Moon Racer

by Constance O'Banyon

  Abby smiled at him. "Thank you. Now go."

  She watched him race up the street before she turned back to Jonah.

  "I think you have a friend for life," Jonah said, smiling.

  She held the animal up and examined him. He was lop-eared, with one rheumy eye and scraggly whiskers. It was hard to tell what color he was, but she would say he was yellow, mottled with brown. His feet were so big he was sure to trip over them every time he tried to take a step.

  "What am I going to do with this dog?"

  Jonah laughed in amusement. "That is the ugliest dog I have ever seen. I don't think you will find anyone to give him a home. It looks like you are stuck with him."

  Abby glared at him. "This dog might look ugly to you, but Rob gave me something he treasured. I am going to take him home with me. It was a beautiful gesture."

  Jonah looked at the mongrel clutched to her chest. "What you did for the boy was a compassionate and beautiful gesture," he said quietly. "And the boy was right you are mighty pretty, Miss Abby."

  Abby drew in a deep breath, stumbling for the right words, but they were stuck in her throat. Why did Jonah always catch her at her worst, and why did she care so much? "I have to go now. I've got supplies to order."

  Jonah would have said more, but Grant Zachary came out of the hotel at that moment and stopped beside him.

  "Abby? Abby Hunter? Can that be little Abby all grown-up? It can't be anyone else with those dazzling eyes."

  The ranger's infectious smile was well known to her. "Grant," she said with affection warming her voice, "what a pleasure it is to see you again." She reached out, and he took her hand, dwarfing it in his giant one. "Does Brent know you are in town?"

  The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. "Not yet. I thought I'd ride by and see him later on. I heard about him getting hitched."

  Abby was wrestling with the dog, and she finally solved her dilemma by shifting the animal over her shoulder. "It's been much too long since we have seen you. I imagine Frances would make you her famous chocolate cake if you came by the ranch."

  "Tell her I'll be coming by Saturday next. I hear Diablo will be celebrating an anniversary with fireworks and a dance. I'm hoping you'll go with me." He nodded at Jonah. "You might even save the major here one of your dances."

  She-shook her head. "I don't usually attend the town dances."

  Grant remembered all too well how the townspeople had treated Abby after the family tragedy. In the past he had defended her name on more than one occasion. "I can't believe you are all grown-up now." He shook his head and held her at arm's length so he could see her better. "I want you to go to the dance with me, and I won't take no for an answer."

  Jonah was irritated by the happy reminiscing between the ranger and Abby. "How does it happen that the two of you know each other?"

  "I've known this pretty little gal since she was no more than knee-high to a stump, and I've just been waiting for her to grow up so I could dance with her."

  Jonah glared at the man. "You are full of surprises, ranger."

  Abby didn't want to admit to either of them that she didn't know how to dance and that she didn't have a dress suitable for the occasion. "Grant, I don't think I-"

  He stopped her before she could refuse him. "I'll be coming for you, Abby. I think I can get there in time for supper if you ask me nice-like."

  He left her no way to refuse, because she wanted him to come to the ranch so everyone could see him. "I'll tell Brent you're coming so he can be there, too." She was still wrestling with the dog. "I have to go now." She nodded at Jonah and then at Grant.

  Grant reached out and took the pup from her until she could mount her horse, then handed the animal up to her. He touched the brim of his hat. "Good day to you, Abby. I'll be seeing you Saturday."

  Jonah wondered why he hadn't thought to help Abby with the dog. He had been deeply troubled when Abby smiled at Grant the way she never had at him. Although he had no reason to object, he didn't like the idea of her dancing in the arms of this man-or any other man, for that matter.

  Grant waved as she galloped away. "She's 'bout as pretty as a speckled pup. A man would consider himself lucky if he could win her affection."

  Jonah glowered at the ranger. "How long have you known her?"

  "Her brother Brent and me are friends. We met when we were just boys at the fishing hole south of town. I spent a lot of time at their ranch."

  "You lived here in Diablo?"

