Dusty Britches

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “Come on there, girl,” he told her. “It ain’t like ya never danced with me before.” He grinned down at her and, lowering his voice just as the music started, added, “Only this time the whole county won’t be waitin’ for me to stomp on your foot, and there ain’t none of your daddy’s hankies fillin’ out your dress so nice.”

  Dusty gasped as he winked at her and began the waltz. “I can’t believe you would say such a—”

  “Yes, ya can,” he chuckled.

  As Dusty waltzed in his arms, her heart ached all the more. They’d closed the book. He’d told her they had the day under the waterfall. But she didn’t want the book closed! The heat of his kiss that night was still warm on her lips, the feeling of being in his arms still too fresh. Moreover, his smile, his wit, his heroism, his way with conversation—all of it was something she’d dreamed of owning for as long as she could remember. Miss Raynetta’s story flashed through her mind. She looked up to Ryder, and he smiled down at her. The book was closed, wasn’t it? she wondered as her entire being warmed to his touch. And what about herself? Did she want to end up a crotchety old spinster, forever pining away after what she hadn’t tried for? Even if she weren’t grouchy—even if she ended up like Miss Raynetta, beautiful and cheery—her life would be forever empty, filled with nothing but regret, eternal heartache, and loneliness. But Ryder had said, We need to close this book. He’d said it. Looking up into the brown sugar of his eyes—to the fantastically good-looking man holding her—she doubted her ability to win him. Why would he want her anyway? He’d said himself he didn’t like the way she’d turned out! How could she possibly attract him? Hold him?

  Afraid tears were again brimming in her eyes, Dusty turned her head and looked away from him. What she saw caused an idea to begin forming in her mind—a way of perhaps mending her darkened soul. She needed to find Angelina “Dusty” Hunter. The Dusty Hunter who had loved people, cared about people, helped people—feared little and loved life! The Dusty Hunter who had cared more about serving others—making sure life was better for others, better even than her own. She needed to find the girl who was lost so long ago. Concentrating on others, making the lives of others whole and happy with someone to love—maybe that would unearth the Dusty Ryder could love. And what she saw at that moment she knew was her means of healing her own soul.

  Hank Hunter was actually dancing! For the first time she could remember since her mama passed, her daddy was waltzing—and with none other than Raynetta McCarthy. Dusty noted Miss Raynetta wore an expression that certainly must’ve mirrored Dusty’s in the moment Ryder had taken her in his arms. Nearby Feller was leading Becca in the waltz. Poor Feller—something had eaten his heart away too. Something had made him believe he wasn’t capable of having a young, fresh beauty like Becca to love him. Four people primed for happiness—four people just needing someone to guide them along.

  “Well, look at that,” Ryder mumbled.

  “What?” Dusty asked, her thoughts having been interrupted.

  “Look at ol’ Feller,” he told her. “By dang if he didn’t find a gut or two left in his belly after all.”

  “What’re you talkin’ about?” she asked with irritation. She didn’t want to admit that perhaps someone else had been as insightful as she where her sister and Feller were concerned.

  Ryder’s brow crinkled in puzzlement. “You ain’t as blind as all that, are ya?” he asked.

  “I have two perfectly good eyes in my head, thank you,” she nearly snapped.

  “Really?” he taunted.

  “Yes!”

  “Then why don’t you see what I see?”

  “What do you see?”

  He was taunting her. She knew he was. But what if she were wrong? What if Ryder were referring to something else? She couldn’t take the chance of breaking Becca’s confidence where her feelings for Feller were concerned.

  “What do you see?” he asked.

  Sensing they were indeed thinking the same things, Dusty rolled her eyes and looked over to where Feller was leading her sister in a waltz. “I see Feller Lance dancin’ with Becca.” She paused and repeated her question. “What do you see?”

  Ryder grinned with mischief, bent, and whispered in her ear, “Looooove.”

  Dusty couldn’t help grinning with delight as goose bumps broke over the entire surface of her body. The sensation of his hot breath on her neck was divine! His speaking that particular word alone made her mouth suddenly begin to salivate. She had to consciously keep herself from turning and letting her mouth seek out the savor of his.

