Dorothy Garlock (41 page)

Both women enjoyed listening to Willa read to them, which she did each afternoon. Later she would hear them arguing about what they thought would happen next in the story.

A crew of men rode in one evening. Charlie and Sant were among them. Willa saw them from the kitchen window and braced herself to tell Charlie that his sister had left the ranch. She didn’t have long to wait, because as soon as he had taken care of his horse, he came to the house. She met him at the door.

“Charlie!” Willa gave him a brief hug and watched his young face turn fiery red. “It seems as if you’ve been gone forever.”

“Yeah.” He grinned broadly. “I was goin’ to clean up before I come up, but—”

“—I’m glad you didn’t. How did it go?”

“Great! I got teased a lot. Reckon I had it comin’ ’cause I was so green.”

“That was to be expected.” Willa smiled fondly at him.

“Yeah. ’Cause I was new, I gathered firewood for the cook and rode drag—that’s behind the herd where the dust is. Trailin’ steers is hard work. Boomy say there ain’t a critter born meaner than a Texas longhorn. He says some of them come up to a thousand pounds.”

“That big? My goodness, you could have been hurt.”

“I did all right. Well . . . the fellers did save my bacon a time or two.” He laughed, pleased over her concern. “The horse Smith give me to ride was smarter than me. Boomy said that when Smith was my age he was trail boss.”

“Now you’re a real cowboy. Charlie, I’m proud of you.”

“This is the life for me. I ain’t ever goin’ to do nothin’ else. Ya work hard all day and at night ya sit around a fire and listen to the fellers lie to each other.” His young face was creased in smiles, then suddenly he was the serious Charlie she knew. “Pa wouldn’t understand—”

“Thank heavens, we don’t have to like the things our parents liked, Charlie. My mother loved boiled turnips. Ugh!”

“Yeah. Boomy’s pa was a preacher and Boomy can cuss louder and longer than anybody.”

“Maybe he does take after his father in a way—preachers can
talk
louder and longer than anybody.” They both laughed, then Willa said seriously. “Jo Bell is gone, Charlie. She left four nights ago with the young man who was here with the mule buyer.”

“She went off with that Lee feller?” A puzzled look came over his young face.

“They must have made plans for him to come back for her. She left a note in her room saying they were going to be
married. I don’t believe it, Charlie. You know how she was always talking about marrying a rich man.”

“Damn her! Damn her to hell! Why’d she go off like that for? She always ruins things for me.”

“I know you feel responsible for her, but there comes a time when you must let go. If she ruins things for you here, it’s because you let her.”

“But she ain’t got no sense. She’ll get herself in a peck a trouble.”

“She’ll not welcome your interference.”

“I ain’t carin’ ’bout that.” He went to the door. “I’ll have to go and see ’bout her. Ain’t no tellin’ what that feller’ll do to her.”

“Charlie! Wait. Please don’t—”

“I won’t go off half-cocked. Don’t worry.”

“Talk to Smith and Sant first.”

“Sant said Fuller bushwacked him and Smith. It was because of Jo Bell. I know it was.”

“Let her go. She’ll find a place for herself.” Willa followed Charlie out onto the porch.

“She’ll end up in a whorehouse is what she’ll do. Or . . . dead. I promised Ma—”

“—Your mother wouldn’t want you to give up doing what you want to do to ride herd on Jo Bell for the rest of your life.”

Charlie stepped off the porch, turned and looked back. The sad expression in his eyes made Willa want to cry.

“Dammit! Sant was goin’ to take me with him to get the mules he sold to the railroad.”

“Go with Sant. Jo Bell will come back.”

“I can’t, Miss Willa. I just can’t.”

Charlie walked slowly away, his shoulders slumped, his head down. Willa thought it one of the saddest things she had ever seen—the death of a young boy’s dreams.

*  *  *

“I saw that damn kid in Buffalo.” Sant fished in his shirt pocket for makings and began to build a smoke. “He ducked out of sight when he spotted me.”

Smith sat at the table in the cookshack; his coffee cup, freshly filled, was before him.

“The crazy kid fell for a pretty face and a hot little tail. In her letter she says they’re running off to get married, but hell, she’s just using him. Billy, this coffee tastes like dishwater.”

