The Cowboy Who Strolled Into Town (103 page)

‘I love climbing trees!’ She exclaimed happily, lifting up her skirt to expose her shapely calves as she swung herself onto a bough.

‘Come on Lane! Join me up here!’ Chivonn called out, and Lane climbed onto the bough… but their combined weight proved too much for the tree to bear and the branch gave way with a deafening crack, tossing them both into the water below.

It took Chivonn a moment to recover from the shock of being thrown from the branch and she sank below the surface of the water, but she came up for air before Lane reached her, and tread water frantically.

‘I’m sorry for being so stupid and climbing that tree,’ Chivonn said ruefully.

‘I’ve not had so much fun in a long while,’ Lane replied, ‘So don’t apologize.’

‘You’ll catch a cold. You need to get out of your wet clothes,’ Chivonn remarked.

‘You’re wet too,’ Lane murmured, and Chivonn bit her lip as the blood rushed to her cheeks. He couldn’t have just suggested that she get out of her wet clothes, she mused briefly.

Realizing the unintended insinuation his comment had conveyed, Lane hastened to explain. ‘I was only observing that you were wet too. I didn’t mean…’

‘Don’t worry!’ Chivonn hastened to assure him, ‘I have taken no offence at your remark. I know what you meant.’

Lane shrugged off his shirt laughing, and instantly regretted doing so as Chivonn’s eyes fell on the wound on his shoulder. It was still in the process of healing. He tried to pull his shirt back on hurriedly, but Chivonn’s hand reached out impulsively to touch his shoulder and she looked searchingly up into his eyes.

‘There’s something so familiar about you – your eyes…and now this,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’ Lane asked, pulling his shirt on.

‘The man on the train…the one who saved us from the bandits…he was wounded…on his shoulder…like you.’

‘What a strange coincidence,’ Lane said. The magic of the morning seemed to evaporate, replaced by a disturbing reality that hung between them, wrapped up in a secret as yet unrevealed.

‘Who are you really, Lane Hayes?’

‘I’m just a simple cowboy, who likes my beer and loves my horses,’ Lane answered.

‘And how did you make so much money to buy a ranch like yours?’

‘I breed horses. I trade horses. And cattle too.’ Lane’s voice all but gave away his uneasiness. ‘And that’s the truth.’ For some reason he couldn’t explain, Lane felt the need to win Chivonn’s approval.

‘Is there anything else that you do?’

‘No, not really,’ Lane answered.

They rode back in thoughtful silence, the sun drying their clothes.  Chivonn was certain that even though her host had not admitted it, he had a secret life, and she was almost sure what it entailed.

CHAPTER III

‘There’s a Hoe Down tomorrow at a neighboring ranch,’ Lane announced as they ate dinner. ‘Would you like to go with me?’

Chivonn had been given to long silences ever since she saw Lane’s shoulder the morning they had gone riding together. She carved her meat with studied concentration as she wondered how she should answer.

‘Do you dance as well as you ride?’ she countered his question.

Lane laughed. ‘I like a good Hoe Down. I’m a typical cowboy. And I’m not a bad dancer either. So will you go with me?’

‘If you insist that I do.’

‘Then I insist that you do,’ Lane said, eager to have Chivonn in the mood she had been in on their ride.

‘I wish I could retrieve my belongings from Bill’s house.’

‘Maybe one day we will go along and do that, but for now, why don’t we go into town and get you some new clothes?’

Chivonn looked down at her plate, tears springing to her eyes. ‘Why would you want to do that? I can wear something from the closet in my room.’

‘No,’ Lane said, ‘You should have your own clothes. Let’s go and shop for some.’

‘I wouldn’t know how to pay for them,’ Chivonn said.

‘Should we agree not to discuss things like payments and money?’ Lane suggested.

The next morning Lane drove Chivonn into town in his Ford. People eyed them inquisitively, and Chivonn thought it was because she was a colored girl with a white man. Little did she realize that they were staring because she and Lane made such a handsome pair.

