Dusty Britches

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  Dusty shrugged. “He tried to make excuses, tried to explain, said he loved me…couldn’t lose me…that he’d die if I walked away from him. So…I walked away.”

  “Hopin’ he’d die?” Ryder chuckled.

  Dusty couldn’t stop the smile from breaking across her face. “Probably…now that I think back on it.”

  “But he didn’t have the gumption to up and die, so…” he prodded her.

  “So,” Dusty sighed heavily, “he destroyed my pride, and I realized I wasn’t hurt enough to have really been in love with him. And I hated myself for that. I realized what a shallow person I’d let myself become…settlin’ for less than I lived my life to deserve and—”

  “Interestin’ that you should put your pride before your heart,” he mumbled. “It’s also very interestin’ that it’s your pride that keeps you from completely warmin’ up to people now.”

  “I’m plenty warmed up to people!” Dusty defended herself, knowing full well he was right.

  “Oh, yeah!” he chuckled with sarcasm. “A right hot apple pie!”

  He winked at her teasingly. Still, she felt the heat of being provoked rising in her ears. It quickly died, however, the moment she looked down at him sitting in the grass—his legs stretched out long in front of him, his hat tipped back on his head as he leaned back on his arms looking at her. She was instantly calmed and delighted by the fact he sat so relaxed and attentive to her—that she had somehow found herself confiding in him. She wanted to be like an apple pie to him—wanted to warm him, share sweet, delicious kisses with him—wanted to satisfy him through good conversation and companionship.

  “I…” Dusty began. She was about to tell him she was finding her way up from the darkness of hurt, letting go of pride and hardheartedness, when Makenna bounded up, plopping herself directly in Ryder’s lap.

  Ryder let out an, “Oof!” and a slight moan as he helped Makenna situate herself farther down on his legs. “There now, darlin’,” he groaned as he smiled at her. “What can I do for my Kenna?”

  Makenna giggled and took Ryder’s face in her hands. “Mama said we could come over to Mr. Hunter’s ranch even though Daddy is still sore. He’s sittin’, and Mama’s talkin’ wiff the ladies, and now there’s dancin’!” she exclaimed excitedly. “You have to dance wiff me, Ryder Magics!”

  “Is that so?” he asked, grinning delightedly at her.

  Dusty smiled, filled with pure joy and amusement. How she loved to watch Makenna tag along after Ryder. How she loved to watch Ryder respond to her—completely enchanted by the little girl, a slave to her every whim.

  “Um-hum!” Makenna nodded. “Come on, Ryder Magics! The musics is startin’ again!”

  “Pardon me, Miss Dusty,” Ryder chuckled, rising awkwardly to his feet and taking Makenna by the hand. “I’m goin’ waltzin’ with the prettiest little angel in town!”

  They began to walk toward the others, Makenna tugging mercilessly on Ryder’s hand to hurry him along. “Hold on there, angel!” he groaned. “I got me a hitch in my get-along here.”

  Dusty giggled. But as Ryder limped away, her heart began to feel cold and lonely. Dusty nodded and winked, however, at Makenna, who threw her arms around Ryder’s neck. He bent down and waved at Dusty happily as he lifted Makenna into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way.

  Little girls would always love Ryder, she thought. She certainly hadn’t been the last! She was sure of that. She wondered again what the girl who had died meant to him. Slowly, she walked over to where everyone was dancing next to the corral. The music was so pleasant, that oh-so-familiar tune. She watched Ryder’s lips move, singing the words of the tune to Makenna as he danced with her, her tiny feet swinging this way and that in the breeze. Dusty smiled and bit her lip as Makenna giggled with delight in Ryder’s arms.

  “Well, I’ll kiss you tonight, little darlin’…and I’ll hold you so tight, in my arms,” Ryder mouthed, kissing the toddler tenderly on the forehead. Makenna laid her head on Ryder’s shoulder, delirious with joy as Ryder continued to sing to her.

  Dusty stood humming and watching everyone dance until she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She turned to see Feller standing next to her.

  He smiled, nodded, and said, “You enjoyin’ the evenin’, Dusty?”

  “Now and then,” she answered teasingly. “You?”

  “Now and then,” he mimicked with a friendly smile. “You been up to no good where your daddy and Miss Raynetta is concerned.” He winked approvingly at her.

