Moon Racer

by Constance O'Banyon

"Go back to town and tell the sergeant I will be there directly. Then you can wait for me in the hotel room.

  The young trooper saluted and hurried away. Yeah, he was in bad trouble.

  Abby scrubbed with wide strokes, taking her anger out on the oak table. She dipped her cloth in the suds, wrung it out, and continued her task.

  She heard bootsteps outside the kitchen and didn't bother to look up when Jonah entered the room.

  He leaned a shoulder against the wall and watched her for a moment before he said, "If you continue scrubbing that hard you'll likely take the finish off the wood."

  She blew a stray strand of hair out of her face. "It's nothing to you."

  He pushed himself away from the wall and came up beside her. "Do you want to tell me what Private Davies did or said that forced you to defend yourself?"

  "No."

  She dipped her rag in the water, not bothering to wring it out and not caring that she splashed sudsy water on Jonah's nice shiny boots. "All I ask of you is to keep that vile man away from me."

  He reached for her hand and took the rag, tossing it into the water. Turning her resisting body toward him, he looked into her eyes. "I need to know what he did so I can make the punishment fit the crime."

  "Then ask him."

  He released her and stepped away, and his restless pacing seemed to fill the room. "The private has already indicated he behaved improperly toward you."

  She watched him take a limping step, and he looked so weary her heart went out to him. It was with effort on her part that she was able to keep her head up and her spine straight. "This has happened to me before with men who think they can say anything to me. I can take care of myself, as you saw when you entered the barn."

  He inhaled softly. "What would you have done, Abby-run him through with the pitchfork?"

  She shook her head. "I wouldn't have hurt him, but I wouldn't have let him hurt me either. I'm so tired of men thinking they can touch me and say improper things to me just because my father..." Her lips trembled from the effort she was expending to keep from crying. "If my brothers knew what your trooper said to me, they would... they would..." Her eyes widened with concern. "Please don't say anything to them about what happened."

  He stopped in front of her and took her into his arms. He felt her melt against him. "I myself would kill anyone who harmed a hair on your head, Abby."

  She closed her eyes, feeling the comfort of his shoulder beneath her cheek. A sob was building up inside, so she clamped her lips shut.

  His hand drifted across her shoulder, and he planted a soft kiss on her hair. "I have to leave now. I'll be in Diablo for a few days if you should need me for anything."

  She frowned "Why are you going away?"

  "Something needs my attention at the moment. But tell Quince I'll be back by Thursday so I can help him look for the mustangs. He said there were several hidden canyons and valleys where we could look."

  "It could take a long time, or we may never find them."

  He stepped away from her. "Be assured I will deal with the private in my own way, and please accept my apology. I am sorry that someone connected with me has caused you distress. And I'm sorry for what I said at first."

  She moved stiffly back to the bucket and dipped her hand into the soapy water to retrieve her scrub rag. She centered her concentration on the table as she listened to him walk out of the room. In her mind she could picture him packing his gear and riding away.

  Throwing the rag down, she ran out the back door and toward the barn. She didn't want to watch him leave, because she might never see him again.

  He said he would come back, but what if he didn't?

  She covered her eyes with her hands. And what if he did come back-what then?

  When Jonah reached the hotel, he took the steps two at a time in spite of his limp. His anger had been smoldering during his ride to Diablo, and it was now in full flame. Without knocking, he thrust open the door to Davies's room and stood on the threshold, glaring at the private.

  "You have some explaining to do, trooper!"

  Davies had been nervously polishing his sword and rose to his feet, the sword clattering to the floor. "Yes, sir."

  MacDougall, whose room was across the hall, heard the commotion and came to see what was happening. "Is there trouble, Major?"

  "He didn't tell you?"

  MacDougall shook his head. "No, sir, he didn't."

  Jonah glared at his sergeant. "I told you to choose someone to come with us who would be of use to me." He pointed at Davies. "That man is a disgrace to the uniform he wears."

  MacDougall's head snapped around, and he stared hard at the private whose body now visibly shook with tremors. "Can I ask what he's done, sir?"

