Arthur looked down the street to where the other young ladies of Blue Water were walking arm in arm with their beaus or potential beaus. He looked back at Cherry, waiting expectantly and quite obviously impatiently, to run off with Billy Parker. She ought to be linked on the arm of some cowboy, on her way to marriage and starting a family of her own.
Still, how could he refuse her? The pure excitement lighting her eyes could not be denied. Cherry liked spending time with the Parker kids. And besides, Arthur hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Lobo McCoy all day. Chances were he wasn’t anywhere near to town—nowhere near to catch Cherry’s attention.
“Oh, go on then,” Arthur said. “But be home by supper, Cherry.”
“I will, Pa,” she said, quickly kissing him on the cheek.
“Come on, Cherry,” Billy said, taking hold of her hand and tugging her in the direction Pocket and Laura were already running. “There’s a dead prairie dog a-rottin’ just behind the church here. It’s just crawlin’ with maggots. You just gotta see it!”
Cherry giggled and followed as Billy led her to a prairie dog mound near the church.
“Arthur Ray!” Fiona began scolding almost instantly. “You’ve got to keep the reins tighter on that girl!”
“Oh, some feller will come along and marry her soon enough, Fiona,” he said. “Then the reins will be pulled tight enough, I’m afraid.”
“No feller’s gonna want her if she doesn’t start acting more like a lady. You’ve either gotta let her be a woman, Arthur…or move her somewhere where she can be one.”
“I know,” Arthur mumbled. “I know.”
Arthur watched his daughter lift her skirt and begin running after the Parker children. She was so beautiful. So beautiful! Especially on Sundays. Arthur never missed the way the cowboys and other men in town always eyed Cherry in church every Sunday. If it hadn’t been for Fiona’s infernal nagging on the need for respecting the Lord on the Sabbath, Arthur would’ve kept Cherry hidden in men’s clothes all seven days of the week. Yet in his heart he knew he was wrong to stifle Cherry’s need to be feminine and pretty.
He shook his head as the vision of Lobo McCoy dripping wet and only half-dressed came to his mind again. How could Cherry have avoided being overcome by such a man? Especially when her pa’s insistence to stay hidden left her the likes of only young Billy Parker to give her any masculine attention.
Breathing a heavy sigh, Arthur helped Fiona into the buggy before tossing his crutches in and lifting himself into the seat. Glancing around once more, relieved that Lobo McCoy seemed to be nowhere in sight, Arthur mumbled, “Gid-up,” and slapped the lines at the back of the horse.
With one final glance in Cherry’s direction, he smiled and chuckled when he saw her and the three Parker children leaning over as they studied something on the ground. What mischief could there be linked to a dead prairie dog? None. He’d let her have her Sunday walk with the Parkers and try not to think about Lobo McCoy and the reason he’d come to Blue Water.
“I bet there’s a bucketful of ’em,” Laura said, wrinkling her nose as she gazed down at the maggots writhing in the open and rotting stomach of the dead prairie dog.
“That wouldn’t fill no bucket,” Pocket argued. “But there’s a good handful or two.”
“Looks like somebody shot it,” Billy said. “Don’t ya think, Cherry?”
“Yeah,” she said, frowning. “And right through the head.”
“Good shootin’, whoever it was,” Billy said.
“Black Jack ain’t back in town, is he?” Cherry asked.
Black Jack liked to shoot prairie dogs. He used them for practicing his draw. Oh, Cherry and her pa shot plenty of prairie dogs too. Prairie dog burrows were heck on cattle; she couldn’t even count the number of cows her pa had had to put down due to a broken leg from stepping in a prairie dog burrow. Still, she began to feel an odd sense of discomfort washing over her. It was Sunday, and she wasn’t dressed like a man. The last time Black Jack had seen her dressed like the woman that she was—well, she still hadn’t told her pa about that incident. And she didn’t plan to!
“Nope,” Pocket said. “And we’d know if he was. Our pa keeps out of town when Jack’s here…even on Sundays.”
“Good,” Cherry said, feeling somewhat relieved.
“Billy? Pocket? Laura Parker! Where have you children run off to now?”
