Dusty Britches

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “Yeah, well,” he mumbled, “I got a bit of a talkin’-to from your daddy ’bout pullin’ his young woman of a daughter—who ain’t a little girl anymore—into the horse trough…even though it was that young woman’s foot planted on my behind that found me there in the first place.” He raised his eyebrows accusingly and then continued, “So…I figure…if I wanna warm bed to sleep in this winter and food in my belly…well, I guess I gotta say I’m sorry.”

  “Well, don’t say it if it’s gonna choke ya to death,” she grumbled, pulling herself to a sitting position.

  “It ain’t,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry. Sorry that I was a pill in the kitchen…not that I pulled you in the trough with me. That you deserved.”

  “Well,” Dusty said, brushing her hair back from her face. She suddenly realized what a complete mess she must look. “If that’s your apology, I’d hate to hear what you’d have to say if ya didn’t feel guilty at all.”

  “I just wouldn’ta said nothin’.” He grinned and groaned dramatically as he sat down beside her.

  “Things are different than when you were here before,” she blurted out.

  “Yep,” he agreed. He did not elaborate.

  “No, really,” she assured him. “I-I want you to be able to stay here and work for Daddy. Daddy’s a good, fair man and…but I can’t…you have to…I’ve changed. I’m not a child anymore, and…”

  “Yeah, I noticed that,” he mumbled with insinuation. He winked at her when she looked to him, astonished.

  “That’s what I mean! I’m…you can’t treat me like I was ten.”

  “Not even when ya act it?” he asked, his grin disappearing. She was hurt into silence, and he continued, “You’ve changed. And I don’t mean the way you fill out a dress now or that you grew up. I mean—and yes, I’ve heard the tale about what happened a couple of years ago—but I mean, your heart has changed. You used to be this wild, excited, happy little girl. Most times people like that grow up to be wild, excited, happy adults. But you’re wallerin’ in self-pity and hate…and that makes for a mighty unhappy woman.”

  “You’ve been here one day, Ryder! One!” she argued, raising her voice. “How can you suppose to know—”

  “Because you were already mostly grown when I left. And I knew ya then, better than anybody. Don’t deny it,” he growled. “Heck! I was in trouble over you most of the time I was here…not to mention the way I…” He silenced himself and clenched his jaw tightly for a moment. “I come out here to apologize to ya…but, dang it all, if I don’t want to take you over my knee and paddle your behind by now!”

  It was her only hope of survival to hate him. Otherwise she’d be lost—lost in the heartache of loving someone she couldn’t have. Yet something about him sitting there next to her, arguing with her—it wasn’t so unlike it had been before when he would sit, listening to all her trivial troubles of youth and giving encouragement. Fact was most of what she complained to him about she overdramatized on purpose just to have his attention. She figured he’d known that all along. But this was different. This was real and grown-up.

  She stood, intent on leaving, but he brazenly took hold of her ankle to stall her. She looked down at him indignantly.

  “I’m sorry, Dusty,” he told her. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

  There was hidden meaning in his words. “Which time?” she asked. Reaching down, she wrenched her ankle free of his grasp and stormed away.

  She stopped just before she entered the clearing to put on her skirt and wipe her tears. She’d said too much—revealed too much to him. Now where would she find her strength?

  Ryder sighed heavily, took the blade of grass he’d been chewing out of his mouth, and tossed it into the pond. The thought struck him—was it Cash Richardson’s betrayal that had turned the girl he used to know into this resentful woman? Or—and he had to admit it to himself—should the blame be placed more squarely on his own shoulders as Feller had implied? She was there—that girl whose heart he’d unintentionally broken. He could find her in this woman’s eyes at times—see the smile wanting to curl the corners of her pretty mouth. Could she ever gift him the forgiveness he’d come back seeking? Would he ever be able to shed the guilt he’d carried around for so long? The guilt that was even worse than the other yoke of guilt he bore?

  Dusty was quiet at dinner. She avoided looking at Ryder, or anyone else for that matter. She helped Becca clean up and went directly to bed. A good night’s sleep would help. Ryder understood her now. There would be no horsing around like there had been in the old days. She was a grown-up now, as was he. Yet from her own observations, she knew women gave into adulthood a lot more quickly than men did—especially cowboys and ranch hands.

