Sweet Cherry Ray Read online

  Copyright © 2011

  Sweet Cherry Ray by Marcia Lynn McClure

  www.marcialynnmcclure.com

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the contents of this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any part or by any means without the prior written consent of the author and/or publisher.

  Published by Distractions Ink

  P.O. Box 15971

  Rio Rancho, NM 87174

  ©Copyright 2008, 2011 by M. L. Meyers

  A.K.A. Marcia Lynn McClure

  Cover Photography by © Steven Cukrov/Dreamstime.com

  and © Javarman/Dreamstime.com

  Cover Design by Sheri L. Brady

  MightyPhoenixDesignStudio.com

  First Printed Edition: 2011

  All character names and personalities in this work of fiction

  are entirely fictional, created solely in the imagination of the author.

  Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

  McClure, Marcia Lynn, 1965—

  Sweet Cherry Ray: a novella/by Marcia Lynn McClure.

  Printed in the United States of America

  In Loving Memory of My Beloved Grandmother,

  Opal Edith Switzler States

  I miss you every day…

  Chapter One

  “Riding Old Red bareback with the wind blowing my hair, I drew the trusty peacemaker what had belonged to my pa,” Cherry Ray read aloud. She felt her eyes widen with excitement—her heartbeat quickened with delicious anticipation. Rolling over onto her stomach, Cherry was barely conscious of the soft pasture grass beneath her as she continued to read.

  “You’ll never take me alive, Arizona Bill!” I hollered as a bullet whistled past my right ear. Knowing Old Red would gallop straight and true, I turned in the saddle and took my aim. Squeezing my Colt trigger, I watched as Arizona Bill lurched back in the saddle. His pony slid to a stop, reared, and threw the outlaw to the ground. But my ma didn’t raise a fool! I was alone, and Arizona Bill’s gang rode hard and fast. If I didn’t ride on…if’n I stayed to make certain Arizona Bill was dead…they’d sure as heck catch me.

  Cherry smiled as she paused to listen to a meadowlark whistle from a nearby pine tree. The Oklahoma Jenny dime novel in her hands was one of Cherry’s true delights. She owned several Oklahoma Jennys—much to Mrs. Blakely’s disapproval—but she guessed Oklahoma Jenny and Arizona Bill was just about her favorite Oklahoma Jenny adventure. Cherry continued reading.

  “Come on, Old Red,” I said to my pony. “Let’s get on in to Green River before them outlaws find out we done in their boss,” Old Red and I understood each other, and the minute I was settled right in the saddle, Old Red bolted. We rode like the wind, Old Red and me. No Arizona Bill or his gang would catch us that day, for Green River was only five miles yonder. Green River meant safety and good, loyal lawmen. Even for being pursued by Arizona and his gang, I couldn’t keep my mind off Green River and its handsome sheriff. It’d been three weeks since I’d seen Sheriff Tate. I wondered if the bullet old Doc Whitfield dug outta Sheriff Tate’s shoulder…the bullet Arizona Bill had put there with his Winchester…I wondered if that bullet was still in Sheriff Tate’s pocket. I wondered if Sheriff Tate would wink at me the way he’d done so many times in the past. I wondered if he’d wink at me and say, “Hey, there, Jenny. What might ya think about a-marryin’ up with me?” I smiled and told Old Red to get to a faster gallop. For Sheriff Tate I would hang up my gun. Me…Oklahoma Jenny…I’d take to being his wife like fleas take to nippin’ a hound! Indeedy I would.

  “Cherry? Cherry Ray!” It was Mrs. Blakely. It seemed like Mrs. Blakely was always hollering from the house for Cherry.

  Breathing a heavy sigh of disappointment, she closed her tattered copy of Oklahoma Jenny and Arizona Bill begrudgingly and raised herself from the fragrant pasture grasses. She placed the book inside a weathered tin box where she kept her Oklahoma Jennys. Closing the lid, she pushed the box into the hollow of a nearby tree.

  “Comin’, Mrs. Blakely,” Cherry called.

  “Hurry on, Cherry! Your pa’s fixin’ to leave,” Mrs. Blakely called.

  “I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” she shouted.

  Cherry tied her long brown hair up in a knot at the back of her head as she walked to where her pa was waiting with the wagon.

