To Tame A Texan

by Georgina Gentry

  At that point, Lynnie hit the drunken cowboy with her picket sign. Just then, Nelbert Purdy threw a string of firecrackers under Daisy Buttercup’s hooves, and the calf threw back her head and bawled in terror.

  “Get back in the kitchen!” Willis Forrester shouted. “That’s where you gals belong!”

  Ace had seen enough. He doubled up his fists. “Lynnie McBride belongs wherever she wants to be!”

  He saw Lynnie look up, her lip trembling a little at the onslaught of catcalls and hostile roughnecks crowding in around her and her ladies. “Ace,” she called, “oh, Ace, I knew you’d come.”

  For a split second, he looked at her and wondered why he’d once thought her plain. Plain? She was beautiful—the prettiest girl he had ever seen—and she needed him.

  Willis Forrester threw another firecracker, sending the ladies scurrying and shrieking.

  “Get ’em boys!” Ace commanded, and then he went after Forrester. He grabbed him and whirled him around. “That’s no way to treat a lady.”

  “She ain’t no lady, not with her underpants showin’.” Forester sneered, “I—”

  He never finished, because Ace hit him in the mouth and sent him stumbling backward and right into a horse trough. Behind Ace, a commotion broke out as his cowboys waded in, slugging jeering drunks and ne’er-dowells and clearing a path around the women.

  Lynnie, not to be outdone, rallied her ladies, and they charged in to help, swinging their protest signs. Nelbert Purdy had just run out into the street to throw more manure when Lynnie caught him with her wooden sign, knocking him backward so that he crashed into the horse trough right on top of Forrester, who was just trying to get up.

  Ace grinned at her. “Atta girl, Lynnie. Now let’s mop ’em up!”

  He grabbed Purdy by his collar, stood him on his feet, and Lynnie hit him again with her sign, tossing him into a fresh pile of horse manure. Men were now fighting each other, rolling and brawling in the middle of the dusty street while the whores from all the local saloons were right in there beside the more respectable women, shrieking and scratching.

  Ace turned to fight off two drunken cowboys as Forrester himself staggered, dripping wet, out of the horse trough. Forrester grabbed Lynnie and took her sign away from her.

  “You!” he snarled. “I thought I’d outwit you and Durango when I changed all the signs out on the trail. You’ve caused me to lose a lot of money!” He picked her up and tossed her in the horse trough.

  She went under and came up sputtering and screaming while Ace ran to her rescue, lifted her out of the trough, and stood her on her feet, dripping and undignified, gold spectacles askew. Then he hit Forrester again and threw him under Boneyard’s hooves. The gray horse promptly kicked Forrester end over end and into a fresh pile of cow pie that little Daisy had just made.

  It was a riot involving a hundred people, drunken cowboys, bystanders, respectable ladies, and whores from the local saloons. Men crashed through store windows, and children ran up and down, shouting with excitement. A terrified team of horses bolted down the street while a pack of local mongrels ran after the runaway team, barking loudly. Shots flew and added to the fireworks as the brawl spread up and down the street. Some didn’t even seem to know for sure what the ruckus was about, but it was too much fun to miss.

  Lynnie and Ace found themselves side by side, their clothes torn, wet and dirty as they punched Forrester’s cowboys. “Lordy, girl,” Ace shouted, “what are you doin’ out here soakin’ wet with your drawers showin’?”

  “They’re bloomers,” she corrected as she tripped a drunk, and Ace picked the man up and tossed him in the horse trough. “Thanks for joining our protest.”

  “Protest, hell, I just came to rescue you.” He hit Purdy as the fat man stumbled toward him.

  “I don’t need rescuing,” she shouted back as she swung her protest sign. “I can take care of myself.”

  “The hell you can. It looks like I’ll have to spend the rest of my days gettin’ you out of trouble.”

  She paused, not quite sure what she was hearing. “Is this a proposal?”

  “Lynnie”—he wiped the dirt from his face and ducked as a drunk swung at him—“I won’t take no for an answer; we’re gettin’ hitched.”

  “I don’t want you to feel obligated . . .”

