“Ace,” she whispered, shirt half open, hair askew, full lips swollen and wet from his kisses.
“Shut up,” he commanded, “and go to sleep, Lynnie, before I throw you down and do something I’ve been fightin’ since way back on the trail.”
“I’m not pretty,” she said.
“The hell you aren’t, but you’re prettier with your mouth shut. Now go to sleep.”
She started to protest again, saw the anger in his eyes, and backed off. She hadn’t realized what a thin veneer of civilization this cowboy had. Deep down, he was not much more than a savage like his Cheyenne ancestors. “All right, Ace,” she answered meekly, “whatever you say.”
He leaned back against the lodge pole with a sigh, his groin aching, and smoked. He didn’t dare look at her, afraid he might not be able to control himself He wasn’t used to going without a woman for more than a day or two, and it had been weeks. There was something different about this one, though. Lynnie wasn’t just any woman.
Ace looked over at her. She lay on the buffalo robes, her hair spread out like a red fan across the fur, her shirt half open so that he could see one of her small, perfect breasts. Right now he would have taken a front seat in hell for her to open her arms to him. What he was feeling wasn’t honorable, he knew, and it would only cause more trouble because he wasn’t the marrying kind—certainly not to a headstrong women’s-rights type like Lynnie. She probably wouldn’t have him, anyway, not if he were the last man on earth. Lynnie was too busy saving the world to get hitched up with a man she considered an uncivilized, untamed brute. Well, maybe in Dodge she’d find some pantywaist in a derby hat and flowered vest—the kind of dainty gent who could spout poetry and plant posies.
Ace chuckled at the thought. A man like that could never tame this Texas spitfire; he wasn’t sure he could do it himself, and he damned sure didn’t want to try. No, better he should stick with the rollicking tarts that danced in cantinas and expected nothing more than a good roll in the hay and a few laughs. He and Lynnie McBride were too much alike in some ways even to think of anything permanent.
Ace sat guard all night and, at the first light, shook Lynnie awake. “We’d better be movin’ on, Lynnie.”
For a moment, she seemed puzzled as she looked around, and then she seemed to remember. “You rotten . . . ! Taking advantage of me like that.”
“Nothin much happened,” he reminded her.
“How can you say that when you had my shirt open and almost my pants—”
“You were pretty cooperative,” he pointed out.
“A gentleman would not bring that up,” she sniffed, nose in the air.
“Okay, I must have been outta my mind.” He sighed. “Now let’s get a move on. The Comanche may have changed their minds this morning.”
Sure enough, when they came out, the old chief was in council with some of his warriors. The cowboys looked tense and alarmed. Ace looked at Comanch. “What is it?”
“The chief says his son still wants the firehaired woman. If he can’t trade for her, he’s willin’ to fight you for her.”
The hair rose up on the back of Ace’s neck, and he reached out and pulled Lynnie into the protection of his muscular arm. “Tell him I will give the young brave a fine horse and some beef instead,” Ace said.
Comanch spoke, and the old man shook his head. The young warrior looked Lynnie up and down in a way that left nothing to the imagination.
Ace could feel Lynnie trembling in the circle of his arm. The young warrior looked lithe and strong. Yet Ace knew what he must do, what any Texan who called himself a man would do. “Tell him I don’t want to fight him, but I will to protect my woman.”
Lynnie looked up at him, and he saw fear in her green eyes though she tried to hide it. “Thunderation. The very idea of men fighting over me like two stallions over a mare—”
“Hush, Lynnie,” Ace commanded. “Get over there by the chuck wagon.”
“But...”
“You heard me!” he thundered in no uncertain tones.
Meekly, for once, she obeyed. Ace nodded to Comanch. “Find out how this plays out.”
“Oh, Boss, you sure you . . . ?”
“I don’t have any choice,” Ace snapped. “I ain’t let-tin’ him have Lynnie.”
Comanch conferred with the chief and returned. “It will be hand-to-hand wrestlin’. If you beat him, the chief will give you the best horse he has. If the brave beats you, you will hand over the woman and ride out.”
