Wayward Lady

by Nan Ryan

Austin laughed and bent to kiss her cheek. “I said, ‘I’m pleased you like the present.’”

  9

  Two days after Suzette’s nineteenth birthday, Lydia Foxworth died. Suzette was shocked and saddened; she thought that since her mother had made it through the winter, she’d improve and get well with summer’s approach. Feeling strangely cold under the warm May sun, Suzette said goodbye to her beautiful mother and wondered why she longed for Austin Brand to be there with her.

  But Austin was away on the cow hunt; she knew he wouldn’t be back until month’s end. It seemed a lifetime. Of all her friends, including Anna and Perry, who insisted Suzette come stay with them for a time, Suzette wished for Austin’s company and comfort. She felt frightened and alone without him and realized for the first time how important he was in her life. Always she’d taken his presence for granted; she’d never even considered what life would be like without him.

  As she lay in the strange bed in Anna’s house on the night of her mother’s funeral, Suzette cried softly into the pillow. “Austin, Austin,” she sobbed, “help me.”

  Austin Brand was on the prairie unaware of Suzette’s suffering. He sat smoking while the campfire died and the other cowboys slept. The quiet of the prairie night was interrupted only by the occasional snorting and whinnying of the horses in the remuda and the crickets’ call.

  Austin drew on his cigar and let his thoughts drift. To his dismay, they kept coming to rest on Suzette Foxworth. Her pretty, fresh face. The way she looked on her birthday with her hair pulled up and her feet bare. The smile she’d given him when she fastened the gold clasp into her hair.

  Austin shook his head and berated himself. Suzette Foxworth is a child; I’m old enough to be her father. Besides, it’s been less than a year since I was widowed. Add to that the fact that Suzette’s father was one of my best friends. He’d turn over in his grave if he knew I would consider behaving in less than a fatherly fashion toward his daughter.

  Perhaps I need a woman. I’m a healthy, normal man and it’s been too long. There’s nothing more to it; I’ll slip away to Fort Worth for a couple of days. No one will know and then I’ll quit having these impure thoughts.

  Austin tossed his cigar into the dying fire and went to his bedroll. Utterly exhausted from the long, hard day of riding herd on the dangerous longhorns, he soon dozed, then dreamed. He awoke with a start and sat up. From the depths of his dream, Suzette Foxworth was calling to him, her sweet voice desperate, her eyes wide with fear. Austin ran a hand through his thick blond hair and got up.

  Quietly pulling on his boots, he made his way to the pallet where his trail boss, Tom Capps, was snoring. “Tom.” Austin spoke urgently.

  Tom’s eyes opened. “Trouble?”

  “No, everything’s fine. I’m leaving camp for a couple of days. I’ll meet you over at the Squaw Mountain corral on Friday. Go back to sleep.”

  “My God, man! Can’t you wait till morning?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  He arrived in Jacksboro as the sun was rising. Feeling more than a little foolish, he debated whether he should ride out to the Foxworth ranch or go directly to the Wichita Hotel and sleep. He was still arguing with himself when he reached the Foxworth ranch house. Seeing no lights inside, he figured Suzette was still asleep. He dismounted, then lit a cigar and waited, leaning his big frame against a tall elm. Time passed and still no one stirred inside the house. Austin strolled across the yard and onto the porch. He knocked loudly. Nothing. He knocked again and this time he called her name. “Suzette, it’s Austin. Honey, open the door. Suzette?”

  His heart thumping, he pounded on the door and shouted her name again and again. Finally, he pushed in the door and rushed inside. He went from room to room but saw no trace of Suzette or her mother. Alarmed, her hurried back to his horse. Spurring his tired mount all the way to town, he went directly to the Echo office. It was dark and locked.

  Fishing a key from his pocket, he let himself in and went straight to his office. Knowing he should remain calm and rational, he nevertheless wanted a drink. From the bottom drawer of his desk he pulled a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and poured himself a glass, then downed it in one gulp. He was wiping his mouth on the back of his hand when he noticed Suzette, looking fragile and tired, standing in the doorway.

  “Sweetheart.” He sighed with relief and went to her, gathering her into his arms. To his intense surprise and pleasure, she did not pull away but buried her face on his broad chest and clung to him.

