Dare to Kiss a Cowboy

by Renee Roszel

  “Maybe that’s just as well. We don’t seem to be able to talk without fighting, anyway.”

  He was scowling, but as she watched, his lips began to twitch. “We kiss rather well, though, don’t we?” She gasped. “Cat got your tongue, sugar?” he taunted.

  “I’m not discussing my tongue with you,” she retorted, oddly breathless.

  His chuckle was low and unsettling as he returned his attention to the highway.

  The man was incorrigible. But that was the hallmark of a fireworks man, she supposed. She exhaled loudly, thinking very unladylike thoughts.

  Smiling at the sound, he exited from the main highway, and Anna realized they were nearing Tahlequah. Twenty minutes later, he said, “Once we get the horses into their stalls, I thought we’d eat at Lou’s Diner. It belongs to a cousin of mine.”

  She was startled by the invitation. “I... I think I’ll skip dinner. I don’t feel much like food.”

  They rode on for several miles before he asked, “Are you sick?”

  She shook her head, not wanting him to know how nervous she was. “Sometimes I don’t eat dinner,” she fibbed.

  He pulled into the arena’s blacktop parking lot and stopped the truck near a long red barn. “You look pale,” he said after a few moments. “Are you pregnant? If you are, you shouldn’t be riding in a competition like this.”

  She blinked. He was certainly full of surprises today. But he was all wrong this time. “Of course I’m not pregnant.”

  “Then why do you look so sick? And why won’t you eat dinner with me?” A flash of frustration lit his eyes. “Do you hate me that much?”

  “I don’t hate you!” she assured him, amazed by the degree of conviction in her voice. “If you must know, I’m terribly nervous. I want Freckle to win very badly so you can see...” She faltered, wishing she’d never opened her mouth.

  He looked as if her admission surprised him. He turned away and pulled the key from the ignition, then turned back, worry marring his features. “Look, Miss Andrews, I know I’ve taken a lot of my anger at your brother out on you, and I apologize. You’ve done a pretty fair job as my manager. And believe it or not—” he grinned “—my horses don’t win every competition they’re entered in. But don’t let that get around.”

  She was so amazed by his kindness she had no idea how to react. When she didn’t speak, he continued more seriously, “Don’t kick yourself around the barn if Freckle doesn’t take first money tomorrow. Do your best. Have you ever competed here before?”

  She shook her head. “Hardly anywhere. Mainly I train horses for cattle ranches, not competitions.”

  He pursed his lips, nodding. “Right. You told me that. Okay. Just remember—the ground’s harder here than at Bent River, so Freckle won’t stop as hard because there’ll be more shock to her feet. Don’t let it fluster you.”

  He put his arm along the back of the seat as he spoke. She could feel the heat of his flesh near her shoulder. “You won’t have to urge her to run,” he was saying, “because she’s already on faster dirt. The hard ground might make her want to be more chargey than usual, so be ready to give her some cow-side leg pressure to move her away.” He smiled again, encouragingly, and the sight of it made her heart beat faster. “Just do what you always do and forget about everything else. You’ll be fine.”

  She sat there speechless as he moved to open his door. “Max reserved rooms for us at the hotel across the street. You take care of registering Freckle and I’ll stable the horses.” He paused, and she waited, wondering what he was thinking. “By the way, Miss Andrews, there’s a powwow in the park tonight,” he said. “After you check on the horses, you might want to relax and watch the dancing. I have relatives in town, and we’re all going, so if you’d like to join us, I’ll come by your room to get you.”

  She was curiously surprised and disoriented. He’d never treated her like an equal before, and his expression seemed almost caring. Maybe, for the briefest moment, he’d recalled how it was to be nervous. She managed a weak smile of gratitude, but she didn’t want his pity. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay in. I’ll just give Thad a call and hit the hay early.”

  A hint of displeasure crossed his features, but it was quickly gone. Then he nodded once and left her.

  “HELLO, THAD,” Anna said with a smile when he answered the phone. She’d taken off her boots and was lounging on a “barren wilderness”-patterned bedspread. Her motel room was done in uninspired Western decor. But it was clean and cool. The phone worked, the sink didn’t drip, and it was close to the arena. What more could she ask?