  “Oh, shut up!” he yelled. “You keep gettin’ me in all kinds of trouble, and I’d like to have some kind of control over your actions.”

  “Control?” She bristled. “Control? Why, you uncivilized brute—”

  “Uh-oh, here comes some deputies,” Ace yelled, “and it’s too late to run.”

  She looked at him, all bloody and with his shirt torn. Abruptly, she felt like a beautiful princess with a handsome knight available for her rescue. “Good, we’ll get some publicity for the cause.”

  Ace groaned aloud. “Honey, I can see life with you ain’t gonna be dull.”

  “Isn’t,” she corrected, and paused to watch the deputies running along the street. “What happens next?”

  “You don’t wanna know,” Ace groaned.

  “This isn’t the way I pictured a marriage proposal.” She pushed another drunk into the horse trough.

  “Me neither. Matter of fact, I never pictured one at all.” He shrugged and put his hands on her shoulders. “Fact is, somebody’s got to protect you and help you get out of all the scrapes you get into.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself,” she shouted back, and picked up her sign and whacked Purdy with it as he stumbled to his feet.

  “I know that, but you could use an ally now and then. I’m big; I can carry a lot of protest signs.”

  “You don’t care that I’m not beautiful?”

  He took the protest sign out of her hand, tossed it away, and yanked her to him, kissing her senseless. “Lynnie, to me you’re beautiful.” And he meant it.

  “Hey,” someone yelled, “here comes the sheriff!”

  At the Triple D Ranch, Cimarron came into the study looking at the paper in her hand. The date was July 5.

  Trace had finally recovered from his broken ribs, and he sat on the leather sofa sipping his tequila and patted the Chihuahua in his lap. “What’s that?”

  “Ace is in jail again.”

  “What?” He jumped to his feet, dumping the disgusted dog in the floor.

  “This wire just came. Lynnie and the whole crew are in the Dodge jail, too. Also, someone named Boneyard and Daisy Buttercup. Now, who do you suppose that is?”

  Her husband paced up and down. “Dios! Damn that boy. It’s not bad enough that he’s always in trouble; he has to get that sweet, innocent girl into it with him. When Pedro told us she was along on that drive, I hoped her good influence would straighten him out, but I reckon he’s hopeless.”

  Cimarron read some more of the wire and smiled. “They got top dollar for the beef. Ace wants you to get the Indian agent to the Comanches fired.”

  Her husband lit a cigarillo. “I can do that. I’ve met him, now that I think of it, and he’s rotten.”

  She beamed at him. “Oh, Willis Forrester, Nelbert Purdy, and their whole crew are in jail, too.”

  Trace paused and smiled. “Well, it’s an ill wind that doesn’t blow somebody some good. I’d give a hundred gold pesos to see that uppity pair peeking out between the bars.”

  Cimarron continued to read and smiled, very pleased. “There’s more. They want to get married.”

  “Married?” He was thunderstruck. “Who? Purdy and Forrester? I think that’s against the law.”

  “Double damnation, Trace, haven’t you been listening? Our Ace and Lynnie.”

  Her husband blinked. “Ace and Lynnie McBride? He’s gotten her in the family way; that’s what it is. Maverick will kill him, and if he doesn’t, I will.”

  “Darlin’,” she said, smiling gently, “Lynnie’s not as naive as you think she is.”

  He shook his head in puzzlement. “Do you suppose that sweet little th
ing knows what she’s gettin’ into?”

  Cimarron smiled. “I think she can handle him. Cayenne and I always thought they would make a good pair.”

  “You two women must be loco. A more unlikely pair there never was.”

  “Maybe,” Cimarron said. “We’ll have to get together with the McBrides and start planning the wedding.”

  “First you’d better send bail money and get the whole bunch out of jail.”

  Cimarron grinned, very pleased with herself. “I already did. They should all be on a train heading for home by now.”

  “In the meantime, I wonder, who in the hell is Daisy Buttercup? I didn’t know there were two girls along on this cattle drive.”

  “Reckon we’ll find out,” Cimarron said, and went off to make a list of guests.

