Dixie Under Siege (A Warrior's Passion Book 2)

by Natasza Waters

Dixie’s mom’s brow scrunched with deep concern, her dark eyes emotionless when she approached. “Nothing will change the fact that you’ve committed this sin. You’ll do the right thing and marry Josh. You’ve disgraced this family by your actions. I think you had better ask for the Lord’s forgiveness, because you will never receive it from your father or me.” And then she abandoned ship as well, heading upstairs, probably to pray in her bedroom.

  Josh’s muscular arm slid around her shoulders, but didn’t quell her thumping pulse.

  “Hey, Dix. We’re gonna be okay.”

  “Honey.” Doris shifted to stand in front of her and Josh. Henry followed and rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Your parents are honest, hardworking folks. Your mother will be fine, given some time. Once you’re married, all will be forgiven. Don’t fret over this.”

  Nobody had asked if she wanted to marry Josh. Not even Josh. Marriage was not supposed to be a punitive sentence.

  Josh kissed her cheek. “I’m gonna head home with the folks.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  An hour later, Dixie sat in the dark living room and listened to the grandfather clock as it struck nine p.m. The door to her father’s office opened and closed.

  As he walked through the living room, she said, “I don’t want to be married this young, Dad. I have plans. College.”

  He kept walking and gripped the newel post to head upstairs. “You used to be such a sweet, innocent child. Now you’re no better than a harlot standing on a street corner. There will be a reckoning. God will make sure of that.” He took each stair until he reached the second floor and never looked back.

  ****

  “Dixie, run to the chicken barn and get some fresh eggs,” Amelia Hammond called out while standing over the stove with a dark green apron tied around her waist.

  “Sure, Mom.”

  With a clack of the screen door, all six of her brothers clambered into the kitchen. Their empty bellies wired with an internal alarm clock that rang near mealtime. Ranging in age from twenty-seven to nineteen, they swept their hands across foreheads covered with sweat from working under the warm, summer sun.

  “Coffee on, Mom?” Shane, the oldest of Dixie’s brothers, asked.

  “Sit down, boys. Breakfast is almost ready. Where’s your father?”

  “Kickin’ the dust off,” Dixie said, seeing her dad on the porch as she slipped her bare feet into her cowboy boots by the back door.

  Saturday mornings started early with a whirlwind of activity around the Hammond ranch. Her mom worked from sunup to sundown. Devout and selfless, she didn’t have a choice with a brood their size. Aside from Dixie and her brothers, the youngest of the clan was Sasha. At sixteen and the baby of the family, her sister had few chores around the house. She came and went with friends who all owned horses and rode any chance they got.

  “Good morning, Dad.” Dix held open the screen for her father to pass before she headed out for the eggs.

  “Morning.”

  Since that fateful night, Dixie’s father responded to her with short, blunt answers. Her father’s pious outlook reflected in his devotion to leading the Baptist flock. His paramount purpose in their southern Utah town. He juggled their three hundred acre spread with drafting Sunday sermons and keeping the faithful on track. But as a preacher, he wasn’t very forgiving when it came to his own family. Especially her.

  He still fumed four weeks after the fateful night when Dixie’s future had been decided. Her mother barely looked at her.

  Dixie’s fate had been sealed.

  In order to avoid eternal damnation, she had to marry Josh.

  She and Josh had dated through senior year, but they’d been hanging out since middle school. Her parents were traditionalists. Firm believers that sex before marriage was a mortal sin. Not to mention if word got out that the preacher’s daughter opened her legs to the Hunters’ son, she’d be painted with a scarlet letter. Primarily the girl’s fault. Least, according to her father.

  Josh wasn’t at all concerned about their shotgun wedding, and she didn’t even have a bun in the oven.

  The Hammond clan didn’t reflect The Waltons by any stretch. There weren’t fuzzy moments and daily hugs. There’d never been a time when her mother sat on Dixie’s bed and gave encouraging words of wisdom. The impending marriage wasn’t a bonding moment between mother and daughter.

