Shawnee's Creek

by Stephy Smith

  Mason turned to Shawnee. “What made you do that? Torturing a man like that is malicious.”

  “I warned him about the spider. He didn’t listen. The snake thing, oh, that was paybacks from days gone by. I didn’t plan any of this to happen, but you know the old saying wait long enough and opportunity will present itself. Besides, don’t think I forgot how y’all let me jump on him when he pulled his prank on me. You’ll all get it in due time. I am a patient woman.” She chuckled when Mason took a step back.

  Shawnee ran to the kitchen and out the door. Cheyenne followed her twin sister. Their laughter echoed in the garage.

  They returned to the kitchen and placed the food on the table. Silence in the room wasn’t golden. The tension affected Shawnee, and guilt from her tormenting Emory with the snake thing almost made her feel remorse.

  Cheyenne and Mason excused themselves after supper and left to go cow tipping with a new employee. Wicked flutters assaulted her stomach. She tilted her head to the side and bit her lower lip. What buffers they turned out to be, running off to let me fend for myself. They know better than I what kind of wrath Emory is going to toss my way. And to leave me alone with the man I barely know. Just wait until I get a hold of them.

  “How could you do something like that? I ask you for a date, and you had revenge set in your mind all along, didn’t you? You just couldn’t wait for the opportunity to try and kill me off.” Emory rubbed his head.

  “That wasn’t my intention. If I wanted to get even, I would have put a laxative in your food. The situation presented itself, and I couldn’t resist. I had to go with it. I had no idea the spider would jump on you.” Shawnee moved behind him and massaged his scalp as he eyed his empty plate and then her.

  “It was pretty good the way you went with it. It would have been funny if it hadn’t have been me. The fact of the matter is I wanted to try to make amends for the other day. Now I don’t think that was such a good idea.” He glared at her then softened his gaze.

  The freshness of spicy aftershave lifted to her nose. Leaning closer she guided her fingers to caress his smooth shaven face. The warmth of his body penetrated her abdomen. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes to let her senses take over. He leaned back against her and moaned softly. Her eyes snapped open and heat rushed her cheeks.

  Emory laughed with Shawnee. “Of course.”

  “So, you didn’t really put a laxative in my food, did you?”

  Chapter Six

  It was time for the annual chili cook off at the sale barn. Cheyenne talked Shawnee into cooking up her earth-blazing recipe.

  The participants would display their chili in the café. Shawnee took her breaks to help set things up for event. She was informed that vendors from all over town with different types of chili from mild to spicy hot would be pouring in within two days. All proceeds went to the local charities in the panhandle.

  “You’re not going to back out of this are you, Shawnee?” Cheyenne’s eyes widened.

  “No. You’re going to have to help me. If you want, Mason can help also. I have to go to the store and buy the ingredients I need. You and Mason can clean everything from the counters tonight while I’m getting the fixings.”

  “Sure. What else do you need us to do?”

  “Find the largest pots we have and wash the dust off them. Set them on the counter for me. Oh, I also need the largest frying pans.” Shawnee winked at Cheyenne.

  “I hope Mason is up for a cooking lesson.” Cheyenne curled her lips. “Is Emory going to be there to help? I think he wants to taste the first batch you make before you mix it all in together.”

  “By all means, tell him to come on over. I would, but I have to leave before he gets back, so I’m not going to get to see him unless he comes over. Did you prepare either one of them for what to expect?”

  “I told them the usual. It’s spicy but not all that hot. Very flavorful. They would like it.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll have for supper tonight. I have to go and start cooking. I’ll see the three of you when I get home.” Shawnee toted her purse out the door and left for the grocery store.

  After the trip to the grocery store, she drove straight home.

  Cheyenne, Mason, and Emory sat around the kitchen table. The counters had been cleared, except for the pots and pans she’d requested. Meat piled in a box sat on the floor.

  “How much chili do I have to make?” Shawnee eyed the package near the stove.

  “There’s about a hundred pounds of meat there. That should last the day, don’t you think?” Emory’s eyes lit up.

