To Tame A Texan (23 page)

Hank said “Well, if you think it's okay . . .”

Lynnie batted her eyelashes at him. “Now, why wouldn't it be? He's hurt, and I'm just a helpless female, remember? That herd is putting more miles between you even as we talk.”

“I reckon we should go, then.”

Both cowboys gave a final nod, left the train, and stood out on the platform for a long moment and waved.

Lynnie and Pedro waved back, and the two cowboys strode over to their horses, mounted up, and turned back west.

“Well, I reckon we're bound for home,” she said as they watched the pair ride away. She felt defeated and wondered if Ace Durango could possibly get that herd to Dodge City without her assistance.

“I'm
muy
sorry,
señorita.
Ace is a stubborn man.”

“That's an understatement.”

“You care for him?”

Lynnie blinked. “You are joking? Why, that mule of a man has been the fly in my buttermilk ever since he took me to the Valentine ball, and before that, when we were kids. I'm glad to be rid of him. Pity the poor girl who gets stuck with him someday.”

Pedro didn't say anything. Instead, his attention had wandered and now seemed focused on a plump, mid-dled-aged Spanish lady sitting across the aisle. She returned his smile shyly.

Lynnie looked from one to the other, then leaned over to the lady.
“Señora,”
she whispered confidentially, “this is the trail boss of the great Triple D Ranch; you have heard of it?”

The lady nodded, evidently impressed. “He is hurt?”

“You see,” Lynnie whispered, “he was a great hero in stopping a stampede, and now we have to send him home and finish the drive without him.”

“Ohh.” The
señora
looked sympathetic and smiled at Pedro again.

Lynnie said, “I am so worried that when I leave the train, no one will look after him on the trip.”

The lady squared her shoulders. “Do not worry,
señorita,
I, Maria Sanchos, will see he gets good care.”

Lynnie smiled and nodded. She had already formed a plan as she turned back to Pedro. “That lovely
señora
across the aisle is interested in your welfare and has volunteered to look after you until the Durangos meet the train.”

“Ahh.” Pedro blinked and smiled. “You are not going?”

“Well, thunderation!” She stood up. “I don't see how Ace Durango can get that herd to Kansas without my help.”

Pedro laughed. “Oh,
señorita,
Ace will be as angry as the bull that you disobeyed him.”

“So let him.” She shrugged. “He won't be able to spare the cowboys and the time to try to put me on the train a second time. Tell my sister where I am and that she'll hear from me when I get to Dodge City.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Good luck, Pedro.”

“Adios
and
vaya con Dios, señorita.
Good-bye and go with God. You're gonna need it when you go ridin' into camp. I'd like to be there to see Ace's face.”

He'd be mad, all right. The image of just how mad he'd be made her hesitate. Could she deal with Ace Durango?

A conductor swung up on the car. “All aboard!” he yelled. “All aboard!”

Lynnie ran down the aisle. “Wait a minute! I'm getting off! Someone unload my gray mare.”

In minutes, she sat her horse out by the tracks, smiling and waving to Pedro as the train pulled out chugging and blowing smoke across the prairie. She watched it fade into the distance, headed south; then she reined Boneyard around and nudged her into a slow walk. The two cowboys' tracks looked easy enough to follow.

Only one thing really bothered her: Pedro had been right; Ace would be mad as a rained-on rooster when she defied him and showed up. No telling what he would do. She needed to get to Dodge City badly enough to take that chance. Lynnie laughed and nudged her horse into a lope, following the cowboys' trail back to the herd.

Ace let the herd graze a while after Hank and Joe had ridden off to put Pedro and Lynnie on the train. About noon, he and the wranglers finally put the cattle on the trail, knowing they had delayed longer than was wise. It worried him that rain clouds were gathering on the horizon to the north. Should the Red River be flooding when they reached it, they would face life-threatening problems.

