Winding Creek Pt. 03 - Marriage

The Reverend Stouts made quite the fuss over Miss Debra and her two daughters on their arrival to the church. With warm smiles n pleasantries' n such, he took each of the lady's hands in both of his in turn as he found something special about each of them to comment on. He waited 'til he saw Lucas Blake near enter town before inquirin' about his health and return to the ranch.

"And how is Lucas Miss Debra?"

The smartly dressed woman, including hat today, smiled.

"He is soon to be my son-in-law and Linda's husband Reverend."

"Is that a fact."

She smiled.

"We'd like you to come to the ranch next Saturday to perform the ceremony... Late morning, say ten... Then we'll serve lunch."

The longest residing spiritual leader of Winding Creek was relieved they hadn't asked to use the church; gossip n all. How many years had those two been raised together?

"I'll be there early to offer counsel and answer any questions the young couple might have."

"Thank you, Reverend. It will be easier for my husband to attend at home and with all the goings on, J.D. thinks we should keep it private. Just family and possibly a few invited friends..."

The middle-aged man for the first time truly looked at J.D.s wife. The strength in her request and confidence in her sky-blue eyes made it plain she were back.

"...and I trust Ben, when you make their announcement in church, you will make J.D.s wishes 'pleasantly' clear."

"Of course, of course. I'll be sure no one takes offense."

The good reverend forced a smile as he continued to nod in agreement. Things were about to change, maybe with all hell breakin' lose right along with it. He looked at J.D.s family; Tiffany remained quiet, clearly dressed in mourning in a near black crepe dress and a stained to black head scarf hiding her soft features. He then turned his attention to Linda, the 'tom boy' and youngest daughter of J.D.'s clan.

"I think it might be time you get out of them buckskin britches I've seen you in Missy. You have to learn to be a lady now and then a good wife. Might be a change you'll fancy."

His offered smile was met with a mixture of the cool airs of her mother and a fire in her eyes; same as her fathers.

"My husband is the only man that'll have any say in what I wear..."

"Linda Jean."

Her mothers voice cut her short. Those flashing dark eyes turned away, again lookin' fer Patch, now being led by Luke down and across the street towards the Sheriff's office...

"It's okay Lucas. They're both unarmed."

Sheriff Bertrum Rivers, now clean shaven and sportin' a new thin striped red n white shirt, stepped from behind his desk n ever so slightly in front of Lucas Blake. The two men that had raised up when Lucas entered, looked at the sheriff, n then slowly set.

"I went to see'm when they buried Jack and askt them to be here today Lucas... Try n clear the air a byt if we ken."

Lucas's attention was dead set on with Mathew Billings. Not tall, not short. Sandy hair. Unwavering, inspectin' eyes.

"I do not carry a gun Mr. Blake and Tom has left his and our rifles with our horses at the livery."

Luke quickly glanced at Tom and then back. The farmer spoke softly.

"I-I'm glad your back Lucas."

Still square shouldered and thick, his carrot-colored hair was now slicked back same as Mathews. He rose and extended his hand. Lucas stepped deeper into the room, avoidin' the extended hand n keepin' his focus on Mathew Billings.

Grey waist coat and pants, blue n silver vest over a wide, yeller knotted tie. The cuffs of his fancy shirt were startin' to fray and his dusty, worn-heeled boots plain. He looked like a man tryin' to make an impression. Then, a nervous tick.

"May I ask how Little Jack and his mother are doing?"

J.D. flared up inside Luke.

"John n Miss Tiffany are doing well no thanks to her now dead husband or 'is family. Time to ask that question shoulda been long 'fore now."

"That woman run off Mr. Blake."

Lucas let the air slip slowly from his lungs.

"That woman... A mother... Had to leave her home in the middle of the night carryin' her child and with a blacked eye. God only knows whatever else scared 'er bad enough to make her do it."

"That woman hid in the barn and when no one cared to go looking for her, headed..."

Later, Lucas nor anyone else ever knew where Sheriff Rivers got the backbone to step into their discussion at that perticular moment, but 'e did.

"Gen'lemen please, let's try n keep this 'ere talk civil now."

Charles Taylor began running through Luke's head. He needed to slow down. Easing back against the edge of the sheriff's wooden desk, Luke held Billings dismissive eyes, his now open coat ment to expose the Walker Colt. The man sitting not more 'n six feet away shifted just a bit. Lucas made note of polished steel catching the late mornin' light that briefly betrayed its presence. The sheriff lowered his voice sum and continued.