  Desperate for escape, she glanced once again to Becca and Feller. She was warmed by the rather uncharacteristically flirtatious smile on Feller’s face—by the way he held Becca a little more closely than was proper. She was suddenly more aware of her proximity to her own dance partner.

  Dusty wanted to dance with Ryder forever. The stomp with Feller and Becca earlier was too fast, too demanding, and too much work for her to have had even a moment to linger on the thought of the fantasy come to life—the dream come true of dancing with Ryder then. But now—oh, heavenly now! In his arms again!

  She wanted to have teasing conversations with Ryder—share in realizations about others with him. When she was a child he’d talked with her. All those years before he had to leave, they’d had times almost daily when they sat and talked. It’s what she missed most about him. Talking—listening.

  “You see Feller havin’ feelin’s for Becca?” she whispered.

  “I didn’t say that,” he countered, no doubt afraid he’d said too much.

  “Yes, you did!”

  “Hm,” he breathed as if he’d never said anything at all.

  A sort of giggly joy rose in her chest at their friendly banter. “You’re a pill!” she told him. “And I’m not blind,” she whispered. “Nope. Not anymore.”

  “Hold on there a minute, brat,” Ryder muttered as if he’d read her mind.

  “What?” she asked, feigning innocence.

  “You got that look in your eye. I know it well enough, and it’s makin’ me a mite nervous,” he said.

  “What look?” She was elated that something in her had seemed so familiar to him suddenly. “I just think it’s very interesting that—”

  “I remember that look. It always shows up a minute before you plunge headfirst into trouble,” he chuckled. “Last time I seen that twinkle in your eyes, I ended up nearly gettin’ hanged for lettin’ you set the ol’ cow shed on fire tryin’ to light up a Christmas tree for ol’ Flossy. Chee! You thought the danged old milk cow was lonely at Christmas ’cause her calf had died that spring and—”

  “I’m not gonna set anything on fire,” she told him. She’d forgotten about the Christmas tree for the ailing cow in the old shed. How she ever talked Ryder into that, she’d never been able to figure.

  “Poor ol’ Flossy,” Ryder began, pitching his voice high and trying to imitate a fourteen-year-old girl he’d once known. “ ‘She’s just beside herself ever since she lost that calf last spring. I just know a Christmas tree all her own would cheer her up! Pleeeeaaaase, Ryder! Help me put candles on a tree in the shed where Daddy’s got her holed up. I promise I’ll be careful!’ ” He finished his imitation of her and rolled his eyes.

  Dusty giggled, that very strange, almost forgotten sensation she’d only recently begun to experience again. “I can’t believe you let me do that!”

  “Ah, you run me like an old dog back then,” he mumbled, smiling down at her. The music stopped, and he caressed her cheek for a moment with the back of his hand. “Didn’t you?”

  She wanted to beg him at that moment, Please love me. Give me another chance. But she just forced a smile, hiding her heartache.

  Chapter Nine

  “Folks! Now settle down, folks! Settle down,” the lead fiddler shouted. With regret at having to end their interlude, Dusty turned her attention from Ryder to the fiddler. “Now…this here’s the Fourth of July!” Everyone clapped, holl
ering with good nature. When Dusty glanced up at Ryder, he winked, delighting her to the very core of her being. She watched him as he put his pinkies at the corners of his mouth and whistled in celebration. “And on the Fourth a July we always have us some fine fireworks at ten o’clock, now don’t we?” Again there was shouting and whistling. “But ’fore we do…there’s dancin’, and there’s gotta be fun and games! Ain’t that right?” Everyone shouted in agreement. “So, all you young folk, single ones that is…you all get together here outside the barn. Time to pack ’em in!” The giggling of all the young unmarried girls in the county nearly outdid the sly chuckling of all the young unmarried men. “Everybody else—let’s keep the dancin’ goin’!”

  “Come on then, Miss Britches,” Ryder chuckled, taking Dusty’s hand and pulling her toward the group of unmarried men and women gathering just outside the barn door.

  “No, no, no,” Dusty argued as Miss Raynetta, appearing from nearby, took hold of her free hand and began dragging her toward the others as well. “I…I…I don’t want to…” Although her intentions to unearth her soul were sincere, the application of doing so was proving difficult, near to impossible at every turn.

