“I-I know that.” Dusty sniffled, closing her eyes to calm herself as she inhaled deeply. “B-but I can’t…I can’t get beyond this…this…this…”
“Fear.”
Dusty knew Becca was right. Fear—more than past heartache, more than pride, more than anything—was what kept her from surrendering herself to loving Ryder completely. It kept her dreams at bay, kept her arms from returning his embrace, kept her hope and faith from fulfilling her greatest desire.
“Yes. I’m too afraid.” Dusty looked to her sister.
Becca nodded, and there was true—desperately true—true understanding in her eyes. Becca was afraid too. Dusty understood more fully than ever before how truly akin their heartaches were.
“I should just walk up to him and…and say…” Dusty began.
“And say, ‘I love you, Feller. Can you love me back? Imperfections and all?’ That’s what I should say,” Becca whispered.
Dusty nodded. “But it’s not that easy…facing rejection and heartache head on.”
“It’s like standin’ still when a mad bull is chargin’ ya.” Becca reached out and hugged Dusty. “But you’ve had so much offered to you from Ryder! He ain’t the kind to be insincere.”
“I know.”
It seemed that day dragged on forever! And even longer was the night Dusty spent worrying over Ryder’s despair and fighting her own. Time and again Dusty would sit up in her bed, determined to march out into the parlor and wake him up—to tell him she loved him, that she was sorry for his pain, and would he give her a chance to heal it as he had endeavored to heal hers. Time and again she lay back down, afraid. Once she even made it to standing in the parlor door staring down at him as he slept. But courage was not hers that day. Maybe the next it would be her companion—tomorrow—when daylight gave her strength. And so she fought to find comfort of any kind—through another long, lonely, anxious night.
Miss Raynetta arrived early in the morning to help prepare the food for the bunkhouse raising planned for the next day. All morning long she chattered away like a cute little squirrel—busily preparing pies and trying to lift the glum moods of both Dusty and Becca. Finally, just before lunch, Miss Raynetta dried her hands on her apron and, turning to the Hunter girls, fairly snapped, “What in all get out is wrong with you girls?”
Becca shrugged her shoulders innocently, and Dusty mumbled, “Nothin’.”
“Well, that’s a lie if I ever in my life heard one!” Miss Raynetta argued. “All mornin’ you two been mopin’ around like whipped dogs! Let’s get out of this kitchen and soak up some sun!” Tossing her head, she untied her apron and rather dramatically dropped it to the floor. Then, linking arms with both girls, she led them out onto the porch.
Dusty couldn’t help but smile. Becca exchanged an amused glance with her as well. It was almost impossible to maintain a blackened mood when Miss Raynetta was anywhere near. Again, Dusty’s thoughts turned to the woman’s loneliness—her secret longing for one man, hidden for more than twenty years. She thought of her father—still lost without her mother at times, but so young to be living out his life alone. She thought of her sister—Becca’s tender heart breaking from longing for the love of such a seemingly unobtainable bachelor. It had all gone on long enough. Today, she told herself—today it would begin to change. Today she would begin to beat down her fear! Truly this time.
“Do you remember Feller ridin’ through town when he was little…” Dusty began.
“Naked as the day he was born!” Miss Raynetta finished, erupting into twinkling giggles of merriment. “Hang my garters in the window, but that was a sight to behold!” Miss Raynetta tried to say more, but her laughter was uncontrollable. It only took a few moments for Dusty and Becca both to begin giggling, having caught the contagious delirium. “Lookin’ at him now,” Miss Raynetta sighed, “can you ever believe it? Can you even imagine that sour-pussed ol’ goat a-doin’ somethin’ the like?” Again she burst into giggles. “Of course, he ain’t all garlic and vinegar like he pretends,” she said when she could talk again. Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, she added, “Ain’t that right, Becca, honey?”
Dusty’s heart swelled with delight. Miss Raynetta had taken the bait and swum off with it. Furthermore, it seemed she wasn’t as blind as Dusty had been for so long. Still, Becca’s smile faded immediately.
“I don’t know what ya mean, Miss Raynetta,” Becca mumbled, blushing wildly.