"Miss Tiffany is not the reason I askt fer you three to meet here taday."

"But ask you did Sheriff."

Bert Rivers was rapidly seein' the feelin's between the two men weren't gonna be settled easy. These two young bucks were gonna lock horns come hell or high water. He tried another tact.

"M'ybe Judge Pickett can settle your differences."

"Ain't no differences to settle Bert. I had reason to kill Jack Seasons. I'd do the same thing tomorrow or the next day or the week after that..."

He gave Billings a dismissive look.

"...I'll be askin' the Judge for a hearing concernin' the shootin'. I want legal record fer John when he gets to askin' questions n not dependin' on anyone else's remembrances; plain n simple sheriff. Clear as that."

The sheriff looked at Mathew Billings. Nothin' were settled 'cept they might wait til the Judge could sit n try ta reason with 'em.

"That suit you, Mathew?"

"Right down to my boots sheriff."

"Then there'll be no gun play?"

"Like I said sheriff, I do not carry a weapon. I simply have no need."

Mathew Billings took the tall beaver hat resting on his knee and placed it at a slight angle on his head before standin'.

"We'll wait for the Judge sheriff. And if there is no more business to discuss..."

He looked at Tom who rose slowly and then moved toward the door. Mathew Billings followed three steps behind and as he passed, his right hand darted inside his waist coat. Lucas snared his hand; side stepped n spun him face first onto the desks top with Lukes right hand now firmly attached to the back of his neck. The sound of bone strikin' oak followed by the grey suited man's groan filled the stunned room. Luke threw his weight up and onto the balls of his feet, taking Billings left hand with him. The sound of the now defeated man's shoulder seperatin' mixed with the blood-filled cry that erupted from somewheres deep in Billings chest.

"Lucas gawd dammit!"

Sheriff Rivers had stepped back at the sudden commotion and watched as Mathew Billings hate twist'd features were slammed into the top of his desk. He made effort to grab his own pistol in the part open second drawer but had backed to far away to do it. Luke had control of the badly hurt man now through his damaged left arm n ruint shoulder. Releasing the back of his neck, Luke lifted the back of the grey coat exposing the now empty sheath of the nine-inch hunting knife trapped under Billings right hand.

"No weapon."

Luke jerked his knee up brutally inta the side of the bent over n pinned man. The fast rushin' air that spill't outta Mathews lungs rippled over the growin' pool of blood under 'is face from a broke nose n several lost teeth. Takin' his own steel knife from it's place and rollin' it in his hand, Luke lifted it high and buried near n inch of it in the worn desktop 'tween the bones in the back of Mathew Billings right hand, sendin' his knife skitterin' across the floor.

"L-Lucas please... That's enough."

Luke didn't look at the of the boy he growed up with.

"You were gonna help 'im kill me Trombley."

What little color left in Toms face drain't faster then the blood flowin' from his brother-in-law's nose n mouth.

"I..."

Tom Trombley, never much more n boy tryin' to please, shook his head.

"I din'et know Lucas. No sir... I swear I din'et know."

Bert Rivers had finally collected his pistol. It jist hung in his hand at his side.

"I'm sorry Lucas. I were only tryin' to help..."

He brushed at the fresh spatterin's of red on his new shirt.

"...I-I damn near got ya killt."

The room started to turn in Luke's eyes. He felt tired... Weak. The last thing he saw was Bert reachin' fer 'im. The last thing he heard was Tom callin' fer the Doc...

Tiffany Ann Seasons found it hard returning to the 'here n now' as Lucas had asked. Now there was no choice. Sitting on the porch next to her father and as John's strengthening hands searched for more milk from her breast, she found little comfort in the rare, slow cooling breeze of late morning. Things were moving along almost as fast for her as when she and Jake had eloped.

Since Luke's return after what seemed like forever, n just like he'd changed their lives all those years ago... He was changing them again. He hadn't set boots under his own table on his return, choosing to protect her sullied reputation and the family's honor first.

Then on their first trip to town, when her mother saw Patch and all the excitement in front of Bert's office, she'd pulled the carriage up short and ordered Linda to take John before telling Tiffany to follow. Miss Debra and she had simply brushed past the men who tried to stop them from entering the Sheriff's office; her mother asking that they 'keep an eye on Linda and John in the carriage'. When the two women saw Lucas sprawled on the floor with a knife wound under his ribs and then slicing upward across his chest, Miss Debra sent Tiffany for the 'special needle and thread' from Nelsons. Then to no one in particular she heard her mother call out.