  "You tell him, Private," Jonah ordered, feeling sick inside for the pain the young man's actions had caused Abby.

  Davies couldn't seem to find a comfortable place to put his hands-he straightened his collar, fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, and, at last, clasped them behind him.

  "I'm waiting," MacDougall's voice boomed out.

  "I there was this pretty gal-she wasn't a lady or anything, 'cause she was wearing britches. I saw her there in the barn, and I wanted to... I thought she might oblige me by taking off her-"

  "Enough," Jonah said, his voice filled with fury. "That woman you are referring to is very definitely a lady. You insulted Quince Hunter's sister, and you insulted the Sixth Cavalry. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

  MacDougall's expression was murderous. "Stand at attention when the major speaks to you, soldier, and answer his question."

  "Yes, sir." Davies snapped to attention, his body stiff, his eyes darting from one man to the other. "I didn't mean no harm. I just haven't been with a woman in a long time, and-"

  Jonah turned to MacDougall. "Get him out of my sight. I want him gone by the time I get back to the fort. I won't have a man under my command who insults a lady. Go with him and arrange his transfer to Fort Leavenworth. If I could, I would have him brought before a tribunal for what he's done. But I don't want Abby Hunter's name brought into it. Make sure his punishment will remind him of what he did today."

  MacDougall had never seen the major so angry, and he knew there had to be a good reason for it. His eyes were hard as his attention fell again on Davies. "You heard Major Tremain. Pack your kit and meet me out front in half an hour. From here on out, soldier, you won't know a peaceful day till you learn never to insult a lady."

  Jonah stared hard at his sergeant. "Where is the ranger I'm supposed to meet, and what is his name?"

  "His name's Grant Zachary. He's staying in the room next to mine, sir. But I believe you'll find him at the Lone Star at the moment. I've heard of him. He's got a good reputation."

  "See to your prisoner, and come straight back here when he has been transferred." Jonah moved slowly out of the room, his anger still smoldering. He didn't want anyone to touch Abby but him. He paused on the stairs, thinking he was little better than Private Davies because he wanted to kiss those soft lips and touch her soft skin-

  "Damn," he ground out. He had to get her out of his mind.

  That seemed to be the hard part.

  The bartender at the Lone Star eyed the stranger. He could usually tell a lawman at first glance-there was something in their stance, the way they wore their guns, and the way they watched the people around them without seeming to watch them. What Ken O'Malley didn't know was what branch of the law the stranger served.

  He slapped a coin on the bar and smiled in welcome. "This here silver dollar is me betting I can guess who you work for."

  Grant Zachary was tall and rugged-looking, rather than handsome. He had sandy hair and clear gray eyes that shone with an honest, almost boyish light. "I don't make enough money to throw it away on another man's bet. But I don't have any objections if you guess, and if you're right, I'll buy you a drink-if you aren't, you can buy me one."

  "Fair enough." O'Malley stroked his
mustache as he intently studied the man. His gun was slung low, meaning he was a quick draw. The handles of his guns were pearl, which meant he valued them and could afford them. He was lean, so he must spend a lot of time in the saddle.

  "My name's Ken O'Malley-most people just call me O'Malley-and my guess is that you're either a U.S.Marshal or a Texas Ranger. My money's on your being a ranger."

  The stranger opened his coat to show his badge. "Well, O'Malley, it looks like I owe you a drink. Name's Grant Zachary."

  O'Malley's face slid into a grin. "I heard of you by reputation. It's said that you sometimes work hand in glove with the army. It's also said that when you get on the trail of an outlaw, you don't come back without 'im."

  "Now, that there's more fiction than fact. I have gained a reputation I don't quite deserve."

  "Keep your money, ranger. It'll be a pleasure to buy you a drink, and maybe you can tell me what brings you to Diablo."

  "I'll -take the drink, but I don't have any information to give you."

  "So that's the way it is?"

  "Yeah. That's the way it is."