“Oh, honey,” the maternal woman comforted. Miss Raynetta wore a copper-colored dress; it made her look warm and approachable. “We women who have tendencies toward hired hands know each other’s hearts better than we care to admit. No need to go tryin’ to fool me. I been there before!”
“He thinks I’m a baby,” Becca confessed, dabbing at the tears springing to her eyes.
Miss Raynetta put an arm around Becca’s shoulders and smoothed more tears from her cheeks. Dusty stood in awe, realizing Becca had suffered greater from the loss of their mother than even she had, for Dusty was older when their mother passed on. Furthermore, instead of stepping in as nurturing, teaching, caring big sister in her mother’s absence, she’d selfishly withdrawn. It was both a hurtful and a fantastic thing to watch Miss Raynetta mothering her sister now.
“Oh, honey, he knows you ain’t a baby!” Miss Raynetta told her, smiling slyly. “I had to slap his face the other day ’cause he was so near to droolin’ all down the front of his shirt at watchin’ your fanny wag as you were walkin’ away from him!”
“You don’t have to try to make me feel better, Miss Raynetta,” Becca sniffled. “I’ve known Feller a mighty long time and—”
“I would never lie to you, honey! Now you keep that in mind.” Miss Raynetta smiled again. “Test me out.” The woman glanced over to where Feller was at that very moment, working on the corral fence. “You go on over, and you have yourself some silly little conversation with Feller. Then, when you walk away, you take five steps, and you turn around as fast as you can…and you’ll catch him at it! If I’m wrong, I’ll eat crow for a month! But I ain’t ever wrong.” Becca’s eyes began to glisten with the thought of the tantalizing dare. “Go on now. Go on.”
Becca looked to Dusty for either encouragement or discouragement, and when Dusty nodded emphatically, Becca turned and took out toward the corral.
Dusty followed Miss Raynetta’s gaze as she watched Becca approach Feller. “I ain’t wrong about this. Take my word for it. He won’t disappoint her,” the petite matchmaker whispered. Still, Dusty sensed Miss Raynetta was as anxious as she was when the woman nervously linked arms with her again.
Come on, Feller, Dusty thought. For once, be your same old, predictable self.
Becca approached Feller, and he did indeed cease his labor. Dusty noted Becca’s state of agitation was obvious by the way she stood swishing her skirt back and forth as she talked to him. Becca nodded, and Dusty was aware of the simultaneous breath-holding she and Miss Raynetta were enduring as her sister turned from Feller and began to walk away.
“Keep watching her! Keep watching her!” Miss Raynetta whispered. Then she began to giggle with delight. “See the way his eyes drop from the back of her head to…” Dusty’s merciless, sudden clutch on Miss Raynetta’s dress sleeve interrupted her, and both women fairly squealed with delight as Becca then, having taken far more than five steps, turned to catch Feller watching her. He immediately twitched a shoulder and waved to her when she waved at him. In her excitement, Becca nearly skipped back toward the henhouse.
“She’s a wise girl not to draw his attention back this way,” Miss Raynetta whispered as she and Dusty instantly bent over and studied the ground—trying to appear as if they’d missed the whole scene, in the event a humiliated Feller Lance should glance their way. They giggled together so uncontrollably that finally Miss Raynetta took hold of Dusty’s arm and led her to the far side of the house, where they clamped their hands over their mouths and continued in their merriment.
Finally, with heavy sighs, they were both able to gain control of themselves. Miss Raynetta straightened her posture and proudly announced, “Was I right? Or was I right?”
“You were very right!” Dusty lovingly smiled at her, and Miss Raynetta seemed suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze.
Looking away, she sighed, “That was a hard thing for her to do…have the faith to overcome her fear and test him.”
“I know,” Dusty agreed.
Miss Raynetta looked back to Dusty, her smile fading completely. “And what if a man has already passed that test? What if a man has already proven trustworthy and loyal and a woman still pushes him away?”
The questions were very pointed. But Dusty wasn’t ready to hop from Becca’s affairs of the heart to her own. As further proof the old Dusty Hunter was beginning to win over, Dusty was not surprised to hear herself blurt out her own pointed question.
“You still love my daddy, don’t you?” she asked Miss Raynetta without pause.
