Oklahoma kiss (35 page)

      
"You mean . . . you're a lawman? That lawman who's been going around asking all them questions?" His eyes widened and he took a step backwards. "I ain't done nothing wrong!"

      
Realizing this kid should be handled carefully, Adam countered, his voice stern but not overly intimidating, "I'm sure you haven't, but I still need to talk to you, just as I need to question everyone I can who lives in this area. Over the years I have learned many people— innocent people —know something helpful, only they are not aware of it. Didn't your mother give you my message when I came out to your place the other day?"

      
Bobby's voice became surly and sarcastic, "Yeah, but I've been real busy. What are you gonna' do, beat me to make me talk then throw me in jail?"

      
Appearing to ignore the kid's sarcasm, Adam laughed. "I don't know who has been filling your head with ideas like that, but that is not how I enforce the law. No one has said you are in trouble, I merely want to talk to you. Be in my office by nine o'clock tomorrow morning and I think we can settle this in no time at all."

      
"Well, all right, I'll try." He nodded his head. "Nice seeing you again, Blair, and I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Marshal."

      
Blair breathed a deep sigh of relief when Bobby left them. "Oh, good heavens, I was afraid he would ask me to dance."

      
Since Bobby had mentioned her eastern beau, it was with great difficulty that Adam was able to maintain a jocular tone, "You surprise me, Blair, it seems you have sweethearts strung from here to the east coast. How many more should I worry about?"

      
Blair chuckled. "I'll have to admit that I do like your being jealous of me, but there is no reason to be, especially over the likes of Bobby Baker and an imaginary man back east." She then explained how Bobby had asked to court her the day she arrived home and how she had invented a man merely to prevent his pestering her. Noticing the skepticism still on Adam's face, Blair also told him how Bobby had been her nemesis for almost all of her life and how unmercifully she had been teased because of him.

      
Adam smiled at her amusing anecdote, but it did not quite remove the sadness from his eyes. He started talking to keep from thinking about Blair's so-called beau. "I think everyone has a Bobby in their life. My Bobby's name was George Yates. He was a bully and I was scared to death of him —as were the other boys my age. He would get mad at the drop of a hat and when his face became red, we knew someone was in for a licking. We'd all take off running as though the devil himself was chasing us —now that I think about it," he said reflectively, "I suppose devil is a good description of George. Anyway, we'd run from him, but it never failed, he always caught the slowest runner, and usually it was me ... I never could run very fast. I'd go home bawling with a bloody nose or black eye almost every day."

      
"Finally my father got his belly full and he told me if I didn't learn to take up for myself and fight my own battles, he'd give me a thrashing I would never forget. I guess I was more terrified of George, though, than I was of Papa, because I just learned to run a little faster." Adam chuckled dryly over the memory. "Then it all came to a head one day when my little brother and I had a penny to spend. We'd dug on Papa's water well all
      
week long —it was probably the hardest work we ever did in our lives. We went to the mercantile and spent it all on peppermint sticks and licorice whips. When we walked out the door, we came face to face with George Yates. I’ll never forget how I felt when I saw him. If he had only demanded part of our candy, more than likely we would have given it to him without a fight . . . but he wanted it all." Adam laughed again. "I remember praying to God, not to let George kill me, then I doubled up my fist, closed my eyes, and hit him right in the nose. Blood squirted everywhere when he fell backwards and tumbled down the steps—seems I broke his nose. That day, he was the one who went home crying to his papa . . . but he never bothered us again."

      
"You poor dear," Blair murmured softly.

      
"Oh, I am grateful to George! He taught me two of the most important lessons I've learned in my life. One is: never to run away from a fight when someone is throwing his weight around. The second is: anything worth having is worth fighting for." He looked at her intently; his eyes were wistful and contemplative.

      
Then, a slow smile spread across his face. Talking about George and the lessons he learned had brightened his mood. It had placed his feelings and worries about Blair in their proper perspective. He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the table. "I noticed a punch bowl over here, I'll buy you a cup."

      
"Oh, there is no charge for it."

      
Adam chortled. "I know. That was just a figure of speech."

      
A warm, delicious glow settled over her; she felt blissfully happy, fully alive. Adam's casual manner of touching her seemed so intimate, yet so tender, gentle, and innocent. To her, it revealed more of his inner feelings than she'd seen thus far. He was falling in love with her! She just knew he was!

      
Adam handed her a cup of punch then filled one for himself. Lemonade punch was not his favorite refreshment, but since there were no beer kegs setting on the tables, it would have to do.

      
Blair took a sip of her lemonade as they walked away from the serving table. "Adam, there was something you said to Bobby that confuses me. If you don't suspect him of anything, why are you eager to question him? I know what you said but somehow, it doesn't sound quite right."

      
"You are very observant," he said admiringly. "Most people wouldn't have noticed. Without knowing very many people here, all I have to go on are my hunches and what I am told. More than one person has made it a point to tell me that Bobby is spending more money in a week than he usually spends in a year. Up until a few weeks ago, he worked for a local freight company but still wore patched clothing and never had two nickels to rub together. He quit his job; now suddenly he has money in his pockets. He has decked himself out with new clothes and has been seen flashing a wad of bills large enough to choke a horse. It makes me wonder how he is getting it and where. When I combine those questions with the thick stack of complaints I have on my desk about missing cattle, the answers are fairly obvious."

      
"Adam, after listening to your explanation, I understand why you have reached those conclusions. Now, I don't want you to think I am trying to interfere because I also understand that you have to do your duty as you see fit. Bobby may have been my nemesis, but I hate to see anyone taken advantage of. To put it bluntly, Bobby is not like most people, he is . . . simple-minded." She paused, then said in a rush, "I doubt if he is smart enough to figure out how to steal that many cattle and sell them without getting caught long before now."

