Mallory & Kell
At long last, the ride-out with Miz Allie is upon Mallory. How can he let her down easy, without hurting her feelings? It doesn't seem possible.
The Courting Of Mallory, Part 4:
The Ride-Out
by Michael Sutch
Mallory's burst of self-confidence at besting Kell at target shooting was short-lived. The closer he got to town and Miz Allie, the more nervous and insecure he became. At the Holden house on the edge of town he nearly turned back to the ranch. The wheel-rutted dirt street and the weathered, gray wood of the many unpainted buildings suddenly seemed overwhelmingly drab and dreary as if life and color had been sucked out of everything he saw. Even the few people about were bloodless white and listless. Only a few raised a hand to him in desultory greeting. It was grim determination not to suffer the shame of failure that kept him moving toward the stable at the opposite side of town.
Miz Allie's bright red dress, peeking from beneath the satin-like black of the buggy's top, and her brayed, cheery 'Hello!' brought Mallory to himself.
"That's some fancy rig, Miz Allie!" he said in involuntary excitement.
Truly the new buggy was spectacular. The black satin top was convertable, up now against the heat of the day. The body gleamed with black paint and silver trim curlicues. The half doors were decorated with a silver crest that somehow wove a letter 'A' inside a celtic circle. Even the wheels with their bright black spokes had a repeat of the crest in white metal on the hub. A jet black horse strained impatiently against the silver harness and the tightly held white reins.
"Are you talking about my new dress, Mallory?" she asked coquettishly.
Mallory flushed. Miz Allie's red dress was etched in gold chinese ideograms and covered her from her black-shoed toe to a high-necked gold frill just below her narrow chin. Except for the exaggerated bustle the dress was relatively shapeless. Or perhaps, Mallory thought, it was just that she was relatively shapeless. Whichever, he was glad it covered her so completely. To top off her outfit she wore a wide-brimed, closely woven straw hat with a wide red headband of the same material as her dress. A long peacock feather was mounted in the headband and swept the inside of the buggy's satin top like a broom each time she turned her head.
"It's quite...well...fetching, Miz Allie."
"Oh, just Allie, Mallory, please. You'll make me sound like an old maid."
"Oh, sure. Sorry," he sputtered.
She patted the seat beside her and smiled in a way that made Mallory's heart writhe in fear. "Come, sit here and let's drive out to Rose Hill."
He dismounted and tied Windy to the back of the buggy. Then he climbed in. His weight made the little vehicle dip and Miz Allie slid toward him with an involuntary intake of breath. She gripped his arm with long, strong bony fingers to steady herself and smiled at him apologetically. But then she settled in as close as she could. He was glad he was wearing his gun belt because it kept her from resting her lanky thigh next to his. He cleared his throat, clucked at the black gelding and shook the fancy white leather reins. They started off down the street, Mallory staring grimly straight ahead. He didn't want to look at her for fear it might her encourage her to conversation.
"Nice day, isn't it?" she said.
"It is?"
Mallory looked around. The sun shone brightly. The sky was a brilliant blue and sported a few fluffy white clouds. Heat caused the air to shimmer in the distance over the Colorado prairie.
"I guess it is, at that." he said, though he felt betrayed by its friendly beauty.
They rode out of town with Miss Allie chattering gaily. Mallory replied in monosyllables when it seemed he must. The farther they went and the more she talked, the more it seemed to him that the sun dimmed and the color went out of the world.
Two miles out of town a small trail branched right and headed west. Mallory directed the gelding into the turn. He looked ahead along the irregular track perhaps a quarter of a mile to where a line of cottonwoods and elms curled sinuously along the banks of Bitter Creek. Beyond the creek rose a low ridge, the crowning point of which was Rose Hill.
Mallory swallowed on a throat suddenly gone dry as a gulch canyon.
"What's them tracks?" Miz Allie asked.
"Tracks?" He looked at the ground they were passing over and saw it was torn up with the prints of a multitude of horses.
"Unshod." They said that word together.
He drew back on the reins, bringing the buggy to a stop.
"Wild horses?" he asked.
"Nope," she answered him. "There's moccasin scuffs there...and over there."
He looked where she pointed, saw the faint imprint of moccasin-clad feet, and looked back at her with new respect for her sharp eyesight. Then the import hit him.
"Indians! But they're all on the reservation. Unless..."
He reached for his pistol but found the holster empty. Miz Allie was holding the gun in her left hand with competent authority.
"Quit dithering, Mallory," she snapped. "Help me down."
"That's my pistol, Miz Allie. I'm familiar with it. Perhaps it would be better if you let me have it back."
"I've seen you shoot and I'm a better shot than you are. If any of them savages are around here they'll be missing a few eyes before I'm done."
Mallory, nonplused, wasn't able to think of anything to say.
"Now, help me down," she repeated.