  “Hi, sweetie,” he replied. “I called the ranch, and they told me you were going to Tahlequah for a competition.”

  “Yes, that’s where I’m calling from,” she told him, nervous again at the reminder of tomorrow. “Wish me luck?”

  “Sure. Good luck,” he said, then paused as though he wanted to say something more. “So,” he finally asked, “why are you there tonight if the contest isn’t until tomorrow?”

  She detected a note of jealousy in his tone but chose to ignore it. “Mr. Dare has family here. He’s visiting them tonight.”

  “Oh, okay.” Thad sounded appeased, then hurriedly changed the subject. “Sweetie, the reason I was trying to call you is that I have news.”

  “News? Is it Steven?”

  “Yes. One of his buddies got in touch with me when he couldn’t reach you or your uncle Bud.”

  “But Uncle Bud should be home.”

  “Oh, he was probably out at the barn. You know he can’t hear worth squat. Anyway, this buddy said Steve had spent some time hiding out with an old girlfriend in Dallas. Unfortunately he’s not there anymore, but the guy said the girlfriend told Steve about Dare’s deal. That was a couple of days ago. So, I figure it’s just a matter of him getting up the nerve. He could be on his way home. At least, that’s what his friend thought.”

  Anna’s vision blurred with tears of relief. “Oh, Thad, that’s terrific. I’ll tell Mr. Dare right away.” She slammed down the receiver and reached for her boots. When she’d gotten the first one halfway on, she realized she’d hung up on Thad. For a minute she toyed with the idea of calling him back, but decided she could do it later. She wanted to tell Dusty the news immediately.

  The park where the powwow was taking place was easy to find. She simply followed the stream of people, many of whom were clad in feathers and beads. She passed the cutting arena and went through a stand of trees into a field at the far end of the park.

  She’d never been to a powwow before, though she’d seen them mentioned in the Tulsa paper. Not being Native American, she’d always assumed the participants would frown on strangers. That didn’t seem to be the case, however.

  The atmosphere was open and welcoming, just like a carnival. The mown field was dotted with brightly colored tents where people hawked chili dogs, hamburgers, tacos and native crafts. Most everyone was dressed exactly as Anna was—jeans, T-shirts and boots—but a distinctive few were clad in tribal costumes. Even in her excitement about her brother, she found herself fascinated by the colorful regalia.

  The most unusual feature of the powwow was a large crescent-shaped structure, which seemed to be used solely for shade. It was constructed of cut trees that were stripped of their limbs and placed in a wide half circle. Leafed branches had been lashed together to form a covering. The whole structure appeared to be about fifty feet long and ten feet wide, and beneath its canopy of branches, closely packed spectators sat on folding chairs or blankets just outside a makeshift grassy arena.

  It was eight-thirty, so there was about half an hour of daylight left. She could hear a drumbeat begin in the distance. She looked toward the sound and saw a canopied drum in the center of the adjacent arena. Encircling the huge instrument was a group of men, all beating it and chanting in unison.

  This was soon accompanied by a chorus of chants as another group of men, women and children, dressed in vivid traditional clothing of
leather and beads, began to dance around the drum. Intrigued, Anna walked toward the performers.

  The grassy dancing arena was separated from the spectators by a circle of long wooden benches. Apparently these were for the use of the dancers, because the few people who were sitting there were dressed in feathers, beads and hides, their faces painted with bright colors and what looked to Anna like ancient symbols.

  On the unshaded side of the arena, behind the benches more spectators lounged on blankets in the grass, eating food purchased from booths and enjoying the dancing. A few children were asleep, oblivious to everything. Anna noticed that most of those in the crowd were Native Americans, but others seemed merely interested spectators like herself.

  She glanced around, looking for Dusty. Behind her was a large, red-and-white-striped tent, its flaps opened both in front and back for ventilation. Inside, tables were spread with crafts for sale. She decided that was as good a place as any to start her search for Dusty.

