Waltzing With Tumbleweeds (8 page)

Rose hitched up her low cut dress before she pushed through the batwing doors of the Silver Moon Saloon. She took a wry look around the bar room at the passed out drunken cowboys and miners. Struck with disappointment, she shook her head. Every customer in the place was either snoring open mouthed or out cold. Duffy, the barkeep stood on a chair as he lowered the wagon wheel lamp to snuff out the candles.

“It’s getting late,” the Irishman said. “Sorry, Rose, but there sure ain’t any business for you in here.”

“I can see that,” she said. “Have a good night, Duffy.”

“I’ll have them packed out back in the alley in a little while,” he said. “If you’re looking for some company?”

She saw the expectancy in his eyes and smiled to console him. “Not tonight, Duff.” He had expected a free toss in her bed. Perhaps another time. She turned on her heel. This had been a slow night for her. She’d managed to win a little money in a card game up the street at the Los Amigos Bar. But, she had hoped to find a cash customer at closing time. Outside the shuttered swinging doors, she paused on the porch to place her hands on her hips and stretch the tight muscles in her tired back. She dreaded the hike back to her shack on Cabbage Hill. Damn the luck. Typical middle of the month night, everyone was broke. In the cool mountain night air, she strode the dark, hollow-sounding boardwalk.

“Evening, Rose,” the town marshal, Reagan said, stepping out from the shadows of a doorway.

“Hello, Reagan,” she said and shot a grim glance back down the boardwalk.

“What’s wrong?” Reagan asked, moving in to stand close to her. “I can tell by your voice that you’re upset.”

“Just one of those nights, I guess.”

“What can I do for you?”

She felt the lawman’s hand brush her hip and then familiar-like cup the left side of her butt. Reagan liked her, she just wasn’t that certain how she felt about him. Her
fingers caught his overly familiar hand in a firm grasp. Carefully, she removed it. “I owe you, don’t I?” she asked.

“I’ll be by in the morning to collect,” he said, with a boyish grin.

Rose could read his devilish look. His words were no idle threat. In the morning, she promised herself, she would be able to tolerate him. Besides, in her business, giving free services to the law was expected. Call it payoff, whatever, she understood her place. The tradeoff was simply part of a dove’s life and a necessity for survival in a frontier town. Having one of the town lawmen sweet on her was another advantage.

As she stood on the boardwalk with him, she wondered if she would ever do anything about his offer for her to move in with him? Perhaps someday.

“See you in the morning,” she said and left him.

The street up Cabbage Hill was rutted from the mine wagon traffic. In the starlight, she lifted her dress hem as she climbed the steep grade past the row of darkened frame shacks.

She shouldered open the front door to her one room place. Then crossing the dark interior to the table, she felt for the familiar coal oil lamp.

“Don’t light it, Rose,” a man’s husky voice said.

“Who’s here?” she hissed. Her eyes were not adjusted to the interior darkness. Anger rose in her chest at the notion of an uninvited intruder in her cabin.

“Billy.”

Billy Bonney. Her heart began to race at the realization that Billy the Kid was back. She recognized his silhouette as he stood by the window. There was no doubt, it was him.

“What are you doing back in San Marcos, so soon?” she asked, almost weak with shock.

“Is that all you can ask?” he demanded. “I came a long ways to see you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, regretting her harsh words. Billy was her favorite man, even if he was a wanted, convicted killer. She considered him to be her loveable Billy. Despite the danger of his being there, she smiled, damn Bill and all his problems, he was someone special to her.

He crossed the room and took her in his arms then kissed her. For a long moment, locked in a tight hug, she forgot what problems his visit might cause and savored his mouth on hers. Same old Billy, she mused.

“That damn Pat Garrett’s on my trail,” he said releasing her and walking back to the window. “He keeps hounding me like a rabbit.”

“Did he follow you here?” she asked.

“No. He thinks I’m in Old Mexico.”

“When did you eat last? Never mind, I’ll fix you some cold beans,” she said, knowing that Billy never ate regular meals.

“I just needed to talk with you a little . . .I think about you a lot, Rose.”

“That’s nice,” she said. In the trail of starlight from the window, she spooned the frijoles onto a plate for him. Billy wasn’t any different than most men, Rose mused, they lied when they wanted something, like for her to crawl in bed with them. He’d probably slept with fourteen different Mexican
putas
in the past two weeks.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he asked, sitting down at the table.

“Oh, Billy,” she sighed. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Well, I’ll just get a few hours sleep here and ride on.”

“Don’t act like a mistreated school boy,” she said. “You can stay that long, but the town marshal’s coming in the morning to visit me.”

“Who’s he?”

“It doesn’t matter. He does favors for me,” she said, not wanting to discuss the matter.

“I’ll be gone by then,” he said as he wolfed down his food. “Do I know him?”

“No.”

“Do you see him often?” he asked in a soft voice.

Rose put her hands on her hips. “Where do you get off asking me what I do, Billy Bonney?”

“I’m sorry, Rose,” he apologized. “I tell you Garrett has me on edge.”

“Take your clothes off and climb on the bed,” she said. “I’ll sit up and wake you before dawn.”

“You ain’t in a mood to share the bed?” he asked cautiously.

“I said for you to get some sleep.” She suppressed a smile. “Tired as you are... besides you never are much of a lover when you’re tired like this.”

“Hey!” he said defensively.

“Get some sleep. We’ll see about it before you leave.” She shook her head. Why did she always feel so obligated to the wild boy who called himself Billy the Kid? There was no logical answer, she just kept a special place in her heart for the carefree gunman.

