“They’re tucked in snugger’n bugs in a rug,” Hank said, stretching and yawning as he came down the hall. “That yeller dog still out in the parlor?”
“Ain’t heard a peep from him,” Ryder answered.
“Well, I left Miss Raynetta and Becca over at Joneses’…figured they needed ’em more’n we did. But lookin’ at the likes a you makes me wonder, boy,” Hank said, leaning over Dusty to inspect Ryder’s injuries again.
“Oh, I been way more cut up than this, boss,” Ryder assured him with a meaningful wink at Dusty. “I think I’ll fare fine.”
“Well, when Dusty’s got you sewed shut…come on in here and help me drag this filth outta my house.” With that, Hank disappeared into the parlor.
Dusty’s hands trembled as she secured several stitches of blue thread through the wound on Ryder’s arm. How she’d hated having to be the one to sew up the hands since her mother passed away. But working on Ryder had been almost unendurable! Still, she managed not to faint as she stitched and bandaged. Then she could only sit in the chair where he’d sat and watch Ryder and her father awkwardly drag the unconscious man from their parlor and out into the yard.
“If you don’t let that arm rest, it’ll bleed all night!” she called after them. But she knew it was useless. Ryder would work himself into the grave before he’d admit to being licked. All she could do was hope her stitches had been secure and her bandages tight enough.
Laying her head on the table, she meant only to rest her weary eyes for a moment. When she felt something warm brush her cheek, her eyes fluttered open, and she realized she’d fallen asleep.
“Come on, Britches,” Ryder mumbled quietly. “Let’s haul your fanny to bed so you can get some rest.” She realized, as he put his fingers to her face once more, it had been the back of his hand caressing her cheek that had awakened her.
“I’m not tired,” she said as she closed her dry, tired eyes once more. The quick vision of the way Ryder used to so often carry her from the creek, the haystack, or the porch swing when she was a child—the way he’d carry her into the house and to bed—the memories flittered through her half-conscious mind. As a child, she’d often worn herself into a sleep before reaching the house. Ryder would come lugging her in, and her mother would scold him for pampering her daughter so.
“You always do this,” he grumbled as he pulled her to her feet and began to gather her in his arms. “Won’t just walk the ten feet to your bed. Gotta sit down somewhere first and…”
Dusty pulled herself to full consciousness when she realized he intended to lift her and carry her to bed. Had his arm and shoulder been well, she would not have thought twice about letting him do so—merely because she was so very tired and her defenses were down. But he was not well, and the strain of lifting her could only serve to hurt him.
She squirmed out of his arms. “Fine, fine, fine,” she grumbled. “I’m going.” She staggered down the hallway into her bedroom, delighted by the dreamy warmth of his chuckle.
Chapter Eleven
There it was—the feeling someone was watching. This time, Dusty opened her eyes to see Kenna staring at her with an expression of profound impatience.
Dusty smiled, rubbed at her still dry and tired eyes, and said, “Good morning, sweet pea.”
Immediately, Kenna burst into excited chatter. “We has been awake, Dusty. I’m hungry, and Jakie’s drawers were soakin’ wet! He wet clean through onto Mr. Hunter’s bed, and Feller didn’t have nothin’ to diaper him in but one of your aprons, and he’s so fussy!”
Dusty smiled at the thought of Feller Lance having to give a go at changing a baby’s diaper—especially with nothing at hand to use for one.
“Who’s fussy?” she asked Kenna. “Feller or Jakie?”
Kenna rolled her eyes impatiently. “Jakie!”
“So I guess it’s time I was gettin’ up,” Dusty said.
Kenna nodded and smiled, her tangled curls of hair bouncing along like a happy tune.
Dusty dressed quickly and entered the kitchen to find Feller shoveling breakfast into Jakie’s mouth. She clamped her hand over her own mouth to stifle the giggle wanting to leap out at the sight. There sat Jakie in one of the big kitchen chairs, an apron at his waist—the ties wrapped around him and the back of the chair and knotted securely to hold him steady. He kicked his feet with delight as Feller awkwardly fed him applesauce straight from a quart jar with one of the biggest spoons owned by the Hunter family.
“Now ain’t that good, boy?” Feller chuckled. “Yeah…you eat your applesauce good, and it’ll put hair on your chest!”