"I'll need a flat iron, red hot!"

Edith Nelson had added two bottles of laudanum with the special treated thread and needle set. She'd asked twice that Lucas knowd she'd sent it. The dark bottles of laudanum brought back memories that Tiffany had no time for now...

On her return, she saw her mother telling the young man pressing the leavings of Luke's shirt n broad cloth coat against his wounds.

"Tighter. We have to stop the bleeding."

Then looking up at Tiffany.

"I need you to find me a rider that knows south canyon and hopefully Luis Tee."...

In less than ten hours later, Luis Tee was standing near Miss Debra and 'Smoke' Garcia was planted at the jail's front door. Folks knew Luis Tee, though none well enough to utter more than a passing greeting. Both men were well armed. The presence of the man called 'Smoke' had the men uneasy; the women just plain afraid. A broad muscular fellow wearin' a wide brimmed hat, he filled the doorway. His dark expression never changed. Stone faced, droopy style mustache and brooding black eyes that were ever watching; most fig'red it better ta just stay clear of him.

Bert Rivers had done his best to act like a Sheriff during all the hubbub. He'd shoo off on lookers before being coaxed into telling the story for the umpteenth time of how Mathew Billings had tried to kill Lucas Blake right there in his jail. There were calls for a hanging, but Miss Debra asked they wait til Judge Pickett arrived in the next week or so. Luis Tee, standing next to her, arms folded over his chest, looked ready to answer any thought's that might be offered to the blood-stained woman in response.

Linda tended Luke exactly like her mother told her to, never leaving his side for even a moment. After all, it was Miss Debra's stitching and a watching ranch-hands flat iron pressed against the wound under his ribs that slowed and then stopped Luke's bleeding. Linda would sleep with her cheek and arms over her sleeping man's thighs for the next three days n nights, the town's gossip be damned.

Luis Tee had stayed in town with Miss Debra n Linda when Smoke and she had returned to the ranch. Smoke kept a close eye on her and did whatever else Luis Tee had told him to do. Upon Tiffs return home, J.D. hadn't moved the entire time they'd been gone, the only evidence of their absence were the fresh stains in his buckskins.

There being no one else to talk to and with her constant chatter to try n avoid the quiet; Tiffany slowly earned a thank you instead of the usual grunt from Smoke when she brought his meals and placed them on the small table on the porch. Smoke never entered the house. When he made repairs or did chores, his wide bladed hunting knife was boldly tucked into the red sash wrapped around his waist; His flint lock rifle were always near. Tiffany felt a strange sense of security when the dark faced man would move from one side of the house to the other to keep an eye on her in which ever direction she might go. She cared for J.D. n John n kept on with what wedding preperations she could. Her mother wouldn't even consider delaying her sister n Lukes wedding.

Even with so much to do, she still struggled with packing memories away. Some were like yesterday in her mind, and she feared always would be. Even the return of Lucas and the ominous presence of Smoke Garcia were not able to chase some of those fears away...

Lucas had been gone less than a month when Jack Seasons came calling. He cut a rather dashing figure with his hair slicked back n in what looked to be a new bluebird colored waist coat, wide stripped pants and beaver hat. An arm full of fresh-cut garden flowers made his intentions clear well before he asked to speak to J.D. on his arrival to the ranch. Their meeting was short. J.D. had made it clear he had little use for the braggart n no intention of allowin' him to court his oldest daughter. He relented when Tiffany had intervened, her mamas' blue eyes lookin up him, wide n pleadin'.

She'd always been blinded by the Jacks bravado n then even more so as they courted with his sworn promises to show her more than Winding Creek. When J.D. steadfastly refused to give his daughter permission to marry, the two eloped.

"What's your father going to do, make his daughter a widow?"

The wedding was nothing like she'd always dreamed of n the honeymoon, a continuing struggle for the then innocent and enthralled beauty.

Jack had started nipping from a flask he'd hid in his coat as soon as they'd left the church. He paraded her through the small town of Gonzales like a prize horse, bragging to anyone that might listen he just married the best-looking woman in the whole damn territory.

