Dance With A Gunfighter (31 page)

"Last night meant nothing, Gabe." McLowry’s face
and words were harsh, as if he had the right to be irritated with her.

"You’ve got that right, McLowry!"

"Gabe--"

Mrs. Beale reared herself up as tall as she could.
"In the parlor, if you please."

McLowry flashed a murderous glance at the older woman.

Finally, Gabe could stand it no longer. She touched Mrs.
Beale’s shoulder. "It’s all right. I’ll speak with him here."

McLowry squeezed past Mrs. Beale’s bulk and entered the
bedroom.

"Gabriella, I cannot permit--"

"I’ll just be a moment." Gabe shut the door
against Mrs. Beale’s indignity. She leaned back against the door, holding tight
onto the doorknob to stop her trembling.

McLowry had shaved and wore clean clothes, but his face
was sagged with weariness, and his eyes were empty. No word came to Gabe’s mind
except
why?

He walked to her bed and peered at the open saddlebag and
the few supplies packed neatly inside it. "I guessed right," he said.

His words confused her. "What did you guess?"

He slid his fingertips in his trouser pockets, taking in
everything about her. "That you’re riding out to your ranch today."

"Yes."

"Alone?"

What difference did it make to him? "That’s
right."

"I want to go with you."

She drew in a breath. "That’s not necessary."

Soft blue eyes searched hers. "It’ll be hard,
Gabe."

His thoughtfulness stabbed at her. It was so like
him...even though he had to leave his chippies to do it! She let go of the
doorknob and walked to the bed where she buckled her saddlebags shut. What must
have been hard for
him
, she reminded herself, was to leave those
"real" women for the "girl" he insisted she was.

She didn’t want to hear the concern and understanding in
his voice. She walked to the dresser and picked up some extra cartridges.

"I’ve been given some news, Jess. Wonderful,
wonderful news. My brother Chad is alive." Her voice broke and she gripped
the dresser top.

He stepped toward her.

"They thought he was going to die. They knew he
would, if he stayed here, so they sent him to Denver." She spoke slowly at
first, then the words seemed to pour from her. "When I awoke, they didn’t
tell me he was still alive because they believed he’d die soon and thought it
would be easier for me to not know that he was in so much pain--horrible
pain--from his burns and the way his legs were crushed by beams in the fire.
But he fooled them all. He made it."

"Thank God," McLowry whispered.

She bowed her head. "He can’t walk, because of what
happened to his legs, and he’s very troubled. When I get him home, Jess, he’ll
get better. I’ll make sure of it."

"So, you’re going to stay," he said quietly.
"You’ll rebuild your home."

"I have to, somehow."

"I’ll help you."

Her head jerked toward him, then she walked to the window
and stared at the saloon, beckoning last night’s image of him with those women.
"You don’t have to bother with me anymore. I’m home now."

"You’re no bother, Gabe."

Her fingers tightened on the window sash. "I saw the
women you were with last night. I can’t do it, Jess. I can’t share you. I can’t
live the way I did in Tombstone, knowing that every night you’d go to the
Crystal Palace, know that you’d go to
her
." She couldn’t go on.

He stepped up behind her and placed his hands on her
shoulders. She pulled away from his touch.

"I was in town yesterday morning," he said,
still so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear. "I
thought I’d come and see you...that you’d be feeling strange and lonely. Then I
saw the parade of visitors start up. I could see your happy expression as you
greeted people at the door, and I watched as you walked outside with them and
said your good-byes." He hooked a thumb to his cartridge belt. "You
have lots of friends here, Gabe. It made me realize...you don’t need me
anymore. I guess I got used to being needed, because it hit me hard. I got
drunk. Seems the only ones who dared get close enough to see I got to my hotel
room in one piece were a couple of women. And believe me, as soon as they got
me to my room, they left."

Puzzled, she glanced up at him.

"This morning, I thought that maybe you would need me
at least one more time--to go with you out to the ranch. To be beside you when
you faced it again."

He waited for her answer.