It was Mrs. Parker. Cherry straightened, shading her eyes from the sun with one hand as she looked in the direction of the church. Mrs. Parker stood in front of the church hollering like there was no tomorrow.
“We’re over here, Mama!” Laura called.
Mrs. Parker turned around. Upon seeing the children, she placed a fist on each hip and shouted, “You children get on home! We’ve got company comin’ for supper, and I need help.” Raising one hand to wave, she added, “Hey there, Cherry! How’s yer pa?”
“Just fine, Mrs. Parker. Thank you,” she said waving in return.
“I’m sorry the children can’t play longer today, Cherry,” Mrs. Parker called. “I’ve got company and need them home.”
“That’s fine, Mrs. Parker. You have a nice day.” She waved again, feeling ridiculous about the fact that Mrs. Parker would have to explain to a nineteen-year-old woman why her children couldn’t stay and play.
“Sorry, Cherry,” Billy said. “I guess we better go.”
“That’s fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’ll see you all tomorrow or the next day.”
“Bye-bye, Cherry,” Laura said as she ran off to meet her mother.
“Maybe if ya turn it over, you’ll find some more maggots underneath,” Pocket said as he followed his sister.
“I wish I was older, Cherry Ray,” Billy said, kicking a nearby dirt mound. “Then Ma couldn’t tell me what to do…and I could go sparkin’ with you once in a while.”
Cherry’s mouth dropped open in astonished delight. How sweet! “That’s the sweetest thing anybody has said to me in as long as I can remember, Billy! Thank you.”
“Well,” Billy began, “you just be sure that when you do get a feller…you just be sure he’s got some fun in him, Cherry. You couldn’t live without fun. I may be too young fer ya…but I know ya purty well, and you need to have fun.”
“I do at that, Billy Parker. Thanks for showin’ me this,” she said, pointing to the maggoty prairie dog. “And thanks for lettin’ me keep Ol’ Red. You found him, and I’m sure you would’ve liked to have taken him to yer house.”
“Billy Parker!” Mrs. Parker hollered.
“Ma woulda never let me drag that old dried-up wolf home. Besides, you’ll take better care of him than I would’ve. See ya tomorrow, Cherry.”
“All right,” Cherry giggled as the boy rather unwillingly swaggered after his siblings.
What a sweet boy Billy Parker was! Cherry had often wondered, were Billy older or were she younger, would they have been sweethearts in some regard? Still, he was much younger, and she saw him only as a sweet little friend. It did make her feel delighted, however—the fact that he wished he were older for her sake.
Cherry glanced down at the maggoty prairie dog. Releasing a heavy sigh, she turned and began walking toward town. She’d stay behind the buildings, out of sight if she could. Still, she couldn’t resist going into town and hoping to catch a glimpse of Lobo McCoy. She wished she’d snuck an Oklahoma Jenny book to church with her. She could’ve found a quiet spot and enjoyed a chapter or two if her search for Lobo proved unsuccessful.
As Cherry drew nearer to town, she could hear the music of the piano from the saloon carried on the breeze. She smiled, knowing full well Mrs. Fiona Blakely would have a loco fit if she knew Cherry was lurking behind the general store, peering across the street into the open saloon doors on a Sunday!
Cherry could hear Pinky Chitter singing. She could hear the laughter and applause of the men gambling in the saloon as Pinky ended one song and began another. Still, she couldn’t quite see into the saloon, and s
he was suddenly overcome with curiosity. Was Lobo McCoy inside? She felt sickened at the thought. Surely a man who would march a girl home from a creek without taking advantage of her wouldn’t be loitering in a saloon. Yet most men in town stopped by the saloon once in a while—whether for a game of cards, a smelly old drink, or a visit with Pinky or one of her girls.
Cherry felt angry, overly warm at the thought of Lobo McCoy being in the saloon—for any reason. She had to know if he were in there at that moment. She had to! Carefully, she slipped into the open space between the general store and the blacksmith’s building. Several old barrels, some on their sides and some sitting straight up, had been placed in the alley, and Cherry ducked down behind one of them.
Straining her eyes, she peered across the street into the saloon. She could see Pinky sitting on top of the piano as Petey Smith played. She could see several men at a table playing cards, but she couldn’t be certain if any of them were Lobo McCoy.