  It was a lovely wedding and a big one that crisp September day. Most of central and west Texas had been invited, including the cowboys who had helped Ace take the herd up the Chisholm Trail. The little old-fashioned church where Lynnie’s blind father preached was full to overflowing. Besides the many friends, some were just incredulous citizens who couldn’t quite believe that a plain, bossy old maid like the McBride girl had lassoed the biggest catch in the whole state, and had come to see this event for themselves.

  Ace had asked his father to be his best man, so Cimarron sat alone on the front pew and winked across at Cayenne, who was bouncing baby Joey on her knee and trying to keep her many children from running up and down the aisles. The two ladies were most pleased with this love match they had engineered.

  Maverick would escort Lynnie down the aisle. Of course, no one was surprised that she had arranged to have the word obey taken out of the ceremony. Lynnie had asked Penelope to be her maid of honor. Her bridesmaids were Ace’s younger sister, the dark and beautiful Raven, and Lynnie’s younger sisters, Gracious, Stevie, and Angel. Maverick and Cayenne’s daughter, Annie Laurie, was pressed into service as a flower girl. Ace’s cowboys, Hank, Comanch, Joe, Pedro, and old Cookie were acting as ushers.

  The old organ wheezed and began to play. First the flower girl, scattering wildflowers, came down the aisle, followed by the bridesmaids on the arms of the ushers. Penelope was radiant because, as everyone knew, her father had finally relented about Hank, even though he was a poor man with only a few worthless, oil-soaked acres to his name.

  When Cookie passed, Cimarron got a distinct whiff of vanilla and sighed. Oh, well, maybe he wouldn’t trip and fall down in front of the whole church.

  As the radiant bride started down the aisle in a magnificent white dress, a girl sitting behind Cimarron moaned to another, “I don’t understand it. She’s not even pretty and she lands the most handsome, charming man in all Texas. What’s she got?”

  Cimarron couldn’t resist. She turned around and smiled sweetly—a little too sweetly. “Lynnie’s smart and she can go toe to toe with Ace, which is just the kind of wife he needs. By the way, even the plainest girl is beautiful to the man who loves her.”

  Emmalou Purdy was not present. It seemed that during the summer, that paragon of virtue, the new schoolmaster, Clarence Kleinhoffer, had gotten her in what in Texas is politely called “a family way.” Nelbert Purdy had had to take his shotgun to persuade a very reluctant bridegroom to marry Emmalou, and the school board had fired Clarence. The pair had left the state in disgrace.

  Ace, with his father as his best man, stood watching as Lynnie came down the aisle on her brother-in-law’s arm. Maverick, frankly, looked relieved that someone else was about to take over the duty of keeping Lynnie in bounds. Ace grinned as he looked into her radiant face. She wasn’t wearing her spectacles, so he hoped she didn’t trip and fall coming down the aisle. He could tame this little Texan, or maybe he couldn’t, but it was going to be a great adventure to try.

  When she took her place next to him, he leaned over and whispered, “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, honey.” And he meant it with every beat of his heart.

  Lynnie took his arm, barely hearing the words of the ceremony. She had her man, and it was going to be a great challenge to tame this rough Texan, but she figured she was up to the challenge. Of course, she didn’t intend to give up her work for women’s rights. Ace had promised to help with her crusade because he wanted his daughters to have the same rights as men.

  She looked up at him, loving him like she had never known she could love a man. Half the women in the audience wanted to be Mrs. Ace Durango, but he had chosen Lynnie. He was looking down at her as if there were no one else in the whole world. Almost in a daze, she heard her preacher father say “Diego de Durango the Fourth, will you take this woman to love and cherish now and forevermore?”

  Ace seemed to hesitate as if forgetting his real, legal name. His father cleared his throat and nudged him. “Say yes, Ace,” he whispered.

  The audience tittered.

  The minister asked again, “Ace, you gonna marry my daughter?”

  “You’re damned tootin’!” Ace declared in a loud, honest voice. “Long as I got a biscuit, she gets half.”

  That was the best promise a Texan could make. Lynnie looked up at him in a daze, loving him so.

  “And will you, Lynnie Elizabeth McBride, take this man, Diego de Durango the Fourth, to be your lawful husband, to love and to cherish through sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”

  “As long as we got that ‘obey’ thing straight,” she said in a determined tone.