Knowing that, again Ace had misgivings. Maybe he'd been wrong not to admit defeat and turn the herd around, since the worst part of the trip still lay ahead. Yet everyone was depending on him to get the cattle through, and Lynnie had been so convincing with her confidence. Lynnie. Damn the stubborn little wench for delaying the drive and causing so much trouble. The Chisholm Trail was no place for a woman, yet he would miss her. Yeah, like he'd miss a boot that hurt his foot, he thought grimly as he rode alongside the herd, urging them along.

By midafternoon, the rain moved in, and men and animals were wet and miserable as dusk came on. Ace finally signaled to bed the herd down for the night.

“Damn it,” Ace muttered as he dismounted, “that stubborn girl has cost us a lot of valuable time. By the time we make the Red River, it may be so flooded we can't cross for a week.”

Cookie got down from the chuck wagon and hobbled up to stand beside him. “She didn't do it a-purpose.”

Ace tried to roll a cigarette, but the makings turned into a sodden mess, and in disgust he tossed it away. “Don't be defending her,” he snapped. “I'd like to wring her neck.”

The cowboys dismounted all around him, cold and wet.

“It was a purty neck,” Comanch said wistfully.

Ace snorted. “Comanch, you been on the trail too long.”

Cookie sighed. “Well, the gal was kinda entertainin' to have along—sort of civilizin', like.”

“Ha!” Ace turned to unsaddle his black horse. “Entertainin'? You mean annoyin'. I never met a woman who needed turnin' over a man's knee worse than that one.”

Cookie guffawed. “Any man tries it, he'd better bring his dinner, 'cause he'll be there a while.”

“That's the truth.” The cowboys all laughed, then fell silent as they caught a glimpse of Ace's sullen face.

“Cookie, hush up and rustle up some grub,” Ace snarled, “and everyone stop defendin' that headstrong little filly.”

 

 

They were eating a miserable supper, squatting in the mud as Hank and Joe rode in about sundown and dismounted. “We got them on the train, all right.”

Ace nodded. “You stay to see the train off?”

Hank shook his head. “Naw, we were in a hurry to catch up with you, so the minute we got them aboard, we left.”

Ace sighed in exasperation and put his tin plate on a wet rock. “I told you to see them off. That Lynnie is as tricky as a coyote.”

“Aw, boss,” Joe said, “she's just a girl; what kind of trick could she pull?”

“Lynnie ain't your average girl,” Ace said, and fumbled through his pockets for some dry tobacco. “She's smart, as smart as any man. You never can tell what she might do next.”

Joe's eyebrows went up. “You think she's smart as a man?”

Ace thought it over. He had to admit it then, even though it went against his grain. “Hell, yes, she's smarter than most men.”

Cookie cleared his throat. “She had a lot of grit to her.”

Ace thought about it as he rolled his quirley.
“Sí,
she had grit, all right.” Texas had been built by people with grit, the ability to hang in there against all odds. Now that he thought about it, the camp seemed almost empty without her.

Comanche came over. “I'm gonna miss her. Miss Lynnie was special.”

“Yeah,” Ace agreed softly, “she was special.” Then he realized the crew was watching him, and he lit his smoke and took a deep, angry puff. “Yeah, she was special, all right. The little dickens caused us more trouble than a bunch of wild Injuns.”

While the boys went off to get a plate of grub from Cookie, Ace sat down on a wet rock under a dripping cottonwood tree in silence and watched the herd settling in for the long, rainy night. Yes, Lynnie was special, different than most of the women he had known. She was smart and brave and spunky. He'd enjoyed the challenge—until she'd caused the stampede. He was still angry with her, but he'd miss her. He wasn't the only one. The calves, especially the little crosseyed one she'd called Daisy Buttercup, were bawling and searching the camp for her now that they'd been put on the ground for the evening. He glanced at the sky. “Damn, will it ever quit rainin'?”

Cookie paused in dishing up beans for Hank and Joe. “That's Texas for you—either feast or famine when it comes to rain. If the old Red is at flood stage, we'll have a devil of a time gettin' this herd across. That old river has drowned more good cowboys than any ten other streams. 'Course, if we make it to the Cimarron, we have quicksand to contend with.”

