100% Pure Cowboy

by Cathleen Galitz

  Her bones protested as the dark sky gave way to the chilly dawn of day. The cold, hard ground provided little more comfort than a bed of nails, and her goose bumps assured her that the wisest thing to do was to simply burrow back in her warm sleeping bag until the sun climbed high enough in the sky to spill its bright yellow heat upon the prairie.

  Taking their cue from their groggy den mother, Danielle’s troop blocked out Mollie’s repeated entreaties by hibernating deeper into their sleeping bags. The general consensus was that they’d catch up with the rest of the train later—after they had gotten their prerequisite beauty sleep.

  Vaguely aware of the sound of other troops bustling about, Danielle mumbled, “Wake me when the coffee’s done,” before drifting back to sleep.

  The next thing she knew a bucketful of cold water hit her full in the face. Jackknifing straight up in her sleeping bag, she gasped for breath, sputtering like a cold engine.

  “What the—” Erupting chaos drowned out her choice expletive.

  Beside each of their sleeping bags stood a Prairie Scout from a neighboring troop. They held empty buckets and wore looks of smug satisfaction.

  Danielle’s girls were in various states of confusion: Lynn hopping from foot to foot upon the cold ground, Ray Anne howling her outrage at the top of her lungs, Kim Tyler shrieking unladylike curses, and Inez Quest snatching the pail from a perpetrator’s hands with the clear intent of beating her soundly about the head with it. The rest of Troop No. 83 was too shocked to do more than look on in disbelief.

  The scene was on the verge of becoming a full-fledged brawl when an imposing voice sliced through the bedlam with clarity of purpose.

  “Just what in the hell’s going on here?”

  Despite his scowl, Cody Walker’s eyes twinkled as everyone began speaking at once.

  “They tried to drown us,” sputtered an indignant Sheila Pooly.

  “Cowboy up, you big crybabies!”

  “I tried waking them up, Daddy,” Mollie interjected. “But June took it upon herself to—”

  Pointing a finger at the girl who had doused her, Ray Anne exploded, “I’m gonna kill you!”

  “One at a time,” Cody commanded in a tone that broached no discussion.

  June Matson stepped forward with the air of an experienced trial lawyer. “We were just helping Troop Beverly Hills get up out of bed. They seem to think they’re too good to have to get up the same time as the rest of us.”

  Danielle bristled. She didn’t much care for pinched-faced girls who went around doing other people dirty “for their own good.”

  “I’d prefer you not address my troop by that name if you don’t mind.” Her aquamarine eyes were icy jewels that matched the cool tone of her voice. She knew darned good and well from whom the girl had picked up the term, and she had a good mind to give him a swift kick in the hind end.

  Cody’s attention was diverted from the anger in Red’s eyes by the dripping wet, oversize T-shirt she was wearing for pajamas. It clung to her body in the crisp morning air, her nipples puckering against the virtually transparent fabric like hard rosebuds.

  The heat emanating from Cody’s appraisal should have turned that cold, wet T-shirt positively steamy. Indignantly folding her arms over her breasts, Danielle glared into the smoldering blue heat of his eyes. “You all can rest assured,” she said with cool authority that belied the fact that her knees were the consistency of melting gelatin, “Troop 83 will not need any further assistance getting out of bed in the mornings.”

  Embarrassed to be caught gawking, Cody quickly glanced away. “Good. Then let’s see about getting breakfast into these youngun’s and heading down the trail. We’re burning daylight.”

  He scanned the horizon in hopes of regaining his composure. It looked as though it was going to be a scorcher. Unfortunately, the sun couldn’t possibly make him any hotter than he was at the present moment. That unexpected eyeful of Danielle’s soft, womanly curves sent his temperature soaring into the danger zone. If he wasn’t careful, his thoughts would ignite a prairie fire. The hot blush that crept up the back of his neck bespoke his self-consciousness. With a single discerning look, Danielle had made him feel worthy of the title she had conferred upon him the first time they had met. Pervert.