She stood by the window and stared at the ghostly white mountainside which was studded with Spanish bayonet. Billy was already asleep, she noted, as his troubled breathing turned to snores. Just like a man to fall asleep when his head hit the pillow. She slowly shook her head in disbelief. Every lawman in the New Mexico Territory wanted her guest and he was sleeping like a baby in her bed.

Rose awoke with a start. Exhausted, she had fallen asleep with her head on the table. It was light outside. Her whole body trembled in fear, she had overslept. Shakily, she pushed herself up, then tugged up her dress. Reality returned to her as she viewed the face-down, slumbering Billy in the bed. Sunlight shafted in the window on him. His one-piece underwear was wash worn and faded. She rushed to wake him.

He certainly was not a very big man for all the trouble he caused, she decided as she shook his shoulder. He was hardly more than a boy even if he tried to pass himself off as older than he was. She always considered his pretense at being a bad man, was a poor facade. Billy was just one of those men that never would grow up.

“I’m getting up,” he said, looking at her through sleepy eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I dozed off,” she said. “It’s daylight and too late for you to leave.” She straightened up, sweeping back her thick hair from her face. She felt full of regret for falling asleep.

He would have to stay all day at her place. Then the notion of Reagan’s coming struck her. What would she do? She must think of something. She closed her eyes to consider their dilemma.

“What time is it?” he asked, sitting up.

“How should I know? I don’t have a clock.”

He was out of bed, pressing his face to the window to see. “What have you done?” He whirled on his heel and gave her a frown.

“I fell asleep,” she said, holding out her palms.”

“When’s this marshal coming?”

“I’m not sure,” she said.

He began dressing. “This is just great.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To get the hell out of here.” He stood up and buckled on his gun belt.

“Someone will surely see you and have a posse on your tail. Sit down. We’ll think this out.”

“What do you recommend?” he asked, remembering to button his fly.

“There’s room under the bed for you to hide,” she said. “I can handle him. I just don’t want either of you shot. Do you understand me, Billy Bonney?”

“You like him that much?”

She shook her head in anger. “I like you too. I want your word, Billy.”

“Okay,” he said with a downcast look. “I promise. But will this work?”

“Men are my business. You just get ready to get under my bed, savvy?’

Rose’s head cocked at the sound of a shod horse coming up the hill. She whirled to face him. “Get out of sight.”

He gathered his things and scrambled under the bed. As he wiggled out of sight, she drew a deep breath and touched her hair. She must look a mess. Oh well, Reagan probably wouldn’t notice. She wet her lips, just so he didn’t detect Billy.

She opened the door and smiled at the lawman as he hitched his horse to the front picket fence. He removed his hat and smoothed down his black hair. Reagan searched around before he came up the short walk.

“Morning, Rose,” he said with a wide grin.

“You came early enough,” she said and let him by, taking his hat. She knew Reagan wasn’t a man to be backward around women. He quickly took her in his arms and began to kiss her.
His deep hungry kisses made Rose grateful for his eagerness. The quicker their business was over, the sooner Reagan could leave. She would think of something when he was through and send him on his
way.

Reagan was a lanky man. His skin paler than the starched shirt she unbuttoned for him. He hardly had a hair on his thin chest. Rose ran her hands over his skin and the corduroy ribs. He needed feeding, too.

His mouth was demanding on hers as she undid his belt buckle between them. Reagan’s fingers were fumbling with the hooks and eyes hooks and eyes down the
   
back of her dress. She eased from his hold to do that herself, fearful he might rip the dress open in his haste.

Deliberately, she let the dress fall, exposing her breasts. Rose knew from his look what the sight of them did for him.

She stepped out of the garment and put it on the chair, he was hurriedly shoving off her petticoats like a man on fire. Mildly amused at how viewing her body could move a man, she smiled as he eased her back on the bed. The wanton look in his
dark eyes, told her enough as she laid on her back fearful of crushing poor Billy. What a mess.

“My God, Rose, why don’t you live with me?”

To silence him, she pulled his face to hers and sealed his lips shut with a demanding kiss.

After their love making, Reagan slowly dressed. He sat in the wooden chair and pulled on his left boot. “They say you and Billy, the Kid once had a thing going between you?” he asked, in his Georgia drawl.

“Once,” she replied, wrapping herself in a filmy duster. She dared not look back at the bed. “But he’s gone.”

“If you’re over him, why don’t you come live with me?”

“Reagan, you’ve asked me that before.”

“Well?” He struggled to pull on the other boot. “Just think on it some more before you say no again.”

“I will,” she said sharper than she intended. Oh, God, why didn’t he hurry and leave?

“Be a lot easier than what you’re doing,” Reagan offered.

“I promise I’ll think on it. Now let me get some rest.”

He looked over at the tossed bed covers and smiled. “We could both sleep together for a few hours?”

“No!” she said, herding him to the door.

“I think you’re still stuck on Billy,” Reagan argued as he took her in his arms. When he kissed her, she closed her eyes. Would he never leave?

He released her and headed for his horse. “You think on my offer, Rose.”

“I will,” she said and forced a smile for him.

She nearly collapsed against the door facing as the tall Georgian rode off down Cabbage Hill. Her breath came in small gulps as she waved a last time at the marshal. Light headed, she went back inside.

“You can come out now,” she said, dropping heavily on a chair. She buried her face in her arms on the tabletop.

“Whew,” Billy said, edging out on his back. “It was getting hot under there.” He sat up and swept back his too-long, brown hair from his face. Then he grinned at her like a schoolboy ready to challenge her with some secret.

He laughed aloud as he pushed himself up. “That’s close as I been to a lawman since I ran head on into a deputy in Tularosa one day.”