Sweet Cherry Ray

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  Cherry gasped as he suddenly reached out pushed her hat from her head and gathered her into his arms. Tossing his own hat to the ground and pulling her tight against the strength of his body, he placed a moist, lingering kiss on her neck. Cherry’s entire being broke into goose bumps as she let her hands caress the breadth of his shoulders. She reveled in the feel of his neck beneath her palms, the softness of his hair between her fingers. Oh, she well knew he was just making good in front of Fuss, Pinky, and whomever else might not believe he’d been sparking with Cherry out behind the saloon. Still, there wasn’t a thing in the world that could stop her from enjoying his attentions, no matter what the reason.

  Hang on there, boy, Lobo silently told himself. Just give ’em enough to keep their attention off her.

  But the feel of Cherry’s soft hands lost in his hair, the sense of her small body pressed so willing to his, and the taste of the skin of her neck threatened to weaken him. She smelled like summer rain, tasted like sweet summer cherries ripe off the tree!

  For a moment, Lobo considered on just giving in—on swooping her up in his arms, carrying her to a more secluded place, and having his way with her. But his honor and will were stronger than his desire—he hoped.

  When he’d come upon Cherry and the Parker boys spying in the saloon window only minutes before, he’d been astonished by the fear leaping in his chest. What if Fuss Ingram had seen them spying? What if Fuss Ingram had found Cherry out there alone, unprotected? Cherry wasn’t aware of her sweet, pretty allure. In her innocent inexperience, Cherry Ray didn’t understand what men like Fuss Ingram might take from a girl who captured their attention—especially one who didn’t have a husband or a beau to look out for her. Arthur Ray knew, however. Why didn’t he send Cherry away from Blue Water anyhow? Boys’ clothes did very little to hide her beauty. He had known that the first time he’d set eyes on her—standing there with that old dried-out wolf at her feet—he’d known right then how pretty she was.

  “Promise me ya won’t spend any time upstairs with Pinky,” Cherry whispered.

  Lobo kissed her neck again—this time allowing the tip of his tongue to taste her flesh as well. He felt her shiver in his arms, felt the goose bumps on her neck when he kissed her again.

  “Promise me,” she breathed as he bent and kissed the hollow of her throat.

  He was near to losing control, he knew—but only near. Raising his head, he let his thumb caress the hollow of her throat—the place where his lips had lingered only a moment before—the soft, tender place above her heart.

  He was breathless as she took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. The feel of her soft palms against his roughly shaven jaw robbed him of his breath for a moment. The blue of her eyes was mesmerizing—drew her to him like some hunter’s trap.

  “You won’t go upstairs with Pinky…will you?” she whispered.

  Lobo’s mouth watered, wanting to kiss her. He had to get into the saloon—had to play a game of cards with Fuss—let the man know Lobo McCoy was a force to be reckoned with. Yet as Cherry held his face in her hands, as he savored the feel of her against him…

  “Let me have a go at yer mouth, darlin’,” he said.

  “You won’t go upstairs with her, will you?”

  “No,” Lobo said, swallowing the excess moisture in his mouth. “Now let me—”

  Cherry didn’t wait for him to ask again but pressed her lips firmly to his. Her hands slipped from his face, and she allowed her arms to go around his waist. He drew her tighter against him, his mouth taking hers in a moist, demanding exchange. This kiss—the way he kissed her, as if he’d been on the trail for weeks without water and she was some sort of cool, refreshing mountain spring—it was different than the first time he’d kissed her. This kiss was driven by pure desire—passion and near abandon. This kiss put Cherry in mind of succumbing to anything he might ask of her.

  He had to be hers. She had to have him! As they kissed, Cherry realized she must own Lobo—own his mind, his body, his heart and soul. Her body filled with sweetened breath, felt light and alive as his hands encircled her neck. His thumbs traced her jaw and chin as he held her, kissed her with a kind of ravenous thirst—as if he meant to entirely drink her up! This was how women were ruined—by handsome, masculine men the likes of Lobo McCoy. As he kissed her, as her senses drowned in the heated flavor of his kiss, Cherry understood how Oklahoma Jenny’s sister, Pearl, had been lost to an outlaw. Her body and mind were more alive, more stirred than they ever had been before! As her heart pounded with wonder, as goose bumps enveloped her body, Cherry suddenly owned a more humble compassion for women who had lost their hearts and reputation to such physically and emotionally powerful men.