  She didn’t see him when she entered. Considering his height, he would have been hard to miss. She was about to leave, but decided it would be a shame to go without looking at the tables. There were hand-tooled leather belts, earrings made of beads and feathers and beautiful silver jewelry.

  A table full of bright shawls caught her eye. She fingered one of the woollen ones. It was red decorated with a design in shades of green and gray that she was sure must have some significance. But the white-haired octogenarian behind the table was busy with another customer, so Anna left the tent.

  As she searched the crowd for Dusty, a man with long gray braids began speaking over a public-address system at the far end of the arena. “Before we get back to the men’s dance competitions, I’d like to say it is our hope that you all enjoy your visit with us.” His smile was broad. “And for our non-Indian friends who have joined us today, may you leave with a better awareness of and respect for our culture.” He held up both hands in a gesture that embraced the audience, the fringe of his beaded shirt ruffling in the breeze.

  With his arms held out that way, he reminded Anna of the bronze statue of the Indian brave that had stood in the hallway of her high school. She’d never thought much about the significance of that statue back then, but now, watching this elderly man, she was ashamed of her ignorance and her indifference.

  As the elder spoke, his voice rang rhythmically, reminding her of the drum she’d heard earlier. “Some of you, new to our intertribal powwows, may not know this, but we use these celebrations to commemorate the many Native Americans who have fought and died for this country in its wars.”

  Anna heard the emotion in his voice and felt it in her own heart.

  “Now, one of our favorite competitions is about to start,” he added, his tone brighter. “The Fancy War Dance. So, those of you entered in the competition, please take your places around the drum.”

  Fancy War Dance? Anna looked for her boss once again, but without success. Maybe he’d been delayed with his relatives. With a shrug, she decided to watch the men dance, and she took a seat on the grass beside a young woman holding a sleeping newborn.

  The woman smiled at her. “Hi. I’m Sue Wahweotten—Creek-Cherokee-Delaware. And you?”

  Anna was confused at first, then realized that, with her long braid, she probably looked at least partly like an Indian. She smiled back. “Anna Andrews. French-Danish-English. I’m just here looking for someone.”

  “Oh,” Sue said. “Your first powwow?”

  Anna nodded. “What’s this they’re getting ready to do?”

  Sue glanced toward the grassy field, where men were gathering, their costumes more ornate than most Anna had seen.

  “This is the fancy dance competition. It’s developed from ancient war dances and depicts victory and bravery. It can get pretty exciting when the drums start beating really fast, and the guys are doing intricate steps with lots of twirling and jumping. It’s my favorite to watch. Real sexy.” She grinned sheepishly. “My husband was in the grass dance earlier. His costume’s made with long yarn all over it to simulate tall prairie grasses. That dance is great, but tame compared to this dance.” She laughed, her cheeks pinkening. “These guys have to be in really good shape to dance the way they do. It takes stamina and a lot of muscle to win. Mind you, an old married lady like me isn’t supposed to notice.”

  Anna looked back out over the assembled men. They were wearing brightly beaded moccasins of every imaginable color with some sort of fur at the ankles.

  Sue pointed to a nearby dancer’s head. “See that crown he’s wearing with the two feathers sticking out?”

  Anna nodded.

  “That’s called a roach. It’s made of porcupine quills and stiffened fur. And the big fan of feathers jutting back from their shoulders and waist are bustles, made from eagle feathers.” She must have seen Anna’s wince at the idea of someone taking the feathers from an endangered species because she added quickly, “Don’t worry. Eagles aren’t hurt to get them. Those feathers have been shed by the birds and are gathered from nesting sites under strict supervision. And if there’s a shortage of eagle feathers, they use dyed ones from turkeys.”

  As her companion spoke, Anna heard jangling. She saw now that most of the men wore bells on leather strips tied below their knees.

  One man entered the arena just then and captured her attention. His back was toward her, but she could see he had a powerful upper torso. He wore a beaded leather vest that was stitched in geometric patterns of red on black with flashes of silver. His fringed loincloth echoed the pattern and colors, revealing well-muscled legs. Forcing her gaze away from his legs, she noticed a wide beaded band girdling his upper arm from which a smaller circle of feathers jutted—similar to the two at his back. She could just see one tanned forearm, which was sheathed from his wrist midway to his elbow with a black-and-red beaded cuff.

