Dusty Britches

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  Minutes of silence passed before someone else entered the old building. Now Dusty waited anxiously—trying to restrain the giggling sensation overtaking her again at the excitement of watching whomever it was labor to find the hiding place.

  “It’s Cash Richardson,” Ryder whispered in her ear.

  Dusty looked at him irritated, only to find his expression utterly sincere. Cash? Why did it have to be Cash? So soon. After their altercation in town—even for their obvious ignoring of each other at the picnic thus far—Dusty feared Cash’s presence might dampen Ryder’s good mood.

  They all listened as Cash ascended the ladder rungs and peeked up into the loft. Maudie and Becca immediately burst into giggles. Smiling, Cash blew out his lantern and climbed up into the loft right next to Ryder.

  Dusty felt sick. She certainly didn’t want him in such proximity—and she didn’t want him ruining Ryder’s fun.

  “Quiet down!” Cash chuckled. “Brenda Rivers was right behind me.” His voice was pleasant and friendly, however, and Dusty relaxed a bit as she saw he and Ryder nod to each other in greeting. The game was too fun to be ruined. Maudie’s and Becca’s giggles were immediately muffled. Obviously some masculine hands were to thank. Closing her eyes, Dusty imagined how fun it must be to be in Maudie’s place—when all flirting was romantic and there was no fear of heartbreak because it was, as yet, unknown to her.

  Her thoughts were sent sailing into the night breeze, however, when she was suddenly pushed with great force, causing her to roll over onto her back.

  “What are you do—” she began when she realized it was Ryder who had pushed her over. He put an index finger to his lips quickly, frowning at her in scolding at being so loud.

  In that very moment, the few clouds that were in the sky drifted in front of the moon, blocking the faint light it let into the shed.

  Dusty felt Ryder lean down, putting his mouth to her ear. She could feel the moisture of his breath as he whispered, “This situation just sorta demands I do somethin’ inappropriate. Don’t ya think?”

  “What?” she exclaimed in a whisper, only to be met with a resounding “Ssshhhhh!” from the other occupants of the shed. She heard Ryder’s amused chuckle, and her mind pictured the mischievous grin no doubt beginning to spread across his face.

  “Don’t worry about it bein’ so dark,” he whispered so quietly she could barely understand him. “I’ll just…feel my way to makin’ a devil of myself.” She felt one of his hands at her waist; the other slid under her neck as he pulled her against him. The hand at her waist traveled slowly up her back and over her shoulder until it reached her chin, cupping it firmly. She could feel his breath on her cheek and in her hair. All she could hear was his breathing. Then suddenly a lantern light peeked over the ladder and into the loft.

  “Ssshhh! Hurry up, Brenda!” Maudie giggled as Brenda lay down next to Cash and blew out her lantern. No one had noticed Ryder held Dusty. No doubt most had been too involved in their own little trysts to notice her and Ryder—except for Becca. Dusty knew that, although Becca giggled, her heart was back at old man Leroy’s barn with Feller.

  Dusty knew complete darkness and a sort of public privacy invoked by the game was what all these flirtatious young men waited for. She’d had a kiss or two stolen in the dark playing pack ’em in before.

  As the cloud continued to completely block the moon’s light from the shed, Ryder whispered, “Shoot, sugar…the whole point of this game is the sparkin’ that goes on when everybody’s packed nose-to-nose but can’t see worth a darn. Ain’t that right?”

  His roughly shaven cheek brushed her own lightly. Dusty involuntarily clenched her hands into tight fists. Ryder’s thumb caressed her cheek, slowly moving to her lips. He was indeed feeling his way in the dark to her mouth, and something buried deep inside her screamed silently, Hurry! Oh, hurry before the cloud is gone and takes the moment from me! Yet her trembling body reacted routinely—a small fist going to his chest, pushing gently against his body.