Dusty wondered if Becca had ever seen Feller in such a light. Knowing Becca would be delighted at the sight, she felt sad her sister had been the one to be away for the night helping Alice.
“Good mornin’, Feller,” she greeted with an amused grin.
“Mornin’, Miss Dusty,” Feller grumbled, clearing his throat. He seemed humiliated at having been caught with his perpetual guarded manner absent. “Just sloppin’ the piglets…though that Miss Kenna’s finickier than all get out.”
“I’m not surprised,” Dusty sighed, going to the cupboard and removing a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly. Experience had taught Dusty that, indeed, Kenna wouldn’t eat well when away from home.
“Quite a ruckus last night ’round here, wasn’t it?” Feller sighed, lifting the apron at Jakie’s lap and clumsily wiping his face.
“I was wrung out! I didn’t even stay awake long enough to find out what happened after Daddy went out to talk to the sheriff,” Dusty admitted, a little ashamed. All she’d cared about was making sure Ryder had been tended to.
“Your daddy sent Ryder over this mornin’ to fetch Becca—Miss Becca and Guthrie home. Your daddy’s gone into town to round up a couple a hands to help Alex out ’til he’s up to snuff, and Ruff and Titch are long gone to the pastures a-countin’ head.” It was amazing how much information Feller could give a person in two sentences.
“Well, it looks like you’ve got things well in hand in here, Feller,” Dusty teased. “I guess I’ll just be about my business cleanin’ up the mess in here and the parlor. I’m glad you swept the glass up though.”
“Couldn’t have them young-uns a-runnin’ around with it like that,” Feller mumbled.
“You’ll make a mighty fine daddy to somebody one day,” Dusty told him. He simply rolled his eyes and shook his head the way he did when he was embarrassed.
The parlor was destroyed! The lamp in one corner had been shattered, no doubt by the gunfire the night before. Whoever the wounded man was, he had bled all over the carpet her mother had ordered all the way from Chicago. It was lost, and it made Dusty profoundly sad to have to roll it up and pitch it outside to wait to be cremated. Feller helped her right the table and ran around after Kenna and Jakie like he hadn’t ever been so amused in his life.
Before lunch, Ryder and Guthrie returned, Becca riding behind Ryder, arms tightly around his waist. Dusty felt a small shiver of jealousy run through her and scolded herself in silence. She knew where Becca’s heart belonged, and her poor sister looked completely done in as she slid off Ryder’s mount.
“You look whipped,” Dusty said, hugging her tightly.
“I am,” she exclaimed with a fatigued sigh. “I’ve never been so tired. Alex was so miserable all night, and Miss Raynetta and I sat up with Alice, and…oh, I’ve got to sit down a spell.”
Dusty looked up to where Ryder had dismounted and was walking his horse to the corral. He nodded and tipped his hat with a smile. She turned and led Becca to the porch swing.
“How banged up is he?” Dusty inquired as she sat down next to Becca. Pushing with her toes at the porch floor, she started them rocking back and forth.
“Pretty bad. Both eyes black…one’s completely swole shut. I’m certain he’s got half his ribs, at least, crunchin’ up in there…probably a broken arm. Doc’s out from town again this mornin’. Ol’ Alex looks like somethin’ the dog u
pchucked.” Dusty smiled at her sister’s use of one of Ryder’s terms.
Feller and the children came out of the house. Becca stared at Feller, an expression of wonderment in her eyes at the sight of him with the children. Kenna jumped up in Becca’s lap, and Becca gave the child her attention, smiling lovingly at her as Jakie sat completely content on Feller’s hip. Dusty giggled as she watched Jakie inquisitively staring up at Feller’s unshaven face and ever sucking his two middle fingers.
“Did you see my daddy, Becca?” Kenna asked.
“I did! He’s gonna be just fine. A few bruises and all, but otherwise he’s ready for you to come home and give him some sugar!” Becca said, kissing Kenna’s forehead and smoothing her hair. “Miss Raynetta’s gonna come get you in a while and take you home to see your mama and daddy. I bet you’re ready to sleep in your own bed.” Kenna nodded.
