Chapter Ten
Fact is, neither the Marshal--nor his head--ever came anywheres even close to hitting Mrs. Edwards' bed. Recalling the little lady's previously expressed feelings on the matter, Crown couldn't bring himself to drop his slightly soiled, still slightly damp carcass down upon her lovely, clean bedspread. So he carefully collapsed back down onto the floor and carefully sprawled out beside the baby's bed instead--and used a folded arm as a pillow for his head.
####################
The lawman stayed right where he laid for the next four hours, enjoying the deep, dreamless sleep that comes with complete physical exhaustion.
But the enjoyment ceased the moment the Marshal moved a muscle. You see, he'd left his gunbelt slung over his right shoulder. So that, when he stirred in his sleep, he rolled over onto his holster and its hard, bulky contents--his gun--dug into his very tender, very badly bruised ribs. All of which resulted in a rather painfully rude awakening for him.
Crown grimaced and groaned and carefully raised his rib cage up off'n his revolver. Then, he glanced rather groggily around and discovered that a real pillow had been placed under his head. And the bedspread he couldn't drop himself down onto had been dropped down onto him. Jamie had been changed and the Marshal found his little buddy wide awake, sitting up and staring out at him through the slats of his playpen.
"You awake back there?!" Katelyn called out, having heard the groan.
"Sort a'..." came back the groaner's rather groggy reply.
And the woman was forced to smile, "Goo-ood! 'Cuz we're about ta run out a' 'ridge' up here..."
"I should a' never stopped movin'..." the lawman lamented--several involuntary groans and gasps later, " ...then, I wouldn' a' had ta git started agai-ain--" he finished with a final gasp.
"It appears ta me, where you made yore biggest mistake was in takin' on that Tanner fellah in the first place!" the irate 'woman' informed the moaning 'man'.
"My biggest mistake was gettin' out a' bed this mornin'..." Crown corrected. "My next biggest was takin' a step back without first takin' a look behind..." he added as he and Jamie appeared in the canvas opening.
Katelyn saw that the Marshal had strapped his gunbelt back on, and was, once again, wearing his black hat and vest.
He stood there in the opening for a few moments, cradling the baby carefully in his arms and welcoming the fresh air into his lungs. "There's nothin' like the air after a rain..." the man muttered out loud to himself.
Katelyn's smile returned and she turned back in his direction in time to watch him draw in another deeply satisfying--though apparently painful--breath of the invigoratingly refreshing air into his lungs. He was going to enjoy it--even if it killed him. "Did you pass out? Or was it yore intention ta spend the last twelve miles bangin' those bruised ribs a' yores against those hard boards back there?" the woman wondered curiously.
"I was so-o ti-ired, you could a' dragged me in the dirt behind the wagon...an' I doubt I would a' noticed," Crown told her truthfully. "Thanks! For the pillow...an' the blanket...an' the sleep!" he continued, climbing carefully back up into the seat beside her and flashing her an appreciative smile, "An' now, you'd better take yore boy back. You cain't see 'em, but there are bull's eyes drawn all up an' down the front, back an' sides a' me-e..." he explained rather candidly.
Katelyn shot the target in the seat beside her an anxious glance and then quickly traded with him.
Crown got a good grip on the reins and then transferred them into one hand so he could pull out a smoke.
"Uhhhg!" Katelyn gasped as the man stuck the cigar in his mouth and started reaching for a match. "How can anyone who has such an obvious appreciation for fresh air--like yerself--even consider foulin' it up with the revolting and obnoxious odors that those smolderin' things produce?!" she inquired, suddenly sounding irate again.
The man pondered the woman's good question over for a few moments and then, failing to come up with a good answer, he struck up his amazingly dry match and passed along a little reminder, "I told yah I was no angel..."
"Yeah...well, for the baby's sake--an' mine--please don't light it?! 'Cuz, with you foulin' the air up here, an' yore 'friend' foulin' the air back there, that means that Jamie an' I would have ta git down an' WALK all the way ta wherever it is that you're takin' us!"