  “I’ve been up to very good where they’re concerned,” she told him.

  The song ended, and the fiddler called out. “Grab your partners, folks! It’s hot out tonight, and it’s a flea-swappin’ dance!” Everyone clapped and hooted and hollered, and Dusty, glancing to where Titch was leading Becca out to dance, saw an opportunity.

  “Aren’t you gonna be a gentleman, Feller, and ask me to dance?” she coaxed.

  “It’s a flea-swap, Dusty. I hate them kind,” Feller grumbled.

  “Oh, come on. Toughen up!” she told him, linking an arm with his and dragging him over to the dancing.

  A flea-swap dance was something she’d always disliked too—especially if she were dancing with someone she wanted to be with. During a flea-swap, every once in a while the fiddler would shout, “Old dogs a-scratch ’em!” and everyone had to change partners.

  Ryder had set Makenna down and was striding toward them. Catching his sleeve quickly and coaxing him to bend near, Dusty whispered, “Would ya watch and tell them fiddlers when to start and stop the swappin’?” He raised his eyebrows in admiration as he glanced at Feller and nodded.

  “Oh, I can’t believe I let you drag me on out here,” Feller grumbled as the music started and they began to waltz.

  “It’ll be fun,” Dusty told him. “I promise.”

  As they danced, Dusty noticed the way Feller’s eyes kept glancing to where Titch and Becca were dancing nearby. “Oh, look,” she whispered. “There’s Becca. She doesn’t seem to be havin’ much fun.”

  “Hadn’t noticed,” Feller grumbled. Dusty was delighted by the blush rising to his cheeks.

  “Really? The way you don’t notice that little wiggle she’s perfected when she walks?”

  Feller’s eyes widened with indignation just as the fiddler shouted, “Old dogs a-scratch ’em!”

  Ryder stepped up and caught Dusty as Feller more than willingly released her and took Alice in his arms.

  “Oh, he’s mad now!” Ryder chuckled as he saw the glare Feller shot to Dusty across the way.

  “He’ll get over it,” Dusty assured him—though a mild case of guilt did travel through her. It vanished quickly, however.

  “They’re gettin’ closer…” Dusty whispered, not even realizing she and Ryder were hardly dancing at all—more holding each other, both staring expectantly at Feller. Ryder raised his hand and nodded to the fiddler again.

  “Old dogs a-scratch ’em!” the man shouted, and Dusty and Ryder each exhaled with disappointment as Feller turned the opposite direction from Becca and ended up with someone else again.

  “You in or out, Ryder?” Titch asked as he approached Dusty.

  To Dusty’s great surprise, Ryder took hold of her hand and fairly yanked her out of the circle of dancing couples. “We’re out for now,” he told his friend, who happily took someone else as a partner.

  “That was nearly rude,” Dusty scolded him.

  Ryder shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t feel like sharin’ anymore,” he mumbled as he intently watched Feller.

  A smile escaped across Dusty’s face; an odd fluttering in her stomach delighted her. How possessive of him! How fantastically possessive!

  Dusty followed Ryder’s gaze, and sure enough, Feller and his current partner were dancing directly next to Becca and hers. If Feller avoided Becca now, it would be too brutally obvious. Dusty knew he wouldn’t take the chance at hurting her so terribly. Ryder raised his arm, nodded to the fiddler aga
in, and this time—success! Feller turned to Becca, inhaled deeply, and took her in his arms. Dusty couldn’t help giggling with delight and wrapping her arms around one of Ryder’s large, powerful ones. He chuckled too, grinning down at her.

  “Ryder!” Makenna squealed as Dusty turned in time to see the curly-topped child run headlong at Ryder. Throwing her arms around his thighs, her head, which had been bent toward him, hit his body hard, causing him great distress in his lower extremities.

  “Oof!” he breathed again, doubling over this time and tugging patiently at the child’s arms until she released her vice grip on him. Dusty bit her lip, once more trying to stifle the amusement she knew she shouldn’t be experiencing. Poor man, she thought.

  “There now, sweet thing,” Ryder breathed to Makenna as he hunkered down awkwardly to face her. “You need to be more careful with ol’ Ryder, or I ain’t gonna ever be able to have my own babies to spoil.”

