Dusty Britches

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  Dusty watched him go, her mind and spirit in complete turmoil. The night…the day…the entire day and night had been so wonderful—so hurtful. Her mind was tired. As she watched the last few colorful explosions light up the night sky, she was tired. It had been a day filled with too many things—too many confusing emotions for her mind and body to handle. Suddenly, all she wanted was what Becca had wanted—to go home.

  Chapter Ten

  There was a mountain of work to be done on the ranch to prepare for the coming autumn and winter. The days turned quickly into weeks. Even as summer was still heating the earth, July was filled with haying, canning, field crops, branding, and more.

  Hank had the hands in the fields from before sunup to way beyond sundown every day. Dusty and Becca found the three weeks following the Fourth of July picnic in town to be a lonely time. On occasion, Miss Raynetta visited, and there was a stormy day when rain beat down so heavily the hands were forced in from the fields. Yet most of the time the men were so beaten and tired after the day’s work, they dropped down in whatever pasture they found themselves, sleeping out under the stars. Feller cooked their meals over an open fire, and Dusty and Becca were left at the ranch house to their own tasks—gardening, preserving food, milking the milk cow, making butter, tending the chickens, and more. Their hearts’ desires were nowhere near. All this meant long, hot days with little diversion.

  Dusty spent days upon days mulling over in her mind every moment spent and every conversation she’d had with Ryder since his return. At times, she felt hope rise within her. If she were able to soften herself—to find her real self again—maybe, just maybe, he would be interested in knowing her again. And yet self-doubt and the lack of his flirtatious presence caused a gray cloud to hang over her wishes and dreams.

  They’d never spoken of it again—his outrageous conduct at the picnic, her all too accepting behavior. They’d both let it remain an unspoken, uncertain past. Yet Dusty wanted desperately to ask him why—why had he treated her so adoringly? Why had he felt such a need to kiss her so recurrently and with such extreme emotion? But they’d arrived home so late from town that evening—and immediately after her father had the men out to tent under the stars, mend fences and windbreaks, count and tend the herd—there hadn’t been a moment to talk with him, even if she’d had the courage.

  Dusty could also see her sister’s misery. It was obvious Becca was truly and thoroughly in love with Feller. She was miserable without him and even more miserable for lack of her love being returned. And there was Miss Raynetta. Dusty was convinced Miss Raynetta was as in love with her father as ever she had been twenty years ago! Her own heart ached for Miss Raynetta’s. After all, she knew how agonizing it was to have the man you loved standing right in front of you and not be able to call him your own, draw from him your strength, sleep in the comfort of his arms, and bask in the bathing ecstasy of his kisses. All these thoughts Dusty pondered for days upon days upon days, until her mind was so tired she thought she could not rise another day.

  August did arrive, and with it the mending of windbreaks and fences was finished. Hank Hunter and the rest of the men came home. They slept long and late the first day back in their bunks. Dusty left muffins, butter, and ham out for them when she left the house one late morning to enjoy the summer day while it still tarried. It was, in fact, almost noon when she decided to refresh herself with a wade in the pond. The waterfall looked cool and refreshing as she approached, and she quickly unlaced her boots. Tossing them under the big willow, she gasped with horror as they almost conked Ryder squarely on the head. He was stretched out beneath the tree—obviously sleeping quite soundly, for Dusty’s boots landing nearby did not startle him in the least.

  Quietly, Dusty moved toward him. Standing over him, she simply stared down, studying him at her leisure. He lay stretched out on his stomach, wearing only his trousers. She detected a slight snore. As a young girl, she had simply adored coming upon Ryder asleep in the barn or the field and staring at him—marveling at his attractive face and well-formed body.