  “Of course you want to!” Ryder and Miss Raynetta exclaimed simultaneously. Before Dusty could argue further, she found herself pushed into the group.

  “All right! All right! Now simmer down!” Maudie Phillips was saying. “Everybody know how to play?” There rose up a general noise of confirmation.

  “Oh, no! I can’t do this!” Dusty exclaimed under her breath. She turned around, needing escape.

  “You done a jig with the whole county a-lookin’ on, Dusty,” Ryder stated as she ran smack into him as she tried to flee. “Believe me…you can pull this one off.”

  “Um,” she paused. Suddenly her innards were trembling at being so close to him. “No, actually. Just spottin’ Becca. Makin’ sure she was—”

  “Ah, come on. Be a sport, Miss Hunter,” he dared. Dusty didn’t like being dared. It ignited her temper, and she had a horrid habit of not backing down. “I mean,” he continued, “what harm could it do? You might have a little fun…and that ain’t gonna kill ya. No matter what ya think.”

  “Maudie, you’re it!” Miss Raynetta hollered. “You got five minutes! No more. Get to hidin’!” Miss Raynetta leaned over to Dusty and whispered, “That oughta ruin her chances of latchin’ onto any man!” Dusty’s eyes widened in amazement at the woman’s impish trickery. She watched as Maudie squealed with delight—not realizing she’d been had. Maudie took off running. Dusty knew the whole fun of the game was sneaking around in the dark, hoping to bump into whomever it was you were sweet on.

  “Do you remember the object of this game, Ryder?” Dusty asked.

  “I believe I do. But why don’t ya tell me?” he chuckled.

  As a younger girl, “pack ’em in” had been her favorite. It was the opposite of hide-and-seek. In pack ’em in, one person hid, and everybody went looking for the hider. The difference was when someone found the hiding person, the finder hid with the hider. This premise made for great fun—especially in the courting-age groups—because usually by the time the last seeker had found all the hiders, a fair amount of flirting, teasing, and sparking had transpired among them all.

  “I’m not gonna tell ya what you already know,” she told him.

  “Then I’ll see you…wherever I see you, Miss Dusty,” he said, winking at her. He turned and joined several other ranch hands in their conversation.

  “I’m so glad to see you joinin’ in tonight, Dusty.” Dusty rolled her eyes with irritation. Drawing in a breath of patience, she turned to face Brenda Rivers. “It’s been so long since you were out like this,” the girl said, adding insult to injury. Brenda was Maudie’s best friend and as syrupy and fake as they came. She stood twisting a long strand of her ebony hair around one dainty finger.

  Dusty smiled. “I just keep so busy helpin’ Daddy with the ranch and all. But I do feel a bit more…tolerant tonight, I guess,” Dusty told her pointedly.

  “Hmm. Really?” Brenda sighed. “I thought maybe you was just keepin’ an eye on Ryder Maddox.”

  “Why ever would ya say that, Brenda?” Dusty asked, feigning indifference.

  “’Cause if Ryder Maddox was my daddy’s hand…I’d be keepin’ more than my eye on him! Brenda Rivers was the most shameless flirt Dusty had ever known.

  “It’s the nice weather that’s got me feelin’ refreshed tonight,” Dusty sighed, ignoring her comment.

  “I bet,” Brenda said. “Good luck. Findin’ Maudie, I mean.”

  “You too.” Dusty forced a false smile in return.

  As Brenda walked away, Miss Raynetta whispered in Dusty’s ear from behind her, “There’s one a them in every town. Two in this one! Just makes a woman wanna spit!”

  Dusty chuckled and nodded. She’d always adored Miss Raynetta—now more than ever. She’d never look at her the same again—or her own daddy. Turning, she smiled at her. “You wanna join in the game, Miss Raynetta?” Dusty asked.

  “Oh, my lands, no!” the woman giggled. “I’ll just stay here and help out where help is needed.” With a wink, a candle seemed to flame in Dusty’s mind. Her daddy had always liked Miss Raynetta—spoken very highly of her. Maybe her sudden aspirations where they were concerned wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

  “Let’s go!” someone shouted. Suddenly, young men and women were racing every which way.