  Chapter Four

  Dusty awoke the next morning somewhat puzzled—puzzled in finding herself somehow feeling more friendly toward others, more tolerant of her sister’s lighthearted manner. Somehow Becca’s silly antics didn’t irritate her as much; somehow she found a measure of joy in watching the cowboys and ranch hands talking and chuckling as they worked.

  Ryder, however, seemed to play the part of a scolded puppy—a helpless puppy that had piddled on the rug and been sent out to sleep in the barn. For nearly two days he behaved this way—two days during which Dusty began to feel guilty somehow, as if she’d been the one to scold the puppy. She didn’t like him this way. What was she thinking? She didn’t like him at all! But it was unsettling to have him sulking, as it were.

  However, in true Ryder Maddox form, he could only be beaten for so long. One day just after lunch, as Dusty was returning from an errand to the barn, she saw Ryder sitting in a chair—propped up against the outer wall of the bunkhouse and whittling away. She knew he was waiting for old Leroy to ride in with some supplies her father had requested. Upon seeing him smile and nod a greeting to her, she felt relieved and somewhat forgiven for having been the puppy-scolder.

  “I named me a dog Dusty once,” Ryder mumbled, pausing in his whittling to look up at her.

  “Really?” Dusty asked, rolling her eyes. Yet she was secretly elated that he would speak to her after seeming to ignore her since their argument at the pond.

  “Yep. I always regretted havin’ to leave her behind when I was movin’ on…’cause she was a good little mutt.”

  “What? Is that supposed to make me think better of you somehow?” Dusty asked. “Am I supposed to be flattered that ya named a dog Dusty?”

  “Nope. I was just thinkin’ out loud really. She was a good little mutt though.” He returned his attention to his whittling as he continued, “She used to follow me around like the sun rose and set by me. She took a likin’ to me first off…even ’fore she was weaned.”

  Were his words conveying a message to her? Was he saying the puppy had been similar to the way she had been as a girl?

  “Really?” Dusty asked, the sarcasm thick in her voice. “Puppy love? Is that it?”

  Ryder chuckled and looked up at her, smiling. “Now that there was almost funny, Miss Dusty.” Pointing his pocketknife at her, he grinned slyly and mumbled, “Maybe you’ll get weaned enough off’n that sour taste of men in your mouth one day yet.”

  “Don’t hold your breath, Mr. Maddox,” she said. Ryder was still leaning back against the side of the bunkhouse on only the two back legs of the chair. Dusty reached down, taking hold of one chair leg, and yanked hard. Ryder tumbled backward, bumping his head on the bunkhouse wall.

  He wasn’t provoked, however. He simply chuckled and righted his chair. Sitting in it once more, he briefly rubbed the back of his head in amusement and returned his attention to whittling.

  “Be careful, Miss Dusty. You may be the boss’s daughter, but I don’t take too much of a beatin’ from nobody ’fore sooner or later I take ’em down hard,” he said.

  She ignored his insinuation and the thrill traveling through her. Turning, she walked away. She had taken no more than three steps when she heard three quick, consecutive whistles. Pausing, s
he looked back at him. Realizing the three quick whistles were akin to those any man might use to summon his dog’s attention, Dusty was instantly irritated by the amused grin on Ryder’s face.

  “Ol’ Dusty used to come a-runnin’ when I done that too,” he chuckled, tipping his hat at her.

  Why did she tolerate his smart-aleck remarks, his endless teasing and taunting? Why didn’t she slap his face whenever something pestering came out of his mouth—his mouth—his perfect mouth? How tantalizing his smile was—that sly, all-knowing, teasing grin. Well, she thought, pulling herself up short, she never slapped him because…because no doubt he’d thwart her attempt and send her sitting in the trough again.

  Still, she felt better—better than she had in days. When she heard the rumble of a wagon and team and turned to see Alice approaching, she felt her heart lighten even further. She felt…happy.

  “Are you givin’ your mama grief today, Makenna?” Dusty asked as the tiny angel personified in human form fairly leapt from the buckboard and into her arms.

  “Hi, Dusty,” the little girl cheerily greeted.

  Dusty adored Alice’s daughter. Makenna was all of two and a half but boasted the vocabulary of a child much older. She was a living angel with soft, blonde hair and the brightest of blue eyes, pinchable chubby cheeks, and a smile that lit up any situation.