  The rapid tick, tick, tick of needle piercing fabric from Amelia’s sewing machine was a familiar sound in the laundry room. She patched the boys’ shirts and jeans. Sewed her own dresses and Sasha’s school play costumes. But her mother wanted no part of Dixie’s special day.

  Doris, Josh’s mom, had done all the running around and making arrangements for the reception, which would be held at the Hunters’ ranch. Dixie’s father had asked a pastor from the neighboring town to perform the ceremony. She wouldn’t be surprised if her dad feigned ill and didn’t come. In fact, she’d put money on it.

  Josh’s mom had picked her up and they’d gone shopping for a simple gown. Dixie’s mom had made an excuse that she was too busy that day.

  At the bridal boutique, she’d stared at herself in the mirror. While her prospective mother-in-law had gushed how lovely she looked in the satin wedding dress, Dixie saw her dreams culled like a Thanksgiving turkey.

  After Josh’s mom dropped her off at home, Dix had raced upstairs and quickly hung the dress in her closet, but it felt more like hiding the evidence. Amelia Hammond had never asked to see the gown.

  Before leaving the racket of the kitchen, she gazed at her mom fussing over the ham frying on the stovetop. Her mother wasn’t the type of woman who spent money on manicures or visits to a salon. Every morning, she twisted her brunette hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. Years of canning and digging in the garden left her slender hands popping with blue veins. She wondered whether her mother ever had dreams to become something other than a homemaker.

  But she’d never asked, because they’d never talked.

  Dix headed down the two wooden steps from the wraparound porch and across dry dirt with a hint of orange, compliments of her home state.

  Even though testosterone ranked higher than estrogen in her family, she never remembered any heart-to-hearts with her mother. Passing the corral, three of the Quarter Horses sauntered over and hung their chins over the white fence. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any apples hiding in her pockets, but the animals watched with perked ears.

  As she neared the barn, the chickens clucked. Opening the weathered door, she stepped inside and closed it behind her. They owned over two hundred egg layers. The population of St. George sat around eighty grand. Folks from the city loved to pick up farm-fresh eggs, but the money supporting the family came from cattle and vegetables.

  Dixie snagged a woven basket from the counter next to the entrance where they stacked empty cartons for new customers. Folks who bought from them weekly reused their empty cardboard cartons, doing their part to save the environment.

  Shifting the bird’s feathered butts, she collected the brown eggs for breakfast and placed them in the basket.

  Lost in thoughts of the upcoming wedding, an egg slipped from her fingers, landing with a dull smack on the concrete floor. The rich, brown shell cracked open and the deep orange yolk oozed out. She blinked at the mess.

  She loved Josh. Handsome, with thick brown hair and dark blue eyes, he was the guy who turned girls’ heads. With broad shoulders and thick biceps from working on his family’s ranch, he’d turned Dixie’s head, too. But she wanted more than to grow a garden and collect eggs.

  Dixie’s dreams would never become a reality if she married him. In the top drawer of her bedroom desk lay two scholarships and the acceptance letter from Penn State. She’d studied hard at school, pulling in top grades. Worked after school and during summers to save money. She didn’t own a cell phone or a car like her girlfriends. She wanted every dime to go toward college.

  The university letters were nothing mo
re than fire starter now.

  A dark pall covered their home, as if waiting for a sorrowful event. Wasn’t a girl’s wedding supposed to be a celebration? A moment of bonding with her mother. Tears of joy and sadness from a father who’d give her away. No one had mentioned a word in regard to the wedding.

  Dix had always felt like she wore an invisibility cloak in the Hammond household. A worker bee with no identity. Now she had one—the black sheep of the family.

  In one week, she’d shift from the preacher’s daughter to Josh Hunter’s wife. Her gaze dropped to the cracked egg on the cement floor. Who was Dixie Hammond?

  ****

  Dix walked the mile of dirt road to Josh’s ranch that evening. Instead of knocking on the front door of the big, old white house, she paced in the barn, knowing he’d be there at seven o’clock to take care of the horses.