  “Th-that’s enough,” he growled, suddenly breaking the seal of their lips and pushing her away from him. “I-I gotta get on in there or—or they’ll know we were bluffin’.”

  “But I—” she began as he bent and picked up his hat.

  “There’s things that’ll go on here one day, Cherry,” he said, pointing an index finger at her. “Things that have to go on here. I don’t want ya in the way when they start up. Ya hear? You keep closer to yer daddy’s ranch—closer to yer daddy, fer that matter—and quit spyin’ on folks. It’s gonna get ya killed.”

  Cherry swallowed, tried to catch her breath, to calm the wild beating of her heart. Lobo couldn’t be an outlaw—not with the feelings he’d awakened in her! She was certain only a good man could’ve awakened her the way he had. Over and over she silently assured herself—just as she had so many times since meeting him—Lobo McCoy just couldn’t be an outlaw! Furthermore, she had to win him for her own—somehow.

  “You won’t go upstairs,” Cherry said.

  “Don’t you be waitin’ around to find out,” he scolded. “You get on home to yer daddy.”

  “Just tell me. Promise me ya won’t go upstairs with Pinky Chitter. I won’t leave unless ya promise me ya won’t.”

  His eyes were narrowed, burned with an angry glow, as he took hold of her chin once more. “I won’t. Now get on home to yer daddy, Cherry Ray,” he growled a moment before his mouth crushed to hers in one final, fiery kiss.

  “You won’t go upstairs with her…or ya won’t promise?” Cherry asked.

  Taking hold of her shoulders, Lobo turned her toward home. “I won’t go upstairs with her,” he growled. “Now head for home, girl!”

  Whacking her on the seat of her pants with one hand, he pushed her forward with the other.

  Cherry took several steps then paused, turning to look back at him.

  He shook his head and waved her on with one hand. “Don’t you look back at me, Cherry Ray…unless you want me to be haulin’ you on upstairs.”

  She gasped, her mouth gaping open in delighted astonishment.

  Lobo chuckled and waved her on. “Go on, now. ’Cause of you, I gotta sit through a game of cards.” He turned and sauntered away, around the corner and into the saloon.

  Cherry smiled. She could still feel his arms around her—still taste the moist heated-flavor of his kiss. He liked her! She knew he did. Oh, she was certain his feelings for her weren’t a drop in the bucket to what she felt for him—but he liked her. It was in his eyes, in his protective nature. Sure, she wanted his love—his heart—wanted to call him her own. But he liked her, and it was a start.

  Picking up the hat Lobo pushed off her head before he kissed her, Cherry plopped it on her head and headed back to the ranch house. Along the way she picked a few wildflowers, inhaled the sweet fragrance of the grasses and trees, and thought of Lobo McCoy and his delicious kiss!

  Lobo lifted his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Who’s dealin’?” he asked, sitting down hard in a chair at the table. He inhaled and breathed out several deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. His ears burned hot with annoyance provoked by Fuss Ingram’s knowing chuckle.

  “Well, you sure ain’t no coward, boy,” Fuss said.

  “Why so?”
Lobo asked as Fuss tossed the cards around the table.

  “Cherry Ray,” Pinky Chitter giggled. “It takes a mighty brave man to fill up his needs with Arthur Ray’s only daughter.”

  “Well, Arthur Ray ain’t a Ranger no more,” Lobo said.

  He hoped nobody else at the table had seen the way his hands trembled when he’d gathered up his cards. Cherry’s delicious kiss still lingered in his thoughts—the warm taste of her mouth still fresh on his tongue.

  “Besides, I reckon Arthur Ray’s near as dried up and useless as my dead granny.”

  “Ooh!” Fuss chuckled. “Looks like we got us a bad boy here, fellers.”

  Lobo looked up to the three other men seated at the table. Two of them he recognized as townsfolk. The other—well, he looked harmless enough. But looks could well deceive a man—he could just as well be another one of Black Jack’s old boys as the barber’s son.

  “Ain’t a man in this town who wouldn’t give his left leg to do to Cherry Ray what I just seen you do, boy,” Fuss said. “But there also ain’t a man in town who’d go up against ol’ Arthur Ray.”