  It rankled him. Hell, a man would have to be a saint not to have noticed the way she filled out that wet T-shirt. And though Cody didn’t consider himself a pervert, he wasn’t exactly up for canonization, either. He hadn’t remained completely celibate since his wife’s death, but the rare sexual encounters he had allowed himself had proven to be nothing more than empty, meaningless escapes pressed upon him by some sophisticated woman of the nineties acting under the mistaken impression that men liked to be pursued. Perhaps that was why he found Danielle’s indifference so challenging. He supposed it was only natural that Danielle’s studied coolness could become an obsession to someone used to women coming on to him like alley cats in heat.

  Sternly, Cody reminded himself that the absolute last thing he needed in his life was a foolhardy preoccupation with a redheaded stick of dynamite and her firecracker of a daughter. He was sure if he ever did get to the point where he might settle down again, it certainly wouldn’t be with anyone as flamboyant as Danielle Herte. Maybe she did have the ability to set sparks off him like flint with a mere glance of those incredible eyes, but Cody was quick to remind himself there was little point in even thinking about getting involved with another woman again when his heart would always be pledged to Mollie’s mother.

  With the asceticism of a monk, he grabbed a scalding cup of coffee and punished himself for his vagarious thoughts by skipping his morning meal altogether.

  Breakfast proved to be a sullen affair for Troop 83. Danielle’s girls huddled around the campfire wrapped in blankets and nursing their grudges. Furtive whisperings hinted of revenge. When the rising sun failed to burn away the discontent enveloping the camp like a thick, persistent fog, Danielle tried lifting the girls’ spirits with a fortifying breakfast of sourdough pancakes and salt-cured bacon. Clearly their enthusiasm for this excursion had waned. Like their den mother, they were suffering the effects of blistered feet and sore muscles. Second thoughts manifested themselves in talk of turning back while there was still time. The knowledge that nothing would please their haughty wagon master more made Danielle dig in her heels.

  “Chin up, girls,” she said calmly, determined to put an end to any more talk of mutiny. “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us, and we might as well make the best of it. This is an opportunity to show the other girls what you’re really made of.”

  Catching the look that passed between Lynn and Mollie, Danielle seriously doubted whether hers would be the last word on the subject.

  As she had feared, retribution for the morning’s dousing was swift in coming. To her surprise, it was the angeliclooking Mollie who’d masterminded the scheme to defend the besmirched honor of Troop 83.

  During their midmorning break, Sheila Pooly waded out into the river to cool off her feet, making quite a show of how good the water felt. With little encouragement, all the Prairie Scouts were soon splashing about in the shallows of Sweetwater. While the other girls were otherwise occupied, Lynn, Mollie, Ray Anne, and Inez slipped unnoticed into the back of a neighboring wagon. By the time the troops were ready to hit the trail again, June Matson’s underwear was proudly serving as the flag for Troop Beverly Hills’ wagon. A slight breeze puffed the padded bra and matching panties to full size amid the hoots of all the Prairie Scouts assembled.

  With mock solemnity, Lynn led the troops in a formal salute.

  The sound of Cody Walker’s booming laughter joining those of the assembled girls sent a tingling sensation along Danielle’s spine. It stood to reason that the owner of such an infectious laugh couldn’t be all bad. Years of living with a man devoid of a sense of humor made Danielle appreciate the sound of heartfelt laughter. She only wished she felt as at ease as their wagon master in laughing at t
he prank, but something in June’s sour, red face planted a seed of suspicion that the war had just begun.

  Less than two hours later Cody slapped his dusty hat across his thigh in exasperation. He was rapidly losing patience. Ever since the ignominious start of the day, he’d heard nothing from the troops but a constant litany of whining.

  “No, you may not ride in the infirmary wagon,” he repeated for what must have been the hundredth time this morning to a string of young ladies whose complaints had run the gamut from fatigue to PMS. Had it been up to him, he would have upended the whole blasted lot, most notably the Troop Beverly Hills contingent.

  He had to give their lovely den mother credit. She dealt with their petty complaints with patient, firm resolve. Apparently the woman saved that hot temper of hers for the likes of him, never once addressing her churlish charges in any tone that was less than calm and indefatigable. By the way she was gingerly picking her way along the trail, it was obvious that she was in pain herself. But unlike her girls, Danielle wasn’t a complainer.