  She whispered, “Ryder, stop it. I can’t…” But in the next moment, she felt the warmth of his lips, softly toying with her own. A wave of heat, so intense she thought her body might burst into flames, broke over her so rapidly, she shuddered in the exhilaration of such awakening. He kissed her softly twice more before his tongue touched her upper lip teasingly, causing a small gasp to escape her lungs and providing him the means of deepening the kiss. For a moment, her mind fought surrender to him, but as his kiss wove a spell of enchantment over her senses, even her fist at his chest relaxed, her palm pressing gently against him now. His mouth was warm, moist—sweet with the nectared taste that was his kiss.

  All too soon, the cloud left the moon, and with it went Ryder’s kiss. He fairly tore his mouth from her, sighed heavily, and let his face drop into the straw on which they lay. The giggling that erupted from either side of Dusty told her she hadn’t been the only young woman to be kissed in the dark. All she could do as other young people came into the shed and up to the loft was lie there in the blissful realization Ryder’s kiss had been her own. Once in a while she’d glance over at Ryder, now lying on his back, hands tucked under his head as he gazed at the stars.

  “Ol’ beat-up pan Mama used to smack skunks with,” he whispered. He smiled and winked at her as he gestured toward the sky and the Big Dipper so bright and visible in the starry night. Dusty sighed and smiled at him adoringly as he winked at her.

  Moments later, and far too soon, the first round of the game ended simply because Maudie had picked such an obvious hiding spot and the last person had found it. Yet Dusty was glad, for as Ryder descended the ladder just before her, catching her around the waist as she stepped down from the ladder and onto the shed floor, she knew she could not again endure the euphoria mingled with heartache that his kissing her had caused in her.

  All the young people walked back toward the barn together. Guthrie and Ryder talked about what all would have to be done the next day since the ranch had been abandoned for a whole day. Becca rattled on somewhat dejectedly. It was the lack of excitement in her voice that caught Dusty’s attention.

  “I’m tired,” Becca had said. “I wish we could go home now.” Dusty looked quickly to her sister. Becca did indeed look unhappy.

  “What’s the matter? You love the fireworks,” Dusty reminded her.

  Becca shrugged. Then, linking arms with Dusty and dropping to the back of the group, she confessed, “Truth is, Dusty…I don’t really want to be here at all. Not like this.”

  Dusty frowned. “Why? You’ve always really looked forward to the picnic and all. Even today you—”

  “I know. But…it’s gettin’ hard to pretend to myself. I want to be here…but not as one of the unmarried girls. I want…” Becca couldn’t finish her thought; she didn’t have to. Dusty knew how she felt. Becca wanted to be married—married to Feller—be his wife and come to the picnic on his arm—dance every dance with only him—make her own pies and cookies in a house they shared together.

  “I know,” Dusty admitted. Ryder’s remark about her having his baby someday echoed through her own mind. When Makenna had jumped in his lap the way she had—every time she was near him, in fact—Dusty pushed away the desire to have it be her own little girl vying for his attentions—hers and his—theirs! Closeting her own thoughts in the back of her mind, she put her arm around Becca’s shoulders. “We just gotta get Feller to realize he’s worth havin’ you.”

  Becca shook her head and wiped a lone tear from her cheek. “He sees me as a baby…still needin’ him to keep me from fallin’ headfirst into the hog pen,” she mumbled.

  “I don’t think that’s it at all! I—” Dusty began.

  But Becca shook her head and begged, “Please. Let’s not talk about it. All right?”

  Dusty understood heartache and the need to try to bury it. So, smiling, she nodded, and they walked back to the barn in silence.

  The fiddlers were still sawing away on their instruments
, and people were still dancing and having a wonderful time. Dusty knew the fireworks would be soon, and then it would be time to go home. Only, unlike Becca, who longed for the night to end, Dusty did not. How ironic, she thought to herself. As much as she had dreaded it, she would be the one who had enjoyed it so thoroughly. As she thought about Ryder—the delight he’d caused her to feel in so many different ways that day—she glanced over to where he stood in a circle of young men sharing conversation. He smiled and winked at her and then raised his eyebrows as if he’d just remembered something. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the blue ribbons he’d offered to her as stuffing for her bodice earlier in the day. Silently he held them out toward her with an expression of, Do you need these? Then with a mischievous grin, his eyes traveled the length of her. He shook his head dramatically, winked at her, and stuffed the ribbons back into his pocket.