  “Austin,” she whispered, “thank God you’re here. Oh, Austin, how did you know?”

  He pulled back to look down at her. “Know what? What is it, sweetheart?”

  “Austin, Mother died. I lost my mother.”

  Austin tenderly pressed her face against his chest. “My darling, I’m so terribly sorry.” His arms tightened around her. “I didn’t know, Suzette, but I’m here and I’ll help you.”

  “Austin, I prayed you’d come. Did you know that? I wanted you to be here with me. I’m not as frightened when you’re here.”

  “Suzette, I’ll be here for you always. You’re not alone, dearest. I’m with you. I’ll take care of you.” Austin Brand continued to hold her in his warm embrace, and Suzette had no idea how elated he was to be the one she wanted in her time of trouble.

  Four days after her mother’s funeral, Suzette kissed Anna good-bye and moved back to the ranch. “Suz, please stay here a while longer,” Anna pleaded. “You can’t live alone, it isn’t safe. Why must you be so stubborn? Lord knows you’re welcome to stay here with Perry and me for as long as you like.”

  “You and Perry are very kind, Anna, but I’m going home where I belong. Really. I’ve no intention of arguing.”

  “Very well. You won’t listen to me, but I’ll bet Austin Brand will have something to say about this.”

  Suzette looked at her friend. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that he will most assuredly not allow you to live alone at the ranch. You know how protective he is of you. Do you honestly think he’ll hold still for you living way out there by yourself?”

  “Anna, listen to me. Austin Brand is a kind and dear friend. He’s been very good to me and I appreciate it, just as I appreciate your help. Where I live is none of his concern, and he is not going to be consulted about it.”

  Anna smiled at her obstinate friend. “Do I wish I could be there to see his face when you tell him about it!”

  “Absolutely not! I won’t hear of it! Have you lost your mind?” Austin waved his arms around, his gray eyes like stormclouds.

  “Will you kindly calm down, Austin?” Suzette said irritably.

  “Calm down?” Austin grabbed her elbow. “You tell me you’re going to live alone, miles from the nearest neighbor, and you want me to calm down! Dammit, girl, you can’t be serious!”

  “I’m very serious, Austin. The ranch is my home, and that is where I’m going to live.”

  “I won’t allow it, Suzette. It’s foolish and out of the question. I refuse to argue about it.” Austin’s eyes narrowed.

  Her temper flaring, Suzette wrenched out of his grasp. “Just who do you think you are, Austin Brand! What gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot do? I’m a grown woman, Austin, nineteen years old.”

  Austin couldn’t help smiling. He took her arm. “Nineteen. Sweetheart, that’s hardly a woman. You’re still a little girl and…”

  Suzette pushed on his chest and spun away from him. “I am not a little girl! I’m a woman, a full-grown, independent woman, and I’ll thank you to treat me like one! Now, I don’t want to hear one more word about it. Starting tonight I’ll be living at the ranch, and if you don’t like it, you can…you can…” She flounced to the door of his office. “I’m going to work. I’m sure poor Mr. Keach must be wondering what’s going on in here. Austin, why don’t you just go back to your cow hunt!”

  Sighing, Austin shook his head. “I am. I’m leaving this afternoon.�
��

  “So soon?” she asked, softening. “I…Austin, thanks for giving me a shoulder to cry on. I promise I’ll never need it again. I’m going to manage, you know. I intend to be strong and resilient. From this day forward, you are looking at a new Suzette Foxworth.”

  “I saw nothing wrong with the old one,” he said quietly.

  “Good-bye, Austin. Take care of yourself.” She slammed the door behind her.

  “Bye, darlin’,” he mumbled to the closed door.

  Austin left town that afternoon and by nightfall found his men and his herd at the camp near Squaw Mountain. He’d no sooner dismounted than he called one of his hands aside and offered a cigar to the lean, leathery man who was an expert marksman. “Dale.” Austin clamped the man’s slim shoulder. “I’m giving you a raise.”

  Half grinning, the cowboy eyed him. “Yeah? What’s the catch?”

  “I want you to return to Jacksboro at once. Ride directly to the Foxworth ranch. You choose the spot, but you’re to guard the young lady who lives there. She’s not to know, so be extremely careful. You’re to go there each evening at dark and remain awake and alert throughout the night. At sunup, you return to my ranch to sleep. Will you do it?”