  Suddenly, as her eyes traveled from his feet toward his head, she noticed for the first time the deep and painful-looking scars he bore on his back across his shoulders. Never before had she seen them! She was certain they had not been there before he’d left the ranch years before. She studied the scars intently, for they were strange. There was one very long horizontal scar, perhaps eight inches in length, lying just above and parallel to his left shoulder blade. Two more converged on either side of this scar and traveled vertically downward perhaps four inches. Multiple smaller scars were here and there surrounding the longer wounds. Dusty assumed these were from stitches having held together the once-maimed flesh. The scars looked unendurably painful! They were thick—very thick, raised, and still very purple. Still, Dusty could not begin to guess what had caused them. They did not look like anything she had seen before. One was perfectly straight, as if it had been made by a knife. The others looked more as if the flesh had been…torn. They were deep, and what else could have made such deep scars but a thick blade?

  These scars on Ryder’s back had definitely been acquired since he’d left five years ago. Dusty was certain she would have remembered seeing such awful wounds before. After all, many had been the times she’d stood just as she did now, studying him in secret as he slept. As she stepped toward him to investigate the wounds further, her foot snapped a twig. Ryder did not awaken slowly as she would have expected. Rather, his eyes popped open instantly. He flipped like a hotcake from his stomach to his back, seeming very relieved to see her standing there—almost as if he had expected something much worse.

  “You scared the waddin’ outta me, girl!” Ryder grumbled as he sat up and buttoned up his britches.

  “I’m sorry,” Dusty apologized. “I didn’t mean to…I just…I just…” she stammered. It was startling to catch him so unguarded. He seemed nervous—as if her surprising him were far more unsettling that it should’ve been.

  “I know, I know,” he apologized. “It’s your favorite spot, and now I’ve trodden on holy ground, so to speak.” He remained sitting on the grass, bootless, sockless, and shirtless. It was obvious he’d been sleeping deeply, for he wore a frown and groggy expression.

  “No, it’s not that. I…everyone can come swimmin’ here. I—I…” Her eyes fell to the scars.

  Instantly, his expression was that of anger—yet also disgrace. He rubbed at his shoulder and quickly retrieved his shirt, putting it on and leaving it unbuttoned and hanging open. “Pretty gruesome, huh?” he mumbled as he rolled up his sleeves.

  “No,” she answered honestly. “Just…I don’t remember…”

  “That’s ’cause they weren’t there before,” he growled. “You want a closer look?” he asked angrily. He pulled the shirt down over one shoulder and turned his back to her. “Come on now, Dusty. Why don’t ya take a good, long look? Wouldn’t want ya to miss anything.”

  It was obvious he was very self-conscious about the scars—that they provoked a deep anger in him. Yet she knew it wasn’t vanity stirring his anger. He’d run around plenty without his shirt since he’d come back. It was something much deeper.

  “Look here,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her. He motioned to his back, just above his left shoulder blade. “You tell me, Miss Dusty…what do you think made them scars? What do you think happened to me to put scars like that on my back?”

  “I—don’t know. I…” She couldn’t fathom how she’d come from simply walking to the pond intent on a refreshing swim to having infuriated Ryder so completely.

  “Come on now! Make a guess!” he demanded.

  “Ryder…it isn’t any of my business. It’s not important if—”

  “It ain’t important to you?” he almost shouted, jumping to his feet. “What do ya mean by that?”

  “I mean…it can’t be a good memory…the way you were injured. So if ya want to keep to yourself about it…” She shook her head, irritate
d she was in the situation at all. “I just came down here to relax! I didn’t mean to disturb you. You need to lie back down, go back to sleep, and wake up on the right side of the bed this time!” she told him angrily. She turned and began to walk away.

  “Ain’t ya ever wondered what happened to me over them five years?” Ryder asked. His question was completely unexpected. “Or are ya still so wrapped up in what happened to you that it really never entered your mind to ask?”

  She turned around and met his angry, hurt glare. I wondered what happened to you every day of my life for five years! That’s how I spent my time, she thought. “Of course it entered my mind. But I figured you would’ve told people if you’d wanted them to know.”