  “Here ya go, girl,” Arthur Ray said, handing a weathered hat to his daughter. Cherry climbed up onto the wagon seat beside him.

  Pulling the hat onto her head, she said, “Thanks, Pa.” Adjusting the hat so it sat low enough to cover her eyebrows, Cherry returned her pa’s loving smile.

  “That girl needs to be in skirts and petticoats, Arthur,” Mrs. Blakely said, wagging a scolding index finger at the man.

  “Ain’t no need fer Cherry to be draggin’ any attention to herself in town these days, Fiona.”

  Cherry smiled at her pa. Oh, she knew her pa had her dressing in men’s blue jeans, boots, shirts, and hats in order to keep her from being noticed by the likes of Black Jack Haley and his outfit. Still, she liked to imagine her own pa was like Oklahoma Jenny’s—allowing her to run as untamed and free as any wild mustang.

  “She’s a woman, Arthur,” Mrs. Blakely reminded.

  Cherry sighed and rolled her eyes. Oh, she loved Mrs. Blakely well enough, and she was thankful her pa had found such a grandmotherly old woman to cook for the ranch hands and help with the house. White-haired, leathery, and as scrawny as any old polecat, Mrs. Blakely was a hard woman. Yet hard women were the ones that survived hard living. Cherry stared at Mrs. Blakely for a moment. Yep—she could well imagine Fiona Blakely shooting rabbits for supper while riding a barebacked pony. For all she knew, Fiona Blakely had been the inspiration for the Oklahoma Jenny dime novels. Therefore, Cherry always convinced herself to be patient with Mrs. Blakely. After all, every old woman had once been a young one.

  “And she needs to be dressin’ like a woman,” Mrs. Blakely added.

  “She does,” Arthur Ray said. “Every Sunday.”

  “We’ll see ya fer supper, Mrs. Blakely,” Cherry said as her pa slapped the lines at the backs of the team.

  The team lurched forward, and Cherry smiled as Mrs. Blakely waved, still shaking her head.

  “She’s right, ya know. Ya are a woman, Cherry.”

  She shrugged. “I know it. But yer the one who—”

  “I know it,” he interrupted. “And as long as Black Jack and his boys are a-ridin’ through town every week or so…well, I’d just as soon have you blendin’ in. There’s plenty of fillies in town those ol’ boys sent to sobbin’ with their outlaw words and ways. You just keep blendin’ in all easy and such—for now—for yer old pa’s sake.”

  “You bet,” Cherry said, smiling brightly as she hooked her arm in his and rested her head on her pa’s strong shoulder.

  Cherry sighed, contented for a moment. Still, as she glanced down to the pinned-up trouser leg hanging off the wagon seat, her smile faded. Having lost his left leg in the war between the states, it was quite a miracle that Arthur Ray had built such a successful cattle ranch. Cherry’s mind wandered to the pair of crutches she knew were in the wagon bed behind them. A little whisper of doubt and insecurity pricked at her heart. Arthur Ray was growing weaker and weaker. Every year his dark hair seemed sprinkled with more gray, and his using his crutches appeared more and more difficult.

  Cherry’s mother had died when she was a baby, leaving her cherished pa as the only parent she had ever known. Her pa had never remarried; thus Cherry was without any siblings for company. At times, a dark, foreboding feeling would envelop Cherry’s heart—a fear of losing her pa, o
f being left all alone in the world. Yet she always managed to chase the bad feelings away and linger on the good. Mrs. Blakely said she was “an eternal optimist.” It always bothered her—the way Mrs. Blakely said it—as if it were a bad thing. Well, it wasn’t! Why not see the good in everything? What benefit was there in walking around with a scowl and always expecting things to go wrong all the time? Nope. For Cherry Ray, life was good, exciting, one big adventure.

  “Seems Black Jack ain’t been in town for near two weeks,” Arthur said.

  “So I hear.”

  “Wonder what he’s been up to.”

  “May be he’s moved on,” she answered. “Mighta found some other town to linger in between robbin’s and killin’s.”

  Arthur Ray shook his head. “Naw,” he mumbled. “More’n likely he’s hidin’ out a bit. Some old boys robbed a bank in San Antone, and I’m guessing it was Black Jack and his bunch.”

  “Did they kill anybody this time?”

