Under A Prairie Moon (26 page)

“Married,” Kathy murmured. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’re not sorry?” He rose over her, a study in bronze flesh and long black hair.

“No! No, don’t even think that.” She smiled up at him. “Mrs. Kathy Crowkiller. Sounds nice, don’t you think?”

“Kathy…” Her name was a groan of desire, a prayer of thanksgiving, as she arched upward, her body taking his and making it a part of her own.

There was no past then, no future, only the wonder of the present and the desire that flamed between them, hot and fierce. Mingled with that desire was a raw, aching need that could be satisfied but never quenched.

Later, lying close together, they toasted each other with champagne, then made love again, and yet again, and Kathy prayed as she had never prayed before, prayed that before the night was over, she would be pregnant with Dalton’s child.

Julianna had suggested Kathy and Dalton go to New York City for their honeymoon. Dalton had talked to Kathy about it, and they had decided to stay in Boston.

“There’s plenty here to see and do,” Kathy explained to Julianna the next day. “I’ve never been to Boston before, you know.”

“This was Dalton’s idea, wasn’t it?” Julianna said. “He’s staying because of me. Well, I won’t hear of it.”

“Are you trying to get rid of us?” Kathy asked, keeping her tone light.

“Of course not,” Julianna replied quickly, “but it’s your honeymoon. I don’t want you to feel you’re missing anything because of me.”

“Don’t be silly! We both want to stay,” Kathy said. “After all, who knows when we’ll get back here to see you again?”

A shadow passed through Julianna’s eyes and was gone. “Where is Dalton?”

“He’s outside, talking to Murray about stocks and bonds, of all things.”

Julianna laughed softly. “Murray’s always wanted to indulge in the stock market, but he’s never had the nerve. Maybe after I’m…”

Kathy looked out the window, wishing she could think of something comforting to say to Julianna.

“Kathy, would you send Dalton in to me, please?”

“Sure.” Kathy patted the older woman’s hand. “I’ll see you later.”

A few minutes later, Dalton knocked on his mother’s bedroom door. “Ma, you wanted to see me?”

“Come in, Dally.”

Dally. No one but his mother had ever dared call him that, and it had been years since she had done so. He entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“Something wrong, Ma?” he asked.

“No, nothing.”

Dalton sat down on the edge of the bed. “Something’s troubling you,” he said. “You might as well tell me what it is.”

“I never could hide anything from you, could I?”

“No.” He looked at her, really looked at her, and felt a sudden heaviness in his heart. She looked so tiny, so frail, lying there in the big four-poster bed. Her skin was pale; there were dark shadows under her eyes, hollows in her cheeks. “Ma, I…”

I’m glad you’re here, Dally. I prayed you’d come home, that I’d get to see you again before…”

Feeling as though he were the adult and his mother the child, he drew her into his arms. “Shh, don’t talk like that. You’re gonna be fine. Just fine.”

She shook her head. “You sound like Murray. He won’t talk about it either.”

“Ma…”

“I need someone to talk to, Dally.”

Dalton blew out a deep breath. “You can talk to me, Ma. You know that.”

She looked up at him, her eyes like dark bruises in her face, and then she sagged against him, her face buried against his chest.

“Oh Dally, I’m so afraid.” Her hands clutched at his back. “I’ve always been afraid of dying, not just of the pain, but of what lies beyond.”

“Ma…”

“I know, it’s silly. Everyone dies, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I’ve always believed in God, but death scares me so.” She looked up at him, her eyes dark with fear. “I’m afraid there’s nothing after this life, Dally, nothing beyond the grave. I want to believe there is, but I can’t, I just can’t.” She buried her face against his shoulder, her slender body racked with sobs.

Knowing it was probably inappropriate, Dalton lifted his mother in his arms, then crossed the room and sat down in the rocking chair beside the window.

“Dally, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna tell you something, Ma,” he said as he settled her in his lap. “You’re not gonna believe it, and I won’t blame you, but it’s true.”

“What?” She stared at him, her eyes wide with interest.

“Ma, I died.”

“Dalton, don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not. I was hanged.”

“Dally.”

“July 28, Ma. I died that day.”

“So, what are you telling me, that you’re not really here? That you’re a ghost?”

“I was.” As quickly and clearly as he could, he told her everything that had happened from the time he followed Lydia Conley into the barn that fateful night.