  The warrior stopped to talk to another contestant. He was now turned toward her, and Anna saw that his face was half-covered in red paint, from the middle of his forehead, where it met a black-and-silver headband to the tip of his straight nose. Two black strips ran from the outer corner of his eyes to his dark hair, and there was another across the bridge of his nose.

  She squinted at the man, a sense of awareness nagging at her. At that instant a heavy drumbeat filled the air, and the contestants began to bob and chant in time. As the man she’d been watching moved, revelation struck her. It was Dusty! She must have gasped, because Sue took her arm and asked, “Are you okay?”

  Unable to tear her eyes from the man doing the hauntingly graceful war dance on the grassy field, she whispered, “That’s Dusty Dare!”

  “Oh, yes, he’s a past champion, but he doesn’t make it back here very often, especially since his father died. Isn’t he wonderful?”

  Watching Dusty and the other contestants was definitely a breathtaking experience. Strong, male bodies whirled about the field, imparting the spiritual eloquence of a little-known ancient American culture. The drumbeat quickened, and the chanting became louder, punctuated by an occasional whoop from the dancers. Now the men were twirling and spinning like dervishes to the fevered drumbeat, and Anna was riveted.

  As she sat there, entranced, the sunset cloaked the sky in bloodred glory.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “WHY MUST THERE BE fireworks in everything you do?” she murmured sadly, drawing Sue’s curious gaze away from the dancers.

  Realizing the woman next to her was peering at her inquiringly, Anna forced a grin. “The war dance is pretty spectacular—like fireworks,” she said, hoping she’d fooled Sue.

  The drums halted, and so did the contestants. They held their poses, and several jeans-clad judges walked among them, asking some dancers to leave. Dusty and nine others remained after half the men sat down.

  “What happens now?” Anna asked.

  “They’ll dance again, then cut to five finalists. The winner will be announced later tonight.”

  A bank of lights came on
, holding off the darkness. When the drumbeat and chanting from the center of the arena began once more, the costumed warriors resumed their dance.

  In the stark artificial light, Dusty’s features were sharply defined by light and shadow. She stared, for she had never realized how deep the dimples in his cheeks were, or that there was a slight cleft in his chin. His long lashes cast strokes of shade across his cheeks. She frowned. No wonder it was impossible to ignore him—he was just too gorgeous!

  As the second dance continued, she became so involved with the spectacle and her thoughts that she lost track of time. The next thing she knew, the world was quiet and the contestants were walking off the performing area. “What happened?” she asked Sue. “Did they choose the finalists?”

  Sue was feeding her baby a bottle. “I wondered if you had zoned out. Yes, and Dusty made it.”

  Anna’s cheeks flamed. Was her preoccupation with him that obvious? “That’s nice...”

  Sue smiled knowingly. “I figured you might think so. Can you stay to see them announce the winners? That’ll probably be around midnight.”

  Anna shook her head, getting to her feet. “I just dropped by to give someone a message. Thanks for your help.”

  Sue nodded. “No problem. Is Dusty who you’re looking for?”

  Anna blanched. The last thing she wanted was this woman to tell Dusty how she’d reacted to his performance. “Uh, no,” she lied.

  Sue’s expression was a mixture of skepticism and sympathy. But she didn’t press Anna. Instead she nodded and said, “Oh. Well, maybe I’ll see you next year. These powwows are like family reunions for us.”

  Anna could barely manage a smile. She doubted she’d be in any position to come to a powwow in Tahlequah next year. Especially with Dusty Dare. She was sad as she scanned the park, which was teeming with people bound by heritage and blood. How she envied them this chance to get together every year and renew old friendships. Her stepfather had died twelve years ago of a stroke, her mother, a year later of complications from influenza. Uncle Bud and Steven were the only family she had. Not much call for family reunions. Of course, right now she could use a reunion—with her wayward brother.