  Dusty secretly thrilled as she remembered the last time Ryder made such an implication at the Fourth of July picnic. A giggle escaped her throat next as Makenna actually seemed to understand Ryder’s plea.

  “I’m sorry, Ryder Magics,” the child cooed, taking his whiskery face in her hands. “My daddy keeps tellin’ me we won’t have no more babies at our house either if I don’t watch better where I sit.”

  “Wise man, your daddy,” Ryder chuckled. He kissed her tenderly on one chubby cheek. “Now, you run along and find some younger boys to dance with for now. Okeydokey?” Makenna nodded and, contentedly humming to herself, turned and skipped away.

  “You all right?” Dusty asked, biting her lip as she watched the way he straightened to a nearly upright stance.

  “Yeah,” he breathed. “Just gotta stand here a minute if you don’t mind.” He shifted his weight onto his other foot with a groan, and Dusty couldn’t stop another giggle. “What’re you laughin’ at?” he asked. “I thought you’d be on my side where my ability to father children is concerned.”

  Instantly, Dusty’s laughter ceased; her smile disappeared. The fluttering beginning in her stomach fairly erupted into chaos now. “What…what do you mean by that?” she questioned.

  Ryder smiled and shook his head. “Sugar…if you haven’t figured it out by now…I ain’t gonna be the one to tell you!”

  “I can’t believe you!” she exclaimed. She was simultaneously aghast and elated. It was an odd sensation, to say the least. But he only chuckled at the blush on her cheeks, took her hand, and nodded toward the dance.

  “Come on,” he mumbled. “I’m well enough to join this next one.” But she did not follow his lead. Her feet were planted firmly where she stood, still trying to overcome the shocking delight of his inference. “You don’t wanna dance with me?” he asked. But Dusty still could not respond—still struggled to absorb the previous remarks he had made. “Fine. Let’s go for a walk. Me and you.” He turned away from the dance and toward the barn. “Oops,” he grinned. “Our barn is already occupied, ain’t it?”

  “Ryder!” she scolded. “That’s my daddy in there!”

  He raised his eyebrows, a broad smile spreading across his face. “I know it! Good ol’ boy, your daddy.” With a wink he turned in the direction of the creek and whispered, “Come on. I know a place we can be alone to…talk. A half-naked girl showed it to me once.”

  Dusty’s mouth again gaped open in astonishment. Still, her feet betrayed her, for they willingly propelled her forward to follow him as he pulled her along. He glanced back at her several times, obviously amused by the uncertain expression on her face. Chuckling, he pulled her closer to him, putting a strong arm around her shoulders.

  “Come on now, girl. Nothin’ to fear.” Then, leaning over and whispering in her ear, he added, “I ain’t in no shape to threaten your good name…not after havin’ Kenna Jones ’round here tonight.”

  “Ryder! You stop it!” she scolded in a whisper as he threw his head back and laughed.

  Then quickening his step, he told her, “Come on! There’s a full moon. It’ll be right nice out there tonight.” Smiling blissfully, Dusty won another battle with fear and cowardice, letting him lead her to the pond, across the rock path, and behind the waterfall.

  It was indeed a beautiful summer night. The moon shone brightly through the cascade of water illuminating the alcove, giving it a magical quality—like a fairyland, hidden in secret from the rest of the world. Ryder reached out and let the water run over his hand for a moment. Dusty simply sat down on the inner edge of the alcove and watched him.

  “Well, I’ll tell you this,” he began. “I sure am glad the bunkhouse is gettin’ done. The parlor floor’s givin’ me cause to wake up with a backache every dang mornin’.” He shook the water from his hand and dried his fingers on his pant leg. Turning to Dusty, he added, “Yep! Sure will be nice to sleep in a bed for a change. Of course…” Dusty knew mischief was about by the sparkle in his eyes and the grin on his face. “Been plenty of moments this last week…that I was tempted to slip into your bed a time or two.”

  “Ryder! You stop that!” she scolded, jumping to her feet. She could admit to herself inwardly she wasn’t scolding him because his remarks of late were improper. She was scolding him because of the way they made her heart race even faster than it already did when she had him to herself.