  "For the better part of my youth." He watched Abby ride out of sight. "She has grown into one very fine-looking woman. I reckon she's about the prettiest gal I've seen in a long time. Do you know if she's spoken for?"

  Jonah stared up at the clear blue sky, feeling a sudden possessiveness toward Abby and knowing he had no right to feel that way. "You would have to ask the lady."

  Grant, hearing the biting tone in Jonah's voice, turned to him. "I intend to, Major-I certainly intend to. When I saw her just now, after not seeing her in over three years, something hit me like a train. I certainly have it in mind to go courting at her door. Lately I've been thinking about taking me a wife and settling down somewhere, buying a little spread and raising kids and cattle."

  There was a hard lump in Jonah's throat. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to smash his fist into the ranger's face. "You think you can come riding into town and expect Abby to marry you?"

  Grant thumbed his hat back and shook his head. "Well, no, it won't happen quite that easily. I'll have to do some dedicated sparking."

  Doubts tore at Jonah's mind. Abby did seem to be fond of the ranger, and Grant appeared to be a good sort of man. Needing to distance himself from the situation, Jonah stepped into the street. "There is something that needs my attention."

  Grant nodded, blissfully ignorant of the turmoil that churned inside Major Tremain.

  Abby met Glory at the front door and took her hand, pulling her inside. "You have to help me!"

  Glory looked puzzled-she had never seen her sister-in-law like this before. "You know I will. But what do you need me to do?"

  Abby ran her hand through her hair, untwisting the braid and allowing the wavy mass to sift through her fingers. "Everything is wrong about me! I want to cut my hair. I don't have a proper gown to wear to the dance, even if I knew how to dance, which I don't."

  Glory removed her hat and tossed it on a chair. "Halt, stop, slow down. I haven't understood one word you've said."

  "Grant Zachary has asked me to the dance next Saturday night, and I don't know how to dance!"

  Glory was dumbfounded. "I want to meet the man who has made you want to wear a gown and cut your hair. Tell me all about him."

  "Who?"

  "Abby, you can be so maddening at times. Tell me about this Mr. Zachary. What's he like?"

  Abby was puzzled. "Grant is Brent's friend, and he's a Texas Ranger. I've known him most of my life-he's like a big brother to me."

  Glory stared at Abby in bemusement. "He's like a brother to you, and yet you are willing to cut your hair for him?"

  Abby led her confused sister-in-law down the hallway to her bedroom. She searched in her mending basket until she found her scissors, then placed them in the palm of Glory's hand. "Please, just cut it."

  Glory was still puzzled when Abby sat down before the mirror.

  "I like the way you do your hair. Cut mine like yours."

  The redhead felt as though a tornado had just swept through her life-sometimes Abby had that effect on people. She lifted a long black strand of hair and shook her head. "I can't. It's too beautiful to cut."

  "Close your eyes and do it," Abby urged.

  Glory met Abby's gaze in the mirror. "I'm not sure closing my eyes to cut your hair is a good idea." She took a tentative snip. "Quince is going to kill me for this."

  Abby closed one eye and stared at the reflection of the scissors with the other. "Just do it before I change my mind."

  Glory drew in her breath and sni
pped, still wondering what in the world had come over Abby.

  Soon long black tresses lay at Glory's feet, and she stepped back to observe her handiwork. Now that the weight was off Abby's head, the rest of her hair curled about her shoulders and face in ringlets.

  "I never knew you had curly hair."

  Abby ran her fingers through her hair in amazement. "The curls have been a source of irritation to me for as long as I can remember. Since I didn't know what to do with them, I found it easier to wear my hair braided."

  Glory pulled the curls away from Abby's face and studied her attentively. "You look very different."

  Abby turned to look at her sister-in-law. "Will you help me find a gown and teach me to dance?"

  Glory stood back and studied Abby closely. "We are about the same size, except you are a few inches taller than I am. I have a yellow gown that would look good on you. I would have to lower the hem a bit, and maybe put lace around the bottom."

  Abby stood up. "Now teach me to dance."

