The Adventures of Dixie Dandelion

by R. H. Burkett

  Supplies. Rain. Sore butts. Wind and lightning be damned. They raced toward Spirit Dove Ranch and Six Shooter Siding.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  It took a week before I was feeling my oats again. Sassy moved back to the ranch to make sure I didn’t try to sneak out and follow Jackson. She knew me too well. Would never admit it, but I tried to ride out the day before. Made it as far as the front door before my head spun and ears buzzed. I managed to stumble back to bed without kissing the floor. At least she and Fancy were talking again. Still not bosom-buddy pals but at least they’d started to mend fences.

  “It’s been a week. Do you think they’re okay?”

  Not wanting to admit worry, Sassy made light of my concern. “Of course they are. Mike and McCullough are the best lawmen ever to pin on a star. Going to take more than the likes of that brainless Cody Wayne Daggett to get the drop on them.”

  “What about Tommy Ferrell?”

  “Him too.”

  Didn’t have the guts to remind her Ferrell had clobbered Big Mike once already.

  “Miss Dixie, you better come see this.”

  Most folks would think I was lying if I told them a black man’s face could turn pale, but I’m here to tell you, it can. Something awful had to be wrong to rattle Inky so. My breath stopped. Cinnamon!

  Fancy sat in the dirt by the corral rocking back and forth, sobbing like there was no tomorrow. Fang lay in her arms. My first reaction was relief. Cinnamon was all right. A split second later, the air left my chest again.

  “He’s dead, Dixie. Someone shot him. My little Gumdrop is dead.”

  No. Couldn’t be. Too scared to gaze into lifeless eyes, I stood flat-footed. I glanced over at Inky who shook his head.

  “That ain’t so, Miss Dixie.”

  By this time all the girls had come running. We surrounded Fancy who hung onto Fang tighter than a cocklebur.

  “Fancy, we can’t help him if you don’t let go,” I said.

  She clutched him tighter. “No!”

  “Mother of God.” I heard Sassy mumble. “He ain’t dead, Fancy. But if you don’t stop blubbering and smothering him, he soon will be.”

  Holy crow. So much for those mended fences.

  In the end, Fang decided his own fate. A slight thump of this tail convinced Fancy he was alive. She let Inky take him to the barn.

  “Fancy, honey? Why don’t you and me go boil some water to help clean Fang up?” Debbie Ann said.

  Back ramrod straight. A scalding look thrown at Sassy, Fancy stomped off.

  Inky eased Fang onto the straw. Gentle hands found the bullet hole. “Good thing he’s got thick fur. Probably saved his life.”

  I sat back on my heels. “He’s going to be all right?”

  A wide smile. “Sure.” He patted the dog’s large head. “Fang here be half dog half warrior. Gonna take more than one shot to put him down.”

  “Who would’ve done this? And why?”

  Dark color had returned to the big man’s face, but it didn’t hide the worry lines around his eyes.

  “Miss Dixie. If’n Mama was here, she’d say you be cursed.”

  “What do you say?”

  “I think they wants you to suffer before…”

  “Before what?”

  “They moves in for the kill.”

  That made my heart shiver and shake. “If that’s true, why did they shoot me?”

  “I don’t think that bullet was meant for you.”

  “You mean Jackson?”

  “Yes’m. Heard him say you was uneasy that day, like you knew something was fixin’ to happen. That right before the shot, you nudged Joe ahead of him. I think you took Jackson’s bullet. I wager whoever fired the shot wasn’t happy. You got the luck of the Irish for sure.”

  I laughed. “What do you know of Irish luck?”

  “I’ve seen ya. Heard ya too. Talkin’ to your pappy.”

  Hell and damnation. Heat raced up my neck.

  “Don’t worry none. I ain’t tellin’ nobody your secret.”

  “Reckon you think I’m crazy.”

  “No, ma’am. I believe in such things. I think your pappy is keeping you safe. Bet whoever it is that’s after you is scratching their head trying to figure out why their schemes always fall short.”

  “It’s not them, Inky. It’s only one man.”