  He was unbelievable! Dusty knew that had any other man in the world implied such things to her as he had that day, she would’ve been bound to slap him solidly across the face—and would’ve gladly done so! But there was something unspoken between them—a familiarity left over from somewhat growing up together that made certain allowances. That was the reason, she told herself. Nothing more—for she knew he was just teasing. Wasn’t he?

  The announcement was made that the fireworks would begin. Everyone began gathering outside near the big field to watch the amazing display of gunpowder turned into color light up the night sky.

  Dusty hung back from the rest of the group. Perhaps she understood too well Becca’s feelings of wanting to be with Feller, for she had no desire to join the others in the crowd and be painfully reminded that she was, for all romantic purposes, alone. So leaning back against one of the big trees, she smiled as she listened to the crowd “oohing and aahing” with each consecutive explosion toward the stars. She wondered where Ryder was and assumed he would be wherever poor Miss Raynetta found herself—offering friendly companionship. She still could not believe that particular revelation—her own daddy loved by someone and completely unaware of it? Not unlike Feller, maybe.

  The hand suddenly covering her mouth from behind and the arm going around her waist startled her so that her heart seemed to skip a beat or two. But at once she recognized the chuckle from behind her and wiggled from his grasp. She turned, slapping Ryder on the arm in reprimand.

  “Ryder, you scared the waddin’ out of me!” she scolded.

  Ryder chuckled at her but said nothing. The look in his eyes, however, was all too familiar. Dusty actually stepped back from him. “What are you up to?” she asked. He was up to no good; she knew from his expression.

  “Unfinished business,” he mumbled as he reached out, spun her around, clamped his hand over her mouth again, and, letting his arm go around her waist once more, lifted her off the ground. He pulled her behind the tree and into complete seclusion.

  Dusty struggled, pulling at his hands, trying to loosen his grip. But he was much stronger, and she began to wonder whether she really wanted escape anyway. She ceased her struggling instantly when his arm left her waist, his hand now encircling her throat gently. Keeping his other hand over her mouth, he pulled her head to one side, and she nearly fainted from the euphoria of his kiss on her neck.

  “Forgive me, Miss Hunter,” he mumbled against her neck. Her flesh tingled from the delightful sensation. “But somethin’s put the devil in me tonight, and that little frolic in the loft with you just wasn’t long enough.” As Ryder continued to kiss her neck playfully, Dusty tried again to push his hand from her mouth. At last, he yielded, releasing her body. Still, he took her face between his powerful hands, forcing her to look up at him.

  “What’re you doing to me?” she asked him breathlessly, stepping backward and leaning against the tree trunk.

  “What’re you doin’ to me?” he sighed. He released her, rubbing his eyes with frustration. He reached up, taking hold of a tree limb as he leaned toward her.

  “Nothin’,” she squeaked out, not understanding his accusing manner.

  “Let me ask you somethin’,” he mumbled. His eyes were narrowed with deep intensity as he looked at her—almost hatefully somehow. “All that time you was hooked up with Richardson…how much time did you spend lettin’ him kiss you?”

  “What?” Dusty breathed.

  “I want to know,” he growled. “How often did he kiss you? And how did he kiss you? Tell me.”

  He was angry—suddenly and unexpectedly angry. It sounded as if he were battling jealousy, but Dusty knew it couldn’t be. So what did he want her to say?

  “I don’t think I have to tell you anything about it,” she told him. His chest rose and fell with angered breathing. “And why would it matter to you? I’m sure you’ve had your share of women since you left me…left here.”

  “I’ve kissed my share of women, yeah,” he admitted bluntly. Dusty tightly closed her eyes against any vision that might try to imprint itself on her mind. Yet when she felt him take hold of her chin, she opened them again to find him glaring down at her. “But there’s kissin’,” he mumbled, leaning down and kissing her multiple times in lingering succession. She was angry at herself for letting him do it—for returning his kiss even when they were in the midst of arguing. His arms went around her. He pulled her against his body, and the warm brown sugar of his eyes narrowed as he gazed at her and said, “And there’s kissin’.”