      
"If you're trying to say he is nothing but a small cog in a huge wheel, I have already reached that conclusion. I don't want Bobby; if I arrest him, he will just be replaced. I want the man who is behind all of this."

      
Adam stopped abruptly when he heard loud voices coming from the other end of the stockade. "Stay here, Blair. It sounds like a fight breaking out." He threaded his way through the crowd, unaware that Blair decided to follow him.

      
When he reached the fight, what he saw made him furious. Two men —standing with their backs to Adam —held a man while another plowed into him with doubled fists. Regardless what the man had done, nothing justified such brutal, inhuman treatment.

      
"All right, he's had enough, let him go!" Adam shouted over the pandemonium.

      
The man with doubled fists paused long enough to glare at Adam and ask in a sneering tone, "Says who? Another Injun lover? Just wait right there a minute, you son of a bitch; as soon as I'm through with him, I'll take care of you!"

      
The man did not even have time to draw back his fist before Adam cleared leather with his guns.

      
"Go ahead and hit him again, and my friends and I will personally guarantee that you'll be missing two eyes," Adam stated coldly.

      
The man's gaze flicked to Adam, then to his guns. Then a slow but unsure smile spread across this face. "You wouldn't shoot a man for whipping an Injun."

      
Adam said, "I haven't seen a man whipping an Indian." The man grinned and started to let go with his fist, then froze when he added, "I see three pieces of cowardly scum beating on one man. Now turn him loose!" He jabbed one of his guns in the man's ear who was standing closest to him. "Or do you need some friendly persuasion?"

They released the man and he slumped to the ground moaning with pain. Blair breathlessly arrived. Her eyes widened from shock when she saw who the man was. She uttered a pathetic cry and ran to him. Kneeling, she cradled his head against her breast and cried, "Coy! Adam, it's Coy! My God, what have they done to him?" Adam's jaw muscles tensed and his nostrils flared. He drew from an inner source of will ; power to hold his fury in check. To the men who had been holding Coy, he spoke callously, "All right you two, get over there with your friend." After they joined the man who had been swinging his fists, he bolstered one gun while keeping the I other leveled at them. "Which one wants to tell me who started this?"

      
"I know you're holding the gun, but other than that, what gives you the right to ask questions?" one man queried sullenly.

      
Adam smiled but it was cold and humorless. He opened his coat, revealing the badge pinned to his vest. "This does!"

      
The man shook his head and smirked. "Don't mean nothing to me, not here in Injun territory."

      
"That's where you are mistaken." In case the men had friends who were foolish enough to challenge their impending arrest, Adam raised his voice so that all who had gathered around could hear. "I am a deputy marshal on special assignment out of Judge Parker's court. If anybody wants to question my being here in this capacity, you're welcome to come by my office at the train depot and read the letter authorizing me to uphold the law for everybody—that means Indians and whites alike." Turning his attention back to the man, he stated tersely, "I'll ask once more —with the warning that I'm tired of repeating myself—who and what started this?"

      
"He tripped me . . . deliberately." The man pointed to Coy.

      
"Do you have witnesses?"

      
The man grinned, sly like a cunning fox. "Sure I do, my two friends here."

      
Still holding his gun on the men, Adam chanced a quick glance at Coy. His face had been beaten to a bloody pulp, and there was no telling how many body punches he had taken. "Even if what you claim is the truth, does it justify such a brutal beating?"

      
The man started to reply when suddenly, a childish voice piped up, "But that really wasn't how it happened, Mr. Marshal. Most of these people standing 'round could tell you if they just would." A little boy walked up and stood beside him.

      
Still keeping a close eye on the men, Adam knelt down. "Suppose you tell me what happened. Sonny."

      
"My name's not Sonny, it's Dustin."

      
"All right . . . Dustin. How old are you?"

      
"S-seven.'

      
"Where do you live?"

      
"In a wagon with Ma and Pa. We're gonna claim us some land and Pa is gonna teach me how to farm!" he said proudly.

      
"I see. Now suppose you tell me what happened here."

      
"Well, that man who's bleeding did trip that mean old bully, but it was after he poked fun and poked fun . . . and he even pushed me down when I told him he wasn't being nice."

      
"Who pushed you down?"

      
"The mean old bully."

      
"Was he the one poking fun?"

      
"Yeah, and he called him a whole bunch of names, too, but I can't say words like asshole, and bastard, and pisshead, 'cause my ma would wash my mouth out with lye soap. I think I can say, ‘stinking half-breed,' though. They don't sound like
      
I nice words, but my ma says my hair stinks all the time —even after I wash it and she don't wash her mouth out with soap." He looked at the crowd accusingly. "Don't know why they didn't try to help him, though. My pa always told me it wasn't right to fight, but he also said sometimes a body has to fight to keep the peace. Never rightly knew what he meant, but I think it has something to do with goings on such as this."

      
"Your pa is a very smart man, Dustin, and one day you'll know exactly what he meant."

      
Anxiously looking about, the little boy said, "I gotta go now 'cause I'm not supposed to be here, I only came because my friend told me they always had chocolate cake at dances, and it's been a long time since I ate a piece of cake."

      
Before Adam could stop him, the little boy darted away.

      
By this time, almost everybody attending the dance had gathered around to see what all of the excitement was about.

      
Warren, Samuel, and Collin were at the back of the stockade discussing cattle and had ignored the ruckus, but when word was passed that Coy had been involved, they pushed their way through the crowd and helped their brother to his feet. Then when Warren got a good look at Coy, he muttered a curse and lunged for the men. It took four of his friends to hold him back.