  He ducked his head. “I know. Cinnamon told me all about the troubles with your stepdaddy. She said you don’t like to talk about it and it for sure is a mighty private matter, so I wasn’t going to let on I knew.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Took guts to fight him off like you did and make a new life all on your own.”

  “I’m not courageous, Inky. Whitaker scares the spit out of me.”

  “Never said brave folks don’t get afraid now and again. That’s what I admires about you, Miss Dixie. You might be shaking so hard your boots fall off, but that don’t stop you none. You never back down.”

  “Some might call me foolhardy.”

  “Was saving yourself from ruin a fool thing to do?”

  “No.”

  “Was it loco to save Lin Chow’s life?”

  “No.”

  “Stupid to fight for this ranch?”

  “No.”

  “Silly to watch over and care for Miss Fancy?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then. I reckon them folks don’t know the meaning of the word foolhardy.”

  That made me smile. “Whitaker doesn’t back down either. What am I going to do about him?”

  “Mama always told me never to go looking for trouble. She also said to get rid of rats. The sooner the better.”

  “A showdown?”

  “Yep. Take the fight to him. Get shuck of him once and for all.”

  “You mean, kill him.”

  He looked me square in the eye. “I do.”

  “I have no idea where he is. How do I find him?”

  A wide grin split his face.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t fret none about that, Miss Dixie. Trouble has a way of always finding you.”

  Pretty sure when I died those words would be chiseled on my tombstone.

  Chapter Fifty

  Nightmares of Whitaker jumping out from behind every tree and bush tormented me all night. I crawled out of bed before dawn. Might as well help Fancy with breakfast.

  Mornings should ease a body into the day with pink sunrises, bird songs, and lots of steaming mugs full of Arbuckle’s. Mine seldom work that way. I get thrown into life on the run. My mind, still fuzzy from lack of sleep, balked at making sense out of why Prince Charming stood in the middle of the yard.

  “Prince?”

  My voice spooked the Appaloosa. I eased toward him. “Easy, boy.” Head down, he surrendered to my touch. On the way to the barn, Inky caught sight of us and walked over.

  “Miss Dixie?”

  “I’m just as confused as you are.”

  Big hands ran down Prince’s shoulders and legs. The blotched gelding gave out a soft nicker. “He ain’t hurt none. Judging from all that dried sweat on his chest, he’s run for miles. Poor fella is plumb tuckered out.” He pushed his hat back and scratched his head. “Ain’t like Miss Fancy to ride so hard.”

  “Isn’t like her to ride at all.”

  “There’s blood on the saddle.”

  Well there were five words you didn’t hear every day.

  Legs shaking, I stormed the barn. Busy doing morning chores, the girls didn’t pay me any mind until I yelled. “Any of you seen Fancy?”

  The high shrill of my voice surprised everyone, including me. All of them, except Cinnamon, shook their heads.

  “Cinnamon?”

  “Fancy is not here, Dixcee.” Dark cat eyes darted Sassy’s direction. “She was angry at Sassy over Fang. She rode out late yesterday to spend the night in town with Peg.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “She knew you would stop her. Made me promise not to s
ay anything.”

  Dandy. Just dandy. All the Doves knew Fancy was simple as a child in a lot of ways. Knew her tantrums lasted about as long as snow in water. Why Cinnamon let her leave when darkness was just around the bend was a mystery.

  “What’s she done this time?”

  Sometimes the itch to slap the fire out of Sassy burned my hand.

  “Prince came back without her. Found blood on the saddle.”

  “Oh God. Dixie, I’m so sorry.”

  It gave me little satisfaction to see color drain from Sassy’s face.

  “Maybe Prince threw her,” Rebecca Sue said.

  “Maybe the reins cut her hand,” Mary Lou added. “Maybe it’s not her blood at all.”

  And this was supposed to make me feel better? Panic teetered on the edge of reason. I swallowed hard. “Whitaker’s grabbed her.”

  “No. Is not possible.”

  Debbie Ann reached for my hand. “Cinnamon’s right. Bet there’s a simple explanation for all of this. I’ll ride into town. I’m sure I’ll find her nestled deep in one of Peg’s fluffy pillows.”

  “Oui. I will go with you, cheri.”