The Marshal pretended to ponder her request over, "It ain't too far no-ow..."he teased, but then obligingly extinguished his match without igniting his smoke.
Katelyn breathed an audible sigh of relief. But her relief was short-lived. "Plea-ease?!" she continued, as another even more revolting and obnoxious notion suddenly occurred to her, "Promise me you won't chew it, either?! 'Cuz Jamie'll see you spittin' an' then he'll start spittin' an' that'd make me even sicker than the smell!"
The Marshal heaved a shallow sigh of surrender and returned the cigar to the inside pocket of his vest.
The woman exhaled another sigh of relief and they rode on in blessed silence for a few moments, before Katelyn felt obliged to comment further, " I ain't exactly an angel, myself..." she confessed, "I mean, we all pick up some bad habits over the years. Fortunately, only a few of us pick up dirty an' disgustin' ones--like smokin' an' chewin' tobacco!"
The smoker's eyes narrowed a bit, but he didn't say a word. He was feeling relaxed and well-rested and in too good a mood to allow anyone or anything to spoil it. So he kept his mouth shut and his narrowed eyes straight ahead.
"I'll bet you picked that up from yore Uncle Wes'..." the woman figured, "Why, I'll bet you could roll yore own cigarettes by the time you were thirteen!"
"...Twelve," Jim Crown calmly corrected.
"Yah know," Katelyn Edwards continued, suppressing a sly smile, "I asked my father once why he smoked tobacco. He said he didn' rightly know why. But he reckoned it was 'cuz it helped him ta think clearer. So I asked him how that worked--exactly. He told me that, when a man has a lot on his mind, he takes out a 'smoke' or a 'chew' an' it helps him ta clear his head. 'Course, bein' fairly young at the time, I figured he meant that yah could jes' light up a cigar an' 'smoke' the thoughts right out a' yore head...jes' sort a' snort 'em right out through yore nostrils! Or, yah could take a big chew an' spit 'em right out a' yore mouth with a big slew a' tobacco jui--"
"Loo-ook," the lawman interrupted, his handsome face taking on a rather pained expression, "could we change the subject here?" The Marshal may be no angel, but chewing was a habit even he found dirty an' disgusting.
The sly smile escaped from Katelyn's tightly pursed lips, and then suddenly vanished. "Tanner's not worth dyin' for!" she determined and shot the target in the seat beside her another anxious glance, as she obligingly changed the subject, "Even if they were ta hang 'im forty times over--it'd still be a real lousy trade!"
Crown stopped the wagon on a little rise and turned to the very concerned--very anxious--looking lady in the seat beside him. Their eyes met again, and he gave her a look which said that he deeply appreciated--though didn't quite know what to make of--her comments. The woman gave him a look which caused his pulse and respirations to quicken--again. Gawd, but it was pleasurable gazin' at her...mighty pleasurable--he gasped in frustration and averted his gaze again--before it could get too pleasurable.
Katelyn breathed a silent sigh of frustration herself. Instead of pulling her into his arms and kissing her, Jim Crown was--once again--backing off and pulling a tight rein in on his emotions.
"If you promise never ta tell anyone where you were," the Marshal said quietly, "I kin tell you where you are..."
Katelyn forced a slight smile, "Tell away!" she encouraged, trying very hard to seem and sound cheerful.
"We're comin' up on Adrian's Canyon," Crown explained, and started down the other side of the little rise he had stopped on, "an' inside, is Adrian's Mine. Both places were named after an old prospector--who's supposedly buried on the floor a' the canyon in front a' the mine's entrance. Claim jumpers killed the old man, an' a mysterious cave-in killed the claim jumpers. Now, superstition has it that the old prospector's spirit still haunts the canyon. It's said, no one evil will ever be allowed ta leave the canyon--alive--once they've entered it." He stopped the wagon at the foot of the rise and turned to Mrs. Edwards, "You worried?" he wondered as they sat there in front of a large opening in the enormous rock walls that marked the entrance to Adrian's Canyon.
"Not a bit!" Katelyn assured him with a smile. "You?"
"I'm not 'superstitious'," the lawman informed her.