“You can ask Kathy if you don’t believe me,” Dalton finished. “I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s all true, every word, I swear it. I wasn’t sure why we were sent back here. I thought maybe it was so I could fulfill a promise I made to my father, but now I think you’re the reason. Maybe I was given a second chance at life to make your passing easier.” Dalton rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Hell, Ma, I won’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Every word. I swear it.”

Julianna stared at him for a long while, and then she shook her head. “It isn’t possible.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You were a ghost for a hundred and twenty-five years?”

Dalton nodded.

“But you never went to heaven?”

“No. But I know it’s there, waiting for you, as surely as I know anything.”

She stared at him, wanting to believe. Needing to believe. “How do you know?”

Dalton clenched one hand. He had never told anyone what he was about to tell his mother, not even Kathy. Until now, he had always thought maybe he had dreamed the whole thing. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“It was right after I died,” he said slowly. “I was floating above my body and I realized I wasn’t alone. I looked around, and I saw a man in the distance, and I knew it was my father. I called his name, but he didn’t seem to hear me, so I walked toward him, and as I drew closer, I saw that he was looking out over a deep green valley. There were Lakota lodges there, and more buffalo than I’d ever seen in my life. And horses grazing alongside a wide river. I recognized an old sorrel mare I’d ridden when I was a boy. You remember the one I mean?”

Julianna nodded. “Go on.”

“I saw people too, and they all looked happy and peaceful. And then my father turned toward me. He looked surprised to see me. He told me he was waiting for you, that you would be there soon. He said when I saw you again I should tell you that he missed you, and that the child you lost before I was born was there, waiting for you too. And then he told me I wasn’t supposed to be there yet, that I still had much to learn.

“I started to ask him what he meant, but…” Dalton shook his head. “I don’t know how to describe what happened next. It was like a thick fog fell between us and when it cleared, I was standing alone by the hanging tree.”

Dalton stared out the window. If you discounted the hundred and twenty-five years he’d been a ghost, it had only been a few weeks since he died.

“That’s incredible,” Julianna murmured.

“I know.”

“And you actually saw Night Caller there?”

“Yeah.”

“And he was waiting for me.” She smiled softly.

Dalton nodded. “I didn’t know you’d lost a child before I was born.”

“Your father is the only one who knew. I was six months pregnant when the Crow attacked our village. I lost the baby that night. It was a little girl. We never told anyone.”

Julianna smiled at him. “Thank you, Dally.” She smiled at him, a wonderful, radiant smile. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

“I’ll miss you, Ma.”

“And I’ll miss you, Dally. But don’t grieve for me when I’m gone. Go on with your life, and be happy. Have lots of children.” She blew out a long, slow sigh. “I think I’d like to lie down for a little while now.”

With a nod, Dalton carried her to bed and tucked her in.

“Sweet dreams, Ma.”

“Thank you, Dally, for telling me.”

Dalton nodded.

“Dally, are you still earning your living hiring out your gun?”

“No, Ma. Not anymore.”

She smiled then, and for a moment she looked young again, the way she had when he was a little boy.

“See ya later, Ma.”

She nodded, her eyelids fluttering down, a faint smile lingering on her lips.

When Murray went to look in on her an hour later, she was gone.

Dalton stood alone beside his mother’s grave. He had endured the words of the preacher, the condolences of his mother’s friends, Murray’s quiet tears, Kathy’s quiet compassion. Now he wanted only to be alone with his memories.

“I’ll miss you, Ma,” he whispered, and wished he could cry. Maybe tears would dissolve the painful lump in his throat and ease the ache in his chest. It hurt to know he would never see her in this life again, and perhaps not in the next. Heaven knew he didn’t deserve the same reward as his mother. He had rarely done a kind or unselfish thing in his whole life. Not like Julianna. Among the Lakota, her generous spirit had been loved and revered. Even here, in Boston, where she had been a servant, she had enriched the lives of others. He knew she’d gone to visit the hospitals on her days off, taking treats to the old and infirm, telling stories to the orphan kids. As long as he could remember, people had been drawn to her, and now she was gone.