  “I should say more than a day. How many people show up for this shindig? Does that include the out-of-town buyers and their families? How many vendors will there be? Are you taking the leftovers home with you if there are any?” Shawnee’s mind raced at the sight of a hundred pounds of chili each for every vendor.

  “Why, sure I will. You’re a good cook. Mason will take some, too, won’t you, Mason?”

  Shawnee set to work cooking the chili while the other three played cards at the table. Conversations ranging from work to play shifted back and forth. The smell of hamburger meat, tomato sauce, fresh ground hot peppers and garlic simmering filtered into the air.

  “Grab some bowls, Cheyenne, and let the hungry piranhas dig in,” Shawnee called over her shoulder as she started another batch to simmer.

  She poured them all some iced tea and sat at the table to eat a bowl herself. Cheyenne took her bowl and chair next to Mason.

  Shawnee and Cheyenne ate in silence. Emory and Mason were in deep conversation.

  “Hey, Shawnee, this is really good chili. You should manufacture this stuff.” Emory raised his spoon in salute.

  “It really is the best chili I’ve ever tasted. Not too hot, not too mild. Just the right flavor.” Mason threw in. “I need this recipe for the cook off in Amarillo. I might win.” The men talked for a minute or two longer then grew silent. Shawnee looked up from her bowl toward Emory.

  “Thanks.” She sat waiting for them to resume their conversation.

  Emory’s face burned bright red. Sweat speckled across his forehead. Tears fell from his eyes and his hands shook. His eyes bulged and he took another bite. He glanced at Mason.

  Shawnee’s eyes went to Mason. His mouth clamped shut. His spoon tinkled on the bowl when it dropped. His hands went to his ears. He shot Emory a glance.

  “Is something wrong? Is it too spicy? Did I get enough salt in it?” Shawnee stared at the two men. In a few seconds, they had turned from Chatty Cathy’s into mummies with their mouths clinched tight enough to turn their lips white.

  Both men jumped to their feet and headed to the sink where Shawnee had fresh dishwater. They pushed and shoved each other trying to stick their heads in the water at the same time.

  Cheyenne gasped and Shawnee grabbed her arm, not sure what to think of the spectacle.

  Mumbling bubbly words came from the soapy dishwater as Emory and Mason pushed and shoved. Occasional words flowed into the air.

  The battle turned into a riotous situation. Shawnee and Cheyenne watched as the two finally spoke.

  “Mason, get out of my way. My lips are on fire!”

  “Find your own sink, Emory. So are mine.”

  “The devil with you. You find your own sink.” Back and forth the fight went.

  Cheyenne and Shawnee stared wide-eyed and silent. They glanced at one another and shrugged their shoulders.

  Mason grabbed the back of Emory’s hair, pulling him from the sink. Pushing hard to sling Emory across the floor.

  Emory came right back. He grabbed Mason around the waist and twirled him around. He kicked him in the butt and sent him flying into the refrigerator. Mason countered the attack and tossed Emory’s bent body into the box containing the rest of the meat.

  Emory jumped up and ran to Mason. He pulled his ears and tossed Mason on the floor near the table.

  Mason hit Emory in a sideways tackle. They both cra
shed to the floor.

  Shawnee quickly grabbed the table and pulled it into the corner. Cheyenne yelled for the two to stop. Her words went unheard as the men continued to race for the sink water.

  Emory was back at the sink, Mason’s head was stuck in the water. Emory grabbed the sprayer hose and turned the water on full blast. He aimed the hose at his mouth. The cold water rushed to hit him square in the face leaving tiny whelps from the pressure. He yanked it away. Cold water hit Mason in the back. Mason jolted upright tearing the faucet from its base.

  Mason grabbed for the hose.

  Water flew all over the kitchen. Shawnee and Cheyenne caught their breaths as the water soaked the front of their shirts. Mason released the handle. Water shot out from the faucet.

  Shawnee was too shocked to respond then finally she found her voice. “Emory! Mason! Stop it right this instant.”