Feller slapped at some insect on his arm. “Flies are bitin’. Hope Miss Raynetta don’t waste too much time a-gettin’ here.” Dusty knew flies nipping at something other than the stock was a sure sign of a storm.
“Maybe I oughta take these babies home now,” Ryder offered, stepping up onto the porch. “That litter of puppies out behind the barn are chewin’ the grass down to nothin’.”
“Storm. Bad one. Bad lightnin’ for sure,” Feller agreed.
“I’m goin’ in. I am so tired,” Becca mumbled. She stood and stumbled toward the house.
Dusty watched her exhausted sister go into the house and then looked at the two tired cowboys.
“How long ’til the storm gets here?” she asked.
Feller looked up at the clouds starting to gather in the west. “Don’t know. But I figure we better get these kids home now if they wanna be sleepin’ with their mama tonight.”
Ryder looked so tired. Dark circles shaded his eyes, and the dried blood on his sleeve told her the wound on his arm had been bleeding again. “I should check your arm, Ryder,” she said.
“Naw. I just bumped it in the barn this mornin’. It’ll be fine. Let’s get them kids home.” He yawned, and Feller, ever chivalrous and realizing Ryder’s need to recover, took Kenna by the hand and descended the porch stairs.
“You let Dusty tend that arm, boy,” he grumbled. “I’ll take the kiddies home.”
“But I’m saddled up and…” Ryder began. Feller turned and raised his eyebrows. Ryder nodded in agreement. “All right then.”
“Bye-bye, Dusty!” Kenna called. “We’re goin’ home now!”
Dusty smiled and waved at the little chubby-cheeked angel. “You give your mama my love now! Tell her I’ll be over as soon as I can.” Kenna waved her assurance and skipped along contentedly beside Feller. Dusty paused to note how natural Feller looked walking alongside the girl, hauling Jakie on his hip. Yep. She’d like to see Feller Lance be the daddy to her nieces and nephews someday.
“Now,” she said, turning to Ryder, “as for you…strip that shirt off, and let me see your bandages.”
A low chuckle rumbled in his throat as he stripped off his shirt in one swift move. “I understand you wantin’ to see me with my shirt off…but my arm’s gettin’ sore now, and I don’t know if I want you pokin’ at it.”
Dusty felt the blush on her cheeks—though she tried to act unaffected. “You hush up,” she said. She examined his arm and determined the bandages needed to be changed. Taking his hand, she led him into the kitchen and directed him to a chair.
“Bossy little thing today, ain’t ya?” Ryder asked, smiling as if he had some secret amusement. His persistent, teasing smile unnerved her as she worked to change the bandage. There was mischief in his tired eyes. Although her heart began to hammer furiously, the door of fear within her soul, struggling to protect her, began to bolt itself against him.
“There,” she sighed as she finished tying the bandage. “All done.”
She smiled down at him, expecting him to stand up and leave. Instead, he reached out, taking hold of her forearm with both his strong, roughened hands. Turning her palm up, he kissed her wrist softly, trailing his thumb along the vein showing itself beneath her smooth skin. Pulling her closer to him so her knees were now pressed firmly against his thigh, he kissed the bend in her arm.
“What…what are you doin’?” Dusty breathed, trying to pull her arm free of his control.
Instantly and unexpectedly, Ryder was on his feet, defensive and determined. “Now…I’ve kept my hands offa you for a long while,” he stated. He spoke as if reminding her—as if she were able or even wanted to forget the bliss of being in his arms and the moist power of his kiss.
“As—as well you should,” she stammered.
“Why?” His eyebrows puckered into a sincere frown.
“Because…because it’s not proper for you to,” she told him.
“Proper? I used to ride you around on my back half the darn time when you was fourteen, and that wasn’t proper! But it never seemed to bother you then!” She didn’t understand his sudden agitation. “Your mama got all over me for that…but…”
“I don’t understand this, Ryder,” Dusty finally said as he let go of her arm.
“Do you know why I came back here?” he interrupted.
“Because you like it here,” she snapped, quoting the reason he’d given her that blissful night under the waterfall.
“I came back here to kiss you!”