"Would you be worried if you were?" Katelyn countered, looking curious and quite pleased with herself.
"I've already been in an' out a' here a couple a' dozen times," the Marshal told her, "which is why I'm not 'superstitious'..." he explained with a smile, "...anymore," he added, his smile broadening into a rather roguish grin.
That last light remark--along with the thought of how worried the man who had claimed he was no angel must have felt his first time into the canyon--caused Katelyn to grin, too...and then, to start laughing.
Crown kept right on grinning, and Katelyn continued laughing, as they continued on into the canyon, following a narrow passageway which ran between the enormous rock walls.
Katelyn watched as the Marshal carefully waved his silver-banded hat, exchanging some sort of special signal with the half dozen or so hat-waving, rifle-toting lookouts that were positioned on top of the forty-foot high rock walls all along the route.
The passageway gradually opened up into a small canyon that was completely surrounded on all sides by those forty-foot high rock walls. Horses were tethered to some wagons on the far end of the canyon, where a camp had been set up in front of the entrance to an old mine shaft. There were several more men sitting around the camp's cooking fire, and two of them got to their feet and started heading towards them as they came riding up.
"When you said you were takin' us some place safe, you weren't jes' joshin', were you!" Katelyn commented, looking duly impressed with the Marshal's seemingly impregnable fortress.
Crown didn't reply. The lady's comment was more of a statement of fact than a question, anyway.
"Well!" one of the two slightly-amazed looking mustached men declared as Crown brought the wagon to a stop and carefully applied the wheelbrake, "We sure didn't expect to see you back here so soon!"
"Yeah!" the younger of the two men agreed with a grin, "Yah just left here this mornin'!"
"I didn' expect ta see me back here so soon, either," Crown assured them both, "believe me! But, Mareck was gonna have Blakesley release Tanner. He had a welcomin' committee waitin' for Tanner outside the Fort. So, I snuck in an' we snuck out. You'll find 'im stashed under the bed in the back of the wagon," he paused, seeing his two deputies staring at his stunning traveling companion, looking even more amazed. "Rowan Houston...Patrick Fitzsimmons...Katelyn an' Jamie Edwards," the Marshal introduced.
"Ma-am," the two men replied simultaneously and simultaneously tipped their hats.
"Gentlemen," Katelyn acknowledged, giving the gentlemen a nod--and that charming, disarming smile of hers.
"Mareck's brought in nine more men," Crown continued, snatching up his rifle and climbing stiffly and carefully down to stand before his deputies.
"So we heard," Rowan Houston said solemnly. "Lewis and Davies got back about an hour ago with the supplies--and the manacles--and yore message," he added even more solemnly. "Ji-im," Rowan's face and voice suddenly filled with genuine concern for his friend, "you wouldn't, by any chance, be considerin' headin' back into Cimarron tonight...for any 'particular' reason...would you? Then I wish you would reconsider!" Rowan urged as the look on his friend's slightly-battered face said that he indeed would. "There ain't no party that important!"
"Excuse us a minute," the Marshal told Katelyn. "Hank! Emett!" he called out to two of the four men still sitting around the fire, "There's a prisoner inside! Take 'im inta the mine an' chain 'im ta the tracks with the others!"
"Yes, sir, Marshal!"
" Sure thing!" the two men called back.
Then the Marshal ushered his two closest deputies off across the floor of the canyon a ways and held a huddled conference with them out of Katelyn's--or anyone else's--earshot.
Katelyn introduced herself to Hank and Emmet and the two gentlemen eagerly offered to help her and the baby step down from the wagon. She watched Crown's deputies haul Tanner out. Then they carted the kicking criminal off across the canyon floor and disappeared with him into the seemingly deep, dark mine shaft.
"It's all settled!" the Marshal declared as he came stepping back up to her, "Mr. Fitzsimmons has agreed ta take you an' Jamie inta Hardesty in the mornin' an' then see ta it that yah get a fair price for yore outfit."
Katelyn ignored the message and just stood there, staring point-blank at the bearer of it, "Take us with you!" she urged softly.
