Cautiously Lynnie rode near the river and dismounted. The cowboys were obeying Ace as he barked orders, spinning loops, pulling out cattle that had waded into dangerous areas.
Cookie reined in near the water and studied it. She ignored the temptation to go splashing into the stream and rode over to the chuck wagon. “Cookie, you think you can remember the trail?”
“That’s just what I’m studyin’ on,” he replied. “As I recall, if we take that ford there, right past that bend in the water, the ground’s safe. That Forrester is a rotten coyote. Even rustlers wouldn’t pull up stakes markin’ quicksand.” He got down off the wagon.
“Cookie,” she said, watching the cattle plodding deeper into the shallow stream, “tell me where it’s safe.”
The old man pointed, and Lynnie dismounted and led Boneyard across the ground. The sand seemed solid here. Boneyard bent her ugly head and drank deeply while Lynnie fell on her belly upstream from the cattle and plunged her sweating face into the cold water. “Ohhh!”
Then she drank as if she could never get enough. Behind her in the chuck wagon, her calves bawled. “I’m coming, babies.” She filled her hat with water and took it back to the chuck wagon. Cross-eyed Daisy stuck her small muzzle into the hat and drank deeply. Then Lynnie returned to the river for more water for the others.
Ahead of her, some of the cowboys were in trouble, their horses stepping into the mire and beginning to sink. Other cowboys threw them loops and pulled them out.
“It’ll be worse out in the middle!” Cookie shouted in warning. “We’ll have to be careful when we take them across.”
Ace rode up. “Remember the trail, old-timer?”
“I’ll have to think on it.” The old man took off his hat and scratched his gray head. “If’n I’m wrong, we could lose a lot a beef.”
“And cowboys, too.” Lynnie had remounted and rode up beside them after watering her calves.
“Lynnie,” Ace said, “be careful.”
“You stop worrying about me and get your steers across,” Lynnie said.
“I’m not worryin’ about you,” he said. “I just don’t want to have Uncle Maverick mad at me; that’s all.”
They had taken most of an hour getting the cattle watered and pulling the stragglers out of the sand.
Ace rode up to the edge and stared across. It was probably only a few hundred yards across the river, Lynnie thought, but it was going to be the most dangerous part of this trip after surviving the Red.
Cookie limped about, picking up limbs from cottonwoods along the bank. “I’ll do the best I can to mark the way across.”
“Careful, old-timer,” Ace said, and she caught the affection in Ace’s voice.
“Listen, you young pup, I kin take care of myself.”
“Sure you can,” Ace nodded. “But if you get stove up, we’d be without a cook.”
“That’d be a blessin’,” Comanch muttered.
“I heerd that!” The old man paused in staking out a path through the shallow water. Abruptly, he made a misstep and began to sink. “Oh, my God, quicksand!”
Ace rode to the edge of the water and lassoed him. “Hang on, old man; I’ll get you out.” He backed his horse away slowly, and the rope tightened. For a long, heart-stopping moment, the old man continued to sink; then the rope tightened and Ace dragged him out.
“Well,” Cookie said, “I made a misstep there, didn’t I?”
Lynnie looked at Ace and exchanged glances. If the old man made a mistake, they could lose half their herd in the bottomless quicksand of the Cimarron. Cookie tossed off the rope and went back to staking a trail. Out in the middle, the water was not shoulder high on him, but there were dangerous sinkholes in the river bottom that could grab a man and swallow him without a trace before anyone could make a move to save him. It was late afternoon when Cookie finished.
Lynnie looked up at the sky. “You think we should wait till morning?”
Ace shook his head. “We’re losin’ time, and it won’t be any better tomorrow.” He took off his hat and waved it as a signal. “Okay, boys, let Cookie take the chuck wagon through; then we’ll take the cattle across.”
“I’ll help.” She nudged Boneyard forward.
“You watch out,” Ace snapped at her. “I got enough worries without worryin’ about you drownin’.”
“I’m not the one who can’t swim,” she reminded him pointedly.