  “No. That’s just what he’s counting on,” I said. “It’s a trap. No one’s going anywhere.”

  “Then why are you saddling Joe?”

  I ignored Sassy and tightened the cinch.

  “Dixie? Answer me.”

  I brushed past her and led Joe out into daylight. One by one the girls followed me like a line of baby ducks.

  Sassy stepped in front of me. “I ain’t asking again. What are you doing?”

  I glanced over at Inky. “Killing rats.”

  That drew a slight smile from the Buffalo Soldier.

  While Sassy fumbled for words, I went into the house for my pistol and rifle. She trotted behind me, followed me from room to room, and back outside.

  “No. You are not doing this, Dixie. You’ve had some hair-brained notions before. Usually, I’m right there in your hip pocket. But not this time.”

  “What about Fancy?”

  “Whitaker won’t hurt her.”

  “Really? I’m his stepdaughter, and he abused and tried to destroy me. Fancy is nothing to him. He’ll beat the life out her and throw her to the wolves when he’s done.”

  Hand on the saddle horn, I lifted my foot for the stirrup.

  “Damn it, Dixie! This is a man’s job. Wait for McCullough. Let him take care of this.”

  I lowered my leg. Hesitated. I had all intentions of remaining calm. Really, I did. But the more I thought about it, the more pissed I got. I whirled on her. “I am sick and tired of everyone telling me to wait for McCullough.”

  My voice started out low and steely cold. That lasted about as long as my first breath. I yelled. “Why do y’all think a man is the answer to everything? Get this straight once and for all, I do not need McCullough or any other man to help clean up my messes. Whitaker is an evil spirit from my past, not Jackson’s. It was my mother he murdered. It was me he tried to rip the innocence from. My barn he burned. My friends he kidnapped and my dog he shot. I’ve been scared and hiding from him far too long.” I pointed at each one of them. “None of you are going to stop me from taking care of him once and for all.”

  I gathered the reins and settled in the saddle. “If Jackson happens to show up, tell him any damn thing you please. Inky, please stay at the ranch. It’d be just like Whitaker to try and sneak up on y’all, and you’re the best shot here.”

  “Mother of God, Dixie. What are you fixin’ to do?”

  I pulled my Stetson down low. “Shoot the son-of-a-bitch. I’m finished running.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  My head shouted, “Slow down. Think.”

  My heart yelled, “Act first. Think later.”

  Logic? Instinct? Which one?

  One thing I knew outright, blood raced through my veins hotter than lava. Yes, some sort of plan would be good. On the other hand, plans had a way of backfiring, especially mine. My head often lied. My gut told the truth. Besides, I didn’t want to calm down. Lose my nerve if I did.

  I rode to the Rocking R. Something deep down told me Daggett, Ferrell, and Whitaker were thicker than the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Whitaker’s reasons for destroying me were crystal. I could even understand Cody Wayne’s motive. But why Rutherford wanted me out of the picture wasn’t clear.

  If Sassy was to be believed, it was my ranch Daggett was after. Why? Had to be the unlimited water supply and prime pasture land. His men, what with their fast horses and low-slung gun belts were no more ranch hands than the Doves were. Gunslingers. Pure and simple. Range-war hombres. Bet anything Rutherford Lee Daggett dreamed of adding “Cattle Baron” to his bank president title.

  Over my dead body.

  I winced. Poor choice of words.

  Even though riled up, I wasn’t stupid. I reined in a few yards out from the house and studied the terrain. No long-legged horses tied to the hitching rail. No shifty-eyed gunfighters milled around either. The only thing moving was a slow breeze. Quiet. Too Quiet? A trap? Only one way to find out. I cued Joe forward.

  Wait.

  Movement caught the corner of my eye.

  Several Chinese girls hung washing on the line. I moved in slow. None of them looked up, but one spoke low.

  “I friend of Lin Chow. You save him.”

  Leery, my gaze traveled the yard. “Where is everyone?”

  “All leave. You come for pretty lady?”

  “Fancy. Yes! Is she here?”

  “She in big house. But not alone.”

  “How many?”

  “One man.”