“I had to clean the pot. It ain’t been cleaned for a month—was half full of grounds. It’ll be all right again in a day or two.” Billy shoved wood in the cookstove and slammed the fire door shut. “I ain’t sorry to see the back of her. She sure was a feisty little split-tail.
^”

“She’s got it in her head that because she’s kin to Oliver she’s got a claim here.”

“She’ll whistle Dixie!” Billy exclaimed and banged an iron skillet down on the range.

Sant laughed. “Boomy sent the extra hands back a day or two early thinkin’ you’d need ’em. He’s goin’ to drive everythin’ across Crazy Woman, then he’ll be in. He says Charlie took to drivin’ cows like a duck to water.”

“His sister rode off on the sorrel. Charlie’ll feel bad about losing that horse.” Smith’s hands curled around his coffee cup.

“He beat it up to the house as soon as he unsaddled. Reckon the kid’s moonin’ over Miss Willa?” Sant saw a scowl darken Smith’s features. It took Sant only seconds to realize that Smith was jealous. Shitfire! The boy had fallen tail over tea kettle for pretty little Miss Willa.

“He knows by now that his sister has flown the coop,” Smith said after a pause. The words had no more than left his mouth when Charlie stepped in and hung his hat on the peg.

“Howdy, Smith. Howdy, Billy.”

“Howdy yoreself,” Billy said. “Want coffee? Smith’s a bitchin’ ’bout it, but he ain’t a’turnin’ it down.”

“No. But thanks just the same.” He looked first at Smith, then at Sant. “My sister jist up and left with a itchy-fingered, wet-eared drifter. I jist can’t figure why she’d do it.”

“Women get funny notions.” Sant’s voice broke the silence that followed.

“Smith, will ya give me the loan of a horse? I’ll write ya out a bill of sale for our mules to hold till I get back.”

“You planning on going somewhere?”

“To find Jo Bell. I promised my ma I’d look after her.”

“My guess is that they went to Sheridan. There’s not much for a girl like Jo Bell in Buffalo.”

“I thought of that.” What Charlie didn’t say was that he was sure his sister had gone to Sheridan to see if she had some rights to Uncle Oliver’s property.

“If you wait until my leg heals a little, I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks, but I’d best get after her before she gets herself raped or . . . killed. I ain’t askin’ for no help. Except . . . maybe on how to get there.”

“I been a’needin’ to get up to Sheridan,” Sant said, blowing smoke out through his nostrils. “I ain’t hankerin’ to make the trip all by my own self so I’ll just mosey on up there with you.”

Charlie looked at him with a blank stare. “But ya said ya had to get back to Horseshoe Canyon.”

“Naw . . . them Sioux know more ’bout breakin’ mules than I’ll ever know. It’ll give ’em another week to whip ’em in shape for drivin’.”

“Ya ain’t goin’ now just cause I’m goin’?”

“—Hell,” Billy chortled. “I ain’t never knowed Sant to do a blasted thin’ fer anybody. Stubborn as a mule and ain’t half as smart is what he is.”

“Ain’t ya puttin’ that kinda strong, old man?” The front legs of Sant’s chair hit the floor and he leaned over to flip his cigarette butt out the door.

“Who ya callin’
old
? Ya ain’t no spring chicken yoreself.”

“I’ll be glad for your company, Sant.”

“We’d better be leavin’ at daybreak.”

*  *  *

Smith was playing the guitar.

Willa heard it the instant she stepped outside the door and remembered what Billy had said about Sant craving music. She sank down on the edge of the porch, and Buddy, with a deep sigh, flopped down beside her. The wide open sky was studded with stars that seemed only an arm’s length away.

She strained her ears to hear every note. It warmed her and made her proud that the man she loved could make such beautiful music. All too soon it was over and there was silence. She sat quietly, her fingers fondling Buddy’s ears.

Love is the understanding and acceptance of imperfection.

Willa’s fingers stilled. Had Papa Igor spoken to her? It was ridiculous, but she was sure she had heard his voice.

Real love means standing arm in arm with your man against
the world
.

Was she crazy? A voice in her head was talking to her.

It’s knowing that you’re one body, one mind. Faith and
trust in each other is what matters.

Willa sat quietly. As the words took root in her mind, the voice spoke again.

How insignificant the question of who makes the first move.