  Dusty paused, uncertain she really should get involved. Deep in her heart, she wanted to. But should she? Still, her eyes caught Ryder’s daring stare and triumphant grin. Lifting her skirts, she spun around in the opposite direction, determined to find Maudie first—especially not last—and especially before Ryder found her. She wouldn’t give Maudie a chance to even look at him too closely!

  It was Feller Lance himself who handed everyone a lantern as they left the barn—along with instructions to blow it out once they’d found Maudie and were hiding with her.

  “You’re not joinin’ in, Feller?” Dusty asked.

  “I’m too old for this kind a thing, Dusty. You know that,” the man answered with a chuckle.

  “You’re only as old as you feel, Feller. And you’re not as old as you try to make everybody think ya are.” With that, she left him frowning with puzzlement. No doubt over the past two years, her high spirits had become too unfamiliar to him, but that would change—somehow.

  It was a fairly clear night. Not too many clouds threatened to darken the moon. Still, Dusty was grateful for the light of the lantern. She could see other lanterns dotting the night out in the fields, looking like fireflies hovering in a darkened meadow. Pausing, she looked around trying to decide where Maudie would hide. It really wasn’t a very hard thing to figure out. The easy options were fairly obvious—lie low in the grassy field until someone stepped on her? No—Maudie was too pristine for that, though it would’ve been one of her least wise choices. The old oak clear down by the creek was a good one, but Maudie was too soft-skinned to climb it. Then Dusty saw a lantern flicker and go out near the old shed out behind the barn.

  “Oh, surely you tried harder than that!” she mumbled to herself as she set out. She blew her lantern out immediately, knowing the way well enough to find it by moonlight and thereby not easily leading anyone else to it.

  Carefully she stepped into the old shed, closing the door behind her. It was pitch dark, even with the moonlight streaming through the enormous crater in the shed’s roof overhead. She heard muffled giggles coming from above.

  “In the loft?” she whispered. “Maudie?” Dusty called. “You up in that loft?”

  There was no answer. So draping her skirts over one arm and setting the lantern on the ground by the door, Dusty climbed the ladder to the loft of old man Leroy’s shed. It was awkward at best, but when she reached the loft and peered about, it was to see at least five different smiling faces in addition to Maudie’s—including Becca’s.

  Gu
thrie clamped his hand over Maudie’s mouth and, motioning to Dusty, called out in a whisper, “Come on, Dusty! Hurry! I can hear somebody else outside the barn!” Something about Guthrie calling her Dusty—just plain Dusty with no “Miss” attached—it suddenly warmed her heart so completely she thought she might burst into tears.

  “Hurry up, Miss Britches! There’s others nearby!” Startled at hearing his whisper just below her feet on the ladder, Dusty did as Ryder prodded and climbed up into the loft with the others.

  “Just here,” Becca whispered. Dusty followed suit with the others, lying down next to Titch. She hadn’t even stretched out completely on her stomach before Ryder was beside her. He plopped himself down with a triumphant grin, obviously having ditched his lantern somewhere as well.

  “Ssshhhhh!” someone whispered as Maudie and Becca both fought their delighted giggles. Dusty allowed a smile begging to spread to draw itself across her mouth, but she lost the battle to deter the giggles. It was Ryder’s hand over her mouth that finally silenced her.

  “Keep yourself quiet, girl,” Ryder whispered with a low chuckle. “Or I’ll find a way to do it for you.”

  “You cheater!” Dusty told him. She pushed his hand away, trying to squelch the immediate thrill traveling over her because of his threat to quiet her. “You followed me!”

  “I figured you were still pretty good at this game,” Ryder whispered in her ear. “So…” Goose bumps again broke over her entire body. She was bathed in delight as she lay there in the darkness waiting for her eyes to adjust to only the light of the stars and moon breaking through the tattered rooftop of the old shed.

  “You’re a cheater as well as a scoundrel,” she told him, still smiling. He had followed her. How…how…how fabulous!

  One of the girls erupted into giggles again; Dusty recognized it as Becca. “Ssshhh!” a man’s voice scolded. “Stop that! Everyone’ll know where we are!”