  “Are you serious about a raise?”

  “You’ll get double what I’m paying you now. Your only duty will be to see that Suzette Foxworth is safe in her home.”

  “I’m your man, boss.” The lean cowboy smiled. “I’m already tired of these stinking, stupid longhorns.”

  “Then go get your horse. Time’s wasting. I want her to sleep safely tonight, so you’d best be on your way.”

  “I’m as good as there, boss.”

  “One last thing, Dale,” Austin called after him. “If I ever catch you sleeping on the job, be prepared to leave Jack county.”

  Dale Jackson tipped his Stetson and saluted.

  Austin returned to Jacksboro the first week in June, riding into town ahead of his men. They had taken the large herd to the holding pens on the Brand ranch to rest for a couple of weeks before beginning the long ride up the Chisholm trail to Abilene.

  Austin, dirty, disheveled, and unshaven, tethered his horse and hurried into the Wichita Hotel, but not before casting a longing glance across the street at the Echo office. He wanted to see Suzette, but it would have to wait. He wasn’t about to let her see him looking less than his best. When he finally sank into a big tub of hot water, he sighed and closed his eyes. Would she be overjoyed to see him? Would she be thin and pale? After all, she was only a child. Would she weep and cling to him when she greeted him?

  Half an hour later, dressed impeccably, his thick blond hair trimmed and brushed, his face clean-shaven, Austin Brand strode across the street. Suddenly as nervous as a young boy, he stepped into the newspaper office, squinting from the glare of the noonday sun.

  Suzette, looking fresh and radiant, was bent over her writing pad, working furiously. He watched her for a long minute. She was not the pale, distraught girl he’d expected to find, but instead looked rested, vibrant, the picture of good health—and very, very beautiful.

  “Suzette,” he said softly.

  The blond head flew up and their eyes locked. The smile she gave him dispelled any doubts, and she jumped up from her chair. “Austin!” she squealed and stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then pulled back. “Let me look at you! It’s so good to see you, Austin. When did you get in?”

  “An hour ago.” He beamed. “How are you, dear?”

  “Busy!” she exclaimed happily. “You must come look at the lead story for today’s paper.” She took him by the hand and proudly presented him with her pad. “Read this! Can you believe it? Isn’t it too exciting for words?”

  Austin smiled indulgently and read.

  The Prairie Echo

  June 8, 1874

  Fort Worth, Texas

  A dark young bandit, known only as Kaytano, led a band of desperadoes in a successful holdup of the First National Bank yesterday. Eyewitnesses say the fearless half-breed was wounded in the getaway, but those reports are unconfirmed, as the young renegade and his gang once again slipped through the fingers of the pursuing Rangers. It is said Kaytano…

  Austin’s smile had gone cold. “What is it, Austin?” Suzette was puzzled. “I thought you’d be pleased. The holdup took place yesterday afternoon and will be reported in today’s paper.”

  Austin handed her the pad. “Perhaps if the world is lucky, the man will die of his wounds. Come, let me take you to lunch.”

  “But, Austin, I’m not finished writing my story.”

  “Let Mr. Keach finish for you. Get your bonnet.”

  She frowned but took her bonnet from its hook. “No, I’ll do it when I get back. I can only stay at lunch for half an hour.”

  “We’ll see.” Austin was grinning again as he took her elbow.

  10

  June eleventh had dawned, a warm, perfect day. Austin Brand mounted his horse for the long, hard ride up the Chisholm trail. An even dozen of his best cowmen were awaiting the signal to start the drive. Tom Capps, the trail boss, astride a big dun-colored horse, drew up alongside Austin. It was Tom, the capable, weathered native Texan, who would raise a gloved hand for all to see. When his hand came down, the drovers would move out.

  The best and most experienced riders would set the pace. Tom Capps had chosen Randy Lancaster and Randy’s best friend, Bob Coleman, for his point men. Both were in excellent physical condition and expert cattlemen. Seasoned veterans, Randy and Bob had known each other since childhood; they bickered like an old married couple, but they were fierce and rugged, in their prime at forty years of age. Two other skilled herders, young Red Wilson, a drover who’d drifted to Jack County from Montana, and tough old Zeke Worth, a Confederate veteran from Alabama, rode near the middle of the bawling herd.