  “Dix?” he said, startling her. “Hey, babe. What’s going on?”

  She met him in the middle of the breezeway but when he leaned in to kiss her, she stepped back. “Doesn’t any of this bother you?”

  He swept the cowboy hat from his head and sat down on a nearby hay bale.

  Nerves popping, she needed to move and started to pace. Josh wasn’t only her boyfriend, he was her best friend.

  “Getting married?” he asked, looking calm, cool, and collected as always.

  She stopped and toed a few pieces of straw. “We’re eighteen.”

  He shrugged. “So what? We graduated school. You’re not pregnant, and we love each other. It’s all good, Dix.”

  “Don’t you want to do something with your life?”

  “I will. Dad’s agreed to give up a section of land. Gonna start building a house for us.”

  Build a house? Out of everyone, Josh should understand. “You know I want to go to college in September.”

  “Ranching is a decent life.” He raised his gaze to meet hers. “I had dreams too, Dix. Maybe this is happening sooner than I expected, but we’ll be fine.”

  “If you have dreams, then why didn’t you say anything when our parents decided our future?”

  “Because my future always had you in it. We’ve got my family to give us a jump start. We’ll make it work.”

  Why wasn’t he pissed? “I don’t want to make it work, Josh. You’re not listening.”

  He tilted his head. “Sounds like you’re trying to tell me you don’t want to marry me.”

  She shook her head. “Not now. At least, not when I haven’t had a chance to go out there,”—she pointed toward the falling sun at the entrance to the barn—“and try to be something.”

  “Be what?” Josh crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. “You don’t have anything to prove.”

  “It’s not about proof. It’s about independence.” She flapped her arms in exasperation. “This is our future. Don’t you want to have a say in what happens? What we do or when we do it?”

  Josh strode across the breezeway and picked up the pitchfork. “So college is in your future, but I’m not. Is that the point you’re trying to make?”

  “I’m saying it’s our decision, not our parents’. Do you think what we did is a sin?”

  He ran a hand through his brown hair and eyed her. “That’s what we were brought up to believe, but no, I don’t.”

  “To me, it feels like marriage is a punishment. You love ranching, but isn’t there something else you want?”

  Josh gnawed on his cheek while gripping the handle of the pitchfork. “Yeah, but you mean more to me.”

  He meant a lot to her as well. “Then why don’t you do it?”

  “I just told you why. I’m staying here because of you. Stop freaking out over this. Next week we’ll be married and you can move out of your parents’ house.”

  Dix wanted to thump her head against the barn wall.

  “You’re right. I don’t need to freak out because this,”—she thrust her arm toward him and then at herself—“is not happening. I am not going to throw my life away.”

  The pitchfork clacked against the cement floor. Josh shoved his hands deep into his front pockets. “If you think making a life with me is throwing yours out the window, then I agree. Nobody can force you to do a damn thing. If you want to call off the wedding, then call it off. Here and now.”

  “Fine. It’s off.”

  His head jerked in agreement. “Great. Have a nice life, Dix.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “Have a nice life? You’re dumping me because I don’t want to marry you this instant?”

  “What the fuck do you want? You think I’m gonna hang around waiting for four years while you get a degree? Get real.”

  And just like that, she learned the truth about love. It had terms and conditions and didn’t reflect a poet’s words at all. She and Josh had reached the finish line with no happy ending.

  Dix gazed at Josh’s unreadable expression and her heart beat with fear, but she’d be damned if she’d show it. There were no warm hugs or sympathetic words of encouragement waiting for her at home. The only person she’d ever trusted was Josh. A lump formed in her throat.

  Instead of crying, she smiled. “Take care of yourself.”

  ****

  Josh watched the sway of Dixie’s beautiful ass as she strode from the barn without another word. He leaned over and swept the pitchfork off the ground once she’d left. She’d always had a stubborn streak and a mind of her own.