Now the chuck wagon was splashing across, Cookie yelling and slapping the reins at the nervous mules. Then the cowboys herded the remuda of extra horses through. Finally, they began to drive the cattle across.
“Look out!” Lynnie yelled. A couple of panicky steers rushed outside the marked trail, and Hank and Joe turned to lasso them, pulling them back from the quicksand.
Lynnie and Ace watched, holding their breath as the cattle, mooing and protesting, splashed through the water to the safety of the far shore.
“Keep ’em movin’!” Ace shouted. “We don’t want them turnin’ and comin’ back. Cattle meetin’ in midstream will force some of them off the safe path into the quicksand.”
The cowboys nodded and kept the cattle moving. Soon everyone was across except Ace and Lynnie, bringing up the rear.
“Okay, Lynnie,” Ace said, “now you go.”
Lynnie took a deep breath. “Why don’t we go together?”
“Sure. That way, I can rescue you if you get in trouble.”
“I am not in need of rescue,” she replied haughtily, and nudged Boneyard into the water.
Ace hurried to catch up with her. It was almost dusk, and the cattle drive was now several hundred yards ahead, disappearing over the horizon. “This will be a piece of cake,” he said, but she noticed that his dark face looked strained, and she remembered that he could not swim.
About that time, a water moccasin, disturbed by the passing cattle, swam slowly through the water and almost under the black stallion’s nose.
“Snake! Look out!” Lynnie yelled in warning, but the horse was already rearing in panic.
Ace, caught unaware, lost his seat as the horse floundered sideways and off the marked trail. He fought to stay on his horse, but a stirrup caught him in the head, and he fell, struggling, into the water.
“Ace! Oh, my God! Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer even as his horse floundered and regained its footing, splashing toward the shore.
“Ace, for God’s sake, answer me!”
He seemed to be struggling to raise his head, and she could see the blood on his forehead as he tried to swim, thrashing about in the water. “Go back, Lynnie,” he muttered, almost unconscious. “Quicksand . . .“
“Damned if I will!” She reached for her lasso and tossed him a loop. “Grab on, cowboy.”
She missed him on the first toss, and he sank a little deeper. In the twilight, she could see the apprehension in his brown eyes. “Lynnie, go ... go for help.”
“Damn it, by the time I get back, it’ll be too late.” She pulled in her rope and made another loop. By now, Ace was up to his waist in the sand. She tossed and he grabbed it, but the rope slipped from his hands. Lynnie built another loop and tossed it to him. “Come on, cowboy, don’t quit on me now.”
He was almost chest deep, half-dazed and sinking. He caught the rope.
“Ace,” she yelled, “put it over your head; can you hear me?”
He nodded, but she wasn’t sure he understood. Blood ran down his face. “L—Lynnie, go on,” he gasped. “You can’t . . .”
“The hell I can’t!” She was off her horse, hanging on to her own loop as she struggled through the sand to him. “Back up, Boneyard!” she called to the horse. “Back up, baby!”
“Get away, Lynnie,” he muttered. “You can’t—”
“Oh, shut up!” She slipped the rope over his broad shoulders. “Now, put your arms through.”
He didn’t seem to comprehend for a long moment; then he struggled to put his arms through the rope.
She turned to yell at the ugly gray horse. “Okay, Boneyard, tighten that rope! Get us to shore!”
For a moment, the horse paused; then, having been used as a roping horse and trained to keep the loop tight, she began to back toward the shore.
“That’s a girl!” Lynnie hung on to the half-conscious man and encouraged the horse. “Keep going, girl.”
On the horizon, she saw some of the cowboys coming, now that they had realized two of their crew had been left behind. However, she knew they weren’t going to get here in time. It was all up to Boneyard now. Ace was big and almost limp in her arms. “Thunderation, Durango, don’t you dare die on me; I can’t get this herd to Dodge by myself.”
He didn’t move, and his skin was bloody scarlet against the pasty color of his face. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t seem to be breathing. It’s already too late, she thought in horror. Ace Durango is dead.