The Marshal was deeply touched by--though he didn't know quite what to make of--the woman's quiet request. "As much as I'd enjoy the pleasure a' yore company...I cain't," came back his equally quiet reply.
"Why cain't you?!" Katelyn demanded as the lawman stepped up to the back of her wagon and set his rifle down to start carefully removing his gear.
"Two reasons," he explained as he began carefully saddling and bridling the big, black horse that had been roaming freely along behind them for the past fourteen miles or so, "I promised a friend that I'd do my best ta make it back ta Cimarron tanight...preferably by eight o'clock...although nine would even be all right...and ten wouldn't even be too late. Which means, I got less than three hours ta cover more than fifteen miles. An' there's no way I kin take the two a' you along an' still make it back in time." He finished carefully saddling and bridling his horse and then carefully stashed his rifle back into its leather scabbord. Next, he carefully snatched up the dangling reins and tossed them back up onto the gelding's withers. Finally he turned carefully back around and forced himself to face her again, "The other reason I cain't take the two a' you along is the one I already gave you. Cimarron ain't a safe place for visitors right now."
"From what I kin gather, it ain't a real safe place for Marshals right at the moment, either!" Katelyn reminded him. "Rowan's right! Stay here tanight! Plea-ease? There'll be other parties..."
Again the Marshal was deeply touched by the woman's genuine deep concern for his welfare. "I expect there will be," he had to agree, "but, I doubt there'll ever be another one held in my honor. Besides, I gave my word."
"Would this friend you gave your word to happen ta be a lady friend?" Katelyn inquired cautiously.
Crown was forced to smile. "The friend happens ta be a young lady, but she ain't a 'lady friend'. I don' happen ta have any 'lady friends'...at the moment," he added in an attempt to put a halt to her current line of questioning. It worked.
"Well, if you won't take us with you--an', since I can't talk you inta stayin' here tanight--then at least let me bind up those bruised ribs for you before yah leave. I guarantee it'll make the ride back a lot easier on them...an' you. Trust me," she continued as the Marshal's eyes narrowed a bit and his face scrunched up a might, "I know what I'm talkin' about. I'm a nurse, remember? I promise I won't hurt you this time..." she added as he continued to hesitate. "Yah see, I'm no longer upset with you. I've jes' come ta accept the fact that you're proud an' pigheaded. An', since I've come ta terms with that, you're bein' so stubborn and actin' so stupid don' bother me so much no more," she confessed, her beautiful dark eyes sparkling with amusement at the proud and pigheaded, stubborn and stupid-acting man's look of absolute amazement. "Come on!" she urged, latching onto the lawman's wrist and suppressing a sly smile. "It'll save yah three hours--an' fifteen miles--a' misery," she reminded the still not moving man.
And he finally--rather reluctantly--allowed himself to be towed up to the back of his tormentor's wagon.
"Go on up and take yore shirt off. I'll be along jes' as soon as I kin find a lap for Jamie ta sit on." She saw that her patient was starting to have second thoughts. "You looked at my wheels. So it's only fair that I get ta look at yore ribs," she reasoned nonsensically and gave him an encouraging nudge, along with one of her charming and disarming smiles.
The combination of the nonsense and the nudge--and the smile--clinched it. Crown threw caution to the wind and climbed carefully up into the back of the wagon.
By the time Katelyn arrived, her patient had his shirt off and was sitting on the edge of her bed, giving his injured mid-section a careful, up-close, albeit upside-down, inspection of his own. There was a deep-purple imprint of a wagon wheel spoke running across the entire width of his chest. "Looks like yah got yerself quite a contusion there, Mr. Crown," the nurse duly noted.
'Mr. Crown' snapped his head up in the nurse's direction, saw her staring back in his direction and suddenly felt extremely awkward. He would have felt uncomfortable sitting there with her staring at him fully clothed. Now, here she was, standing not two feet in front of him, staring down at him half-naked!
Katelyn found the man's modesty both amusing and refreshing, "Mr. Crown, I've been a nurse for over twenty years now. An', during that time, I saw a whole lot more men with their shirts off than I ever did with their shirts on," she declared, duly noting his nervousness and desiring to put him at ease.
