Under A Prairie Moon (3 page)

May 12th.

I saw him practicing with his gun today. He is a deadly shot. Almost faster than the eye could follow, he drew his gun and fired six times, hitting the six bottles he had placed on the corral fence. Greased lightning, one of the men said. I can only agree. Watching him draw and fire filled me with a strange excitement. I wonder how many men he has killed. He moves as stealthily as a cat.

June 30th.

Asked Russell to take me into town today, but he said he was too busy. I pouted, and he said he would find someone to take me. Almost fainted when Dalton brought the carriage around. My heart was pounding wildly as he helped me onto the seat, then vaulted up beside me.

Have never been so aware of any man as I am of him. When we are not together, I think of him constantly. When he is near, my whole being seems to come alive.

He lifted the reins and clucked to the horse, his every movement fluid. The silence between us was thick enough to cut. I could think of nothing to say, so I stared straight ahead, acutely aware of his thigh brushing my skirt, his shoulder bumping against mine when we hit a rut in the road.

Never has the ride to town seemed so long.

“Where to?” he asked.

“The…the millinery shop, please,” I said, hardly able to speak.

He reined the horse to a halt in front of the shop. I watched his hands, big brown hands, loop the reins around the brake. He vaulted to the ground, then came to help me out of the carriage, and I felt those hands at my waist.

“How long will you be?” he asked.

“I don’t know. An hour?”

He nodded. “I’ll meet you here in an hour then.”

He looked down at me, a faint smile on his lips. “The store’s that way,” he said.

Embarrassed to be caught staring, I turned away as quick as I could. In my haste to get away from him, I tripped on my hem and would have fallen if he had not caught me. He held me for a long moment, a knowing look in his eye. Oh but I hate that man! I hate the way he makes me feel.

Later, on the way home, he stopped beneath a shady tree and without a word, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “Is that what you’ve been wanting?” he asked, looking smug.

And I slapped him. Slapped him as hard as I could.

He looked at me a moment, one brow quirked, and then he laughed out loud. Laughed! At me!

“Take me home,” I said, hating it that my voice was shaky, that he had laughed at me, that I wanted more than just one kiss.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied insolently.

The ride home seemed to take forever. I hope I never see him again.

Dalton didn’t come to dinner tonight. Later, I overheard Russell and the foreman talking. Apparently Dalton is “taking care of business”, whatever that might be.

Kathy stretched a kink out of her back. There was little doubt in her mind about the kind of business Crowkiller had been taking care of. Poor Lydia. How awful it must have been for her to be hopelessly smitten with a man she so clearly considered inferior. He must have been a terribly sexy man. That, combined with his bad reputation, must have been a powerful lure to a genteel woman born and bred in Philadelphia.

What was it about those bad boys that women found so attractive?

With a shake of her head, she turned the page.

July 2nd

The sheriff stopped by this afternoon. It seems there was a killing out at the Burkhart Ranch last night. Russell sent me to my room while the sheriff spoke to Dalton, claiming the discussion was not meant for a lady’s ears! Of course, I did not remain in my room. Could not hear everything that was said, but the sheriff accused Dalton of killing one of Mr. Burkhart’s cowboys and accused Russell of hiring him to do it. Russell denied everything. Dalton told the sheriff to come back when he could prove it. Barely made it back up the stairs before the sheriff came storming out of the parlor, his face beet-red.

July 4th.

Celebration in town today. Russell insisted we go. It was such a bore. Only the thought of perhaps seeing Dalton alone persuaded me to accompany Russell. Cannot believe the foolishness that ensued. Pie eating contests, shooting contests, wrestling matches. Men. Do they never grow up? Cannot imagine Dalton indulging in such silliness.

There was a dance that night, a repeat of the one held in the spring. At last, when I had given up all hope, Dalton arrived. He came to speak to Russell and when they had finished, I laid my hand on Dalton’s arm and asked him to dance with me.

I almost laughed at his chagrin, for there was no way he could refuse me. I half expected him to say he did not know how, but, with a slightly exaggerated bow, he led me onto the dance floor. He dances divinely, or perhaps it is only being in his arms that makes it seem divine. He did not speak, but no words were necessary. His heat engulfed me. It was over too soon, and he was leading me back to Russell. His eyes held mine for a long moment, and then he left. I did not see him again that night.

July 8th

Dalton has been gone these past four days. Dare not inquire as to his whereabouts.

Am getting quite good at eavesdropping! Russell and the foreman spent an hour in Russell’s study tonight. Russell shut the door and locked it, making it very hard to hear what they were talking about. Overheard Jack mention Dalton’s name more than once, along with the fact that there would not be any more trouble with Burkhart, at least for the time being.

July 10th

He has returned! Saw him tonight at dinner. There is something different about him, though I do not know what it is. Something about the look in his eyes. He seems harder, colder, than before.

July 18th.

He has been back for over a week, and I have not had a chance to see him alone, though why I should want to, after the horrid way he treated me the last time, is quite beyond me. He is a most annoying man!

July 27th

At last, I saw Dalton alone. Russell had gone to bed, but I could not sleep. Deciding to take some air, I went out on the front porch, and he was there. For a moment, we looked at each other, neither speaking. The tension between us has been building for weeks. He wants me. I know he does. His eyes moved over me, hotter than the summer breeze. He would not refuse me this time, he could not. I have never wanted anyone the way I want this silent stranger. I would do anything to have him. I do not care what he has done or who he is.