Chivonn was as excited as a little girl and Lane looked happy and relaxed as he took her from shop to shop. Lane paid for skirts and blouses; dresses and a gown; a brown twill skirt, red blouse, bandana and hat for the Hoe Down and a pair of tan cowhide boots. Then Chivonn left Lane to look at Bolo Ties, and slipped into a store for women’s undergarments. She chose a few items hurriedly, and rushed out again, to encounter Lane’s amused smile. Chivonn felt the blood rush to her cheeks again and chided herself. His presence always made her feel like a child.

They drove back to the Ranch House for a cold lunch, after which they retired to their rooms to rest and dress. Chivonn had bought some make-up as well and she spread the jars out on the dresser. She washed and then started to massage creams into her glossy skin and full lips. She slipped on her underclothes – a lacy brassiere and slip - glad to have something to fit her full figure, and then pulled on her skirt. The red blouse buttoned rather too snugly around her bosom and clung to her slim waist, and the waistcoat she wore over her blouse only served to enhance her curves. She brushed her curls till they glistened with shafts of light and pinned it so that it cascaded down one shoulder. For the first time in a long while, Chivonn felt beautiful. She curled her lashes and brushed her eyelids with a light blue powder. Then she slipped on the new tan cowhide boots, thrilled to own such a special pair of footwear.

Rosie, the girl who was now using the room next to hers, was coming up the stairs as Chivonn opened her door and stepped out. She stopped and stared. ‘You look swell, Chivonn!’ She exclaimed, and then whispered conspiratorially, cocking her head towards Lane’s room, ‘And I bet he will think so too!’ 

When Lane emerged however, he was silent. Chivonn waited for a compliment, but Lane gave her none. He seemed almost distant and she wondered at the sharp shift in his attitude. He had been so warm and friendly that morning. 

‘Is something wrong?’ Chivonn asked, and Lane shook his head.

‘Do I look alright?’ The words were out before Chivonn could prevent them.

‘Yes,’ Lane answered, afraid he wouldn’t be able to hide how he was beginning to feel about her.

Chivonn felt her spirits plummet. Lane looked so dashing in tan leather pants, jacket and Stetson and she wanted to tell him so. She just didn’t want to seem too forward, so she was quiet as they drove to the neighboring ranch. Her spirits recovered as they reached the ranch. Chivonn had never been to a Hoe Down, so she was visibly excited, despite Lane’s apparent change of mood. The music of the fiddles was infectious and Chivonn tapped her feet, wishing she could dance like the people on the barn floor.

‘Follow me,’ Lane said, as they joined the other dancers, and Chivonn allowed her body to move to the beat of the dancers’ feet and the rhythm of the fiddles. Lane was in his element, drawing the attention of the ladies and reveling in their adulation, much to Chivonn’s dismay. She had thought him different from other men who had been blessed with his flair and good looks, but he seemed to be just like the rest of them. She didn’t know that Lane was doing all he could to maintain the image people were familiar with; to prevent himself from the heartache of falling in love with her when he wasn’t sure if she would reciprocate his feelings.

The Barn seemed to fill up as the hours went by, and the buzz of laughter and conversation rose to a crescendo, when all at once, when the fiddlers needed a break, there were shouts of ‘Lane Hayes! Lane Hayes! Lane Hayes!’

Chivonn looked at Lane, wondering why the crowd was calling out for him. He shrugged and walked up to the stage, and much to Chivonn’s astonishment, began to strum a guitar that somebody thrust into his hands.

‘Friends,’ Lane said, his voice almost trembling with emotion, ‘y’all know I haven’t picked up a guitar in a while, or even been able to sing since that terrible day when my life was shattered. But today I have a new song that I’ve been working on and I sure hope you like it.’

‘
I’m only a simple cowboy who likes a glass of beer

That’s why you kind of took me by surprise

When you stepped into my heart, and all I wanted was to drink…

Drink from the beauty of your eyes

I cannot let you know me, cuz I’m scared of what you’ll see

That’s why I hide behind a big disguise

So I’ll take that glass of beer now, though all I want is to drink…

Drink from the beauty of your eyes…’

Chivonn didn’t hear the rest of the lyrics because the crowd was cheering Lane so loud, but the lyrics she had heard played over and over in her head until she was dizzy with an emotion she wasn’t willing to face.