  I was no more going to dismount and go inside that house then walk over hot coals barefooted. Like hair was to Samson, Joe was to me.

  To hell with it.

  I spurred the gelding past the stone lions and up the porch steps. I leaned over and pushed the door open. We burst into the sitting room. Iron shoes clattered on the floor and echoed up the stairs. Eyes wide as dinner plates, Tommy Ferrell reached for his pistol. Before the .45 cleared the holster, Fancy busted a porcelain oil lamp over his head. The skunky odor of kerosene flooded the room. He hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

  “Is he dead?” Fancy asked, voice cool and calm.

  I steadied Joe and stepped down. I paid no mind to the heap on the floor. Fancy’s bruised face and split lip tore my heart to shreds.

  “Fancy? Are you okay?”

  “It looks worse than what it is.”

  “Did they?” A slow breath. “Did they hurt you any other way?”

  “No. Cody Wayne wouldn’t let them.”

  Well, I’ll be damned. Guess instead of killing the goof I’d just shoot his pinkie toe off.

  “I knew you would come, Dixie. Because…because that’s what sisters do. Right?”

  The catch in her voice and tears crawling down her black and blue cheek about did me in.

  “That’s right.”

  Back stiff, she walked over to Tommy and toed him with her boot. He grunted. “Damn. I hoped I’d killed him.”

  “Fancy, was there another man here? Tall, whip thin? Face like a weasel?”

  “Crooked nose. Walks with a bad limp?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah. That’s him.”

  “He busted my lip.”

  I took the lariat off my saddle. “Let’s get this yahoo tied up. Big Mike can deal with him later.”

  Tying up a man who was nothing but dead weight was about as easy as hogtieing Goliath. By the time we’d tugged, pulled, and wrestled Ferrell around, sweat rolled off us. Satisfied Tommy wouldn’t be going anywhere if or when he woke up, we sat back on our heels and panted.

  “I need a snort,” Fancy said.

  She was different. No longer sugar and spice. More like bitter, rock-hard candy. The simple naïve light what shined in her eyes had hardened to an icy glaze. True, she needed to grow up and stop acting like a spoiled child but not this way. Not forced by a
man as vile and wicked as Preston Whitaker. It saddened me. Yet again, innocence had died at the hands of that scum-sucking varmint.

  While Fancy slugged down whiskey directly from Daggett’s elegant crystal decanter, I stewed. Too easy. All of this had been too easy. They had to have known I’d come after her. Why not hide and wait for me to literally walk into the lion’s den and say howdy?

  “Nice touch. Riding Joe into the parlor. Hope he shits all over Daggett’s shiny floor.”

  The smirk on her face and the smartass way she’d said the remark pitched me into a fit of giggles. They were short-lived. Sickness washed over me. Fancy was bait to lure me away from the ranch while they shot up the place.

  “Fancy, we have to get back to Spirit Dove. Now. Can you ride?”

  “Well of course I can ride. I’m not helpless, ya know.” A deep breath.

  “I’m done being used, Dixie. Done crying and acting childish all the time too. I’ll take one of Daggett’s horses from the barn.” She pointed to the next room. “Grab me a rifle and bullets from the gun case. A shotgun too.”

  She yelled on her way out the door. “Bound to hit Rutherford’s fat ass with that.”

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  I heard gunshots before we topped the hill. Which was saying a lot since my heart beat louder than hail on a tin bucket. Tight lipped and pasty-faced, Fancy threw me a look of pure dread. I took a bite of air. “You still with me?”

  The easy sound of a rifle sliding from its scabbard was her answer.

  “You realize we might have to kill someone, right? Or worse. We could end up dead. You don’t owe me anything, Fancy. You can ride away.”

  “Not true. I owe you everything, three times over. Besides, I ain’t running no more. Remember? Let’s get close. See where everyone is.”

  We inched forward just enough not to be seen. I pointed at the shootout below. “Daggett’s men are grouped by the corral.”

  “Yeah, looks like the girls and Inky are holed up in the house.”

  Something Inky once said niggled at me. What was it? Something about watching your flank. I smiled. Whitaker’s flank was unprotected and wide open.

  “Fancy, think you can hit something from this distance?”