His words reminded her of a similar feeling she’d had when
she saw how much the people in Dry Springs appreciated him and all he’d done
for them. She rubbed her brow, then looked at him a long while, her head
cocked. "You are a sore trial to me, McLowry. But sometimes, a wonder,
too. Maybe we’re both too ready to try to go it alone, and maybe that’s not
good for either one of us."

She picked up her shotgun and saddlebags and walked out to
the livery stable, telling a tight-lipped Mrs. Beale that she was going out to
the ranch. McLowry walked behind her, tipping his hat as he strode out the
front door.

Some ten miles out of town, an old flappy-tongued saguaro
marked the beginning of her property. Gabe slowed her gray as they reached it,
her head suddenly light. The ancient cactus was nearly seven feet tall. Years
ago, Chad and Henry had tried to cut a chunk out of it, until Pa stopped them.
They’d sliced it from a spot about five feet off the ground, downward about a
foot-and-a-half, and peeled it back some, but the sliced piece wasn’t cut
through all the way and removed. Instead, it hung open like a flap and had
dried, making it look like the saguaro was sticking its tongue out at
passersby. Gabe often thought, who was to say it wasn’t?

 As they came in sight of the burned ruins, Gabe’s
chest constricted so much she could scarcely breathe. The barn was still
standing, and the horse stable and corral, and a few outbuildings. But the
house was completely gone.

Only two men were left. Luke Murdock and Will Tanner. Only
two men left...

She got off the horse, unable to tear her eyes from the
destruction before her.

"They didn’t let me come see it before," she
said, her voice hushed as if she were in a cemetery. "They said it would
upset me too much. Just like they said it would upset me to know Chad was still
alive. If I’d of known, he wouldn’t have to be living in some home for the poor
and the sick."

She firmed her spine and walked closer to the house. Jess
stayed with her, watching her carefully.

"Even now, my eyes see the house that once stood
here," she whispered.

McLowry gingerly stepped onto the ruins of the burned
house and tossed some charred boards out of the way until he found the root
cellar where Gabe had hidden. He crouched down, looking at the small area. The
smoke from the fire must have billowed upward, leaving a pocket of air around
her. He’d heard from people in town that somehow she’d crawled out, found her
brother pinned under a house beam and, the fire raging around them, had pulled
him to safety. It truly was a miracle they had survived.

He saw her walking toward him. He met her halfway so she
wouldn’t have to face the cellar again. "The foundation of the house is
still solid," he said.

Her mouth was set in a firm line, her eyes desolate.
"That’ll make it easier to rebuild."

"You can put up a small two-room place to start with,
then add other rooms over time."

She nodded, scarcely listening, her gaze never leaving
what had once been a happy home. "Tanner did this. To think, I was right
there in his hideout, one day from confronting him, face to face, and I
couldn’t find a way to kill him. Damn his soul! Damn them all!"

She turned away and ran past the well, the barn and then
farther, along a stretch of brown gravel desert broken up only by cactus and
ocotillo until she reached a jagged break in the land. Below, large, smooth
rocks formed the path of the arroyo, the wash that brought water from the
mountaintop to the ranch and made living here possible.

McLowry followed slowly, knowing she needed time alone.

He found her sitting on the ground, her back to the ruins,
staring out at the arroyo and the desert beyond. He sat at her side.

"I will rebuild this ranch," she said firmly.
"I’ll rebuild a house for Chad."

"You’re a strong one, Gabe," he said.

"No, Jess." She shook her head. "I’m not
tough or strong at all. I’m so damned weak!" Her fist pressed against her
lips.

"Don’t, Gabe. You’ll handle this, and do what’s
necessary for you and your brother."

He put his arm over her shoulders and sat there with her
in silence, letting her soak up the unique feeling of this piece of land that was
her home. They remained, without moving, until the sun turned the sky a
brilliant red, and they had only the moon to lead their way back to town.

o0o

The days went by quickly as Gabe watched her little house
being built. McLowry had helped her select the proper strengths and lengths of
lumber, and had hired some men to build the frame, walls, floor and roof.
Although he could have done it, it would have taken him a long time--building
houses wasn’t anything he’d done before--and she was anxious to send for her
brother as soon as possible.