  “Boy! I found your switch, didn’t I?” he whispered, going to her and taking her face in his hands. Without further warning or pause, he kissed her hard, intimately, and with an air of possessiveness that thrilled her. After the one, driven kiss, he pulled back from her, still holding her face and caressing her lips with his thumb as he mumbled, “Won’t be long and you and I will be havin’ to share all our hideouts with Becca and Feller—your daddy and Miss Raynetta too, for that matter!” He smiled at her, the warm magic of his eyes soothing her, relaxing her. Suddenly, she found her hands at his waist, tugging on the waistband of his pants—silently begging him for another kiss. “Yep! Me and you make a good little pair of matchmakers, now don’t we?”

  “I suppose so,” she admitted, completely mesmerized by his mouth as he talked.

  “You think you and me will ever get around to…” His words were lost as his attention seemed to be completely arrested by her own mouth. He swallowed hard, and she tugged at his waist again, “Angelina,” he whispered, “you make my mouth water…and make me thirsty all at the same time.”

  Dusty inhaled triumphantly as he fairly attacked her. It seemed as if he were frustrated with not being able to pull her body close enough to his. His kisses were demanding, surging with a passion he seemed unable to quench. He whispered her name over and over between worshipping her neck with moist kisses and commanding the responses of her mouth to his.

  I love you! she wanted to confess to him. I love you so much deeper than I even thought I did! But she was silent—except for whispering his name once when he had ceased in ravaging her momentarily, his face poised above her own as if waiting for the next invitation. She wanted to hear him tell her he loved her among the things he was whispering now and again.

  “Stop me,” he begged her once. But she shook her head, and he fairly winced as his mouth took hers again. “There’s something I need to tell…” Ryder began during another pause to allow her to catch her breath. Yet Dusty shook her head again and embraced him frantically as they continued to kiss. Finally, the cheers from the revelers back at the ranch house signaled them both that the dance had ended and everyone would be leaving.

  “They’ll miss us now,” she whispered as he held her head against his chest. The mad hammering of his heart and his heavy breathing caused her to reach up and stroke his face soothingly. He kissed the palm of her hand and held her away from him.

  “You don’t think they already have?” he asked her. His expression was that of extreme mischief mingled with desire. “And look at you.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “You look like…” His fingers caressed her lips, which were somewhat sore from the length
and passion of their interlude.

  “Like what?” she asked, standing back from him, straightening her skirt and blouse and running her fingers through her tangled hair.

  “Like your daddy will string me up if he sees you just now,” he chuckled.

  “He won’t be in the frame of mind to be noticin’ it.” Dusty grinned at Ryder.

  “Not after the way Miss Raynetta must look by now, you mean?”

  He winked at her and took her hand, leading her out of the alcove. She smiled, warmed by his arm about her shoulders. Still, as they approached the party of departing people, he dropped his arm to his side again.

  Is this all there will ever be? she thought. Kissing and passion under the waterfall—only to return to the world as if nothing had happened? The look of panic and, yes, fear must’ve been far too evident on her face. Ryder immediately took her by the shoulders and glared down at her.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” he whispered. “No, sir! Don’t you give me that look!”

  “What look?” she managed.

  “That look that says, ‘Will you be here in the mornin’, Ryder?’ ” He shook his head. “I hate that look! It lets me know you still don’t trust me. And believe me, Dusty…if that next step with me and you is ever to come…it won’t be until that look is gone!”

  “What next step?” she asked. Surely he would say it now—give her hope—hope of him.

  “Ryder!” her father shouted. Ryder’s attention was immediately turned to Hank, and he guiltily dropped his hands from Dusty. “Come on over here and help load up some of these supplies for Alex and Alice, would you, boy?”

  Ryder let out a relieved sigh, winked at Dusty, and confessed, “I thought I was on my way to the hangin’ tree!” He reached out and tweaked her nose before hurrying toward the Joneses’ wagon.

  “We’ll pick up all the rest of what you need tomorrow when the boys are in town,” Dusty heard her father tell Alex.

  Alice waved to Dusty and gave her a knowing wink. Dusty smiled and waved back before noting how her father held Miss Raynetta’s hand tightly as he walked her to her own wagon. He helped her up onto the wagon seat after tying a saddle horse to the back of the wagon. Never again would any of the other hands see Miss Raynetta home—Dusty knew that for certain. Going into the house then, Dusty found Becca sitting at the table, her head propped up on one hand as she stared rather dismally out through the window to the starry sky.