  Immediately, his kiss was different—far more intimate and demanding. He paused, taking her face in his hand and caressing the outline of her lips with his thumbs. When he pressed his body against hers, pinning her back against the tree, she gasped slightly, and he took immediate action in capturing the vulnerability of her parted lips with his own. Dusty let the tears of heartbroken bliss escape her closed eyes as she clutched at his shirt with a frightening desperation. His whiskery face was chafing the delicate flesh around her mouth, chin, and cheeks. Yet the scratchy feel of it was invigorating—the strength of his body against hers overpowering in its dominant security—the moisture of his mouth, as ever, warm and sweet.

  “Which was it?” he asked, pausing the exchange. “How did you let him kiss you?” Dusty turned her head from him, embarrassed because of her tears and clutching at his clothing less possessively. “Tell me!” he demanded. “How did he kiss you? The first way or the second?”

  “He—he never kissed me the way you…” she stammered.

  “Because he never tried…or because you never let him?”

  “B-because I never wanted him to,” came her quiet answer.

  “Because you never wanted him to?” he asked. His embrace of her loosened as his attention was arrested by her confession. “You were gonna marry him!”

  “I didn’t want him!” she cried out suddenly, searching his face for understanding. She found only confusion. “You don’t understand at all, do you? Not really.”

  “I—I think that I…maybe I don’t want to understand,” he admitted.

  And she thought, Because you aren’t in love with me. “Why are you here…with me…right now, Ryder?” she asked him.

  “Because my mouth has been waterin’ after you all day long,” he angrily confessed.

  She wanted to ask him why, but she feared the answer too much. Feared his answer would be far less than she dreamed of it being. She could not endure the disappointment then—or ever. Better to live in ignorant bliss than have him tell her what she could not bear to hear—that she was only someone to have fun sparking with, not someone he loved. He leaned forward, taking one more deep, impassioned, succulent kiss from her mouth before starting to leave her.

  But when he tried to step back, Dusty felt the tug on the front of her dress, reached out, and pulled him closer to her again and begged, “Wait!”

  He looked down curiously, following her pleading glance. Somehow during their interlude, the latch of his belt buckle had gotten caught in the lace at the waist of her dress. They were so entangled that Dusty knew his pu
lling away from her would tear the lace and ruin the dress.

  “What now?” she asked him in frustration.

  He grinned and wiped the tear from her cheek with the back of his hand. “I guess we’ll just have to keep—”

  “Hey there, young folks! What’re you all up to?” It was old man Leroy. He was drunker than a skunk and watching the goings-on between Ryder and Dusty with an amused grin.

  “Oh…um…I just had somethin’ in my eye, Mr. Leroy. Ryder was helpin’ me…” Dusty replied.

  “You take me for a fool, girl?” the old man chuckled.

  Ryder smiled down at Dusty and then looked over to the kindhearted man. “Actually, Leroy,” he began, “I was out here makin’ love to this gal, and looks like the lace of her dress is all a-tangled up with my belt buckle.”

  Dusty held her breath and closed her eyes in humiliation.

  Old Leroy chuckled. “Well…you two folks keep a-fiddlin’ at it. It’ll all work out in the end.” With a wink, he rather staggered off toward the field.

  “Wise man,” Ryder said, smiling down at Dusty. She felt his hands slip between their bodies at their waists, and she looked away as he kept grinning all the time he struggled with their clothing. In a moment, he had freed the lace of her dress, and she smoothed it down, unable to look at him again for feeling shy at sharing such intimate moments with him.

  But Ryder would not have her feeling ashamed or shy. He put a hand under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “It’s been quite a picnic, hasn’t it?”

  She nodded. It had been. For as tired as she felt, it had been a welcome day—a welcome memory. He leaned toward her, to kiss her again, but she turned her head, unable to endure kissing him again—knowing that it was only in fun. He grinned understandingly.

  “You work on your sister, Britches. I’ll work on Feller,” he told her. “Surely we can stay out of trouble doin’ that…and somebody in this world deserves somethin’ good. Don’t they?” He walked away. Dusty watched as he caught up to old Leroy, throwing an arm around the man’s shoulders and smiling down at him.