It worked. The Marshal heaved a shallow sigh of relief and gradually relaxed some.
"How long have you had this?!" the woman wondered, latching onto the lawman's hand and pulling his injured left forearm right up in front of his face.
Crown drew his head back 'til his eyes uncrossed and gave the rather ghastly-looking, three-inch gash in his left wrist a quick glance. "I dunno...five or six days...I guess," he stated disinterestedly and rather reluctantly raised his gaze. "Look, I know it was real stupid of me not ta have it sown up," he continued, seeing his nurse glaring accusingly down at him and looking real upset with him again, "but there wasn't time! An'--even if there had been time--there was no doctor. Now, I been tryin' ta keep it clean an' I been tryin' ta keep it covered. So, kin we jes' git on with it here? 'Cuz' the ride's long an' time's short," he added, finishing his little reminders. He was hoping the upset looking lady would remember that she'd promised to be gentler with him--this time--and that he was in a real big hurry to get back to town tonight.
She did. Katelyn's harsh look softened and she reluctantly released her hold on his left hand. "Well, you should take the time an' have it looked at when yah git back ta Cimarron. You do have a doctor in Cimarron, don't you?" she stated sarcastically and then turned her back to start rummaging around in her trunk again.
"We didn't when I left this mornin', " Crown confessed, "But there might be one there by the time I git back tonight...should be one there...if Francis is there. He left for Boston ten days ago an' I told 'im not ta bother comin' back 'til he found us one."
Katelyn quickly sifted through the stack of sheets and linens and came up with just the right bandages for binding up bruised ribs. She set her bandaging materials down on the bed beside her patient and then began her careful--and thorough-- examination of the Marshal's damaged mid-section. "Sorry," she said as her trained fingers expertly explored several exceptionally tender areas of his bruised rib cage--and the pain produced by her delicate touch literally took the lawman's breath away. "Did that hurt?" she asked innocently.
The still breathless Marshal shot his nervy nurse a 'Ha! Ha! Very funny!' look, but refrained from any kind of vocal comment. For he strongly suspected that--even without the bruised ribs--her 'touch' would have had that affect on him.
As the nurse's trained fingers took note of the damages Tanner had caused, her trained eyes took in the vast multitude of other scars which were scattered about the target's torso. There, permanently etched in flesh, was the recorded evidence of Jim Crown's reckless youth--along with the more recent, lasting reminders of the dangers inherent in leading the life of a frontier lawman. Marshalin' had apparently been extremely hazardous to his health. Judging by the size and position of some of his scars, Jim Crown had had his share of close calls. Yes, sir! It appeared to her that it was only by some miracle--or a series of miracles--that the man was even still alive! Maybe the Marshal really was an avengin' angel, after all? She had always heard that the Lord takes care of his own. And, wasn't it an 'act of God' that had saved him that afternoon? If that storm hadn't a' hit when it did--and the rain hadn't a' washed away their tracks--he would have been forced to shoot it out with those two gunmen. And, wasn't it by some further miracle that they had managed to arrive without losing another wheel or two along the way? A-And, considering how hard they had been smacked, wasn't it also a miracle that not a one of his rib bones was cracked? The nurse sighed in relief and finally reported on her findings, "We-ell, nothin's busted. But yore ribs are very badly bruised. So they're bound ta be very sore for the next few weeks."
The Marshal had been sitting there, grimacing and gasping--and silently enduring--his nurse's excruciating examination. Then, as the painful pokin' and proddin' finally came to a completion, he managed a gasp of profound relief--and then gasped again--this time, in total exasperation. "Yea-eah, I know!" he stated in a voice that was just shy of a shout. "An' I could a' told yah that--if yah'd a' bothered askin'! You were jes' s'posed ta look! No one said anything about touchin'!"