‘And now, I have a friend who’s been visiting me this side of Alabama, and her name is Chivonn Byrd. And oh she sings so fine, does Chivonn, you won’t want her to stop singing!’ Lane was looking directly at her as he addressed the audience and Chivonn’s heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. Lane held the guitar out to her. ‘Come on up Chivonn Byrd, and show these guys what you’ve got!’

Chivonn wondered how she would follow the performance that Lane had just put up, but she hesitantly took the guitar from his hand and began to play. The crowd cheered her on and asked for more, and she went through her repertoire effortlessly, her audience worshipping her voice. Then she asked for Lane to join her and they sang a love song together. Lane wondered how he would keep his voice steady and Chivonn worried that at some point she would burst into tears. Lane was looking at her as they sang, and she was aware that the unspoken words in his eyes were reflected in her own. As the song was ending Lane’s eyes burned into hers, and she thought he might lean in and kiss her, but as he drew closer there was a shift in the atmosphere in the barn. A man was shouting obscenities at Chivonn and it was Bill.

‘Leave her alone, Bill,’ Lane said quietly.

‘Why? So you can have your way with her? If you haven’t already?’

‘Chivonn is a lady. But you couldn’t treat her like one now, could you?’

‘I treated her how she was meant to be treated!’ Bill shouted.

‘Oh, and how was she meant to be treated?’ Lane asked menacingly, advancing on Bill with flashing eyes.

‘Like every person who doesn’t share the color of my skin,’ Bill answered.

‘Oh really?’ Lane was closer to him now and Bill backed away, his hand on his holster. As Bill drew his pistol, Lane threw himself at him and pushed him to the ground. Once again Bill was no match for Lane.

‘I have my eyes on you, Lane Hayes!’ Bill said, as he stumbled out of the barn holding his bruised jaw.

CHAPTER IV

Chivonn lay sleepless in the darkness. It had been four days and four nights since Lane had said he had business to attend to and ridden away on Beaumont. He had told her she would be safe with Rosie and the ranch staff, but she was afraid – not just for her own safety but also for Lane’s. Bill was a dangerous man and he wouldn’t think twice about coming back to finish what he had started. Chivonn’s thoughts strayed back to that night at the Hoe Down. Lane had not said much after Bill left, and the emotion aroused by their duet, just before Bill’s intrusion, was like a tangible wall between them. When they drove back, Lane said he had business to attend to and had saddled Beaumont quickly and galloped away.

The masked men lurked in their usual hiding place, waiting for the vigilante cowboy to appear. Just as Lane had been tipped off about another planned hold up on the train, the masked men had been alerted that they might be prevented as on previous occasions. This time the Sheriff had insisted there be no excuses about an aborted heist, as he wanted what they owed him for turning a blind eye to their nocturnal activities, so they were determined to follow through with their plans and to take the vigilante cowboy out of the equation if they had to.

Lane heard the train chugging towards them as its plaintive whistle rent the silence of the Alabama countryside. He pulled his bandana up over his nose and waited for the thieves to ride towards the carriages. But as the shadowy figures emerged from the thickets, and Lane nudged Beaumont forward, he heard the sound of horses from behind him. Lane charged ahead, but the men turned away from the train and galloped towards him. He heard pursuers from behind him and to either side of him, and saw moonlight glance off their pistols. He turned Beaumont around and sped back the way he had come, but his pursuers began to fire. Bullets whizzed past his head and body, and he dodged them expertly, but he was outnumbered that night and one bullet caught him on the calf. Beaumont reared up in fright at the sound of the shot and his master’s anguished cry. Lane clung on to the reins and tried to get Beaumont’s forelegs back on the ground, but all to no avail. Beaumont reared up again, threw Lane off and bolted. His injury prevented Lane from running after Beaumont, and a rider caught up with him and pinned him down with one heavy boot.  Lane recognized Bill instantly as he leaned over him and jerked the bandana off his face.