Once again, Ace wondered if he shouldn't yell “calf-roped,” turn the herd around, and go home. His dad wouldn't turn tail and run; he'd take the herd on through. But Ace wasn't his dad. Still, Lynnie had thought he could do it, and somehow he didn't want to face that feisty little rascal and tell her he'd failed. “We'll take it as we find it,” Ace said, and snubbed out his cigarette. “I'll take the first guard. You cowboys get some rest.”

“Boss, you're as tired as the rest of us,” Comanch protested.

“Yeah, but this herd is my responsibility.” He got himself a fresh horse and shook the rain off his slicker. The night seemed long and dark to him as he rode the herd, water dripping off the brim of his hat. He hunched his shoulders against the wind and sang to the cattle as he rode. No doubt, Lynnie was almost home by now, safe and dry and comfortable—where he'd like to be. He tried to remember that he was angry with her for the trouble she had caused him, but he missed the give-and-take of her conversation. She was interesting to talk to, not like most girls, whose only subjects were clothes and parties.

Finally, it stopped raining, and the stars came out. Ace leaned on his saddle horn and looked up, remembering that Indian legend said the stars were windows in the sky where the spirits of loved ones could look down on the ones they had left behind. It was comforting somehow.

Hank came out to relieve him, and Ace rode into camp, unsaddled his horse, hobbled him, and turned him out to graze. Then he took his bedroll and went off a short distance from the camp, took off his boots, lay down, and dozed in sheer exhaustion.

A sound. Ace came alert, listening. It was definitely the sound of a horse's hooves. He reached under his blanket, felt for his pistol. Lordy, there was always the possibility of rustlers trying to steal the herd. The sounds ceased. Had he only imagined it, or was it one of the horses from their own remuda stamping around out there? He'd better check. Quietly, he slipped on his boots and stuck his pistol in the waistband of his jeans. Somewhere in the brush, he heard a horse snort. Outlaws? Indian renegades? This herd and this crew were his responsibility—he who had always been so irresponsible. The thought both intimidated and emboldened him.

Ace crept through the brush as silently as his Cheyenne ancestors. Yes, there was definitely someone out there. He heard a horse stamp its hooves and whinny; then he saw the barest silhouette squatting down in the darkness, watching the camp. Ace would hit him before the trespasser knew he'd been discovered. For a heartbeat, Ace brought his pistol up, thinking about picking the man off, then shook his head. A shot would startle the cattle, maybe start another stampede, and he'd been through that once lately. Maybe he could creep up on the intruder, grab him, and snap his neck. Dealing with rustlers, one had to play rough; they were known to be ruthless.

Ace tucked his pistol in his waistband again and crept up behind the shadowy intruder. This was high ground. Ace could see the whole campsite from here. The son of a bitch was probably waiting until everyone was asleep to attack. Ace wondered how many rustlers were out here. He'd better try to capture this one alive and force him to talk. He crept up behind the form. “Gotcha!”

Even as he dove for the man and grabbed him, his hand clasped over the rustler's mouth. The intruder fought back, and they rolled over and over in the mud. This was an awfully small outlaw, Ace thought in surprise, and then the outlaw sank his teeth into Ace's hand.

“Oww!” Ace let go, but he stayed on top.

“Let go of me, you dirty skunk!”

In confusion, Ace recognized a woman's voice, and then he realized with horror who the woman was. He froze, looking down at the girl under him. Her hat had come off, spilling red hair against the ground. “Lynnie! What the hell are you doin' here?”

She bucked, but she couldn't dislodge him. “Trying to get a no-good
hombre
off me. Get off, damn it!”

“It isn't nice for a lady to swear.” He was both annoyed and angry, but to his horror, he realized he was also a little bit glad to see her.

“Get off, I tell you.”