  Lobo struggled to appear unaffected. He’d known it all along—whether or not Arthur had. Why did Arthur Ray keep his daughter in Blue Water?

  “Well, she’s too sweet a berry to leave on the bush,” Lobo said. “And I ain’t afraid of no weathered ol’ Texas Ranger.”

  “What about outlaws?” Pinky asked.

  Lobo looked up at her. Pinky smiled at him and pushed the fabric of her dress down to expose one soft, white shoulder.

  “What outlaws?” Lobo asked. “Ya mean Black Jack?”

  “Fer one,” Pinky said.

  Lobo shrugged. “Ain’t never met the man, so I can’t rightly say.”

  “Ol’ Jack’s got twenty notches on his pistol,” Fuss said.

  “Twenty-three,” Pinky corrected.

  “That’s right. Twenty-three. Three of them was Texas Rangers a lot younger than Arthur Ray…and with two legs to boot,” Fuss chuckled.

  Before Fuss could’ve moved to draw, Lobo drew his pistol and placed it on the table.

  “Count them notches,” Lobo said.

  He watched as Pinky sashayed around the table. Standing next to Lobo, she leaned over the table and studied the gun.

  Pinky’s smile faded a bit. “Twenty-five,” she said to Fuss.

  “Them legitimate, stranger?” Fuss asked.

  “Ya wanna find out fer yerself?” Lobo asked with a daring grin. “I do prefer even numbers, and this twenty-five’s been a-naggin’ at me for near to a month.” Lobo handled his pistol. He let Fuss look at him for a long moment before smiling and slipping his Colt into its holster at his hip.

  Fuss chuckled again. “I think ol’ Jack is gonna take to you right off, boy. Ain’t that so, Pinky?”

  Lobo forced a wanton smile at Pinky as she smiled at him and pushed her dress further off her shoulder.

  “I’m more’n sure of it, Fuss. I know I already have.”

  Lobo reached into his pocket and retrieved five silver dollars. Tossing them onto the table in front of him, he said, “Let’s get this game a-goin’, boys.”

  “All righty then,” Fuss said, fanning the cards in his hands.

  Lobo inhaled a deep breath and tried to force his attention to the cards in his hand and away from the feel of holding Cherry Ray. She was a dangerous distraction. Black Jack would ride in soon enough, and Lobo couldn’t find his own self agitated when he did. Yet maybe what bothered him the most was the confirmation he’d just received of every man in town taking notice of Cherry. It wasn’t safe for her, and it didn’t sit well with him. Maybe it was time he talked to her daddy. Maybe it was time he told her daddy why he was in Blue Water—no matter the consequences. After all, Arthur Ray wasn’t a Ranger anymore. The old man had let Black Jack run free all these years. Surely he wouldn’t gun Lobo down for telling him the truth. Would he?

  “How much you in fer, stranger?” Fuss asked.

  Lobo forced his thoughts back to the game. He picked up one of the silver dollars sitting in front of him and tossed it into the middle of the table.

  “In fer trouble where that Ranger’s daughter is concerned, I’m afraid,” he said, smiling and winking at Pinky Chitter.

  As the other men chuckled and nodded, Lobo shook his head. They think I’m joshin’, he thought.

  Chapter Seven

  Fuss Ingram was the first. Tucker Johnson and Lee Taylor soon followed. Three of Black Jack Haley’s boys were back in Blue Water.

  “Black Jack can’t be far behind,” Arthur Ray said. “You best get yerself a couple a men to up as deputies, Clarence.”

  From her hiding place behind the group of abandoned barrels between the general store and Mr. Murphy’s building, Cherry looked over to Billy Parker. She saw Pocket swallow hard and Laura’s face wince with worry. She really shouldn’t have let the Parkers follow her when she’d decided to eavesdrop on her pa and Sheriff Gibbs, but what else could she have done? She knew three of Black Jack’s boys were back in town. The day Fuss Ingram had seen her and Lobo together outside the saloon a week before had been the first sign of trouble. Jack’s boys always rather trickled back into town one at a time. Cherry’s pa said it was Jack’s way of easing himself back into Blue Water—of intimidating folks gradually so nobody would put up a fuss about his return.