Jess insisted that, when around the people of Jackson
City, the two of them act as if theirs was a strictly business arrangement,
that Gabe had hired his gun to protect her, along with acting as a foreman to
work with the builders and later with her ranch hands. People in town hadn’t
liked her hiring a gunfighter, but they also understood why a young woman,
having faced all she had, would be afraid to be alone, and would pay for
McLowry’s kind of protection--for a little while, at least. It also helped when
they realized he would stay out at the ranch, and they didn’t have to worry
about encountering him.

McLowry had made up a corner of the barn for himself, with
a mattress, blankets, pots and dishes. He slept there and sent Gabe back to
Mrs. Beale’s each evening, despite her objections. A part of her realized,
however, that staying alone with him could have led to complications she wasn’t
sure she knew how to face.

Her new home was considerably larger than she thought she
could afford--three rooms instead of two. Her bedroom was on one end, Chad’s on
the other, and in the center was a large kitchen with a fireplace for warmth. A
wide, covered front porch ran the entire width of the house. Suspicious, she
had asked McLowry if he’d spent his Dry Springs money on her. He insisted he
hadn’t, but, one day, when she found a white stove in the kitchen--the kind
that would have come all the way from Kansas City or San Francisco--and in the
corner a big washtub with a real wringer hooked up above it, she knew they
hadn’t shown up simply because she wished them to.

He swore he was good at driving bargains and getting
people to see things his way. Well, she had to admit that was surely true in
her case.

She also saw he hadn’t lied when he said he knew nothing
about building houses. Each time he hammered a finger instead of a nail, she
learned whole strings of new cuss words. Some days, he even looked ready to
take up gunfighting again. It had to have been a lot easier.

On her birthday on May 12th, he surprised her with a
silver and turquoise necklace, the stones and metal pulled from the land not
far from her home. He wouldn’t tell her how he had learned it was her birthday,
but she was sure Mrs. Beale must have snitched. She pretended he shouldn’t have
wasted his money on her, but she thanked the stars that night that he had.

On the day Gabe and McLowry planned to paint the little
house, she arrived early, carrying her few belongings from Mrs. Beale’s house
with her. She was going to stay. Her home was almost ready to live in.

The workmen’s jobs had been completed, and all that
remained to be done were a few finishing touches. She dismounted, but instead
of taking Maggie to the stable, she walked forward, unable to stop staring at
the front porch.

McLowry strolled toward her from around the back of the
house. "Thought I’d heard you ride up," he said, smiling proudly.

"You did that yourself?" She moved closer, still
staring at the wide ramp leading from the yard up to the front porch.

"I didn’t want to say anything, in case I couldn’t
build it sturdy enough. But it turned out all right. You can walk up it, if you
don’t want to use the stairs, but mainly, Chad can ride his wheelchair on it so
he can come and go from the house as he pleases."

"Oh, Jess! It’s wonderful. You are such a thoughtful
man."

He seemed a bit embarrassed when she said that, but
mostly, he seemed pleased.

They spent the rest of the day painting the house with the
white paint she’d bought. Gabe worked on the interior, while McLowry painted
the outside. One of the few good things about such a little house was that it
didn’t take long to paint it. The window glass hadn’t yet arrived from Santa
Fe, which meant the painting was even easier to do.

Once the windows and shutters were installed, she would
bring Chad home. She hoped to have everything completed in the next week or
two. Neighbors had given chairs, tables, linens, dishes and even a bed to her,
so not too much more had to be bought in Jackson City or ordered from a mail-order
house.

By evening, the painting was completed. Gabe took one look
at McLowry and laughed. He’d nearly put more paint on himself than on the
house. He pointed at her clothes and hair--she was just as bad.

They washed themselves out by the barn, near his temporary
quarters. Gabe glanced at the house in the sunset.

"It looks like a dove," she said wistfully.

"It will be a good home for you and your
brother."