“He’s trouble. It’s plain obvious.”
Two men were coming out of the blacksmith’s building—Remmy Cooper and the blacksmith, Mr. Murphy. It was Mr. Murphy who was speaking, and his next words caused Cherry’s eyebrows to raise with curiosity.
“Says his name’s Lobo but won’t say no more.”
“Maybe he’s just passin’ through,” Remmy offered.
“Oh, I’m sure he is…passin’ through to join ol’ Jack and his boys.”
They were coming closer! Quickly, Cherry looked around. A nearby barrel on its side looked big enough! Feetfirst, she squeezed into the barrel. Remmy and Mr. Murphy would stop their conversation about Lobo McCoy dead cold if they saw her—and she wanted to hear more.
“He looks like a nice enough feller,” Remmy said. “He ain’t caused no trouble yet.”
“That’s ’cause he’s waitin’…waitin’ for Jack to get back from hidin’ out after that mess in San Antone.”
“Afternoon, gentlemen.”
Cherry clamped her hand tight over her mouth, startled by the sound of his voice. Daring to look out of the top of the barrel, she gasped again as she saw another set of legs join those of Remmy Cooper and Mr. Murphy. All three men stepped back several steps, and Cherry saw two skirts walk by.
“Howdy,” Remmy said as the skirts swished past them.
Lobo McCoy was so close, Cherry could’ve reached and pulled one of the silver buttons off his vaquero’s pants. She tried to remain calm—tried to breathe normally. Yet his sudden and unexpected nearness had caused her heart to begin hammering so brutally within her bosom she was certain the men would hear it!
“Hey there, Lobo,” Mr. Murphy greeted. “What can I do fer ya?”
Cherry wrinkled her nose, irritated with the man’s hypocrisy.
“My horse threw a shoe,” Lobo said. “I was wonderin’ if ya had the time to shoe him up. I tied him up just over there. I know it’s Sunday, but I wouldn’t ask it of ya if it weren’t important. I want him kept up in case I need to ride out for some reason.”
The sound of his voice washed over Cherry like a refreshing summer rain. And yet—what had he said? He wanted his horse ready in case he needed to ride out for some reason? What kind of a man couldn’t wait one day to have his horse shod?
“I’ll pay ya handsomely,” Lobo added, “for the inconvenience of it bein’ Sunday and all.”
“You got a deal, Lobo,” Mr. Murphy said. “I’ll get to it now.”
Cherry watched as Mr. Murphy headed back toward his shop, his legs disappearing from her view.
“Name’s Remmy Cooper.”
“Lobo.”
“Nice to meet ya,” Remmy said. “Hope to get to know ya better, but for now I gotta be headin’ on back to the ranch.”
“Arthur Ray’s place?”
Remmy chuckled. “Nope. I weren’t lucky enough to get on with Arthur last fall. I run cattle for ol’ John Brooks. You have a good day.”
“Same to you.”
Cherry watched as Remmy Cooper’s legs disappeared too. She tried to calm the increased beating of her heart and breath as she studied Lobo McCoy’s legs. His boots were worn and dusty, but the silver buttons on the legs of his britches looked as polished as a new silver dollar. She wondered if they were real silver—surely not. Yet, as close as she was to them, she was nearly certain they were. It took every ounce of self-control she could muster not to reach out and touch one of the buttons.
He moved—walked two steps until he was at the side of the barrel instead of at the top. Cherry gasped as she heard his boot hit the side of the barrel—braced her arms against the inside curves of the barrel as Lobo McCoy began to rock the barrel back and forth using his foot. He knew! He had to know someone was in the barrel. But how? She’d been so still, so very quiet.
Cherry began to tremble as Lobo’s face suddenly appeared at the barrel’s top opening. He breathed a sigh and scowled at her. “Cherry Ray…what it tarnation are ya up to now?”
Chapter Four
Panic leapt to Cherry’s bosom as she gazed into the dark, alluring eyes of Lobo McCoy. Hunkering down in front of the barrel, he shook his head. He removed his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and replaced it before looking at her again.