  “I comed to see you!” Makenna exclaimed.

  “You did?” Dusty asked, smiling with delight and raising her eyebrows in feigned surprise.

  “Um-hum. I did! And I bringed my mommy and my baby brudder!” she chirped, putting her hands to Dusty’s cheeks as Dusty held her on one hip. “Where’s Becca?”

  “Becca’s over helpin’ Miss Raynetta with some sewin’ this afternoon. But I’m so glad you came for a visit!” Dusty told her.

  “Baby Jakie, him’s my brudder, and him’s got runny drawers, and him’s cryin’ a lot! So I bringed mommy to visit you!” Makenna added.

  Dusty couldn’t help but giggle. “Runny drawers? Oh, no! I bet your mama surely does need some visitin’ time, huh?”

  “Um-hum!” Makenna said, smiling and pinching Dusty’s cheeks.

  “Is he teethin’, Alice?” Dusty asked, turning to look at Makenna’s mother. Immediately Makenna put her hands back to Dusty’s face, forcing Dusty to look at her.

  Alice Jones had once been Alice Maxwell, Dusty’s dear, dear childhood friend. She’d married a nice man some four years ago. Dusty missed their usually profuse visits. Seems they’d dwindled to one a month, or even less, after Alice married.

  “I think so, Dusty. He’s just fussier than any old half-dead dog, and I’m about to lose my mind!” Alice answered, sighing heavily as she climbed down from the wagon with baby Jake. Almost as if he understood what she was saying, the baby boy began whimpering and sucking on his two middle fingers.

  “Well,” Dusty began, starting for the house, “you just sit here on the porch with me, and let me take a turn at him.”

  “You has to play with me first, Dusty,” Makenna reminded her.

  “I do want to play with you, Kenna. But what’s say we see if we can get this little-bit to settle down awhile, huh?” Dusty pleaded in her sweetest voice.

  “Is you ever gonna get married, Dusty?” Makenna asked suddenly.

  “Well, I…” Dusty stammered.

  “You run on and let me and Dusty visit, Kenna,” the child’s mother told her firmly.

  “But I don’t got nobody to play with, Mama,” the little girl whined.

  “Why don’t you come on over to the henhouse with me, sugar? We’ll see if we can dig up an egg or two from under one of them old hens, huh?”

  Dusty whirled around, astonished by the sound of his voice. Yet her ears had not deceived her. Ryder stood just behind her. As both Dusty and Alice stood looking at him, mouths gaping open, Makenna instantly stretched her arms out in a gesture for Ryder to take her.

  “Ryder Maddox, ma’am,” he said as he gathered Makenna into his strong arms. “Surely you didn’t forget me.”

  “For Pete’s sake! Ryder Maddox!” Alice exclaimed as she shook Ryder’s hand. She quirked one eyebrow and looked at Dusty. “I’m Alice Jones. Alice Maxwell Jones.”

  “The longer I stay on here…the older I feel! Don’t tell me these young-uns are both yours,” Ryder chuckled. “You can’t be old enough to have a family this far along. I remember when you was in short skirts.”

  “Ryder rode in with Daddy from the drive, Alice,” Dusty explained, shifting uncomfortably as Ryder smiled down at her and Alice. He kept looking back and forth between them. She knew he was sizing them up and remembering when they’d been two silly schoolgirls in love with one of her father’s favorite ranch hands.

  “I’m good with little angels like this here one,” he said, tweaking Makenna’s cheek.

  Dusty watched, mesmerized as Makenna took Ryder’s roughly shaven face between her hands and forced him to look at her. Makenna was usually averse to strangers and very stingy with her attention and affections.

  “You’re pretty!” Makenna giggled as she looked at him.

  Ryder chuckled. “Well, thank you, sugar. But ain’t nothin’ in the world as pretty as you!”

  Makenna smiled. “I’m goin’ to the henhouse with Ryder Magics, Mommy. You can have Dusty now.”

  “Well, thank you, Makenna. Um…” she paused, looking to Dusty for reassurance.

  But it was Ryder who answered. “You know me, Miss Alice…um…Mrs. Jones. Trustworthy as time.”

  Makenna took his face in her hands again and forced him to look at her. “Look at me!” the child demanded of him.