  The bartender placed a drink in front of the ranger before his attention was drawn to the highranking officer who came through the bat-wing doors, leaving them swinging behind him. Here was another part of the puzzle, he thought.

  Jonah waited until his eyes adjusted to the smokefilled dimness. His gaze swept over the crowd and stopped on the man at the bar who looked back at him with a smile.

  "Are you Grant Zachary?"

  "I am-and you'd be Major Tremain."

  "Let's take one of the back tables so we can talk privately," Jonah said, shaking hands with the ranger.

  O'Malley watched the two men move away from the bar. Something was in the wind if a ranger was in town, and still more, a high-ranking cavalry offi cer. If he was taking odds on the reason for their presence, he'd bet they were joining forces, looking for the men who'd been robbing the army payrolls.

  When they were seated at a table in a secluded corner, Jonah asked, "Have you anything to tell me?"

  "I did some checking up Uvalde way. Someone thought they recognized one of the men in the holdup, but the man had left town by the time I got there, and I haven't picked up his trail. Yet."

  "Have you ever heard of Norman Williamson?"

  "Yeah, I have, but nothing good. He used to be a gunslinger, but I hear he's an Indian agent now. Seems to me the government isn't so particular about who they hire these days."

  Jonah nodded in agreement. "Some would say he does the Indians more harm than good. Some say he has lately come into money that he can't account for."

  "You want me to poke around and see what I can turn up on him?"

  "No. I already have someone watching him." Jonah looked clearly into the ranger's eyes. "What I want you to do is find out anything you can about the local banker: What is his background, where does he come from, how does he spend his time?"

  Grant reared back in his chair. "Edmund Montgomery."

  "You know him?"

  "I know he's respected around here, but I heard that New Orleans doesn't hold him in such high regard."

  Jonah absorbed that bit of information. "I need to know what places he frequents so I can ask questions of the right people. So far it seems Mr. Montgomery just goes from the bank to his house, never deviating from his daily routine."

  "I should think he would go to most of the local functions."

  "Like what?" Jonah asked.

  "I hear they are having a shindig next Saturday. It's the town's birthday or something like that." Grant lit a cigar and blew the smoke into rings above his head. "How's your dancing, Major?"

  Jonah was awakened the following morning by a loud commotion outside his window. He groaned, rolled to his feet, and looked down on a group of young boys gathered in front of the hotel. Two of them seemed to be on the verge of fighting, and they were being urged on by several other youngsters.

  The larger boy's victim was a young lad who was at least forty pounds lighter than he was. The bully shoved his young opponent and sent him sprawling on the ground, giving the onlookers a reason to cheer.

  "Come on, coward, fight me," the larger boy taunted.

  Jonah had seen this same kind of baiting among some of his soldiers-he hadn't liked it then, and he didn't like it now. He left the room and went down the stairs.

  Abby helped Rob Herbert to his feet and dusted him off. She then took her handkerchief and wiped the dirt from his face. "Rob," she said pointedly, "Johnny Brisco is two years older than you, and he's bigger, and until you prove to him that you aren't afraid of him, he will continue to make your life miserable."

  The young boy's eyes were shimmering with tears, and she could feel him tremble. "I... am," he said, hiccupping, "a-afraid of him."

  Abby knew she was not helping Rob's cause by coming to his aid. Already the aggressor was sneering at Rob from several yards away and making rude comments about his needing to be rescued by a woman.

  "Listen to me, Rob." Abby raised his chin and looked into tear-dampened eyes. "It's not size that matters-it's how much you want to win. Remember your Sunday school lesson about David and Goliath?"

  "Uh-huh," he muttered, but again lowered his head.

  "You aren't listening," she said firmly but quietly. "You can beat him, Rob. But only if you believe in yourself like I believe in you."

  There was hope in the gaze he raised to her, and he was listening intently. "How?"

  "I happen to know you are left-handed, so keep your right fist up and aim low with the other one. You can't reach his jaw with any power, so aim for his stomach. Hit him hard!" She smacked her fist against her hand. "Put everything you have into the blow. I promise you if you take him to his knees, he'll never bother you again. It's always the same with bullies-they only pick on those who fear them. Don't be afraid, Rob."