  Surprised by the woman’s quiet determination, Cody was tempted to ask if she would like to ride behind him on Champion for a while, but something, in the grim set of her jaw stopped him. He had the sneaky suspicion that all he’d receive for his gallant offer would be another fiery diatribe to match the color of her hair.

  According to Mollie, who had struck up a fast friendship with Lynn, the girl’s parents were divorced and she didn’t see much of her father. Since his own marriage had been blessed, it was hard for Cody to imagine the intentional breakup of a married couple. If he had any control over the hand of God, he darned sure wouldn’t be raising Mollie by himself. Luckily his own mother was there to help during the long periods when he was on the road. Wondering if Danielle had any extended family support, Cody was certain that she would only resent any advice he would care to offer. Surely it would be far wiser to keep his mouth shut over the next two weeks if he hoped to continue eating her delicious cooking.

  Besides, he had more than enough to worry about without picking up troubles that weren’t wearing his brand. The morning’s high jinks had thrown the entire wagon train into a dither. Aware of the undercurrent of hostility between the troops, Cody kept a keen eye out for any practical jokes that might go amiss. If he wasn’t mistaken, more lizards and crickets were being taken into captivity this morning than usual curiosity warranted. He hoped some prankster didn’t accidentally uncover something a little less innocuous, say like a rattlesnake lazing behind a rock.

  Although he personally found the girls’ shenanigans amusing, he was well aware that an ongoing feud could lead to more serious consequences. Putting his hat back atop his head, he determined to gather the troops together at lunch to formally address the matter.

  When the sun reached its highest point in the sky indicating it was time for lunch, he raised his hand and directed the wagon train to halt. As the girls scoured the countryside for campfire kindling and firewood, Cody alerted the den mothers of his intentions.

  It took him a little while to find Danielle. He spotted her, at last, buried headfirst in the back of the wagon, digging through their limited cooking supplies. Unbeknownst to her, she provided him with a perfect view of her wriggling, rounded bottom. The sight made his body stir, and he was torn between his desire to smack that lovely target with the open palm of his hand or to simply enjoy the view for as long as the opportunity presented itself.

  At length, he cleared his throat behind her.

  Startled, Danielle straightened up without thinking and hit her head on a pot hanging from the wooden ribbing overhead. With a curse on her tongue, she wheeled around, displeasure snapping in her eyes like sapphire flames.

  Trying to keep from laughing, Cody asked in mock solemnity, “Isn’t there something in the Prairie Scout rule book prohibiting den mothers from using such unladylike vernacular?”

  In no mood to parry clever remarks, Danielle asked tersely, “What do you want now?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d gather your girls up and meet me at the head wagon in ten minutes.” And with no more explanation than that, he reined his horse around, leaving Danielle with a silent oath on her lips and an unaccountable quivering in the center of her being.

  “I’ve called you all together to talk about the practical jokes you girls have been playing on one another all morning,” Cody began in a voice both resonant and imperious. “Fun is fun, but it’s time to put a stop to this nonsense before something stupid happens and somebody lands in the hospital...or worse.”

  The girls might have been tempted to dismiss such typical adult diatribe had it not been for the fact that Cody Walker was to each and every one of them manhood perfected. Danielle couldn’t blame them, not when she herself was more than willing to attribute her own fascination with cowboys to a string of covered wagon romance novels and Clint Eastwood westerns. Even as jaded as she felt at the ripe old age of thirty-three, she herself was not ready to give up those old adolescent fantasies.

  “I have the sneaking suspicion that you all need to check your bedrolls tonight for lizards, water snakes, and cockleburs. While that’s harmless enough, it could well lead to something less docile—like maybe a scorpion planted in somebody’s bonnet. I know it sounds pretty far-fetched, but that’s the way the game of revenge is played. The only way to win is to be the first to stop.”

  A single snicker from the assemblage was instantly squelched by the look of reprisal in their leader’s electric blue eyes.