Lynnie looked scared, and the cowboys set up an angry murmuring. “We’ll all fight them, Ace.”
Ace shook his head. “They outnumber us, and we don’t stand a chance.” He studied the young warrior, not at all sure he could take him.
Lynnie caught his arm, and he felt her hand tremble. “I have faith in you, Ace.”
The way her green eyes looked up at him made him determined to protect her. “Damn you, girl, I wish you’d stayed on that train.”
She smiled despite the fear in her face. “And miss all this fun?”
Ace began to strip off his shirt. “Tell the chief to form everyone into a circle. I will defend my woman.”
As Comanch translated, there was a murmur of excitement from the Indians, who began to form a big circle. The young brave stripped down to his loincloth, and Ace took a deep breath as he looked over the muscled brown body. Ace was pretty good in a barroom brawl, but he wasn’t sure he could take this lithe young warrior. He glanced over at Lynnie. She looked pale but defiant.
Ace squared his shoulders and stepped into the circle. The young brave grinned and nodded to Lynnie as if to say, In a few minutes, you will belong to me.
The thought annoyed Ace as he went into a wrestler’s stance. The warrior circled warily. Ace circled, too, then, unexpectedly, dove for the other man and caught him around the legs. They went down in a flurry of dust, rolling over and over as both sides yelled encouragement. They finally broke free and staggered to their feet, even as Ace hit the other man in the jaw, causing him to stumble backward and go down. Ace pounced on him like a bobcat, pounding him in the face. The Indians yelled encouragement, and the warrior skillfully twisted out from under Ace and grabbed him by the throat, choking him with strong hands.
Ace was gasping for air, struggling to break the other’s grip. Blackness played around his vision as he fought to escape. His lungs felt as if they were on fire, and it was tempting to stop fighting, hoping the other would relax his grip; but then he thought of Lynnie’s fate and brought his arms up, catching the warrior on the forearms and breaking the hold. Gasping for breath, Ace staggered toward the brave and slammed him into a tree. Around him, he was dimly aware of everyone shouting, urging both men on. He doubled his fist and caught the other man in the jaw, sending him sprawling.
At this point, Lynnie could stand no more. Before anyone could stop her, she rushed into the battle and began pummeling the downed brave. “How dare you think I’d go with you? How dare you!”
The brave threw up his hands to protect his face as Lynnie beat on him while Ace stared in horror. Now the Comanches began to laugh uncertainly and point. There was no doubt they were ridiculing the young warrior for having to fight a woman. Ace came striding across the circle and picked her up, kicking and screaming. “Girl, you weren’t supposed to get mixed up in this.”
“Damned if I wasn’t!” Now she began to punch Ace, who held her at arm’s length, trying to avoid her small fists. The Indians laughed even louder, and the chief said something to Comanch.
“He says she is too much woman for any man. He would not like his son to have to try to tame her.”
“I could have told him that.” Ace grinned and held Lynnie at arm’s length. “Tell him his son is a brave man, and we give three fat steers in payment for crossin’ the Comanches’ land.”
When Comanch translated, even the beaten brave began to smile. He said something to Comanch, who turned to Ace. “He says if you can handle that filly, you’re a b
etter man than he is.”
Ace picked up the struggling Lynnie and hung her over his broad shoulder. “Tell him no one can tame a Texan except maybe another Texan. We part friends.”
He carried Lynnie over and put her up on her horse. “Now let’s get out of here before they change their minds.”
She smiled at him, her eyelashes fluttering. “Whatever you say, Ace.”
Seventeen
The cowboys cut out some steers for the hungry Indians and resumed their trail drive, with the pretty Comanche girl still smiling at Ace in a bold and inviting manner.
“Lordy, she’s temptin’,” Ace said, turning in his saddle to look back at her.
Somehow, that annoyed Lynnie no end, and she gritted her teeth and looked straight ahead as they rode, trying not to think about what had happened last night in the teepee.
Things remained calm for the next few days as they drove the herd across the Indian Territory toward the Kansas border. The weather grew hotter as June progressed, and sometimes water was in short supply.