  Ryder nodded. “A few men caught up with me a year or so ago. And ’cause you’re right—I do keep my business to myself most times—here’s the short of it. These men had a bone to pick with me…and they intended to pick—literally. Now, I make a perty good accountin’ of myself in a fight—even a fight that ain’t fair like this one was.” He didn’t have to tell her. She already knew it from firsthand experience. “But there were four of these hombres, and I didn’t have it in me that day to get ’em down…bein’ that I was still sick with somethin’ rattlin’ in my chest. Well, these fellers put my arms ’round a tree and tied my hands on the other side of the trunk…tied my feet too. And then you know what they did there, Miss Hunter?” He glared down at her. “One of them took a big ol’ knife out of his boot and made that first big, long cut ’cross my back. Then he leans forward like this…” Ryder leaned forward and put his mouth right next to Dusty’s ear, sending a wave of goose bumps erupting over her. “And he said, ‘We’re gonna skin you, boy! We’re gonna skin you clean one strip at a time!’ He stuck the blade of his dirty old knife—the kind a man uses to skin an animal—he stuck that blade real deep into that cut he made and started tearin’ my skin away from my body. He yanked on it first, tearing the skin down some. I thought I was gonna pass out it hurt so bad. I never imagined anything like that in my life! Any kinda pain like that! Then, very slowly, so that it hurt all the more, he tore the skin down and down and down. Oh, I know them other scars are only a few inches down, but believe me, sugar…when someone’s skinnin’ you slow as they can…it hurts like hell!

  “Someone had seen them come upon me and had run in town for the sheriff. If they hadn’t, I’d be dead now…if not from bein’ without my skin and bleedin’ to death, for the sake of the pain. The doctor sewed me up as best he could, and thank goodness he cleaned me out good first…which was painful too, I might mention. I still have nightmares about them devils and what they did and intended to do to me. The physical pain on its own was more than I can tell you…but emotionally it messed me up a while too. So, like those close to you have been tellin’ you for some time now, you need to be riddin’ yourself completely of that attitude of yours and look around to see who else might have their own scars to bear!” With that, he simply glared down at her.

  By now the tears were flowing freely down Dusty’s cheeks. She could see in Ryder’s eyes that the memory of the abuse he endured had somehow hardened his soul against her for that moment in time. His eyes were cold and angry as he looked at her. She could only stand in shock—unable to comprehend such horrors. To endure something the like! To live through it! What kind of a man…how much strength he must have had! And she was angry—angry anyone would hurt him so—that anyone would dare to touch him—to maim his perfect body—to cause him such pain!

  “Why?” she asked in a whisper. “Why would anyone want to do that to you?”

  He sighed and looked away for a moment and then back to her. “You’ve been angry at me before? Ain’t the thought ever crossed your mind?”

  She suddenly realized something then—actually consciously realized how very unselfish he was. All the time he’d been back, all he’d ever done was try to encourage her—try to draw her out. And all this time she’d never thought he might have pain of his own. She had never comforted him. It was an aspect of who she’d been that she’d lost along with everything else. She felt it come back to her in that very instant! She felt the desire to be compassionate and helpful strengthen within her—even beyond what it had in emerging little by little before. It was at that moment she realized she now felt it. Now she wasn’t just doing what she knew she had to do to give comfort and happiness. She felt it. Her bosom felt warm and hopeful inside. He’d done it again. Even now, again Ryder healed a part of her without even trying. She also realized he didn’t want to tell her any more. For whatever reasons—and her curiosity would nearly kill her, she knew—he did not want to tell her any more.

  “No,” Dusty stated kindly. “I’ve considered slappin’ you a time or two, kickin’ you hard in the seat of the pants, but I’ve never considered skinnin’ you alive.” She smiled warmly at him, and he sighed with relief.

  Ryder grinned, rubbed at his eyes, and mumbled, “I’m testy sometimes when I wake up.”

  “I figured that out,” Dusty told him, wishing in her most secret of wishes she could be the one to wake him up every day forever.

  He grinned and asked, “You goin’ swimmin’?”

  Dusty shrugged. “I was thinkin’ about it.”

  “Well,” he said, stretching, “if you’re plannin’ on a bit a skinny-dippin’…I might hang around. Otherwise…I got some things to do.”