  The audience laughed, and her father sighed. “I reckon any man who tries to make you obey had better bring his supper, because he may be there a while.”

  “I thought,” Ace said, “we cleared that all up.”

  “In that case, the answer is yes,” Lynnie said. “And as long as I got a biscuit, he’s got half.”

  The audience fanned itself and nodded in approval, everyone grinning. No Texan could make a more sincere commitment than offering to share his last biscuit.

  Father seemed to sigh with relief. “Is there a ring?”

  At that point, Ace’s dad reached over and handed him the gold band studded with the biggest diamonds Lynnie had ever seen. A murmur of wonder went through the crowd as Ace slipped it on her finger. “Do you see the size of those stones? Why, that ring would buy a whole ranch.”

  Lynnie let Ace slip the ring on her finger while her father intoned the words. It was a beautiful ring, she thought, and it sparkled like a thousand suns in the dim light of the old church. It glowed like the passion she held for the man who put it on her hand.

  Her father smiled and held up his hand in benediction as he pronounced the final words. “Then by the power vested in me by God and the most wonderful and best state in the union—Texas, of course—I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

  Ace slowly lifted her veil. She looked up into his eyes and saw the love there. “Put on your spectacles, honey. I want you to see who’s kissin’ you.”

  Obedient for once, she reached for the glasses that Raven held out to her, put them on, and his handsome features cleared in her vision.

  “I love you, Lynnie Durango,” he whispered.

  “Oh,” she whispered back, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I don’t intend to give up my maiden name.”

  “The hell you don’t!” He took her in his embrace and held her so close, she could scarcely breathe. Then he kissed her with such passion that Lynnie McBride-Durango forgot about everything else but what lay ahead of them tonight in bed, and the wonderful and exciting life they would lead as each tried to tame the other.

  The audience began to titter, and her father cleared his throat. “Ahem. You’ve got the rest of your life to kiss her, my boy.”

  “The rest of my life,” he repeated.

  She saw Ace pull back with reluctance, never taking his gaze from her face. His dark eyes promised that her wedding night was going to be unforgettable.

  But right now, they had guests to entertain. They swept down the aisle to
organ music while old ladies wiped their eyes and young women sighed regretfully. Outside, a large pavilion had been set up with a Western band and plenty of food, including a whole barbecued steer turning on a spit. Cookie was turning the spit and sipping out of a quart bottle of vanilla while the little Chihuahua, Tequila, lay next to his feet, waiting for his share of the feast. There was plenty of cold beer and lemonade, potato salad and deviled eggs, and cakes and pies and cookies of all kinds.

  The whole trail crew was there to help them celebrate. Comanch and Joe got a card game going out on the lawn. Pedro, his leg now healed, took his new bride, the lovely Maria Sanchos, whom he had met on the train, out onto the dance floor to join Penelope and the grinning Hank.

  Ace’s dad was so pleased with the man his son had become that he’d given him his share of the ranch: thousands of acres of choice land with a hilltop that had a glorious view. A fine new home was already under construction there.

  Little Daisy Buttercup, all decked out with ribbons and flowers, was quietly munching on the floral decorations of the tables as the dancing began, while old Twister, now permanently retired, grazed peacefully in a nearby pasture.

  Ace took Lynnie in his arms, and they moved out on the floor. “Lynnie,” he reminded her gently, “I’m supposed to lead.”

  “Now, why is that?” she said stubbornly.

  “I think we’ve already had this discussion.”

  “But we didn’t settle it the first time.”

  “Oh, Lynnie,” he sighed, “I’d forgotten just how stubborn you can be.”

  “I’m not stubborn; I’m resolute.”

  He grinned down at her and kissed the side of her face, sending shivers of pleasure all over her body. “By the way, I bought you a wedding present.”

  “Another one? Oh, Ace, you’ve given me so much already: all the jewelry and building me a big ranch house on that hill . . .”

  “But this is something you really wanted,” he murmured. “Penelope’s dad didn’t really want to sell, but I convinced him.” He whirled her around, and there on the other side of the pavilion, Boneyard stood tied to a buggy, all decked out in red harness and flowers.