Her heart felt as if it would soar right out of her breast. Smith had said that once in a lifetime you get a chance to have everything you ever dreamed of having, and if you grabbed and missed, you’d lost your chance. She was going to grab and she wasn’t going to miss.

Willa stood quickly and walked toward the gate. She would tell him that nothing mattered except that she loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

Smith was there—on the other side of the gate.

“I couldn’t stay away any longer,” he said.

She opened the gate and went to him.

“I was coming to tell you that there’s nothing in the world more important to me than you, Smith Bowman. I love you and will spend my life with you if you want me.”

“If I want you? Oh, love, I want you so bad it’s eating the heart out of me.” His voice was a hoarse whisper—then she was in his arms.

Smith’s heart was drumming so hard he could barely breath; he was too stunned with happiness to say a word. His arms squeezed her more tightly, his mouth searched for hers and covered it hungrily. She was so small, so soft, so sweet that he was almost afraid of breaking her. But he sensed that she felt the same urgency that he did.

At last he was able to whisper her name, and, muffled against his mouth, her own hoarse whisper reached him.

“My darling, my beloved, I’ll spend a lifetime making up for all the hurt you’ve suffered.”

Her arms were around his neck and the unreal softness of her breasts and her belly pressed against him.

“It’s been the longest three days of my life,” he said in a strange, thickened voice. His mouth was at the corner of hers, then slid up to close over it.

“I was waiting for you—hoping you’d come.”

Her mouth quivered weakly under the persuasion of his kiss. The searching movement parted her lips, and he began sensuously exploring the inside of her mouth with his tongue. A melting heat began in the pit of her belly. The hungry coaxing movements of his mouth were sending signals to the very core of her femininity.

“Your leg—you should sit down,” she said when Smith lifted his lips.

“Come with me to a place I know.” His lips hovered fractionally above hers.

Her answer was to loop her arm about his waist and walk along beside him.

“Inez and Maud are playing cards. They don’t need me.”

“I do. I need you like I never dreamed I’d need anyone.”

Smith stopped at the clothesline and removed one of the heavy draperies Inez had hung out to air.

“What are you doin’? Oh, Smith, you shouldn’t. These are imported draperies. They cost a lot of money.”

He answered with a laugh of pure happiness. With one arm wrapped around her and the thick tapestry drapery over the other, he guided her toward the grove north of the house. On a soft bed of pine needles, he spread the expensive cloth, sank down and pulled her down beside him.

Buddy, standing a few feet away, tipped his head to the side and wondered why he had not received as much as a pat on the head from his new friend. He dropped down, sighed and rested his head on his paws. He would take a little nap, with one eye open, of course, until they decided to notice him.

“I wish I could take you back to that warm pool,” Smith said, holding out his arms. She moved into them and was locked in a gentle, tender embrace.

“We’ll go there—someday.” Releasing a deep and trembling sigh, she raised her lips to receive his kiss. All was peace. She was home.

The kiss was long and tender. Afterward, Smith lay down and pillowed her head on his shoulder. For a long while, they lay there, awed into silence by the miracle of their feelings for one another. Soon they were sharing whispered confidences.

“I never knew that love made you feel light and fluttery inside.”

“I didn’t know it would feel like someone was twisting a knife in your guts.”

“—And make you say and do foolish things.”

“Like what?”

“Like the day I lit into you at the stage station. I’d never done that before.”

“I deserved it. I was a perfect jackass.”

“I must have loved you then. It made me angry that I thought you handsome.” She giggled.

“I smelled like a wet goat.”

“—And you were cross as a bear.”

“My head felt like it had been shot out of a cannon.”

“But you shaved before you came to the station room.”

“Yeah. I was ashamed of how I’d looked and what I’d said.”

“Ordinarily, do you like buttermilk?”

“Love it.”

There were short periods of silence, but they continued to hold onto each other as if they were two lost souls being buffeted by a fierce wind.

“I feel like some part of me that I didn’t know about has come to life.” Smith turned on his side to face her. Their lips met in joint seeking. His hands roamed over her, caressing every inch of her back and sides. One hand shaped itself over her breast, the other flattened against her buttocks and held her tightly against him.

“I can touch you and kiss you anytime I want to,” she said with a breathless laugh.

“I’ll never get enough.”

“Oh, I hope not!”