  He acknowledged what she was telling him with a slight nod of his head, but there was still doubt clouding his eyes.

  Johnny sauntered up to Rob and tapped him on the shoulder. "Are you going to fight, freckle-face, or run home to your ma?"

  Rob drew in a determined breath and lunged forward with his fists flying. He hit Johnny so hard that it surprised the older boy and made him double over in pain. He struggled to catch his breath and dropped to his knees, his eyes on Rob, fearing he would hit him again.

  The younger boy stood with doubled fists, his feet planted wide apart and a fearsome expression on his face. "If you get up, I'll hit you again!"

  Abby watched young Rob's head come up in pride when he looked at her, and she nodded her approval.

  Johnny was groaning and holding his stomach, so Abby offered him some advice: "I wouldn't do anything to provoke Rob again, if I were you. He's probably only been holding back so he wouldn't hurt you. Guess you pushed him too far this time."

  The other boys had already taken to their heels, leaving Johnny to fend for himself.

  "You ain't gonna let him hurt me, are you?" Johnny asked, dragging gulps of air into his lungs.

  Abby bent down beside him to make sure he wasn't badly hurt. She concluded he was merely winded. "I don't know if I could stop him. He's pretty mad at you."

  -Johnny nodded as he glanced at his red-faced adversary, who looked as if he wanted to tear his head off. "Would you ask him not to hit me again?"

  "Yes. I could do that." Abby stood up. "What do you say, Ro-if Johnny leaves you alone, will you leave him alone?"

  Abby saw Rob's fists tighten, and he took a step toward Johnny, who cringed and closed his eyes as bullies always did when they were challenged.

  "I guess so. If you don't talk to me and don't even look at me, I might leave you alone."

  Johnny stood up-slowly and ducked behind Abby. "I'm going to be leaving now," he said, his eyes darting to Rob's still-clenched fists. He inched past the hotel, hurried past the general store, and then quickly disappeared behind the doctor's office.

  Rob came up-to
her grinning, his shoulders straight and confidence in his stance. "You was right, Miss Abby. I hurt him, didn't I?"

  "You did, Rob. But don't take too much pleasure in the deed, or you could become just as bad as Johnny."

  He looked puzzled for a moment, the freckles on his face more prominent. "Can't I be just a little happy?"

  Abby laughed and tousled his dark hair. "Perhaps just a little."

  "Miss Abby, will you wait right here? I just want to run home and get something for you."

  "You don't need to give me anything, Rob. We're friends, aren't we?"

  "Yes, ma'am-I'm surely your friend." He backed up. "Don't leave till I get back." With that, he turned and ran in the direction of his house past First Street.

  "Nicely done," came an amused voice behind Abby.

  She turned to find Jonah leaning against a supporting post, his arms folded across his broad chest. "Have you been there all this time?"

  "Mostly." He levered himself away from the post. "I have come to the conclusion that if the army took you along to act as diplomat, we might not have to fight Victorio."

  "You might find this humorous, Major, but I can assure you I don't. Poor Rob has been hounded and terrorized for years by Johnny Brisco."

  Jonah liked the way her green eyes flamed with indignation when she was passionate about something. "So you took matters into your own hands."

  Abby's attention was caught by Rob, who was running toward her with the mangiest, scraggliestlooking dog she'd ever seen bouncing in his arms. "Oh, no," she said with a sinking feeling.

  Rob's eyes were shining as he held the dog out to her. "Clover had three pups a while back. I was able to give them all away but this one-no one seemed to want him. I want you to have him, Miss Abby."

  She was aware that Jonah was silently laughing, and it infuriated her. "I'm proud to have this pup," she told the young boy. "And I thank you for your generosity."

  "It's my only way to thank you, Miss Abby."

  Abby got a whiff of the animal and held it a little away from her. "You had better run along home, Rob. Your mother will be expecting you."

  "I think you're mighty pretty, Miss Abby." His eyes were shining with earnestness. "Real pretty."