  For a split second, his heart screamed at him to chase her. Reason with her. But he knew better. Fiercely independent and unafraid, she wasn’t the typical girl. When they were twelve and he’d tried to chase her with a frog from the creek, she’d chased him with a snake. When his buddies weren’t around, Dixie didn’t mind having a sword fight with a tree branch.

  After leaning the pitchfork against the nearest stall, he walked to the double doors of the barn and into the evening light. Dix had already reached the road, headed for home.

  They’d never had a fight before. At least, not one this bad. Maybe he should jump in his pickup and go get her. She could yell at him some more until she’d vented all her frustrations.

  “Josh, you finished in the barn?” his mom asked, walking toward him from the house, a dish towel draped over her shoulder.

  “Haven’t started yet.”

  “Is that Dixie?” She raised a hand to her forehead, shading her eyes from the brilliant sunset.

  “Yup.”

  “Is something wrong, honey?”

  Josh loved his folks. His dad had a wicked sense of humor and didn’t overreact when life threw a hurdle in front of him. His parents had plenty of friends and a good life. That’s what Josh had expected with the girl making tracks back to her place.

  “Wish Dixie had parents like you and Dad.”

  “Aw, honey.” She placed her warm fingers on his sleeveless arm. “They’ll come around.”

  “Dix is right. We’re too young to get married.”

  His mother’s eyes widened. “What are you saying, son?”

  He cleared his throat. “The wedding is off.”

  “It’s just nerves. It’s normal.” Mom smiled as if she thought he were kidding.

  He shook his head. Dixie had more going on than most girls. That’s why he loved her. But she wasn’t a rancher and he’d always known that. “No. It’s not. She wants to go to college, and she should.”

  “Josh, if you had a fight, give her a day to cool down then go talk to her.”

  Dixie’s sleek frame got harder and harder to see until she disappeared completely. “I always thought Dix and I would be together. Never doubted that she and I would always walk in the same direction.”

  His mom placed an arm around his shoulder and gave a squeeze. “Honey, I just took an apple pie out of the oven. Why don’t you come inside?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be in a bit.”

  His mother meant well, but her baking wasn’t going to fix this. He knew when Dixie left for college, she’d never come back. Her paren
ts had always demanded her obedience but never offered any love in return. He’d witnessed that over and over again. She had no one to come home to after college, or share her accomplishments with, except for him.

  In a rash of anger, he’d cut her off, just like her unforgiving parents. Roping Dix into marriage would end in regrets. He didn’t want that for her.

  ****

  Sasha came running through the kitchen door the next afternoon. Dix looked up from the table, a half-filled bowl of shelled peas in front of her. She hadn’t told her parents about her fight with Josh. In her present state of mind, which was pretty much hollow, she didn’t think she could stand the barrage of guilt her folks would heap on her.

  “Oh my God, you’re home,” Sasha cried.

  “Where else would I be?”

  Her sister, with beautiful blonde hair and bright blue eyes, quickly sat down across the table. “Didn’t you hear? Why aren’t you crying?”

  Their mother entered the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, seeing Sasha’s concerned expression. “What’s going on?”

  “I rushed home as soon as I heard. I thought Dixie would be a mess,” her younger sister said.

  Her pulse quickened. “Something bad happen?”

  “Spit it out, Sasha,” their mother ordered.

  “Josh left this morning…to join the Navy. He’s gone.”

  Dix picked up another pod and calmly slit the seam with her nail, opening the green flesh, then rubbed her thumb down the shiny inner skin to dislodge the peas into the bowl.

  When she finished, Dix turned her head to look at her mother, the woman’s eyes narrowed in anger.

  “This is your doing, isn’t it? Not only did you manage to darken your soul with sin, but you manipulated Josh into leaving somehow.” Her mother reached behind her waist and untied her apron, thrusting the fabric onto the counter. “Everyone will be asking questions. What do you expect me to say?”

  Dixie rose, intending on going to her room to answer the college acceptance letter. She’d pack her bags and ask one of her brothers for a ride to the bus station in St. George.