Katelyn could hear the pain in the Marshal's raised voice and she could see it in his rugged handsome face--and it was there in his dreamy, dark eyes. And it was then that she realized just how accustomed she had grown to hearing that voice and seeing that face--and staring into those eyes. She suddenly felt a rather sharp twinge herself--only hers was a different kind of pain. "Ta those of us in the medical profession, touchin' an' lookin' go hand-in-hand," she explained calmly and quickly set about her bandaging, "If yah don't check for broken bones before yah go bindin' up somebody's ribs, it's possible yah could puncture a lung--or lacerate a liver or somethin'. So, yah see, touchin' is a necessary--though sometimes nasty--part a' proper, standard medical procedure."
"So is askin' questions," her patient reminded her. "It don' hurt ta ask questions," he continued hintingly, "If Doc Kihlgren would a' took a look at my ribs, the fers' thing he would a' done is ask me if anything felt like it was busted. I would a' told him no--an' he would a' wrapped 'em up an' sent me on my way."
"Even if I had asked you if anything felt like it was busted, I still would a' had ta check 'em out for myself. It ain't that I don' trust you--it's jes' that I tend ta trust my touch a whole lot more. These fingers a' mine have examined so many men's rib cages that I've sort a' developed a feel for when somethin' ain't quite right."
"Yeah...well, these ribs a' mine have been whomped on...tromped on...an' stomped on so many times, that I've sort a' developed a feel for when somethin' ain't quite right, too. Once you've busted a rib, you're made instantly aware a' the fact that somethin' is terribly wrong. An' it's a feelin' yah ain't likely ta ever forget. Believe me, compared ta busted ribs, bruised ribs are just a little tickle."
"Take a fairly deep breath an' hold it for me--if you will, please," his nurse requested calmly.
If Crown didn't know better, he might have taken the request as a hint for him to shut up. But he'd had his ribs wrapped plenty of times before. And the idea is to wrap them so tight so as to keep movement--and thus pain--to a minimum, but not so tight so as the person can't breathe.
"I've never been whomped on, tromped on, o-or stomped on," Katelyn confessed as her patient obligingly drew in as deep a breath as he dared--and then held it for her. She secured the broad strip of bandage snugly and properly in place and started winding the wide strip of linen tightly around the Marshal's damaged mid-section. She worked fast and efficiently.
And it appeared to Crown as though binding somebody else's ribs was the most natural thing in the world for her to be doing.
It was. "I guess that's cause we 'women' tend ta be more careful. We tend ta take a lot better care of ourselves. We don't abuse our bodies the way you 'men' do. Okay, you kin breathe now."
Crown carefully released his held breath. "You make it sound like we go around deliberately tryin' ta get hurt."
"If that's the way it sounds ta you men, it's 'cuz that's the way it seems ta us women," Katelyn countered calmly and continued her expert wrapping.
"Yeah? Well, if you women tend ta get hurt a whole lot less, it's prob'ly becuz' there's a whole lot less a' you ta keep out a' the way a' things," Crown reasoned irrationally. Then he smiled as his nonsensical comment caused his nurse to crack a smile. "An', yah know why those fingers a' yores have examined so many of us men's rib cages, don't yah," he continued, keeping an almost perfectly straight face.
"'Cuz bigger ribs make for a bigger target?" Katelyn teasingly replied, following the lawman's line of illogic.
"That's part a' the reason all right," the Marshal admitted lightly, "But mostly it's becuz' ribs happen ta be a real weak spot with us men."
The woman's smile widened some, "Is that a fact?"
"It i-is," Crown assured her, "An' it seems it's always been that way with we men. Our ribs have been a constant source a' pain an' grief for us men--clear down through the ages."
"Oh really?"
"Uh-huh. Startin' with the very first man," the lawman continued. "Ain't you never read what The Good Book says about Adam--an' all the trouble he had with one a' his ribs?" he added as the woman paused to shoot him a questioning glance.
"There's nothin' like a good ribbing," Katelyn confessed as her smile broadened into a grin.
Jim Crown's eyes narrowed a bit and his face scrunched up a might. But then he exchanged grins with his very witty, very pretty, very lovely opponent.
