big Mike said. “Take the help and be grateful. Besides I owed ye one for shooting Tommy Ferrell.”

  The Doves flocked to Jackson like…well, like doves. They flirted, laughed, and teased. Couldn’t blame them. His easy laugh and laid back manner, not to mention the way he filled out a pair of breeches could melt even a saint’s resolve. As much as I hated to admit it, jealously would’ve been a big problem on my part except for one thing. Jackson never flirted back. He’d laugh and joke. Help out if necessary but would take it no further. As Cinnamon put it, “He only has eyes for you, cheri.”

  I didn’t know if that was true or not.

  Concerned for our safety, Inky offered to move back into the tack room. But with Jackson standing guard, he was free to go home to his cabin at night without fear of leaving us unprotected. He needn’t have worried. All of us were armed to the teeth. Jackson took Inky’s cot squeezed in between saddles, bridles, leather, and curry combs.

  Having a Pinkerton detective only yards from my door should’ve made me sleep better. It didn’t. If the lawman had been Big Mike or some other fella, things would’ve been different. But we were talking about Jackson McCullough. Like it or not, I had a hard time not thinking about him every hour of the day and night. It didn’t help matters none when after tossing and turning one night, I finally gave up on sleep and stepped outside onto the porch. I caught Jackson washing up at the well.

  Naked from the waist up, wet hair slicked back, he stood as a statue chiseled out of moonstone and starlight. Lean. Muscular. My breath caught. I sank onto the rocker, not daring to breathe, captivated by his beauty. Never thought a man could be beautiful, but I knew of no other word. A peacemaker. A warrior. A kindred spirit to this wild, untamed land birthed by earth, wind, rain, and fire.

  And I was his woman. His woman. What did that mean? His partner? His equal? Or his property? Like his horse or gun? I felt muscles tighten. My lips flattened into a straight line. The moonlight had bewitched me. I was no one’s possession. No one’s blue ribbon. I was my own woman. I belonged only to me.

  If Jackson wasn’t man enough to realize this, if he’d try and tame me, bend me to his will, be his property, then all the love in the world wouldn’t be enough to hold me.

  ****

  Wide shoulders leaned against the barn door. Lost in shadows, Jackson never took his gaze off her. Moonlight had reached out and captured a firefly in its beam. He watched her slip back into the house. Willowy. Graceful. Silent as dandelion wisps in the wind. He smiled at that. Seemed like years had passed since he’d called her a wild, prairie dandelion. Proud. Independent. Vulnerable. A child. But not anymore. The child had given way to a woman. Still just as noble and wild. And in many ways, just as vulnerable.

  He sensed the passion simmering under the cover of indifference, her façade of self-reliance. Took all the strength he could muster not to storm her door. To kiss those pouting lips. Fan that passion into a raging fire and burn in its essence.

  Did she know how loco her unyielding mistrust made him? The mask had almost slipped. That night he held her by the water when she confessed how hard it was to let go. But the moment only lasted as long as a sigh. Did she have any idea how frustrating it was to be so close yet so far away from her? Big Mike said to be patient. He would. But not a lifetime.

  He loved her. Heart and soul. Always had. Always would.

  But a man could only take so much.

  Chapter Forty-One

  I said it before. Doves are tough women. But even the strongest women cry. Maybe that is the secret behind our strength. Next to Sassy, Cinnamon was the sturdiest woman I’d ever know. She spit in the face of danger. Threw thin-bladed knifes at its threat. When I found her sobbing in the barn the next morning, I couldn’t believe it.

  “Cinnamon? What’s wrong?”

  Her tear-stained face wrenched my heart. I knelt down and put my arm around her shoulders. Her fragrant perfume filled my nose. Brushing horses or mucking stalls, Cinnamon always wore some kind of flowery scent.

  “Oh, Dixee. I cannot marry Inky.”

  “Why? Don’t you love him anymore?”

  “I love him more than my own life.”

  “Did he change his mind?”

  “He would die for me.” />
  I eased my butt all the way down on the straw. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “The priest refused. Is not important to me. My God cares more for the love in your heart than a union sanctioned by a man dressed in robes. But to Inky, this is not so. He insists on a priestly blessing.”

  “Why won’t the priest marry you?”

  “We are both dark. My soul is not pure. Inky is not white.”

  Holy crow. So much for love your neighbor and do unto others.

  This wouldn’t do. Love was too hard to find on its own. When found, nothing should tear it apart. A pang of guilt brushed by me. Love stared me right in the face, and I pushed it away more than once. I jumped up and brushed the straw off my bottom. This wasn’t about me. I reached out a hand to Cinnamon.

  “Come on. There’s got to be a way around this. We’ll get the rest of the girls together. I’m sure we can come up with something. Oui?”

  Tears gone, she smiled. “Oui.”

  Maybe I spoke too soon. All of us, including Sassy who was back from Santa Fe with a promise from the captain to come see our stock, sat around my kitchen table. After explaining the problem, there was a lot of outrage and sympathy but no suggestions on what to do.

  Sassy lit up a cheroot. I’d forgotten how heady the vanilla tobacco made me. I could taste the sweetness on the tip of my tongue. She blew out a lung full and cocked that eyebrow of hers.

  “Maybe we need to look at this another way.”

  Excitement and blue smoke circled the table. I could feel an idea in the making.

  She gazed over at Cinnamon. “Would any man of God fit the bill?”

  “What are you getting at?” Debbie Ann asked.

  “Just saying, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  “Tell me about this cat,” Cinnamon said.

  “Lin Chow.”

  “What’s he got to do with this?” I asked.

  “Lin Chow is an interesting and educated little fella. He and I talked about a lot of things when he dropped off vegetables at the White Dove.” She glanced around the table. “Don’t y’all look so shocked. I have you know beneath all this makeup and beauty I have a mind that is curious about other notions and people.”