At last they came to the broad South Canadian River, which meandered across the central Indian Territory. It was wide but shallow. Still, it gave the trail hands a chance to water the thousands of cattle and rest their remuda of horses. Then they pushed on north across the parched land to the North Canadian River. This would be their last chance at plenty of water as they pressed on toward Kansas. The cattle seemed to sense this, too, and were loath to move on. Tempers were short and cattle difficult to move as they crossed the plains. Worse than that, Forrester and his herd were eating up the grass ahead of them so that when Ace’s herd moved in, the grass was eaten to the ground.
Lynnie sighed and wiped her red face. “My, it’s hot.”
Ace frowned at her as he rode up. “Lynnie, try to keep your hat on; you look like a boiled lobster.”
“You’ve never seen a lobster,” she snapped back. Why was it the sun turned her even redder and more freckled while Ace’s tan just deepened, making his rugged face even more handsome?
“Don’t bother me with details.” He took off his Stetson and wiped sweat from his face. Red dust swirled up as the bawling cattle passed. “If we don’t find water soon, we’re in real trouble. We need a little luck.”
They got it, all right—bad luck. The chuck wagon broke an axle and they lost a day carving up an old cottonwood limb to replace the damaged one. Nothing seemed to matter as the days passed but to keep moving north.
Wolves and coyotes hung around the edges of the herd, spooking the cattle and keeping the cowboys from getting any rest. Here and there, they ran across Indian sign and wondered if they would come under attack. Again the chuck wagon broke an axle and delayed them for a day while it was repaired. That night, all the cowboys were tired and discouraged.
Squatting down by the campfire, Ace sipped his coffee and made a wry face. “Tastes like it was made with water that came out of a cow track.”
“I heerd that, you young pup,” Cookie yelled. “And for your information, that’s just about where it did come from.”
Lynnie licked her dry lips and watched her calves nibbling grass. In her mind, she was swimming naked in a cold spring, diving down and drinking all the clear, cold water she wanted.
She looked up to see Ace watching her. “Hey, kid,” he said gently, “I got a canteen-full; take a drink.”
She shook her head. “I’ve had plenty.”
“Lynnie, don’t lie to me. You shared your water with those calves, didn’t you?”
“Well, what if I did?” she flared. “It was my water.”
Joe walked up and squatted by the campfire. “We ought to kill those calves,” he said. “Then we might manage to milk the cows.”
Lynnie attacked him with both fists. “No, damn it, not my calves!”
Ace pulled her off the cowboy. “Here, here. Nobody’s gonna kill the calves, Lynnie. Besides, we shouldn’t be too many days from the Cimarron River. Maybe there’ll be plenty of water when we get there.”
But what if there isn’t? She must not even think that. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Sure, when we get there, we’ll have all the water we want.”
Cookie paused in cleaning his big cast-iron skillet. “The Spaniards didn’t name that river ‘Wild One,’ for nothin’. Cimarron’s a devil to deal with—lots of quicksand.”
Ace looked at him. “But the safe path across is marked, ain’t it?”
Cookie nodded. “Yep, but you can never be sure the quicksand ain’t moved some, so’s you might be ridin’ right into danger.”
Lynnie was miserable, thirsty, dusty, and sunburned. The crew looked surly and ready to revolt. If they all decided to abandon the herd and head for Dodge or home, Ace might not be able to stop the mutiny. He was worried, she could tell by the expression on his rugged, dark face. What a mess. She tried to hold back the tears, but they came anyway and she blinked rapidly.
Ace studied her. “You get something in your eye?”
“Y-yes.”
“Here, have a sip out of my canteen.” His voice was soft, almost gentle.
She started to refuse.
“Look, I’m the trail boss.” His tone brooked no argument. “Drink some of my damned water before you pass out and are no good to us the rest of the trip.”
“I—I can carry my own weight,” she insisted. “I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. Drink it anyhow before I pour it down your throat.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Lynnie, you keep tryin’ my patience and you’ll find out.”