He thought about the vision he’d had, of his father standing on the edge of a deep green valley. As from far away, he seemed to hear the scree of an eagle. But there were no eagles here in the city. And then, looking beyond this life, he saw his father turn away from the valley, saw him smile as he held out his hand. And his mother was there, her smile serene as she placed her hand in that of her husband. Side by side, they walked back to the valley and disappeared through the mists of time…

Dalton drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long slow sigh. All this time, he thought he had been sent back to fulfill the vow he’d made to his father, but that hadn’t been the reason at all. It was to quiet his mother’s fear of death, to see her safely along the path of spirits into the next world.

He knew it with a sureness deep inside him and knew, in that same instant, that his time in this place was almost gone.

* * * * *

Kathy stood up as Dalton entered the room. She knew, before he said a word, that something was very wrong.

“Dalton, are you all right?”

“Yeah, fine.”

Crossing the floor, he drew her gently into his arms and held her close.

“I’m sorry about your mother. I wish I’d had time to get to know her better.”

He nodded. “She was fond of you too.”

Kathy rested her cheek on his chest. “So, what are we going to do now?”

“I need to take you back to Saul’s Crossing.”

A whisper of coldness slid down Kathy’s spine. “Take me back?”

Dalton blew out a deep sigh. “Yes.”

“I thought maybe you’d want to stay here for a while, to be with Murray.”

“Murray will be fine. He’s gonna quit his job and go stay with his sister in South Carolina.”

“Oh.” Her hands moved restlessly up and down Dalton’s back. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He drew her over to the sofa and pulled her down beside him.

“All this time, I thought we’d come back here so I’d have a chance to fulfill the promise I made to my father, and because we were meant to be together, and this was the only way.”

“Go on.”

“But I know now it was because of my mother. She’d been praying that she’d get to see me again before she died.”

“Well, that seems perfectly natural. I mean, you’re her son.”

“I know. But the reason she needed to see me was because I’m the only one who could ease her fears about dying. That last day, I told her that I’d been dead, that I’d seen my father waiting for her on the other side.”

“You saw your father? You never told me that.”

“I was never sure if it really happened until I talked to my mother and saw how afraid she was. And then I knew why I was here.”

“But why am I here?”

“I don’t know. But…”

“What?”

“I think my time is about over.”

Kathy grabbed his arm. “No!”

“If you’re going to get back to your own time, we have to get you back to Saul’s Crossing, back to the hanging tree.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“I know.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “I don’t want to leave you either, darlin’. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. But I can’t shake this feeling.”

* * * * *

They bid farewell to Murray and the Worthinghams two days later. Kathy blinked back her tears as she waved goodbye to Murray from the train window. Ever since the funeral, she’d had the feeling that she had been caught up in a tide of time and events and that she no longer had control over her own life, her own destiny.

She sat at the window and watched the city disappear from sight. Taffy Girl and the stallion were in the stock car. They would take the train as far as possible, then take a stage the rest of the way.

She placed her hand over her belly, wondering if she was really pregnant, or if she was just imagining it because she wanted so badly for it to be true. She hadn’t said anything to Dalton. He had enough on his mind as it was, and she didn’t know if her news, coming now, would make him feel better or worse.

She tried to remember when she’d had her last period, but she’d been irregular since Wayne passed away.

A son, she thought, with Dalton’s black hair and dark eyes.

She thought of little else on the long trip back to Montana.

They arrived in Saul’s Crossing just before dusk. Kathy felt a sense of unease as they left the horses at the livery and made their way to Martha’s Boardinghouse. Something bad was in the air. She had never been so certain of anything in her life.

Martha welcomed them with a smile. Her sharp eyes noticed Kathy’s wedding ring and she wished them well, declaring they would have to have a celebration at supper that night.

“We’d like to rest awhile and then freshen up,” Dalton said. “Think we could get some hot water in about half an hour?”

“Of course.” She beamed at them, then bustled off to the kitchen.

Dalton looked at Kathy, a faint smile on his lips. “Your room or mine?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yours,” he decided, and then winked at her. “It’s got a bigger bed.”

They had spent the day riding and she’d been thinking of a bath and a nap, but the look in Dalton’s eyes made her forget how tired she was, made her forget everything but how much she loved him.

Dalton closed the door, then drew Kathy into his arms, aware that this might be their last night together. He had never been more conscious of time passing, knew that every second brought them that much closer to parting.

He had thought of little else on the journey from Boston. The feeling that their time together was almost over grew stronger with every passing mile.