“Oh, honey!” Miss Raynetta tossed her head and forced an indifferent expression. “That was a long time ago.” But Dusty didn’t miss the familiar pain in her eyes—familiar not only because she’d seen it there before but because she’d felt it herself.
“But you still love him, don’t you?” Dusty repeated.
Miss Raynetta brushed at her cheeks, which were already the bright pink of blush. She stared at the sky, at nothing for a long moment, and then shook her head and seemed to swallow her tears. “I suppose that we never get over that first love of our life. Some people are lucky enough to have it forever.” Then, looking to Dusty meaningfully, she added, “If they have the courage to hang on to it.”
“Daddy’s still a handsome man, Miss Raynetta. And you’re still a beautiful woman. He’s very fond of you and very attracted to you,” Dusty said in a whisper. “I’ve been noticing lately how often he talks about you and thinks about you with that big grin spread smack across his face.”
“Your daddy wasn’t meant to be mine, honey. He was meant for your mama, and she deserved him. You know,” she said as tears filled her eyes, “it broke my heart when she died.” She looked to Dusty and put a dainty hand to her breast and continued, “I never once thought bad of her or resented her marryin’ Hank. I want you to know that! She was a wonderful woman, and she was far good enough for him in my eyes. They were so happy together, and I could never try to fill his heart now like she did.”
“Not like she did. Of course not,” Dusty told her. “But Daddy’s got more love left to give than most men can give in a whole lifetime. You and Daddy are so young, Miss Raynetta! You can fill his heart…the way you will.”
“Sweet thing,” Miss Raynetta sighed as she wiped at her sentimental tears, “I’m goin’ on thirty-six!”
“But that’s so young!” Dusty interrupted. “My granny didn’t have Mama until she was forty-three!” She lowered her voice again, “Don’t you long for a baby of your own, Miss Raynetta? I’ve always wanted a little brother.”
Miss Raynetta smiled and shook her head. “You sure have changed your tune about things of the heart lately, Miss Angelina Hunter. And you’re a mighty big hypocrite to boot.” She was quiet for a moment. She looked to Dusty again. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a proposition. You show me you’re a-lettin’ Ryder snuggle in close to you once in a while…and I’ll…I’ll…”
“You’ll start lettin’ it show to my daddy that you care for him!” Dusty finished for her.
“It’s a deal,” Miss Raynetta giggled.
“Do ya give me your word?”
“Shake on it!” Miss Raynetta offered her hand, and Dusty grasped it, shaking it firmly. Could it be there was another woman, other than Dusty and Becca Hunter, who was trying to find a way to fight her fear of offering her love to the one man she wanted to have it?
Almost as if angels themselves had stepped in, Ryder sauntered out of the barn and tossed some trappings to the ground. Hunkering down, he began to fiddle with them.
“Hm?” Miss Raynetta hummed. “Fancy that. Ask and ye shall receive?”
Dusty swallowed hard. Miss Raynetta was innocent in exactly how much harder it was for Dusty to walk up to Ryder at that point than it had been even for Becca. The angel of mercy had no idea Dusty had demanded Ryder not touch her—that he’d been given such grievous news the day before, after she’d dropped off the post.
Anytime you’re ready, he’d said. His words—the vision of his face that day in the barn—both flashed through Dusty’s mind. I’ll kiss you in a way you never dreamed of! he had promised.
Slowly Dusty turned toward the barn. She took several steps toward him, but he stood up and disappeared into the barn again. Letting out the breath she’d been holding, Dusty turned to Miss Raynetta.
“I can’t. He’s gone now and…”
Miss Raynetta quirked an eyebrow and nodded toward the barn. Ryder had just returned, carrying an ax. He began splitting wood. Taking Dusty’s shoulders, Miss Raynetta guided her in his direction a few steps before letting go and stepping back.
Dusty walked to where he worked, pausing just a few feet from him. His back was to her. He hadn’t seen her yet. She could still escape, but then fear would have won, and her father would never know of the secret love waiting for him. She took one more step toward him. Ryder worked at splitting wood, his skin bronzed from work in the sun, and as usual, his shirt, still tucked into his trousers, hung down around his legs. Dusty smiled and took another step toward him. How funny, she thought. How funny that he would take the time to completely unbutton his shirt when it hampered him but leave it hanging down about his lower body instead of taking the slight effort required to toss it aside.