The nurse finished wrapping her patient's ribs up and then stood there, hesitating to send him on his way. "For someone who claims ta be no angel, you sure seem ta like referrin' ta The Good Book," she observed casually as the Marshal stood up and turned his back on her to start getting dressed, "I suppose that comes from readin' it all those times. I imagine you must pert' near have it memorized, by no-ow...chapter an' verse," she added, continuing her small talk.
"My Uncle Wes' used it ta teach me how ta read--an' how ta write--an' how ta live. He said that jailcells were jes' full a' folks who could quote Scripture--chapter an' verse. So he never could see no point in tryin' ta memorize any of it. He said he figured that I'd prob'ly be better off if he was ta teach me ta try livin' by it, instead." Crown finished getting dressed and turned back around to find himself face-to-face, and practically nose-to-nose, with the lovely lady again. "So there, yah see--he taught me a whole lot more than jes' how ta roll my own cigarettes," he finished with a slight smile.
Katelyn smiled. And the two of them stood there--in the rather close quarters--staring rather dreamily into each others eyes again. Then--while the lawman still looked in the mood to be kissed--the lady wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulled herself up on to the tip of her toes and tenderly kissed him--right smack dab on his smile! She felt the Marshal's body go completely rigid--again--and his breathing stopped. But she didn't. And, since she was sort a' holding him hostage, he gradually untensed and just sort a' came to accept the terms of his captivity. His captor drew back--finally--and opened her eyes to study Jim Crown's reaction to her rather impulsive action.
Her captive's eyes slowly opened and he stared silently down at her, looking pleasantly surprised.
"I'm not usually so...forward," Katelyn confessed, looking and sounding just a wee bit embarrassed, "But we were sort a' married there for a while this afternoon, weren't we?"
"Yes..." her sort a' 'husband' answered softly--when he finally got his breath back, "...I guess you could say we sort a' were."
"An' it's perfectly proper for a woman ta kiss her 'husband' goodbye, ain't it?"
"Oh..." her 'husband' replied--even more softly, "...perfectly...very proper," he added uneasily and noticed it was getting rather warm there in the back of the wagon--uncomfortably warm--all of a sudden.
"So then, what's wrong?" Katelyn wondered, sensing his unease and spotting his discomfort.
"Nothin'...", the lawman lied. "It's jes' that it felt more like 'hello'...than 'goodbye'...is all..." he added, his voice growing softer still--until it trailed off completely.
Katelyn smiled that charming, disarming, irresistable smile of hers, "We-ell. Maybe we should try it again. I'd hate ta think I sent you on yore way with the wrong kiss..." And she closed her eyes and pulled herself up to plant one on him a second time.
The Marshal 'dropped the reins' and took her gently into his arms. He forgot all about 'committments' and what was 'proper and right' in his 'head' for the moment--and went with what felt right for the 'rest' of him. After all, he was no angel. And he was no fool, either. Or was he? Their lips met--and he could feel all those years of suppressed passion suddenly being triggered off inside him. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it now, either--even if he had wanted to--which he didn't. To try an' cancel those feelings out now would be about as futile as trying to summon a bullet back once it had been fired off an' left the barrel of his gun.
When Katelyn pulled herself up to playfully plant one on her patient again, she was pleasantly surprised to feel him pulling her up gently into his powerful arms and kissing her back. Wow! Did he ever kiss her back! She was totally unprepared for such--passion! Jonathan had never kissed her like that. She'd never been kissed like that before in her entire life! If she had been, she was sure she'd remember it. 'Like yore first busted rib,' she mused silently, 'it's a feelin' you ain't likely ta ever forget.' But his kiss--while so incredibly passionate--was also delivered with a rather surprising degree of tenderness. And it's a good thing, too! Or he'd a' bruised her lips for sure! The combination of such controlled passion--mixed with such extreme tenderness--inspired the lady to give as she got. So that, by the time their kiss finally--reluctantly--ended, they were both left breathless.
"I see what yah mean," Katelyn gasped, being the first one to recover, "that was definitely 'hello'...most definitely!" she repeated, still sounding rather breathless. Then she cocked her pretty head at a rather coy angle and gleamed rather mischeviously up at the man who was holding her so firmly--yet so gently--in his arms. "Dare we try it--again?" she teased.