  "I'll-try," Glory said doubtfully. "But I don't know how to lead-you would need a man for that." Glory suddenly frowned. "We don't have music. I can't sing, can you?"

  "Not so well that anyone would want to listen," Abby admitted. "If only Crystal were here, she could sing or hum for us."

  "Let's find a room with more space," Glory said, getting into the spirit of adventure. "It's too crowded in here."

  Glory walked out of the room, and Abby followed her to the parlor. Under Glory's direction, they moved furniture until they had cleared a wide area.

  "Let me see," the redhead said, taking Abby's hand. "You put your hand on my shoulder, and I'll-No, that's not right. I put my hand o n... I'm confused, Abby. We need one of your brothers."

  "Will I do?" Jack said, poking his head around the corner.

  Glory beamed at her father-in-law as she went forward and dragged him into the room. "You are just the person we need. I want you to teach your daughter to dance."

  Jack looked at Abby in wonderment. Something about her was different. She still wore her trousers, but... "You cut your hair!"

  Abby fluffed it and smiled. "Do you like it, Papa?"

  He studied her for a long moment, and then had to clear his throat before he could speak. "It's almost like I was looking at your mama." He shook his head and went toward her. "I think we should start with a waltz, since it's the most fun."

  At first Abby felt nervous because she had been consciously avoiding her father for so long. But she had not seen him drunk in several weeks; he seemed to be trying to stay sober. He had stopped muttering about Matt under his breath, something he did only when he was drinking.

  He smiled down at her and gently instructed her with patience as he led her through the dance steps. Abby began to relax a bit. He hummed softly while he whirled her around the room, and she became caught up in the dance.

  "You - learn fast," he commended her. "You follow my lead like a born dancer." He could have told her that her mother had been a fine dancer, but she didn't want to hear any more about her mother from him.

  After a while, Jack was taking Abby through the steps of a polka. Then he showed her the motions of a slow dance. "You won't have trouble following any man's lead. Your moves are natural."

  "Thank you, Papa," she said, laying her head against his shoulder, warily at first, and then expe riencing a glimmer of the same love she had felt for him as a child.

  Glory was beaming at her sister-in-law's progress. "Now we just have to get you into a gown and shoes. I'll come over early the day of the dance and dress your hair."

  Jack held Abby away from him. "You will be the prettiest one at the dance."

  "Will you be going to the dance, Papa?"

  "No, I won't, Abby. But I'll picture you there dancing with all the young men and stealing their hearts away."

  Abby smiled and snapped her fingers. "I almost forgot. I have something for you. Wait right here with Glory until I get it out of the barn."

  Jack looked inquiringly at Glory, but she shrugged her shoulders.

  Moments later Abby returned carrying a dog, which she shoved into Jack's arms. "He's yours, Papa, a thank-you gift, or maybe a birthday gift."

  Jack held the dog away from him. "My birthday isn't until January."

  "I know that, but it could be an early birthday present."

  Lifting the dog, he could only stare at the homely creature. He preferred pedigree in any animal, whether it was horses or dogs. This pup was certainly at the bottom of the ladder in breeding.

  "He's a mongrel," he said, shoving the dog back at Abby.

  "Yes, I know," she said, shoving the pup back to him. "But he has personality and character. Look how he's wagging his tail-he wants to belong to you."

  "Abby!"

  She grinned at him. "What will you name him, Papa?"

  Jack was at a loss for words to describe the dog. "With his scraggly whiskers he looks something like a catfish with fur."

  The dog chose that moment to lick Jack's face, and Jack pulled away in disgust.

  "I think you just named him, Papa. He seems to like to be called Catfish."

  "Charming." He placed the dog on the floor, but it stayed right at his feet, bouncing and wagging its tail.

  "I think he likes you, Jack," Glory said, catching Abby's eye, and they both laughed.

  "Frances will never allow him in the house," Jack warned, bending down and reluctantly patting the dog on the head.

  "Oh, he's housebroken, Papa. But he is a bit clumsy. When he wags his tail he knocks things off tables. He would benefit from training."

  Jack grumbled as he walked out of the room with Catfish sliding and scrambling after him.

