Waltzing With Tumbleweeds by Dusty Richards

hat and smoothed down his black hair. Reagan searched around before he came up the short walk.
    “Morning, Rose,” he said with a wide grin.
    “You came early enough,” she said and let him by, taking his hat. She knew Reagan wasn’t a man to be backward around women. He quickly took her in his arms and began to kiss her. His deep hungry kisses made Rose grateful for his eagerness. The quicker their business was over, the sooner Reagan could leave. She would think of something when he was through and send him on his way.
    Reagan was a lanky man. His skin paler than the starched shirt she unbuttoned for him. He hardly had a hair on his thin chest. Rose ran her hands over his skin and the corduroy ribs. He needed feeding, too.
    His mouth was demanding on hers as she undid his belt buckle between them. Reagan’s fingers were fumbling with the hooks and eyes hooks and eyes down the     back of her dress. She eased from his hold to do that herself, fearful he might rip the dress open in his haste.
    Deliberately, she let the dress fall, exposing her breasts. Rose knew from his look what the sight of them did for him.
    She stepped out of the garment and put it on the chair, he was hurriedly shoving off her petticoats like a man on fire. Mildly amused at how viewing her body could move a man, she smiled as he eased her back on the bed. The wanton look in his dark eyes, told her enough as she laid on her back fearful of crushing poor Billy. What a mess.
    “My God, Rose, why don’t you live with me?”
    To silence him, she pulled his face to hers and sealed his lips shut with a demanding kiss.
    After their love making, Reagan slowly dressed. He sat in the wooden chair and pulled on his left boot. “They say you and Billy, the Kid once had a thing going between you?” he asked, in his Georgia drawl.
    “Once,” she replied, wrapping herself in a filmy duster. She dared not look back at the bed. “But he’s gone.”
    “If you’re over him, why don’t you come live with me?”
    “Reagan, you’ve asked me that before.”
    “Well?” He struggled to pull on the other boot. “Just think on it some more before you say no again.”
    “I will,” she said sharper than she intended. Oh, God, why didn’t he hurry and leave?
    “Be a lot easier than what you’re doing,” Reagan offered.
    “I promise I’ll think on it. Now let me get some rest.”
    He looked over at the tossed bed covers and smiled. “We could both sleep together for a few hours?”
    “No!” she said, herding him to the door.
    “I think you’re still stuck on Billy,” Reagan argued as he took her in his arms. When he kissed her, she closed her eyes. Would he never leave?
    He released her and headed for his horse. “You think on my offer, Rose.”
    “I will,” she said and forced a smile for him.
    She nearly collapsed against the door facing as the tall Georgian rode off down Cabbage Hill. Her breath came in small gulps as she waved a last time at the marshal. Light headed, she went back inside.
    “You can come out now,” she said, dropping heavily on a chair. She buried her face in her arms on the tabletop.
    “Whew,” Billy said, edging out on his back. “It was getting hot under there.” He sat up and swept back his too-long, brown hair from his face. Then he grinned at her like a schoolboy ready to challenge her with some secret.
    He laughed aloud as he pushed himself up. “That’s close as I been to a lawman since I ran head on into a deputy in Tularosa one day.”
    “It isn’t funny,” she said.
    “It was for me. You making love to him, just that far from me.” Billy held his forefinger and second one about two inches apart.
    “I’ve got to get out of this place,” she said, standing up. Upset, she began to pace the floor.
    “Where are you going to go?”
    “Arizona, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I need to go somewhere I don’t know lawmen or outlaws. Anyway, the mines are nearly played out.”
    “Aw, I’d