And now, holding her in his arms, he was overcome with a desperate need to bury himself within her, to imprint her memory deep in his mind so that he might cherish it through the long years of eternity. Even Hell would not be so bad, if he could remember Kathy’s face, her smile, the sound of her laughter, the way she always melted against him, as if she wanted to be a part of him. And she was a part of him, he thought, the best part.

With a groan, he carried her to bed and stretched out beside her, his hands and lips moving over her, memorizing every inch of her face, the touch of her, the taste of her. He buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with the scent of her hair.

His desperation telegraphed itself to her, and she clung to him, driven by the need to hold him close, to absorb his every essence.

She took him deep inside her body, inside her heart, her soul, felt the world fall away until there were only the two of them, clinging together. She whispered that she loved him over and over again, the fervent words inadequate to express the feelings of her heart.

She felt a wetness on her cheeks and knew she was crying and when she opened her eyes, she saw that there were tears in Dalton’s eyes too.

“
Ohinyan
,
wastelakapi
,” he murmured. Forever, beloved.

* * * * *

Martha had, indeed, planned a celebration. She had set the table with her best Sunday china and prepared all of Dalton’s favorites—steak and fried potatoes and baked beans. She served wine with dinner, and then offered everyone cake and champagne.

Hyrum Petty had sighed with regret when he learned of their marriage and then slapped Dalton on the arm. “You’re a lucky man,” he declared. “A right lucky man.”

Dalton had looked at Kathy and nodded. “Yes,” he had replied soberly. “I am.”

Enid Canfield wished them a long and happy life together.

Kathy looked at Dalton and prayed it would be so.

Later, they went for a walk on the outskirts of town.

“We’ll ride out to the hanging tree tomorrow morning,” Dalton said.

“So soon? Maybe if we never go back there, everything will be all right.” But even as she said the words, she had the feeling that she was being inexplicably drawn back to the Triple Bar C, that no matter how she tried to avoid it, her time in the past was coming to an end.

They stopped in the shadows, reaching for each other. Kathy stood in the circle of Dalton’s arms, wondering why she had been transported into the past, why she had met Dalton in the first place if they weren’t meant to be together.

“Maybe we aren’t going to be separated,” Kathy said, voicing the hope in her heart. “Maybe we need to go back to the ranch for some other reason.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe whatever force sent us here will send us both back to the future.”

“Maybe.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“I don’t know, darlin’.” He rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes, knowing he would rather face the hanging rope again than lose Kathy. And yet he knew, knew in the deepest part of his soul, that they were going to be parted, that she was destined to go back to her own world where she belonged, and that his soul would at last complete the journey it had started a hundred and twenty-five years ago, to spend the rest of eternity in whatever heaven or hell awaited him.

“I love you,” Kathy said. “I’ll love you as long as I live.”

“Kathy, ah Kathy, darlin’…”

“I know.”

Hand in hand, they walked back to the boardinghouse. They made love again, then held each other close all through the night. And Kathy prayed again, prayed fervently that she was pregnant, that she would have Dalton’s child to love when he was gone.

In the morning, they made love again. Kathy clung to Dalton, cherishing what she knew would be their last moments together. Each word was filled with bittersweet sorrow, each touch a renewal of the love that burned in her heart.

They left the boardinghouse just after dawn. Kathy was wearing the green plaid dress she had bought in Boston. She had packed her buckskin dress and moccasins in her saddlebags.

Walking down the dusty street beside Dalton, she felt like a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

A short time later, they were riding out toward the Conley Ranch.

They reached the hanging tree a little before eleven.

Dalton dismounted and tethered his stallion of a bush. He patted the horse’s neck, then vaulted up onto Taffy Girl’s back.

His arm slid around Kathy’s waist and he drew her back against him, silently praying for a miracle that would allow them to stay together.

Kathy leaned against him. This was where she belonged, she thought. Here, in his arms, always. Several minutes passed.

“I don’t feel anything,” she said. And felt a faint stirring of hope. Maybe she would be allowed to stay here, with Dalton.

“Me either.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I wish…”

“…that we could be together always…”

They spoke the words as on a single breath, the words muffled as their lips met.

Kathy moaned, “No, no,” as a familiar dizziness overcame her.

She screamed Dalton’s name as the world grew dark, spinning her into a churning vortex. There was a dull roaring in her ears, a sound like distant thunder.

As from far away, she heard Dalton’s voice, a hoarse whisper filled with anguish and despair.

Kathy, Kathy, remember me…

She cried his name again, and then everything went black.