Eighteen
“Ace,” she whispered, “oh, Ace, please don’t die. I need you; we all need you.” She couldn’t hold back the tears dripping down on his still face.
One of his eyes fluttered and opened. “Is it—is it rainin’?”
“Oh, God, hang on, Ace, there’s help coming.” She yelled at Boneyard again, “Keep it up, girl. You can do it!”
Ace choked and began to cough up water. “Did—did I hear you say you needed me?”
“Why you son of a bitch! You were playing possum. I ought to leave you to die.”
“Now, you can’t do that.” He grinned up at her. “You need me, remember?”
“Damned if I do! When we get out of this mess, you rascal . . .”
“I liked you better when you were cryin’ because you thought I was dead.”
“Oh, shut up and hang on to the rope.”
The horse kept backing, and the pair pulled free of the quicksand with a great sucking sound. They struggled to make it back on the safe path as the horse dragged them toward shore. Then the cowboys were there, tossing more loops, pulling the half-drowned pair from the river.
“Miss Lynnie, you okay?” Comanch tried to pull her to her feet.
Ace tried to stand but couldn’t. “She—she came back to help me. Somebody catch my horse?”
Hank nodded and signaled to some of the others. “Let’s get them over to the chuck wagon. I reckon Cookie will stop up ahead and we’ll camp for the night.”
Later that night, wrapped in blankets, the pair sat by the campfire eating hot beef stew and drinking coffee. Their clothes hung near the fire to dry.
Ace looked at her. “I’m much obliged, Lynnie; I almost didn’t make it outta there.”
She shrugged. “It was that water moccasin; that’s all. It panicked your horse.”
“I think I’ve underestimated you,” he admitted.
“Of course. Haven’t I been telling you that all along? When we get back home, I’ll teach you to swim.”
The other cowboys had bedded down, leaving the two sitting on a log, sipping coffee. He reached over and put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re as good a cowboy as any on this drive, Lynnie.”
His arm around her shoulders felt good, but she would never admit that. “Then you’ve forgiven me for coming along?”
“I can’t imagine how dull it would have been without you.” Before she realized it, he reached over with his other arm, put one big hand under her chin, tilted her face up, and kissed her lips gently.
“You don’t have to feel that obligated,” she protested. “I know I’m not pretty.”
“You’re pretty,” he said, and he kissed her again.
She looked around. All the cowboys had sought their blankets and were asleep, most snoring gently. The crackling fire made a cozy, warm glow. The stars above seemed like diamonds on black velvet. Somehow, she felt differently toward Ace Durango now. They had survived much together: danger, misery, thirst. “You know what, Ace? You’re every inch the man your father is, maybe more.”
His rugged face softened. “Comin’ from you, Lynnie, that’s a real compliment.”
She leaned her head against his broad chest. “I suppose we’ll be in Dodge in a week or two.”
He nodded and pulled her closer. “Reckon we will. Never thought I had what it took to bring the herd through.”
She looked up at him. “I always knew you did. You’re a Durango and a real cowboy.”
They both watched the fire as it dwindled down to glowing coals.
“Lynnie . . .”
“What?” She looked up at him, willing him to kiss her.
“Never mind.” For the first time, he seemed hesitant and unsure of himself.
Damn it, he wasn’t going to kiss her. Lynnie remembered his hot kisses in the teepee and knew she would like him to do it again. She felt the blanket sliding slowly down her shoulder, but she didn’t attempt to grab for it. “Soon we’ll be in Dodge, and you won’t have to put up with me anymore.”
“I reckon I’ll miss havin’ you around,” he admitted.
Damn it, kiss me, she thought. Sometimes a woman just had to take the initiative, she decided. Before he could move, she reached up and put her arms around his neck and kissed him. He seemed taken aback, and then he put his arms around her and kissed her deeply, thoroughly.
She didn’t know what she wanted, but she wanted more than this. Lynnie leaned into him, and he went down on his back slowly, breathing hard. Both blankets were slipping, but neither of them seemed aware of it. She proceeded to kiss her way down his face and throat.