She watched his muscles work as he swung the ax, and she could feel Miss Raynetta’s increasingly astonished expression burning into her back. Before she could think twice, she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder as he set the ax aside and bent to gather the wood. He startled and turned his head. Dusty was encouraged to be greeted by the handsome smile spreading across his face.
“Whatcha need?” he asked innocently.
Dusty opened her mouth and drew in a quick breath, but no sound came out. What would she say? Could she simply say, I need you to make love to me here…now…out in the open so Miss Raynetta will see? Something inside her told her that were she truly to answer Ryder’s question so boldly, it would not make a difference. He would react however he would react whether she spoke or not. For an instant, she closed her eyes, biting her lower lip for courage, and drew in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes once more, Ryder had turned around and stood facing her.
“What?” he asked, obviously perplexed.
Without meeting his gaze, Dusty focused her attention on the body before her, placing her hands against the smooth, solid contours of his broad chest.
Don’t you ever be afraid to touch me! His words echoed through her mind. Afraid! Fear! It had been her destroyer. It would lose Ryder for her! Her hands betrayed her inner battle with a trembling that could not be seen by Miss Raynetta from her distance but could be neither missed nor ignored by Ryder. She forced her soft caress upwards toward his shoulders. Their words in the barn several days before had been so harsh, and unfinished somehow. Then the newspaper had come, bringing more discomfort between them. She wondered—if he did find the patience to deal with her, would he remember what he’d promised her about his kiss?
Her hands traveled the breadth of his broad shoulders, up over his neck, finally resting on his face. When she finally found the courage to glance up at him, it was to find that his eyes had narrowed, his expression that of completely pleased anticipation. It gave her hope and courage—that playful, mischievous smile she loved so much. Quickly, she focused her attention to his mouth and moved slightly to kiss him. Yet panic and fear stalled her, and she winced at the pain in her frightened soul. What if he refused her? What if he refused her there with Miss Raynetta looking on? How
would Miss Raynetta ever find the courage to approach her father? But when she looked up at him, he smiled warmly, the sweet brown sugar of his eyes reassuring her he would not fail her. Again she looked at his mouth. Simply kiss him, she thought. It was simple enough, wasn’t it? She’d kissed him before, hadn’t she? But this was different. There was no reason for it! Nothing had led them to it.
Watching Ryder’s mouth until it was so close she had to close her eyes, Dusty moved toward him until she felt the softness of his lips against her own. He was still. Yes, he let her kiss him, even returned the kiss, as much as he could—considering how softly and how quickly she kissed him. Casting her gaze down for a moment before facing his, she drew in a deep breath. When she looked up at him again, he quirked one side of his mouth in a smile of satisfaction. His expression was nothing less than entirely inviting, and with every shred of courage she had left, she moved closer to him, letting her body press lightly against his. Still, his arms did not go around her; his strong hands were not at her waist. And she wondered—had it taken such profound courage as this for him each time he’d kissed her when she had not responded with a reassuring touch? No inviting caress?
She ran the fingers of one small hand across his lips before raising herself to kiss him again. This time, she did not pull away so quickly but let herself breathe of the scent of his face. Her kisses, however self-propelled, were met with perfect acceptance and delight. He did not deny her. In fact, a moment later, she went limp against him as his hands caressed her waist for long moments before he finally locked her in the power of his arms. Instantly, Dusty surrendered to his dominant power and confidence. His will was paradise! Everything else was driven from her mind, including the existence of Raynetta McCarthy looking on. His mouth suddenly left hers and traveled to her neck. She pressed her hand against the back of his head, enraptured by the feel of his kiss on her skin. His chin nuzzled her collar, forcing it down so he could kiss her throat briefly before his hands cupped her face, his obsessively craved kiss finding her mouth once more. A matter of a week had been far too long to deny herself the attentions of Ryder. A day would’ve been too long, she thought. An hour—a minute!
Dusty Britches Page 26