“You were spyin’ on them men, weren’t ya?” he asked.
She shook her head, horrified at being caught spying once more.
“I…I was out for a Sunday walk and—” she stammered.
“You were out for a Sunday walk…in an old empty barrel?”
“Oh, please don’t drag me back to my pa!” she begged. She was suddenly more afraid of another reprimand at her pa’s hand than she was of further humiliation at Lobo’s. “He’ll skin me alive if he finds out I got caught again.”
She watched as Lobo shook his head. He looked around as if making certain no one else was watching them.
“Here,” he said. He stood, and Cherry tried to ignore the hot blush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks. She felt the barrel being righted and looked up into the sky a moment before Lobo’s handsome face appeared above her.
“Stand up, and I’ll haul ya on outta there,” he said.
“Is anybody lookin’?”
“Nope.”
She reached up, taking hold of the lip of the barrel on either side. Pulling herself up, she stood. She glanced away, entirely humiliated when Lobo sighed and shook his head.
“Please don’t tell my pa about this,” she begged in a whisper. “He worries too awful much about me already.”
“Seems to me he has good reason,” Lobo mumbled as he reached out, taking her waist between strong hands and lifting her out of the barrel.
“Please, mister,” she pleaded. “I won’t be any more trouble to you—I swear it! Just don’t march me home again and tell my pa.”
Unexpectedly, a swarm of butterflies erupted in Cherry’s stomach at the sight of Lobo McCoy’s sudden laughter and stunning smile. His entire countenance had changed, and he was only all the more unsettlingly handsome!
“I suppose I can keep from tellin’ yer pa,” he said, shaking his head with obvious amusement. “But I do think I oughta make sure ya get home,” he said, taking hold of her arm as if he were scolding a child. “Hard tellin’ how much more trouble ya might step in between here and there.”
“I-I can find my way fine by myself.” The truth was she wanted nothing more in all the world than for Lobo McCoy to take her home. Just to be in his company would be worth any discipline her pa might dish out. Still, she had to make him think she didn’t want his company. Didn’t she?
“My horse threw a shoe this mornin’, so we’ll hafta walk,” he said. He paused, smiling as he looked at her. “Of course, you already knew that, didn’t ya?”
Cherry blushed the very color of her name. How humiliating! What must he think of her? She scolded herself for thinking even for one moment that she might be able to capture the attention of the likes of Lobo McCoy. Her—with her ridiculous behavior and even more ridiculous clothin
g! It was only then she remembered—she wasn’t dressed in any ridiculous fashion that day. It was Sunday, and she was dressed like a lady! She wondered if this was the reason he held tight to her arm instead of to the back collar of her dress.
“How did ya end up in that barrel?” he asked.
“I crawled in.” Cherry had always possessed a thicker streak of smart aleck than did most women her age, and when Lobo chuckled, she guessed it wasn’t wasted on him.
“I saw that much,” he said. “That’s how I knew you were in there. I mean, why ain’t you in church or somethin’? Ya look dressed for more than hidin’ in barrels and spyin’ on men.”
“I was in church. It let out, and Billy Parker said there was a dead, maggoty prairie dog out behind the church house, and I wanted to see it.”
“I shot that prairie dog the other mornin’. But that still don’t explain how you ended up in a barrel.”
“You shot it? For a minute, we wondered if Black Jack was back in town…’cause he’s the only one in Blue Water who can dead-eye a prairie dog like that. Him and my pa…and me, of course.” Would it work? Would Lobo be distracted enough with the talk about Black Jack to forget about why or why not she had crawled into the barrel?
“You?” he asked. “You can shoot a prairie dog at a run for his burrow?”
“I sure can.”
“From where? Sittin’ on top of the burrow?”
Cherry looked at him and glared. “From a greater distance than most anybody. Me and Pa used to sit out on the back porch and pick ’em off when I was growin’ up. The little devils are heck on a herd of cattle, ya know.”
“So I’ve been told,” he said.
Cherry thrilled through and through as he tightened his grip on her arm a little.
“You think I’m joshin’ with ya. You don’t believe I’m as good a shot as you.”
Sweet Cherry Ray Page 5