  The men continued the sink war. Shawnee ran to the pantry. She grabbed a black cat firecracker left over from Fourth of July the year before and lit it, then tossed it between the two men.

  A loud bang stopped the men in their tracks. Their arms flew over their heads. Water gushed up toward the ceiling from the broken faucet; the hose dangled in Mason’s hand.

  Shawnee shoved the men away from the sink and opened the cabinet below to turn off the water lines. She stood glaring at them.

  “What in blue blazes prompted that little display of macho-ism?” Her hands balled on her hips.

  “You don’t have a clue, do you? You set our lips on fire with your burn-the-hair-off-a-buffalo chili.” Emory puffed out his chest.

  “What did you put in that stuff that makes you want to eat it and then, whamo! It rips your lips right off your face,” Mason said.

  “That chili is not hot. Not hot enough to destroy a kitchen over.” Shawnee stood between the two, appraising the damages.

  Mason raised his hand to his head and drew back bloody fingers. Emory’s eye was puffy from hitting it on the edge of the sink. Both men had bloody lips and bruises.

  “If you say it wasn’t spicy hot, I won’t believe you … ever! Like I said that stuff can singe the hair off a buffalo. I don’t know what you put in it, but I want you to mark it real good for the contest.” Emory dabbed at his lip.

  “You need to put warning labels on it. Say something like caution: corrosive acid, too hot to handle. Anything you want but put a warning so people will know they are taking their lives in their own hands!” Mason winced as he touched his head again.

  Shawnee retrieved a couple of bags of frozen peas and threw them at the two.

  “What are these for? Is this the meal we get if we don’t eat the chili that cooks a body from the inside out?” Emory fidgeted with the bag of peas.

  “To put on your bumps and bruises. You’re going to have a real shiner come morning, Emory. Mason, let Cheyenne inspect your head where you ripped the faucet off. How was I to know you big, strong cowboys couldn’t handle a little heat?” Shawnee went for the mop.

  Cheyenne inspected Mason’s head with a frown. “I think you’re going to need a few stitches. It’s deep and leaking like the faucet was before Shawnee turned it off.”

  “Am I supposed to pack it with these peas?” Mason’s eyes shone with a serious glint.

  Shawnee whirled around to him. Her smile turned into laughter. “Yeah, Mason. Just open the little bag and cram those little peas into your brain. That way you’ll have a bona fide pea brain.”

  Cheyenne lost her composure. Her laughter blended in with Shawnee’s.

  Mason shrugged his shoulders at Emory. “You’re a mess.”

  “So are you.”

  ****

  “The charity trail ride will be at Buffalo Springs this year. I’ve signed everyone up to ride. If you don’t ride, you can help set up the food stand, sell T-shirts, or whatever has been planned for the day.” Emory glanced around the room full of employees. The black eye had faded into a yellowish green, and his bottom lip still sported the cut from the sink.

  “I heard they were going to have a guide to relate the historical value of the headquarters for the XIT ranch.” Mason’s hair was beginning to grow back from being shaved when the doctor stitched it.

  “Who’s doing the catering this year?” one of the older cowboys asked.

  “I don’t know, but don’t let Shawnee cook anything. I want to live to tell about the ride,” a cowboy sitting in the back called out.

  “I don’t wanna replace another saddle. That chili pulled a bad trick on me,” another one said.

  “I didn’t force anyone to eat that chili. Every one of you chose to do it on your own. So, knock it off right now. You saw Mason and Emory before you ate it. To me, it’s not hot.” Shawnee glared at the bunch of cowboys.

  “That’s enough. Let’s stay on topic here…and don’t bring up the chili subject again.” Emory shook his head.

  “How many riders do we have?”

  Ten hands waved in the air.

  “Carla?” Emory asked.

  “Not this year. Dale is coming with me, and he doesn’t ride horses. I’ll help with the serving line.”

  “Clint, can you help with one of the games? I’m not sure what all they’ll have, but there should be one to accommodate your broke leg.”

  “Yep, I can do that.” A flush crept up Clint’s face.