  Jonah sat in the straight-backed chair in Sheriff Dawson's office, posing questions to the middleaged man with graying hair.

  "Have you happened upon a man here in Diablo by the name of Norman Williamson?"

  The sheriff shifted in his chair and nodded. "Yeah, I have. I believe he's friends with Edmund Montgomery. At least, I saw them together a few times here in town."

  "Did you notice anything suspicious about Williamson-has anyone commented on any unusual actions?"

  The sheriff was thoughtful. "Not suspicious exactly-more like unusual. From what I've heard, him and Edmund have a joint venture of buying up land. I thought it was kinda odd that an Indian agent would have that kind of money. I overheard them talking about the Taylor ranch, which is the biggest cattle spread hereabouts. I didn't even know Lester Taylor had his place up for sale."

  "Could you- give me directions to the Taylor ranch?"

  "I'll do better than that, Major." Dawson stood up, hung the jail keys on a peg, and then straightened his gun belt to a more comfortable position. "It's a slow day, and my deputy can watch things here in town for a few hours. I'll ride out with you."

  It had rained on the ride to the Taylor ranch, but the sun had burst through the clouds before they arrived, and the rain had soaked into the thirsty ground without leaving a trace.

  Jonah, Sheriff Dawson, and Lester Taylor were seated in rustic chairs on the front porch of the sprawling brick ranch house. Lester was a tall, thin man of advanced age, and he had the haunted look of someone carrying a heavy load on his shoulders. Jonah recognized the unmistakable signs of a beaten man.

  "In three weeks I'm going to lose everything I've worked all my life for, Sheriff." He lowered his head to his hands and shook it. "Since my wife's dead, and we had no kids, I have nowhere to go when I leave here."

  "You don't know me, Mr. Taylor," Jonah said, "but would you mind answering a few questions for me?"

  The old man raised dark eyes that held a defeated look. "I don't mind if I do."

  "I don't know much about ranching, but I saw a large herd of cattle grazing when we rode up. I can see that the house is a fine one, and the bunkhouse and barns seem in good repair. I guess what I'm asking is, how did you come to this pass?"

  "You mean the foreclosu
re?"

  "That's right."

  "I trusted Edmund Montgomery, that's how." For a moment his eyes flamed with indignation, and then he shook his head. "He was always acting like my friend and getting me to buy more cattle and more land. I always prided myself on having a good business head, but Edmund came in through the front door like a friend and went sneaking out the back door taking everything I own with him. You can call me a fool if you want to, but I never saw what he was doing until it was too late."

  "Have you heard of, or had any dealings with, a man by the name of Norman Williamson?"

  The old man nodded. "He came here with Edmund once. Said he wanted to buy the place. That was before the trouble, and I told him I wouldn't sell." He lowered his head again, his shoulders slumping. "Now I wish I had taken his puny offer. At least I'd have had something to show for my years of sweat."

  Jonah absorbed all he was being told. He stood up and walked to the edge of the porch that wrapped around the house, and gazed out over the land. It was beautiful, with a lot of tall oaks and meadows. He could imagine children, his children, running across the grassy lawn-a strong son and a greeneyed daughter. His breath shuddered. No, his daughter would not have green eyes. Patricia's eyes were blue.

  He swiveled around and faced the older man. "Mr. Taylor, if you were to sell your ranch today, what would be a fair price?"

  "No one 'round here has that kind of money."

  Jonah gave him a shrewd glance, thinking about the large inheritance that had come to him through his mother's estate. "I have."

  Sheriff Dawson stared at Jonah. "Are you making a bona fide offer, Major Tremain?"

  Jonah had known almost from his first glimpse of the ranch that he wanted to own it. He wasn't usually one to make a quick judgment, but this situation called for haste. "Name a price, Mr. Taylor, and I will expect it to be fair for both of us."

  "You aren't funning me, are you?"

  "I have too much respect for you to be anything but honest with you. I want to buy your ranch."

  The old man's eyes filled with hope. "There is that large lien on it from the bank."