  “Yep. Two deputies and a Texas Ranger—way I heard it anyway,” he said.

  Cherry shivered as a chill ran the length of her spine. She’d seen Black Jack Haley and his boys plenty of times in town. Heck, several times she’d even exchanged a “howdy” with him. Still, everybody knew there were twenty notches on his pistol—one notch for each man he’d murdered. Cherry wondered if Black Jack was hiding out somewhere adding more notches.

  “Do ya think anybody will ever catch him, Pa? Will anybody ever get him to jail or hung?”

  Arthur Ray shook his head. “If’n I was younger and still had two good legs about me, I’d do it myself for sure. But the lawmen in this town are cowards. It’s a wonder there’s any order at all. Why, when I was rangerin’, we’d a hung him high by now. Lawmen are gettin’ too soft these days—too fearful.”

  “I heard someone say Black Jack was born in Blue Water and that’s why he leaves us all purty well alone.”

  Arthur chuckled and looked to his daughter. “Who told ya that, girl?”

  “Ol’ Lefty.”

  “Lefty Pierce? I swear, Cherry—I don’t know what ya see in that old feller. He’s as ornery as a mule and near as ugly.”

  “But he was young once, Pa…and he knows a heap about things ’round here in Blue Water,” Cherry explained.

  Arthur chuckled. “That he does,” he said. “That he does. He’s right about Black Jack too. That old outlaw was born and raised right here in Blue Water. Took to robbin’ trains and banks after all his kin died, a-leavin’ him orphaned. Weren’t enough money in cowboyin’…and it’s too hard a work for a devil like Black Jack.”

  “Well, I’m just glad he leaves us all be,” she said. “Wouldn’t do to have an outlaw hangin’ ’round that didn’t feel some sort of loyalty to the town.”

  “Oh, but outlaws is outlaws for a reason, Cherry. There ain’t no trustin’ ’em. They’ll turn on ya quicker’n any rattler. That’s why you and me—that’s why we just lay low whenever Black Jack and his boys are hangin’ ’round here.”

  Cherry looked at her pa. His brow was furrowed with a deep frown, his face too stern and red for his insides to be calm.

  “It gives ya fits, don’t it, Pa?” she asked. “Not bein’ able to take ol’ Black Jack and his boys to jail.”

  “It does at that, Cherry,” he admitted. “And if it weren’t for worryin’ over what might happen to you—well, I’m still a better shot than any of them old boys. I’d drop Black Jack myself—if I was one hundred percent sure that I still could.”

  “Someone will drop him one day, Pa. Don’t you worry,” she said, smiling at her pa and tucking his hair behind his ear. “You need a trim. Yer lookin’ about like that ol’ shaggy mutt we used to have when I was little.”

  “Ol’ Nobby?” he chuckled. “Well if’n yer thinkin’ I’m lookin’ like Ol’ Nobby, then I had better pay a visit to the barber while I’m in town.”

  Cherry smiled and inhaled a deep breath. Oh, how delicious the day smelled! The warm breeze through the pasture grass lent such a fragrance to the air—the fragrance of heaven itself! The sun shone bright and hot, and Cherry wished she could ride without her hat. She grimaced at the feel of the perspiration collecting on her forehead. She hated the old hat her pa had given her to wear. How she wished she could dress up in pretty dresses, hot-iron her hair into soft curls the way the other young women in town did. Still, she thought of the twenty notches on Black Jack’s pistol and sighed, resigned to remaining as unnoticeable as possible.

  

  Blue Water seemed to be bustling more than usual. Of course, Blue Water always did bustle when Black Jack and his boys were away. It seemed folks’ hearts were lighter and felt more like doing when the outlaws weren’t in town.

  As her pa drove the wagon down the main street, Cherry smiled and waved when Billy Parker waved both hands at her with delight.

  “Ma’s got a new litter of kittens in the shed,” the tall, gangly young man called. “Ya want I should save ya one, Cherry?”

  She nodded, but her pa answered, “Cherry don’t need no more animals, Billy. She’s already got a smelly dog and one plum cantankerous ol’ tom out in the barn.”

  “Well, sure he’s cantankerous, Mr. Ray,” Billy said. “He’s in need of a wife to keep him company.”

  “No more varmints, Billy. Especially cats,” Arthur said.

  But as her pa looked away, Cherry smiled and nodded at the boy.