“Yeah. You told me that before too, and—”
“I meant it. I came back here,” Ryder lowered his voice to nearly a whisper as he leaned toward her, his eyes narrowed, his mouth tight with frustration, “I came back here to kiss you, Dusty. To get a good, long, tasty drink of your mouth and satisfy the desire I couldn’t satisfy five years ago. I came back here to do that, sugar. And if you think I’m gonna stand around while you go on a-teasin’ me night and day—”
“Teasin’ you?” Dusty exclaimed in her own defense.
“Teasin’ me!” he nearly shouted in a whisper. “Just like ya always done right before I left. I don’t even think ya always knew you were a-doin’ it…but sometimes ya did. And sometimes ya do. I know you too awful well.”
She ignored his preaching about her teasing him. She had a more important question. “If that’s why you came back then…then why didn’t you just do it when you first got here? Why did ya—”
“You were so stuffed up in your own misery…you wouldn’t even look me in the eye when I first came back! I can just imagine what ya woulda done to me if I had thrown you on the ground and had my way with you right then and there!” He was nearly shouting now, and Dusty suddenly remembered Becca had gone into the house earlier to rest.
“Sshhh!” she hushed him. “You’ll wake Becca.”
“I don’t care if I wake Becca! I don’t care if the whole world hears me ’cause you and me, we’re gonna have it out right now!” With that, he swooped her up in his arms and headed for the door. “I’m sick a this cat-and-mouse bullsh—manure!”
“Your arm!” she exclaimed, not wanting to struggle for fear of hurting him.
“Dang the arm, Dusty! You better get to worryin’ about your own safety!” he growled as he lumbered out onto the porch and down the stairs. All she could do was put her arms around his neck and listen to him mumbling under his breath as he walked toward the barn. “Swishin’ your little fanny around like nobody’s business! Smilin’ all sweet and sugary! Runnin’ your hand over my arm like that.” He paused in his grumbling and looked to her as he stood still for a moment. “Grass or straw?” he asked.
“What?” she breathed. “What’re ya doin’? And what in tarnation are ya talkin’ about?” He was mad! She was certain he’d lost his mind.
“Grass or straw? Where do you prefer I do this? Grass or straw?” he repeated.
“D-do what?” she stammered. The excitement that had begun to burn in her chest now spread throughout all her limbs. He meant to…
“Fine. Grass. It don’t itch!” he answered for her, turning on his heels and heading
toward the creek bank.
Thick clouds had gathered overhead, ushering in the beginnings of the storm. There was an ominous excitement in the air. As Ryder reached the grassy bank of the creek, Dusty couldn’t understand how they’d gone from dressing his wounds to arguing over his assaulting her. He rather roughly set her down on the ground and stood, muscles tensed and jaw clenched, staring down at her.
“Ryder,” she began.
“Hush your mouth, girl!” he ordered.
She watched every muscle in his torso flex as he clenched and unclenched his fists. She was quiet for a moment until she noticed the blood seeping through the bandage on his arm again.
Leaping to her feet, she reached out and took hold of his arm. “You’re gonna tear those stitches out if you don’t…” But her words were lost as she felt his hand caress her cheek.
“You’re never gonna forgive me for breakin’ your heart back then, are ya?” he asked her. His face was no longer angry, his shoulders slumped with defeat.
“I have nothin’ to forgive ya for,” she whispered as his thumb traveled over her lips. Then a courage she thought she’d lost forever surfaced in her soul for a brief moment. “You know, don’t you?” He frowned and looked at her uncertainly. “You…you know that…just now for a second…for an instant I wanted…I wanted you to…”
“And ya don’t want me to now?” he asked. She was astonished by the intonation of hurt in his voice. Or did she imagine it? “Now, you don’t want me to—”
She put her fingers to his lips to silence him—afraid of what he might speak. “What did ya plan to do?” she asked him.
“Kiss you,” he mumbled. “Just kiss ya, sugar. That’s all. You know that.”
“No, I mean…” She paused. Yet it was something that had been eating at her very soul ever since he’d spoken of it at the picnic in July. She’d forced it to the back of her mind, not wanting to endure the visions it evoked—not wanting to be conscious of it. “You told me that…there were other women these past years…other women you…” She interrupted herself in an effort to control the wave of jealousy, hurt, and anger washing over her.
Dusty Britches Page 22
