To Tame A Texan (22 page)

Joe said, “Pedro, do you reckon Ace could take this drive through?”

Pedro hesitated. “I don't know. It takes a special
hombre
to be a trail boss; it's a tough job. It's in his blood, but whether Ace has the guts and the heart for it, I don't know. He'll have to make that decision.”

Lynnie looked out toward Ace, standing under the stars, his outline one of dejection as he smoked. “I think he could do it,” she said with conviction. “Ace has just never been forced into a situation where he had to take charge of something this serious with everyone depending on him.”

The others looked at each other uncertainly. She knew what they were thinking. Ace Durango was a spoiled rich boy who chased women, gambled, drank, and had never taken responsibility. They weren't sure he was up to the task.

One of the men shook his head. “Even if we thought he could do it, Miss Lynnie, I'm not sure he would. He's been wantin' to quit and go home ever since this drive started.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the others.

She turned to Pedro. “What do you think,
señor?”
”

“I don't know.” The older man sighed. “He doesn't have much confidence in himself as a leader.”

“Let me go talk to him.” Lynnie hopped up and walked out across the prairie. “Ace . . . ?”

He didn't turn around. “What the hell do you want?” He sounded depressed, sad. She could see the glowing tip of his cigarette in the darkness.

“There's a train to the east you could put Pedro on.”

“Yeah, I know.” He didn't turn around.

She didn't hate him now; she felt something else. Maybe it was compassion; she wasn't quite sure. “The boys are wondering if we could go on without him.”

He didn't answer for a long moment. “Men have to have confidence in their trail boss,” he said finally, “You think they'd have any confidence in me? All I'm known for is chasin' women, cards, drinkin', and fightin'. I'm a joke to all the serious cattlemen, and I know it.”

“I think you could prove your worth to them.” She put her hand on his arm.

“I never felt I was really worth a damn.” Ace's voice was barely a whisper. “You know what it's like to try to live up to a father like mine? Trace Durango is a livin' legend in the Texas hill country—respected by everyone who knows him; bigger than life. I never thought I could be the man he is.”

“But you can,” she protested.

He whirled around to look down at her. “You, of all people, ought to know what a wisecrackin', worthless SOB I am.”

He looked so woebegone, she reached up impulsively and kissed his lips.

His dark eyes widened in surprise; then he grabbed her, pulled her close, and kissed her—a deep, serious kiss. She was astounded at his action and at her own reaction. His mouth felt warm and firm on hers, his arms a circle of safety. His body was lithe and strong, and for a moment as they clung together, it was the sweetest, most exciting sensation she had ever felt.

Quick as it began, it ended. He jerked away and stepped back. “What the hell am I doin'?”

She was both insulted and humiliated at the shock in his voice. “I started it, Ace. Reckon you aren't use to girls taking the initiative and kissing you.”

“I'm damned sure not. Lordy, you can get yourself in big trouble that way, missy, with the wrong man.”

She remembered the sensation of the kiss and almost yearned to find out what kind of trouble he was talking about. “The—the boys want you to come back to the fire. They want to talk about you taking over as trail boss.”

“Hell”—he shook his head—“I haven't got the guts or the brains for it.”

“Ace, you do. I believe in you.” She said it with a certainty that made his eyebrows go up.

“Lady, you do amaze me.” Without another word, he turned and strode back to the fire. She walked back slowly, trying to sort out her confused feelings. No man had ever kissed her before, and it had awakened passion deep in her soul—the kind of passion she had never dreamed of. She stopped short.
Ace Durango?
She shook her head. She must have been hit on the head during the stampede—hit hard enough to be loco. When she returned to the fire, the discussion was continuing.

Ace paced up and down before the fire. “All right, maybe we could make this work. We could rig a travois for Pedro so a couple of cowboys could take him on east and get him on the train. The train could telegraph on ahead and Dad could have a wagon waitin' when he got there.”

The others nodded in agreement, their rugged faces alight with hope.

Ace paused and looked around the circle. “The big question is, do we go on? Are you
hombres
loco enough to take on a trail boss who's green as fresh-cut grass?”

Hank stood up and ran his hand through his brown curly hair. “I vote yes. I think you can do it, Ace. I ain't one to go home beaten with my head down like a whipped hound.”

The others set up a murmur of agreement. “Yes, we think we can do it. We're with you, Ace.”

“Yes!” Lynnie jumped to her feet. “I say we go on. I vote yes!”

“Missy,” Ace said, turning on her, “no matter what the boys decide, you ain't goin'.”

She felt her spirit sag. “What—what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Ace said, “it's gonna get rough for a bunch of green hands with the worst part of the trail ahead of us. I can't take that responsibility. Uncle Maverick would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

“I can take care of myself. Besides, when I beat you at poker, I thought the bargain was that I could continue.”

There was a long silence, and she realized it hadn't been too clever to remind Ace she had beaten him at cards.

Ace cleared his throat. “Reckon you startin' this stampede sort of makes us even, Lynnie.”

“No fair changing the deal,” Lynnie protested. “You're just looking for an excuse to get shut of me.”

Ace didn't deny it.

“Hey,” Cookie said, “she's a real plucky gal. I kinda hate to lose her.”

Lynnie glared at Ace. “Somebody isn't. Talk about a sore loser...”

“Think whatever you want,” Ace snapped, “but tomorrow morning we'll get Pedro started for the train, and you're goin' home, too.”

“That's not fair!” Lynnie yelled.

There was a murmur as the crew seemed to agree with her.