  “Save me a female,” she mouthed to him.

  “Sure thing,” Billy mouthed back, smiling and nodding his head with assurance.

  “Now don’t ya go draggin’ one of Parker’s cats on home, Cherry Ray,” her pa chuckled. “Stanky don’t like cats the way it is.”

  “Well, Stanky will just hafta learn to,” she said. “Besides, that ol’ dog wouldn’t even have a home if Lefty Pierce hadn’t a given him to me. Ol’ Lefty was gonna drown him in the creek! And don’t try to tell me you don’t love him, Pa. He’s the best cattle dog in the county!”

  Arthur smiled and nodded. “That he is…even if he does only have three legs.”

  Arthur halted the team in front of the general store.

  “Hey there, Arthur,” Otis Hirsch greeted. Tipping his hat to Cherry, Otis reached into the wagon and pulled out Arthur’s crutches. “I got them books in ya ordered last month.”

  “Dang time,” Arthur said as he scooted across the wagon seat and hopped out of the wagon.

  “Yeah, they took a piece a time gettin’ here,” Otis said as he handed Arthur his crutches.

  “Cherry!” Billy Parker called. Cherry smiled as she saw the young man and his younger brother and sister run up behind the wagon. “Ya gotta come with us, Cherry,” Billy said.

  “Yeah!” his sister Laura added. “We found somethin’ you just gotta see!”

  “What’s that?” Cherry asked.

  “A dried-up ol’ coyote,” Billy’s younger brother, Pocket, answered.

  “Dried up?” she asked.

  “We figure it musta crawled into that ol’ abandoned shed just outside of town and died and just dried up,” Billy explained. “It’s still got hair on it and skin and everything, but it’s as dried up as an old apple core.”

  As Laura took Cherry’s hand and began tugging on it, Arthur called, “Where ya off to, Cherry? I don’t want to linger too long.”

  “Just goin’ over to see a dried-up coyote, Pa,” she answered. “I won’t be long.”

  She giggled as she heard Mr. Hirsch ask, “A dried-up coyote?”

  “How long do ya think it’s been in there, Cherry? How long do ya think it would take to dry up a coyote?” Billy asked.

  Billy Parker was what Cherry’s pa called “an inquisitive youth.” Billy was forever searching for adventure, entertainment, or anything else to keep his mind and body occupied. He was five years younger than Cherry but a handsome enough lad. Cherry figured Billy Parker would have broken every silly girl’s heart in Blue Water by the time he was twenty. Yet, to Cherry,
Billy was like the little brother she’d never had. She was fond of Pocket and Laura too. They were good kids.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Cherry said as she followed the children to the abandoned shed outside of town. “Seems to me it would take awhile for it to dry all the way up though.”

  “There weren’t much rain last summer,” Pocket said.

  “Maybe it was sick or wounded or somethin’ and was just lookin’ for a place to heal up,” Laura said.

  “Maybe,” she said.

  The shed outside of town was hardly a shed at all. As Cherry followed the children inside, she smiled. She’d wandered into the old shed a time or two when she had been a child. Overgrown with honeysuckle and void of one wall, the shed had always interested her. Who had owned it? Who had owned the piano that had once resided in the old mouse-ridden piano crate inside the shed?

  “Right there,” Billy said, pointing to a far corner of the shed near the old piano crate. “See it?”

  “It’s a coyote, ain’t it?” Pocket asked.

  Cherry frowned and squinted, trying to see into the darkened corner. She could see the dried-out carcass of an animal all right. Curled up as if it had just gone to sleep, the animal’s body was completely dehydrated—mummified in a manner. Patches of fur still clung to the leathered skin. The skin had dried and now shrunk against the bones until the shape and outline of ribs, the skull, and every other part of the skeleton were visible. The flesh of the animal had receded from its mouth, and the revealed teeth made the pitiful creature appear as if it still snarled in death.

  “I do wonder how long it’s been there,” Cherry mused.

  “Quite awhile, I’d say,” Billy mumbled.

  Cherry felt her eyes widen. The carcass intrigued her.

  “Hand me that ol’ pitchfork in the corner there, Billy,” she said.

  “Whatcha plannin’, Cherry?” Pocket asked.

  “Let’s get it out of here to where we can see it better,” she explained.