  Four other cowhands, Freddy Black, Monty Hudspeth, Slim Hester, and old Nate, were positioned along the sides. Their job was to keep the strays in line. The two youngsters, eighteen-year-old Clyde Bonner and seventeen-year-old Jimmy Davis, would spend the next six weeks eating dirt and complaining bitterly about it. However, even Clyde and Jimmy felt superior to the horse wrangler, a tall, skinny youth whose sole duty was to oversee the large remuda. Young Denis Sanders took ribbing good-naturedly from his saddle pals. Denis liked horses more than he liked people, and he was as talented a horseman as ever cared for a remuda of saddle ponies. Rarely did Denis need help; though there were at least five mounts for each man on the drive. Denis’s job was to keep them fed, watered, brushed, and ready to ride.

  Brand’s chuck wagon, groaning under its load of flour, bacon, dried beef, beans, cornmeal, sugar, cooking supplies, and pots and pans, was already rolling ahead of the herd, with Big Al MacRae holding the reins. He would drive the chuck and cook, but he could also be coaxed into cleaning clothes, treating wounds or snakebites, and even fixing bedrolls each night.

  Big Al loved the drives, loved to cook, and was as excited as a child at Christmas. He felt most alive when he was seated on the plank seat of the covered chuck, bumping across the open prairie, the sound of bellowing longhorns and shouting cowboys music to his ears. He could think of nothing more rewarding than standing at the back end of the chuck come sundown, the smell of his prize biscuits filling the air, dishing up bubbling beans and juicy steaks to the tired, grateful drovers. He was as proud of his fried pies as the ablest of housewives, and a wise cowhand was sure to get seconds if he praised the old cook’s culinary talents.

  Austin sat tensed, ready for the drop of Tom Capps’ gloved hand. He felt a shiver of excitement run down his broad back as he always did at the beginning of a trail drive. Like many a man who went up the trail, Austin would be complaining before they reached Abilene. He’d be weary, bored, overworked, restless, homesick, tired of his fellow cowhands, longing for a woman, and downright sick of the whole way of living long before the first of the longhorns were pushed close to the holding pens in the boisterous Kansas town.
But right now he felt young and strong and ready. Ready to wrestle the headstrong longhorns over the prairies, across swollen ravines and raging rivers, into the Indian nation, and on into Kansas. This was a man’s work and just what he needed.

  His saddle creaked when he shifted and the big gray mount he rode tossed its head in anticipation. Tom Capps squinted in the morning sun. In front of him, a sea of multicolored steers, their long horns clacking, their hooves kicking up dust, snorted and bellowed. It was a pleasing sight to the experienced cowman. His gaze swung slowly to Austin. Softly, in a voice so gentle it belied his fierce, rugged nature, Tom said, “Hell, let’s go to Abilene.” Austin nodded and smiled, pulled his Stetson down over his forehead, and tightened his hold on the reins. Tom Capps’s hand lowered. “Move ’em out!”

  Shouting their approval, the eager cowmen wore identical smiles as they dug big-roweled spurs into their horses and began the journey north.

  Austin’s steed pranced in the morning sun, its thick mane flowing, the hand-tooled saddle trimmed in silver glittering brightly. Austin, debonair even when cowboying, wore a gray silk shirt the exact color of his eyes. His trousers were snug, custom-tailored, and his soft boots of fine black leather were polished to a high gleam. At his throat, a colorful bandanna was knotted loosely. His well-creased Stetson was pulled low on his forehead, and bits of metal on his gunbelt and his silver spurs glinted in the bright sun. He held the reins easily in one large hand. His eyes were sweeping the horizon. coming to rest on the approximate location of the Foxworth ranch.

  He couldn’t really see it, but he pictured it—and the lovely girl who lived there. He wondered if Suzette was up yet. Was she dressing now, or was she still asleep, her sweet warm body peaceful in slumber? Would she miss him? When he’d told her he’d be gone for as long as three months, he’d watched closely for her reaction. There had been none. She’d said only that she hoped it was a safe trip.