  Ryder chuckled. Even though Dusty knew there was no need to further reassure Alice where Ryder was concerned, she said, “She’ll be fine with him, Alice.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Alice giggled, watching Makenna with Ryder.

  “I’ll look after her, ma’am. You stay and visit with Miss Dusty. Maybe you all can settle that boy down a bit.” Ryder turned and started toward the henhouse, Makenna’s hands still on his face, a smile still revealing the dimples in her own chubby little cheeks.

  When he was well out of earshot, Alice exclaimed, “Good gravy, Dusty. Ryder Maddox! Of all people! I hadn’t heard he was back. Are ya just ready to drop dead right on the spot? I’ll be! If he ain’t still the handsomest thing ever to walk the earth!”

  Dusty felt a hot blush rising to her cheeks. It was plain Alice had forgotten, or at least was in awe of, how unusually attractive Ryder was.

  “I bet you ’bout died when he came ridin’ up again,” Alice said knowingly. When they were young girls, it had been Alice in whom Dusty had confided her feelings for the young cowboy.

  “Actually…I nearly did,” Dusty admitted. “It was a…surprise, to say the least of it.”

  Alice smiled and shook her head, “Mmmm mmmmm mmmm! Look at the way he fills out his blue jeans. Ain’t nothin’ like a good pair of blue jeans on a man like that!”

  “Alice Jones!” Dusty exclaimed. “I can’t believe you!”

  “Oh, Dusty…relax! Many’s the time you and I sat on the porch in front of ol’ lady Watson’s general store and watched the cowboys walkin’ into the saloon,” Alice giggled. “And many’s the time we sat right where we’re sittin’ now and watched Ryder at his chores for the same reason!”

  “Yes…but…but…” Dusty stammered.

  “But nothin’, Dusty! You know I love my Alex more’n I can even tell…but it don’t mean I still don’t notice a good-lookin’ man. Ain’t nothin’ like one! And don’t pretend to me that man hasn’t turned your head…again!”

  “I’da had to be blind,” Dusty admitted with quiet resentment.

  “Even then I think you could smell one that looks as good as he does!”

  As Alice burst into girlish giggles, Dusty began to laugh. It felt good to laugh so unguarded. Dusty was again reminded of how much fun she and Alice had growing up—how much they had shared—how much she missed
seeing her friend now that Alice was married with a husband and family to care for.

  “Sakes alive!” Alice began. “You remember that time we were up in the tree by the pond a-waitin’ for Ryder to come along? And lo and behold, here he comes a-strippin’ himself down to go swimmin’!”

  “And we closed our eyes like a couple of silly Sallys,” Dusty grinned.

  “And when we looked up again, it was to see his britches and his drawers a-lyin’ on the ground at the foot of the very tree we was hidin’ in!” Alice laughed. “I ’bout got too big a lesson in male anatomy that day.”

  Dusty began to giggle wildly. She hadn’t giggled as much in years. Furthermore, once she started, she found she couldn’t stop! It was as if a sort of hysteria were overtaking her. Try as she might to talk plainly through her giggles, she couldn’t. “Remember…how we had to stay up there in that tree for near to an hour…because…because…”

  “Because we couldn’ta gotten down without Ryder seein’ us! And we couldn’t watch him for fear of bein’ corrupted!” Alice roared. “Land’s sakes, he had a build for such a young man!”

  “Alice!” Dusty exclaimed through her laughter. And they giggled for long, delightful moments. “I’ve missed you,” Dusty told her friend. Sighing heavily, she led her to sit on the porch swing.

  “You’ve missed a lot, Dusty,” Alice sighed.

  “Don’t you start with me, Alice. I—” Dusty began to argue.

  “But…at least there’s hope for you. And he sure wears his britches mighty fine!”

  “You come to Aunt Dusty, little-bit,” Dusty said to Jakie. She held her hands out, and the baby gladly clung to her. “So…he sure seems to be chewin’ his fingers. I think he’s just cuttin’ teeth, don’t you?”

  “Don’t you try changin’ the subject on me, girl,” Alice warned with a smile. “That man’s got you thinkin’. I can see it plain as day. I ain’t seen your eyes light up like that in a long, long time. Not since we was fourteen, in fact. That smelly old lump of cat manure Cash Richardson you tried to love never had you a-twinklin’ like I see ya now.”