Could not think of anything to say, but it did not matter. There was no need to speak. I knew what he wanted, what I wanted. He stood there, watching me out of those enigmatic black eyes as I walked toward him. My heart was pounding, my whole body aching for his touch as I slid my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him. He swore as his arms went around me, holding me tightly against him, and I knew I had won. I could feel his hands on my back, burning my skin, burning my soul. I wanted him, had to have him. Taking him by the hand, I led him into the barn. And still we did not speak.

He lit one of the lamps, then stood there, hands clenched, watching me from hooded eyes. I put my arms around him and kissed him, and he kissed me back. It was a harsh kiss. There was nothing of gentleness in it. It was everything I wanted, everything I needed. No other man has ever made me feel like this, hot and cold and shivery all at the same time.

We fell back on the straw in one of the stalls. He kissed me until I was breathless, until I writhed beneath him. I tore off his shirt, eager to feel his skin against mine.

He swore under his breath as he lifted my gown. With a shock, I realized he was cursing me, but I did not care. I had wanted him for weeks and now I meant to have him.

And then, abruptly, he let me go. I stared up at him, impaled by his eyes. Eyes filled with hatred and self-loathing.

“Damn you,” he muttered.

“What is it?” I asked, panicked by the thought that he had changed his mind.

“I can’t do this,” he said, and stood up.

“Wait.” I grabbed his arm, but he pulled away, and I realized he was going to leave me. I think I must have gone a little crazy. “If you walk out that door, I shall make you regret it for the rest of your life.” It was an empty threat and sounded foolish even to me.

“I’m already regretting it.” He put on his shirt as he turned to leave and I screamed at him. Screamed with all the rage and pent-up frustration I felt at that moment, screamed because I was married to a man I did not love, screamed because I had let this stranger humiliate me a second time.

He stood there, staring down at me through those impenetrable black eyes, and I knew I had to get rid of him, knew I could not endure the agony of seeing him every day, of knowing that I had tried to seduce him and he had rejected me, not once, but twice.

Through a crack in the barn door, I saw a light come on in the house. Fear churned in my stomach as I realized that Russell must have awakened and found me gone. And in that moment, I knew how I would get my revenge. I was not sure how I would explain my presence in the barn in my nightclothes at this time of night, but there was no time to worry about it. I ripped my gown down the front and mussed my hair, and then I screamed again, as loud as I could.

Dalton looked at me, comprehension dawning in his hell-black eyes. “Damn you!”

He turned on his heel and had taken several steps toward the door when it burst open. Russell stood there, his rifle cocked and ready. For a moment, I thought Dalton might try to draw his weapon, but then two of the cowboys appeared, hastily tucking in their shirttails.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Russell demanded.

I crossed my arms over my bared breasts and sat up, sobbing hysterically. No words were necessary.

“Get his gun,” Russell said. Taking off his shirt, he handed it to me. “Cover yourself.”

Dalton stood staring at me, his whole body rigid with anger, as Rowdy Lawson took his Colt.

“Whitey, get a rope.”

Cowering in the stall, I watched as they tied Dalton between two posts. He was looking at me, his face devoid of expression. I shrank back against the inside of the stall, oblivious to everything but the accusation in those unforgiving eyes.

And then I heard a sharp crack. Dalton flinched, and I realized that Russell had stripped off Dalton’s shirt and was whipping him.

Knowing I should put a stop to this before it went any further, I stood up. “Russell, wait…”

He did not look at me. “You should watch this,” he said. “You’ll sleep better knowing your honor has been avenged.”

“No…no, I cannot.”

“You will.” He looked at me then, and I wondered if he knew, if he had known all along.

I waited for Dalton to say something in his own defense, but he said nothing. This confused me. Surely he was not going to take the blame to spare me. And then I realized he knew that Russell would not listen to him.

Russell raised his arm, and the whip came whistling down across Dalton’s back. Again and again and again. I can see it so clearly, even now. His whole body was taut, every muscle clearly defined. Sweat poured from his body, mingling with the blood running down his back and shoulders. His hands were clenched into tight fists, the knuckles white with the strain. And all the while he looked at me.

I flinched with every stroke of the lash. I had not meant for this to happen. I had only wanted Russell to send him away so I would never have to look into those eyes again.

Again and again the lash cut into Dalton’s flesh. My stomach churned from the sight of so much blood and torn flesh. I waited for him to scream in pain, to faint, to accuse me of trying to seduce him. But he remained mute, his face a mask of agony.

After what seemed like hours, Russell came to me. His face and shirt were splattered with blood. He didn’t say a word as he took me by the arm and led me outside. I longed to tell him the truth, to confess my guilt, but I could not form the words. Russell spent the entire night in my bed that night, the first time he had done so since our wedding. Now, as I write this, he is sleeping soundly and I realize that, even though he has never said the words, he loves me, and that I have done him a terrible wrong. I vowed I would never betray my husband again, and pray that Dalton will find it in his heart to forgive me for my cowardice.

July 28th.

Dalton Crowkiller is dead. Russell woke me early this morning and made me go to the hanging. He wouldn’t even allow me time to dress. He said he knew I would want to be there to see the man who had attacked me get his just due. I shall never forget the look in Dalton’s eyes as he waited for me to tell Russell the truth. Coward that I am, I could not say the words that would have saved him, nor could I watch. Surely my soul will be damned for all eternity for what I have done…

July 31st.

He is here! Oh Lord, help me, Dalton is here. I saw him tonight, standing at the foot of my bed, his black eyes filled with rage and accusation. I begged him to forgive me, but he said nothing, only stood there, staring at me through burning black eyes…

September 4th.

Should never have written all this down. What if Russell finds it? Will have to hide it someplace where he will never look. Should burn it, but cannot bring myself to do so. It is all I have left of Dalton.