  Dusty’s eyes widened, and she smiled, unable to completely hide her delight at his flirting with her. He grinned, obviously pleased with having made her smile. Dusty wondered why she fought so hard to conceal her delight with him. Why didn’t she just throw her arms around his neck, confess to him everything she still felt—everything—and be done with it, consequences be hanged? But she couldn’t—not yet. Find the Dusty he could love first. Dig her out, and then offer that woman to him. It was the only chance she would have.

  “Well,” she said, unfastening her skirt and letting it drop to her feet. After all, he’d seen her many a time in just her petticoats. Besides, it was the only weapon against his shocking, flirtatious remarks she had. “You go on and do what ya gotta do. I always swim in my clothes.”

  “Oh, I know it,” he said in a low, alluring voice, feigning disappointment. He sighed, retrieving his hat from the ground. He put it on his head and picked up his boots in the other hand. “But…it’s a good thing you came along after my swim…’cause you know I don’t!” With a nod and a wink, he turned and sauntered away.

  The water felt good, cool, and revitalizing. As Dusty waded and swam, she thought of Ryder. Something had changed. Even for his being gone for near to three weeks with the other men, only popping in during storms and on other rare occasions, she’d somehow managed to keep the doors she’d opened where people, especially Ryder, were concerned. He hadn’t acted strangely toward her because of their moments together on the Fourth. Rather, he had confided in her—a deep and painful secret. The water was soothing, as was the long nap Dusty took under the willow. She intentionally lay down just where Ryder had lain. It gave her a sense of being close to him.

  She was refreshed when she awoke—strangely alive and refreshed as she walked back to the house.

  

  Dusty was astonished when she entered the parlor to find Ryder sitting in the rocking chair with Makenna on one knee, Jakie on the other. He was reading a book to them as they both lay with their heads resting contentedly against his chest. As always, Jakie had his two middle fingers in his mouth, and Makenna nuzzled Ryder’s chin with the top of her head.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Dusty asked, perplexed. “Is Alice here?”

  “Dusty! There is mercy in the world! I thought you’d never get back!” Ryder exclaimed. An expression of profound relief spread over his face. Standing up, he set both of the children down snugly in the rocking chair. Handing Makenna the book, he told her, “Now, you show Jakie the drawin’s, ya hear?” The little girl nodded and smiled as he bent and kissed her affectio
nately on the forehead.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Dusty asked again, suddenly very unsettled.

  Frowning, Ryder put an index finger to his lips, silently shushing her. He took hold of her arm and led her out onto the back porch. “Danged if I even know! I was out saddlin’ up that new stallion ’cause your daddy wanted me to start breakin’ him in…and all of sudden, here comes Alice a-cryin’ like anything. She hands me the two babies and says, ‘Watch my children for me, Ryder! Where’s Mr. Hunter?’ I started to ask her what was wrong, but she goes off a-screamin’ at me askin’ where your daddy is. I told her he was in the house to rest a spell, and next thing I know, your daddy, Becca, and Feller are in the wagon with Miss Alice headin’ off somewhere! Your daddy’s a-hollerin’ at Ruff and Guthrie to run in town and get the sheriff and the doctor, Titch is a-headin’ on out to fetch Miss Raynetta…and here I am with two squallin’ children and a saddled-up stallion in the barn!”

  “What in the world?” Dusty exclaimed. “Well, what happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Ryder assured her, shrugging his shoulders. “They didn’t give me the time a day…just headed off like hell was nippin’ at their heels!”

  “Well, did ya try askin’ Kenna?”

  “Heck no! She was a-bawlin’ like she’d had her leg cut off when I got her! I wasn’t gonna upset her again. Took me danged near half an hour to settle ’em both down.”

  “Well, somethin’s goin’ on! They might need you over at Alice and Alex’s. We’ve got to ask Kenna.”

  Going back inside, Ryder at her heels, Dusty smiled warmly and reassuringly at Makenna when the little girl looked up from her book. “Hey, sweetheart,” Dusty cooed, crouching down beside the rocking chair and smoothing Makenna’s hair from her forehead. “Did your mama decide you needed a good long visit with Ryder today? Or is somebody sick at your house?”