She decided he was big enough to do it. “Well, just a little.” The water was warm, but it tasted delicious. She had to force herself not to empty the canteen. “I didn’t realize the trip would be so tough.”
“You wanna quit? I could send you on to Dodge with a couple of cowboys. I’m worried about you—all sunburned and sick-lookin’.”
So that’s how he saw her. He had been lying when he’d told her she was pretty. He’d only been trying to get her drawers off. Her big sister had warned her about men like Ace. She glared at him. “You’re not going to do me any special favors. Besides, you don’t have enough hands to spare, and how would that look back home if everyone found out you’d sent me on to Dodge because I couldn’t take it?”
Ace sighed. “You and your damned equal rights. You know what Uncle Maverick and my dad would do to me if something happened to you?”
So that was his only concern. Well, what had she expected?
“I got myself into this and I’ll damned well get myself out.”
“Ladies aren’t supposed to swear,” he reminded her.
“I’m not a lady; I’m a cowboy!” Lynnie shouted, and the cowboys looked at her and cheered.
She studied the green cowhands. They were dusty and sweat-stained and looked almost ready to give up. But there was no way to quit now except to abandon the herd and ride for the Kansas border. “Look, fellas, if I can make it, you can, too. It’s only a few miles to the Cimarron.”
The boys looked at each doubtfully, and a murmur ran through their ranks. “Reckon if that little gal can make it, I ain’t gonna yell ‘calf-roped’ and be laughed at back home.”
Lynnie grinned. “Then it’s settled. We’d better all get some sleep so we can get an early start in the morning.”
Ace shot her a look of gratitude, but she pretended not to see it.
“I tell you what I’ll do; I’ll read you some Shakespeare or poetry.”
Ace looked doubtful. “Must you?”
“You don’t have any culture, Ace Durango. I’ll read MacBeth.” She got up and went searching through her saddlebags. “You’ll like that; it’s about an ambitious man, a bad woman, and lots of sword-fighting.”
The cowboys were soon enraptured in the story and magically transported to Scotland.
The next few days were tough, and the June sun was hot as they drove the weary cattle at a walk toward the Cimarron. Heat wa
ves rose up from the sun-baked earth, and when a wind came up, dust devils danced out ahead of the weary herd. Just about the time they were ready to drop in their tracks from thirst, old Twister raised his head, sniffed the hot air, and bawled. The other steers raised their heads and sniffed the air, too. They all began to bawl and to move a little faster.
“Hallelujah!” Cookie yelled from the chuck wagon. “They smell water. The Cimarron must be straight ahead.”
“Look lively, boys,” Ace shouted. “We’ll have to keep them between the markers and away from the quicksand. Thirsty cattle won’t care where they stop to drink.”
The cattle began to pick up the pace, and Cookie slapped his mules with the reins. “Get along, mules; water ahead.”
The cowboys cheered and perked up as they rode alongside the dusty cattle. Lynnie licked her dry lips and thought about water, lots of water. “Ace, we’re going to make it.”
“We ain’t there yet, kid; stay to one side. I don’t want you trampled.”
They could see the river in the distance now, flat and sandy. The cattle were starting to run, and there was no way to stop them—only to slow them and keep them from trampling the leaders when they reached the water. The cattle broke ranks and scattered up and down the shallow river despite everything the cowboys could do.
Lynnie took in the scene. “Oh, dear God, Ace, there aren’t any markers.”
“What?” He galloped over beside her, took one disbelieving look, and began to curse. “Those dirty skunks, they’ve pulled them up behind them.”
Lynnie shook her head. “Nobody would do something that underhanded.”
Ace laughed without mirth. “You don’t know the Forresters very well, do you?”
“As well as I want to know them.”
“Watch where you try to drink,” Ace warned her, and spurred his horse to reach the river ahead of the last of the herd. Ahead of them, cattle were crowding into the shallows, eager to drink, and already some of them were in trouble. She watched Ace make a loop and throw it over a sinking steer’s head. “Hey, boys, watch out, we’ll lose some here if we aren’t careful.”
To Tame A Texan Page 24