The look in the lawman's dreamy, dark eyes told her that he'd like nothin' better. But the frustrated look on his rugged, handsome face told her that he didn't dare. "I think we'd better jes' shake hands an' say 'adios'," the Marshal reluctantly suggested and reluctantly released his hold on the woman, "'Cuz, if I stay here even one minute longer," he continued, reaching around behind him to reluctantly retrieve his hat from off the bed, "I'm gonna end up breakin' a promise to a friend." He turned back and found Katelyn holding her hand out to him. He took it and shook it.
"I understand," she assured him softly and managed a brave smile, "Adios, Jim Crown. It's been a real...pleasure."
The Marshal stood there, holding onto the very lovely lady's hand and staring dreamily into those beautiful, dark eyes of hers. "Adios, Katelyn Edwards. Thank you for...everything. It's been a real...memorable...afternoon," he assured her with a wry smile. "I hope you an' Jamie have a safe an' successful journey--to wherever," he added on to his wish cautiously and smiled again as his cautious comment caused Katelyn to crack one, last smile. The Marshal stood there for a few more moments, making a mental picture of Jamie's very lovely mommy and her very enchanting smile. "Take care, Katelyn," he whispered quietly and reluctantly released her hand.
She gave his hand a final squeeze and then reluctantly let him go.
He tossed his hat back on, tipped it to her a final time and then quickly took his leave--as the mental picture he'd been making suddenly became a complete blur.
Jamie saw the Marshal climbing down from their wagon and started climbing down off of Mr. Fitzsimmons' lap.
"Well, Jamie," Crown declared with a sad smile as the baby toddled over to him and demanded to be picked up again. "I guess this leaves you the 'man' a' the family," he continued, swooping the infant gently up off the ground. "So take real good care a' yore mommy for me," he requested quietly. Then he gave the child a tender squeeze and placed him safely down inside the wagon--with his mother.
Jamie stood there, staring up at the tailgate for a few moments. Then he dropped down on his heavily padded butt and began to pout.
Katelyn saw that the boy was apparently upset by his tall buddy's sudden disappearance and stepped quickly over to comfort him. "There...there," she said soothingly as she took the toddler into her arms and began gently rocking him, "I understand," she assured her young son softly, "Mommy doesn't want him ta leave, either." She stared blurrily out the back of her wagon.
The Marshal was standing beside his horse talking with Mr. Houston.
"Jim, if I can't talk yah into stayin', then at least let me go with you," Rowan requested rather anxiously.
"You'll be more help ta me here," Jim assured his frantic friend.
Rowan frowned.
The Marshal finished checking his cinch, replaced his left stirrup and then swung himself up into his saddle--all in one, smooth, uninterrupted motion. "Besides," Crown continued, swinging his eager to leave horse around, "if you were ta tag along...an' I was ta ride into an ambush...that means we'd both get 'dusted'...an' a fine lot a' good you'd do me dead!" The lawman swung his horse around again, "An'--on top a' all that--I promised Stacey that I wouldn' let anything happen ta you. Jes' imagine how disappointed she and Davey would be ta find I'd gone back on my word!" he teased lightly and turned his horse in another tight circle.
Katelyn saw that the Marshal's good-natured teasing had finally succeeded in transforming Mr. Houston's frown into a smile.
"Go on then!" Rowan advised harshly, still pretending to be upset, "And don't go getting yerself 'dusted'! Just imagine how disappointed all those people back in Cimarron are gonna be if YOU don't show up tonight!" he teased right back.
And the two old friends exchanged grins.
"Hold down the Fort, Mr. Houston!" the Marshal ordered down to his main man, "An'--hopefully--I'll see yous all again...sometime tomorrow afternoon."
Rowan nodded.
The Marshal waved goodbye to him--and to the rest of his men--and then finally let his anxious to leave horse have its head.
"Vaya con Dios, Marshal!" Katelyn called out after him as he went riding off. She had this sinking feeling that the only way that the self-proclaimed 'target' was ever going to make it back, was if 'God' were to 'go with' him.