He looked down at her high-heeled shoes. "Those shoes..."
"Right you are," she said, and with two quick movements shucked the shoes, revealing pristine white stockings.
When she was out of the buggy Miz Allie bent over at the waist, because she couldn't kneel in the constricting dress, and studied the hoof prints in the red dirt of the wagon track. Her position made the bustle of her dress waggle in the air above her backside while her head bobbed down toward the ground with each attempt to view a hoof print or moccasin scruff. She looked remarkably like an old hen pecking at seeds and clucking to herself. Mallory managed to suppress an outright laugh only because of the potential seriousness of their situation.
"At least a day old, maybe more," she said, straightening up and joining Mallory in scanning the horizon. "They went north. Likely long gone by now."
"What tribe?" he asked.
She looked at him like he was witless. "A hoof print is a hoof print and a moccasin is a moccasin. I ain't a medicine show mystic."
While he scowled at that she handed him the pistol, butt first. He holstered it, scowling even more fiercely. Her brown eyes watched him with a raptor's gaze and her narrow lips widened in a smile.
"You shouldn't take a man's weapon like that," he said. He was surprised at the gritty anger in his voice.
"I've seen you shoot," she said again in the same dismissive tone she had used earlier.
He felt a flush spread over his face. Then, remembering how he had bested Kell that morning, he said, "I hit what I'm aiming at."
"Sure you do, if it ain't moving and doesn't take a notion to mosey on for an hour or so."
"And you could do better?"
"Well," she said and took a moment to study the surrounding area, "see that pile of horse turds there about twenty yards up the road?"
He nodded.
She came to him and cuddled close in on his right side, looking up from under the brim of her hat with a smile that showed crooked teeth. He stepped back with an involuntary shudder and when he did she drew the pistol from his holster with her left hand. The movement was as swift and smooth as Kell's best. She fired three times in rapid succession. The first shot exploded the top horse dropping. The next two obliterated those which had supported the first. Without a pause she slapped the gun back into his holster.
He looked at the reduced pile of horse apples for a long time.
"They weren't moving," he said.
She laughed. "If you want me to shoot moving turds you'll have to go toss a couple in the air."
"I'll take your word for it. You know, Miz Allie..."
"Allie."
"Uh, Allie, I think we should go on to Rose Hill and see if we can spot any more Indian sign."
"Why, Mallory," she leaned into him, her breath warm on his neck when she spoke. It was curiously sweet and minty breath. "I do admire a man with initiative."
His hackles rose and he retreated from her abruptly. "Why, I didn't mean...I just thought...I mean, we might see..."
"Quit sputterin', Mal, for pity's sake," said a voice behind them.
Mallory turned, instinctively reaching for his pistol, only to find Miz Allie already had it pointed at the figure slouched against the buggy. Kell pushed his Stetson back on his head allowing a lock of red hair to escape down his forehead. He grinned at them.
"Kell, what are you doing out here?"
"Spying on us." Miz Allie said. There was a loud, unmistakable click when she cocked the pistol.
Kell dropped the his horse's reins and raised his hands. "Miz Allie," he said with considerable earnestness. "I swear that wasn't what I was doin'. In town someone was sayin' they'd seen Indian sign out this way. And I came to warn you two."
"But I got to tell you," he went on, "I'm thinkin' it would be the Indians'd need to worry. I swear I ain't never seen a better bit of shootin' in my life."
Kell was watching Miz Allie with an avid intentness that Mallory had never witnessed in his friend. He glanced at Miz Allie as she uncocked the pistol and handed it back to him and saw that she was blushing. Mallory closed his mouth in utter surprise. Then he reconsidered. He faced Kell straight on.
"Well, you warned us Kell. Now you can ride back to town. Allie asked me to ride out with her."
Kell glared at him. "You ain't got no brand on her, Mal."
Beside him, Miz Allie shivered, causing her bustle to rustle the fabric of her dress. Her homely face was alight with pleasure.
"Now boys..."
"Miz Allie..."
"Kell, really, you'll make me feel like an old maid."
"Oh, well, Allie. I just got to ask: who was it taught you shootin'?"
"It was because of the rattlesnakes, you see. I hate rattlesnakes and my pa and Mr. Goodnight..."
"Charles Goodnight? You know him?"
"My pa was a wrangler on Mr. Goodnight's ranch. So..."
"Do you think you could teach me to shoot like that?"
"Well. You are quick, Kell. With more natural talent than Mallory."
"Everbody on this Earth's got more aptitude than Mallory."
Mallory faded back to the buggy and untied Windy. He looped the reins of Kell's Thunder there instead.
"But Mallory is so sweet and nice and..."
"Boring." Kell said.
Mallory flushed a little when he heard Miz Allie giggle. He rode back to town shaking his head. People plum amazed him.
The end
(c) 2014 by Michael Sutch