Tiffany had blushed when he 'd done it, prideful of her new husband's boast. When they finally got to their small, rented room, he made it a point to show her he was locking the door. Suddenly quiet, he looked at her n demanded she 'git neckid' as he leaned against the door to watch. She'd been stunned by the sudden change in the man she just promised to love, honor and obey for the rest of her life. His face had darkened, the threat in his eyes obvious.

"I said strip woman. I want to see what's mine... And just so you know, I'll be 'havin'' what's mine real often."

She took a step back. Then staring at the floor, fussed with the catches behind her neck on the high collared dress.

"Been waiting on this a long time Tiff. Always fancied you; Corn silk hair and big, ol' sky-blue eyes... Nice titties... Nuthin' but the best fer a Seasons as my Daddee uset ta say."

He wet his lips as he stared, his voice low, yet near joyful.

"I shoulda been fuckin' you years ago girl n I would a been if it weren't for that orphaned bastard J.D. dragged home... We mite even had us a boy by now."

She looked at him as he sorted a long, thick cigar from an inside pocket; bit off the end n then pointed it at her.

"Bought this when Luke run off. Cost me near a dollar. Knew then what I were goin' to do... "

He looked up n down at the girl struggling to undress.

"... ben thinkn' n rethinkin' it over n over ever since... What I were going to do... N how'd I were gonna do it."

A slow smile split his face. She looked away as she finally tugged her arms free of her dress. The bone ribbed corset slowly followed the three petticoats she wore to fill out the long dresses bottom. Covered only by her new white chamise, she bent to remove her best leather shoes and knit socks to stand between Jack and the brass bed on the bare wooden floor.

"Look at me Tiff."

She turned her eyes up.

"Now give me that smile like you use to when Luke weren't around."

There were a catch in her breath before trying to do as he asked; her former excitement n wonder now mixing with fear and apprehension. She wanted to turn away... Away from the eyes that blazed with want and need; a new look she would learn n know well until he were well satisfied.

A bolt of lightning shot through her as she slipped the wide straps of the chamois off her shoulders, down her arms and slowly exposed her breasts n their wide, puffy pink nipples. She watched as he inhaled slowly, studying things no one except her mother or sister had ever seen; N never like this.

"Finish Tiff, keep doin' what yur doin'.""

She trembled. The new cotton slid lower, over her hips n then fell to the floor.

"Gawd damn Woman."

She felt the rush of heat through her face n neck n then settling on the top of her exposed breasts. She watched his fingers sliding over his vest n then shirt. Once bare chested, he started to move toward her. She backed away until her hips were trapped against the foot of the polished brass bed.

"No where ta go Tiff. No place ta hide. Ther'll be no Daddy er Luke coming to save ya."

Her breathing shallowed. She turned her face away. Strong fingers locked under her chin n snapped her face back.

"You belong to me now Tiffany. Ring on your finger proves it."

She felt his hand cup her naked breast. A new, strange quivering ran through her body as his thumb kept running over the quick tightening tip. He tilted her face away, tasting her jaw line, blowing gently into her ear, kissing the pale skin of her exposed neck.

"You even taste good girl."

He turned her face back and covered her mouth with his. His kiss wasn't like any of his kisses before. He thrust his liquor-stained tongue deeply into her mouth as his fingers tightened on her nipple. She winced.

"J-Jack please."

His fingers bit harder. Her hand pushed against his shoulder. The side of her face exploded with a flash of his work hardened hand. Grabbing each of her wrists, he pressed them to her sides, forcing her fingers over the top rail of the brass bed's end.

"If them hands move ag'in from wherever I put 'em, you'll earn yur first beatin' woman."

She stood fast as his hands slowly left her wrists, stout fingers sliding up her arms. Lifting her face to his again, he slow kissed her before easin' back to look at her tear-stained face n trembling body.

"Never planned on hurtin' you Tiff, but ya need ta learn."

The toe of his boot tapped against the inside of her ankle. She responded by moving her foot, slowly parting her thighs. When the toe tapped again, she shuddered before opening them further. His hand trailed down from her breast, past her ribs n side, over the top of her leg and then between her pale, tender thighs. He tugged at the wheat-colored hair covering what he was really in search of. His finger soon slipped into the moistening slit that led to the virgin's entrance. Her body shook when he began teasing the tiny knot hidden in her slippery crease. When she moaned low n long, his body stiffened as he held his breath. Time linger'd a byt as he slowly caught his breath n then whispered into her ear.

"That's it Tiff... You be a real good girl now... Jist like that..."