  Sheriff Clarence Gibbs was the biggest yellow-belly of them all. Sometimes Cherry wondered why her pa didn’t just drop old Black Jack himself. He could do it well enough—of that she was certain. Why didn’t he just knock Sheriff Gibbs on his hind end and use his authority as a Texas Ranger to bring Black Jack in? Still, Cherry knew Arthur Ray must have his reasons—though she couldn’t imagine what they might be.

  “Oh, I figure we’ll just lay low a week or two, Arthur,” Sheriff Gibbs said. “Most times Jack’s out and runnin’ somewheres else before too long.”

  “That mess in San Antonio should never have happened, Clarence!” Arthur growled. “That dead Ranger and them two deputies Jack killed are on our heads. Mine and yers!”

  “It ain’t my fault they was such bad shots,” Sheriff Gibbs mumbled.

  “They weren’t bad shots,” Arthur said. “I’ve been told Jack shot the Ranger in the back. There hadn’t even been a go-’round yet. That Texas Ranger in San Antonio was just a-walkin’ into the barber fer a hair trim, and Jack shot him cold in the back. When two deputies saw it happen and ran over to see if the Ranger was still breathin’…Jack shot them too. Black Jack Haley’s a murderin’ coward, and we can’t let him just ride back into Blue Water like he done built and bought this town.”

  Cherry watched as her pa shook his head.

  “Nope,” Arthur Ray said. “Things have changed all around. I won’t let Jack Haley keep on with this business of robbin’ and killin’ and hidin’ out in Blue Water. If you don’t have the courage to face him…well, this time I will.”

  Cherry’s heart began to hammer with rising fear. Black Jack Haley was a murderer! Cherry knew her pa had once been strong, quick with a gun, and near to invincible. But he was older now, missing a leg, and most of the time suffered a little with the shakes. In that moment, she wasn’t sure her pa still had the upper hand on Black Jack. What if he confronted Jack—and lost?

  She wanted to leap up from behind the barrel and beg her pa not to do it, beg him to send for some other help—lawmen that had a backbone. She wondered how Sheriff Gibbs even got to be sheriff! She had been younger when he’d taken over the position, and she couldn’t remember how he’d done it. All she could remember was that ever since Sheriff Gibbs had become sheriff, Black Jack Haley had run Blue Water.

  “You do whatcha have to, Arthur. You wanna tangle with Black Jack, then you go on ahead and tangle. Besides…I got this new feller, Lobo, to worry about. Folks is mighty uneasy with a new outlaw in town. Least ways we all know Jack. Jack ain’t never hurt nobody in Blue Water—you know he thinks kindly on it and all that live ’ro
und. But this Lobo feller? I don’t trust him any more’n I do the devil.”

  Cherry watched as her pa shook his head in disgust. “Yer just about the sorriest excuse for a sheriff I ever did see, Clarence,” he said. “Ain’t nothin’ more disgustin’ than a lawman who won’t uphold the law.” Arthur shook his head again. “Black Jack will turn on this town one day, Clarence,” he said. “He’ll turn hard. Might be me he turns on…might be you…and I guarantee you, once he turns on one of us, he’ll turn on the whole town. I guarantee it.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Arthur,” Sheriff Gibbs said, reaching out and placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Just let it sit. Jack will ride off soon enough. Just let it sit like we always do, and everythin’ will be just fine.”

  “Yer the biggest coward I ever did see, Clarence.”

  But Sheriff Gibbs was too busy trying to convince himself. “Maybe that new feller, Lobo—maybe he’ll join up with Jack too, and then we’ll all be as safe and as happy as kittens in a haystack.”

  “When yer lyin’ out there in the middle of the street with a bullet in yer back, we’ll see what tune you’ll be singin’ then. Won’t we?” Arthur grumbled.

  Cherry watched as her pa slapped Sheriff Gibbs’s hand from his shoulder. Bracing himself on his crutches, he turned and moved back toward the wagon in front of the general store.

  “Well, you have yerself a good day, Arthur,” Sheriff Gibbs called after him. “And give yer girl my best.”

  Cherry looked to Billy—her heart still pounding with anxiety and worry over her pa’s safety. As Billy motioned for his brother, sister, and Cherry to follow him, Cherry swallowed the large lump of fear in her throat. Her pa couldn’t confront Jack! He couldn’t! Jack was younger and stronger. How could her pa face him and win? Furthermore, if Black Jack Haley had shot one Texas Ranger in the back, what was to stop him from shooting another?