“Watch out, Lynnie,” he cautioned, gasping for air. “You’re about to start some real trouble here....”
“Show me,” she challenged, and kissed his bare chest very thoroughly.
He made a sound deep in his throat, half groan, half plea, and then he rolled her over, his hands under her blanket as he stroked her skin. She knew she ought to stop him, but somehow, she didn’t want to. Her own breath came in gasps as his hot, wet mouth fastened on her breast. In the firelight, she watched his tortured face as his mouth kissed across her nipples.
“Lynnie,” he murmured, “oh, Lynnie . . .”
She closed her eyes as his hand went down to touch her thighs. Her lower body seemed to be on fire with need, and her hands were shaking as she let her thighs fall apart.
His hand felt hot and trembling as he caressed her bare belly. “Lynnie, oh, Lynnie, you’d better stop me ... stop me now.”
Was he loco? She wasn’t about to stop him. Her own heart was pounding hard as this big man kissed her belly and moved down her thighs. He moved so that he was half on her, his manhood hot and throbbing against her. “Lynnie ...” His voice was urgent. “Lynnie, I—I can’t stop.”
“I don’t want you to,” she said honestly, and pulled him toward her. He seemed to need no more urging before he moved between her thighs. Then he was on her, driving into her, hard and deep. She locked her legs around him, urging him deeper still. She was giving up her virginity out in the dirt by a campfire—not at all the way she had envisioned her first lovemaking, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was embracing this big, rough cowboy and getting him inside her—riding her in the most primitive of all acts. The sensation and her emotions were building to a crescendo of feelings.
She had never felt anything as exciting and as wondrous as what she was feeling now, locked in this man’s embrace while he rode her hard and fast. He was a big man, and she could feel every inch of him in the hot rhythm they created. Neither could stop now if they were threatened with death; she realized that, and nothing mattered but finishing this wild action they had started. She wanted him deeper still, and she dug her small hands into his lean hips and urged him on as her own excitement mounted.
“Ace,” she whispered, “Ace ...” And then there were no words except to cling to him, holding him tight against her with her legs. She felt him hesitate; then he went rigid, holding his breath and gasping as he poured his seed into her. For a long moment, nothing else mattered excep
t this man and this emotion as they meshed, straining together. Then he relaxed on her, breathing hard. She reached up and gently brushed his hair out of his eyes.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he admitted, and began to ride her again, their lovemaking more torrid than before. Then she kissed his cheek and held him close as he relaxed against her, his slow breathing telling her he slept. After a long moment, she slept, too.
When Ace woke up next to Lynnie just before dawn, he was horrified. His first thought was: Lordy, Uncle Maverick will kill me. No—he shook his head as he scrambled for his clothes—Maverick won’t have to kill me; Dad will do it for him.
Lynnie stirred languidly and smiled up at him.
“Lynnie, I know what you’re gonna say.” He hopped about on one foot, struggling to get his pants on. “It was a big mistake; I got carried away and I’m sorry I ruined you.”
“Ruined me?” Lynnie sat up and realized she was naked under the blanket. “I’d hardly call making love to me ruining me.”
“Shh!” He put his finger to his lips. “The crew might hear you.” He grabbed up his shirt.
“You don’t want them to know you made love to me?” She pulled the blanket around her, indignation mixed with hurt in her soul, knowing he regretted last night.
“We was both tired and it was the heat of the moment,” he said, buttoning his shirt. “Let’s just forget all about it, can we?”
“You sidewinder!” She threw her boot at him and hit him.
He hopped away, barefooted, then began to howl as he stepped on a cockleburr. “Damn it! Now, don’t get mad, Lynnie. You just took seriously what I was pokin’ at you in fun.”
“You—you pig, you!” She threw her other boot and hit him between the thighs, causing him to curse louder. “I thought it meant something special, and here you were just behaving like a typical man.”
To Tame A Texan Page 25