She was soft under him, and he was enjoying her discomfort. He grinned down at her. “You little rascal. You're supposed to be on that train.”

“Well, obviously, I'm not. Get off, damn it.”

Reluctantly he got off, then reached down and offered her a hand, which she didn't take. Instead, she scrambled to her feet unassisted.

Around the fire, Lynnie could see men coming awake, looking about. Frankly, she was relieved to have found the camp, but she wasn't sure of her reception. Ace looked angry enough for a lynching party.

“What the hell are you doin' skulkin' around our camp like a hungry coyote? You know I almost shot you?”

She tried to wipe the mud off. “You wouldn't dare; I'd tell your daddy on you. Anyway, I knew you'd be mad because I came back, so I thought I'd just follow along to Dodge City.”

“All the way to Dodge City? You're either stupid or stubborn to think you could pull that off.”

She leaned over and picked up her hat. “Necessity is the mother of invention,” she said loftily.

“I don't know what the hell that means.”

“Doesn't matter,” she sniffed, encouraged that he wasn't screaming at her. “Pedro didn't need me, and I figured you'd never get this herd to Dodge without me, so I got off the train before it left the station.”

“Couldn't get the herd to Dodge without you?
Listen, lady—”

“I'm hungry,” she said matter-of-factly, and grabbing up Boneyard's reins, she began walking toward the campfire. “We'd better get some shut-eye if we're to get this herd on the trail by sunup.”

“At sunup I'm gonna send you back to the train.”

She paused and eyed him. “There isn't another train till next week, and you can't spare the cowboys to wait with me. You'll need every hand you can get to cross the Red with it flooding, even me.”

He began to curse under his breath, and she knew that he had realized the logic of her words. “Okay, Miss Priss, you can finish out the trip with us, but I warn you, I'm gonna make it so hard on you, you'll wish you had taken that train.”

“If you think you can scare me, Ace Durango, forget it.” She was a little annoyed to realize she was glad to see the big, woman-chasing, uncivilized brute. “I accept the challenge. Now, hush up and let's get back to camp.”

“I'm goin' to bed, lady,” he snapped. “You done wasted enough of my shut-eye time.”

She started to correct his grammar but decided by the look in his eye that she had pushed him far enough for one night. Lynnie hobbled Boneyard and turned her out to graze as Ace headed back to his bedroll, crawled in, and put his hat over his eyes.

 

 

Some time in the night of steady rain, Ace felt someone shaking him out of a sound sleep.

“Ace?”

He lifted his hat and squinted in the darkness. “What?”

It was Lynnie, and she looked like a shivering, drowned rat. “I—I lost my slicker, and my bedroll is all wet.”

“So?” He put his hat back over his face.

“I'm cold. Do you suppose I could have your slicker and a dry blanket?”

He lifted the hat again. “No.
N-O
. You want to be treated like a man? That's what I'd tell a man who lost his slicker: sleep in a wet bed.”

She shivered, and her teeth chattered. “Okay, I reckon I deserve that.” She started to crawl away.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered, “come on in; I'll share my slicker.”

She raised one eyebrow, and water dripped off a soaked strand of long red hair. “No, you don't understand. What I want you to do is give me your bed.”

“Lordy, if you don't beat all. Because you're a woman, right? I ain't gonna do it, Lynnie.”

“Aren't,” she corrected.

“Woman, you are pushin' your luck,” he warned. “I ain't givin' up my bed—not to you, not to anyone—but I will share. Come on in; your virtue is safe.”

She leaned over him. “What will people think?”

He sighed heavily. “Stop drippin' water on me. Since when do you care what people think?”

“You're right. Everyone ought to know I wouldn't let any man pull my bloomers off.”

“Perish the thought. Now get in or go away; you're gettin' me wet.”

She hesitated, shivered, and crawled in next to him.

He started and pulled away as far as the slicker would allow. “Damn it, you could have pulled off your wet shirt,” he complained. “Now you're gettin' me and the blanket all soggy.”