  “Who else isn’t riding? The ride will be this weekend, and I expect everyone to be there.”

  Emory finished the list of volunteer work and released the employees from the meeting.

  “Shawnee. Can you fax the list? They said they need it by this afternoon.” Emory brushed her hand when he handed her the paper.

  A wild desire ran through her bones. His massive, self-confidence had an air of authority she couldn’t resist. A muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth, drawing her eyes to his lips. He stood inches from her, his warm breath brushing across her face. The sweet minty aroma reached her nose. Heat from his rippling torso rumbled within the darkest depths of her being. She quelled the itch to touch his face, to draw him near and sample his essence.

  His eyes glowed with a savage inner fire promising affection as he gazed at her face. A flush burned a path up her neck to cross her face and she trembled with want she couldn’t express. Even with his multi-colored face, he was still devastatingly handsome. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Reckless thoughts and questions wandered in her mind. Her eyes scanned from his face to his thick neck and broad shoulders. Images of his powerful arms encasing her body, pulling her close against the hard planes of his chest extracted a wonderful and strange encounter with her own emotions.

  It was those little touches and gazes that left her feeling like she was in serious trouble. His knuckles lifted her chin, his lips met hers gentle and caressing. She wrapped her arms around his neck drawing him closer, pulling the kiss deeper. The taste of his minty breath urged her to explore the hidden promises his eyes had beheld.

  His arms slid around her, hugging her tight to him. When the kiss ended, he lowered his head to her neck and bestowed butterfly kisses across the hollow of her pulse. He seductively flicked her earlobe with his tongue sending a round of electricity to parts of her body she didn’t know could tingle so intensely. A security engulfed her that she never wanted to end.

  Chapter Seven

  After two years of working with and dating the man, Shawnee awed at the handsome back of Emory through the window. Her mind was on their date for the night. What to wear, and if she should wear her hair up or let it hang loose, dulled her excitement. Desire ran down her spine with jitters sprinkled across her skin.

  She closed her eyes, dreaming of his special touch when he held her against his massive chest and ran his hands down her shoulders to the small of her back leaving fiery paths across her skin. His aftershave beckoned her to caress his fresh shaven cheeks with hers. And his kisses that lingered on her lips long after they ended left her wanting more. She wanted the promise of ev
erlasting love, and he obviously wasn’t ready for the big step.

  The small cowboy gathering outside her window drew her attention from the dream state. She took one more glance at the one on the horse. Emory. He was releasing the crew for the day and she wasn’t ready for their date.

  Back at the desk, piles of files waited for her. She sighed and returned to her job.

  In haste, she rushed home, bathed and dressed in record time.

  Her purple satin shirt clung to her chest; her new blue jeans hugged her hips. She polished her boots and pinned up the sides of her hair. After one more glance in the mirror, she smoothed the wrinkles and walked out of her room to wait on Emory.

  The doorbell rang and she took a deep breath. His grand body stood before her with a bottle of non-alcohol champagne. Tied to the neck of the beverage was a yellow rose with a white ribbon. He carried it in and placed the container on ice.

  He kissed her on the cheek. “Shall we go eat?” He extended his elbow and escorted her to the pickup. He opened the door and helped her in, making her feel like a true princess.

  During supper, Emory kept his free hand on Shawnee’s leg. “Would you like to go dancing for a while?”

  “I would love to go dancing with you.”

  They drove to the Lonely Steer Bar and Grill. Mason and Cheyenne were at a corner table in the back. A few of the other cowboys from work sat at tables close to Mason and Cheyenne.

  They took a table close to the dance floor. Emory went to the bar and brought back a couple of Cokes. He handed one to Shawnee and took a sip of his own. The door swung open.

  Shawnee turned her head when the long lanky-legged woman walked into the establishment. Her tight-fitting mini skirt barely covered her. The woman’s ample bosom flopped with each step and threatened to escape the spaghetti strap blouse. Her strong perfume followed the path she took, leaving sneezing victims in her wake. The animated swing of her hips presented a falsehood about the woman.