  “And just in case you think I’m not serious about this, let me assure you that the next girl caught in the act of perpetrating another practical joke will be dropped off at the nearest town. Her parents will be called and held responsible for her transportation home.”

  Danielle admired the way Cody Walker handled himself with the girls. There was no doubt that he was in complete control. She doubted if there was an unsure bone in his entire body. His simple yet eloquent explanation of revenge touched a chord deep within her heart, and she found herself wondering if perhaps beneath that swaggering cowboy facade beat a heart more sensitive than she had imagined.

  Thus lost in her thoughts, Danielle realized with a start that their wagon master was pointing his finger right at her. Lordy, what had she done now?

  “You’d all do well to use this lady as a role model. I suspect that she’s just as tired as the rest of you, yet you don’t hear her whining. Why don’t you try following her example?”

  Danielle couldn’t have been more surprised by his unexpected praise. The knowledge that Cody’s flattery was merely a ploy to get the children to behave didn’t detract from the fact that his words filled a gaping hole inside her. Like everything else that concerned his wife, Scott had been stingy with his compliments. The blush on her cheeks left the telltale sign that Danielle was unused to the soft words that most beautiful women simply came to expect early on as their due.

  When the wind came up later in the day it was all she could do to hold on to those kind words. Great gusts of dust billowed across the open prairie covering the entire wagon train with a heavy film of dirt. More than one pair of glasses was sent skittering across the sagebrushed plains, and it became increasingly difficult just keeping one’s eyes open.

  Cody had pulled his bandanna from around his neck to cover his mouth and nose, and for the first time Danielle was grateful for her old-fashioned clothing. Her bonnet and long skirt gave some protection from stinging dirt and pebbles tossed in the wind. How many pioneers, she wondered, disoriented and choking in such dust storms, had stumbled beneath a wagon wheel and been crushed to death on this very trail? As they passed a grave marked only with a crude wooden cross, Danielle’s heart grew as cold and windswept as the surrounding plains. Never again would she take such conveniences as cold and hot water from a spigot for granted. How poignant the realization that the comfortable life modern Americans had come to automatically expect had been bought at a great price by innumerable an
d nameless pioneers.

  Throughout the remainder of the afternoon, the wind was their constant companion. Everyone was irritable and coated with grit by the time they reached the foothills of the Wind River Mountain Range. Indeed everyone was grateful when their wagon master led the train into the mouth of a canyon that provided welcome respite from the wind. Cody informed them they would be spending the night here.

  Danielle surveyed the scene around her. It seemed the world had donned a king’s mantle of gold as the setting sun placed its shining crown atop the mountain peaks. Startled by the rare human intrusion into God’s country, a herd of wild horses tossed their manes to the wind and galloped off into the distance. The sight of their untamed power reminded Danielle of a time gone by—a time when the world was populated by men who asked for nothing more than to do work that was open to the sky. Men as honest as the horses they rode. Men like Cody Walker. If Scott had only been willing to settle for such a simple, decent life, Danielle knew she would have followed him to the ends of the earth.

  Humbled by the beauty before her, she thought the whole world must have looked like this on the very day God made it. This vast frontier had remained virtually untouched by human hands since the Oregon Trail left its dusty scar across the land. Fingering the small packet of notes in her pocket, she suddenly remembered her reading assignment.

  When Cody stumbled upon Danielle perched atop a boulder, reading, he was unprepared for the surge of emotion that roared through his veins like an uncharted river. The sun was tangled in that mass of boisterous curls, and he found himself utterly enchanted by the way she brushed aside the stray tendrils that caressed her cheek.

  Pulling on Champion’s reins, Cody stopped and drank his fill of her. He definitely liked her better with her hair loose and out from under the constraints of that old gingham bonnet.

  Indeed the woman’s loveliness made his heart hurt. Nothing in his life had ever made him feel the way he felt standing in the middle of that dusty trail looking at Danielle utterly engrossed in her reading. It was an attraction more powerful than anything he had ever before experienced. Though he had loved Rachael with all of his heart, their attraction to one another had started out slowly, blossoming over time into something comfortable and easy. Every time he came in contact with this perplexing redhead was like being drilled by a sniper’s bullet.