“Listen, little lady,” Ace said, “I'm gonna have a couple of bad rivers, Indians, and no tellin' what else to deal with, without dealin' with a sassy petticoat, too.”

“I told you I was sorry about the stampede.”

“That don't cut it.” Ace shook his head. “You keep talkin' about equal rights, but all the men will be caterin' to you, lookin' out for you. We don't need the female distractions.”

She turned to Pedro in mute appeal.

“Sorry,
señorita,”
the old man said, “if he's trail boss, from now on, what he says goes.”

“I hate you, Ace Durango.” She got up and flounced away, got her bedroll, and lay down near her horse. “You hear that, Boneyard? We'll be getting on a train tomorrow. I can forget about Dodge City.”

The horse nickered and reached down to brush her soft velvet muzzle against Lynnie's hair. Absently, she reached up to pat Boneyard. Worse yet, she'd be going home in defeat, with all those eager suffragettes disappointed that she didn't get to the meeting to discuss strategy. Damn Ace Durango. And after he kissed her like he meant it. Or had she kissed him? Now that she thought about it, she wasn't quite sure. One thing was for certain, she wouldn't have cooperated in that kiss if she'd realized the rogue intended to rid himself of her now that the chance had arisen.

She cried herself to sleep, and in her dreams, Ace Durango, that stubborn, smug mule of a man, took her in his arms and kissed her like she'd never been kissed before. “I believe in equal rights for women,” he murmured against her hair. That woke her up, knowing that he would never say such a thing.
Oh, Percival or Felix, you civilized paragon of virtue, where are you?

In the morning, Pedro was placed on a homemade travois the boys had fashioned from some willow poles and blankets. Ace had assigned Hank and Joe to escort the injured man and Lynnie to the train. “You put Pedro on that train, along with Miss McBride and her horse,” he ordered. “Then catch up with us. We'll let the cattle graze a couple of hours, then start ridin' on ahead.”

Lynnie tried one more time as she stood next to her horse. “I wish you'd give me another chance, Ace.”

He shook his head without looking at her. “You add to my problems, Lynnie, and I got plenty already. Tell Dad I'll wire him from Dodge City . . . if we make it.”

She was too angry to look at him. “You're not worried about my welfare; you're worried that I'll make it all the way and show you up.”

“Are you gonna get on your horse, or am I gonna put you on it?”

“Try it!”

He grabbed her and, with his great strength, swung her up into her saddle, with her biting, kicking and screaming, “I hate you!”

He nodded to the two cowboys. “Hang on to her bridle and get her on that train with Pedro like I told you.” He leaned over the old man. “You gonna be fine?”

The other nodded and held up his hand to take Ace's. “I just regret not finishing the drive with you, amigo.”

“I regret it, too.” For a split second, Ace's handsome face mirrored his uncertainty as he shook the other's callused brown hand. “Wish us luck; we'll need it.”

Lynnie looked down at him, thinking she could be of some help to him if he'd only let her stay, but of course, this big galoot would never admit he might need a woman's assistance.

The cowboys waved their hats as the little party started out. “Good-bye, Pedro; good-bye, Miss Lynnie.”

Lynnie waved back at Cookie. “Take care of Daisy Buttercup for me.”

The old man nodded and took a swig from his big bottle of vanilla.

They started off at a nice pace. Behind them, they heard the camp coming to life, the cattle lowing as they grazed.

Pedro looked up at her from his travois. “It's just as well,
señorita.
They still have the Red River ahead of them and it's a bad one. Then there's Indian Territory and sometimes braves get off their reservations. Farther north is the Cimarron and it's as wild as its name; full of quicksand.”

Cimarron. It meant “wild one” in Spanish and the dangerous river was legendary. She sighed and turned in her saddle to look behind her. “You think he'll be all right?”

Joe said, “He'll get the cattle through, Miss.”

“I wasn't worried about the cattle.” She said it before she thought and all three men looked at her curiously. “I—I was worried about the men,” she blurted.
One man,
she thought with surprise. Damn his ornery hide, he was growing on her.

By late afternoon, they had reached the train station at the tiny hamlet that was nothing more than a freight stop. They had to wait only an hour before the train pulled in, chugging and blowing smoke, its whistle shrieking.

In minutes they had Boneyard and Pedro's horse loaded into the freight car behind the passenger car and Hank went to get the tickets.

“Well,” Joe said awkwardly, “I reckon this is it. You gonna be all right, Pedro?”

The old man nodded. “Get in one of those soft seats, I'll be all right.”

“Sorry, Miss Lynnie,” Joe said. “You know, the boys liked havin' you along. You're a right good sport for a woman.”

“It's all right,” she said, her head high. “I know it isn't your fault. It's that stubborn jackass of a man back at camp.”

Hank returned with the tickets. “They're wirin' on ahead, so they'll be lookin' for you and waitin' with a wagon. I told them Miss Lynnie was comin', too.”

The conductor helped them get Pedro to a comfortable seat so he could put his leg up. Lynnie settled in next to him with a sigh. There were a few curious passengers, and they stared at her, attired as she was like a boy, but Lynnie ignored them.

Hank pulled out his watch and looked at it. “Train'll be pullin' out in a few minutes. Tell Miss Penelope I send my regards.”

Lynnie smiled up at him. “You boys go ahead and leave. You'll have to hurry some to catch up with the drive.”

Joe hesitated. “You sure you two will be all right if we go on?”

Pedro yawned. “Go on, amigos. We'll just sit here and enjoy these soft seats until the train pulls out.”