“Heavens, yes.” Mrs. Bottoms nodded. “Robbers came through here headed for Mexico to hide out—rustlers stealin’ herds off some of these isolated ranches. Our sheriff don’t use his gun, but folks respect him. And I can tell you, I think he could outdraw some of these thugs if he had to. They say he used to be a Texas Ranger.”
Well, the man must be Larado’s twin brother, because she couldn’t imagine Larado doing anything except hanging out in saloons, slapping women on the bottom, and inviting himself up to their beds. “How long’s he been here?”
“Lawrence? Just a little while. Hear he came from El Paso, and you know how tough El Paso is,” Mrs. Bottoms said.
“He ever say anything before about a twin brother?” Lark asked.
The old lady’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure. Maybe. Yes, I think so.”
Lark drew a sigh of relief. Maybe she could stop worrying about the scoundrel of a brother.
Paco stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking all clean with his hair wet from combing. He wore a deputy’s badge on his western shirt. Paco held his hat in his hand and looked uneasy, standing on one foot and then the other. Now his dark eyes lit up as he saw her. “Very beautiful. Sí, señorita. I’m honored to drive you to the barn dance.”
“And me too, and Jimmy,” the older lady reminded him.
He bowed low. “Of course, señora, you too. I do hope you bring those muy bueno sand plum cobblers you make?”
She laughed. “Of course. Get the basket out of the kitchen. Did the men get that beef on the spit?”
He nodded. “Sí, señora. Even now, it is being barbecued to a crisp brown.” He went into the back and returned with a basket. “Oh, we didn’t give the señorita a chance to shine with her cooking.”
“Uh, maybe next time.” Lark gulped. Her aunt Cimarron said Lark couldn’t cook even a biscuit so a dog would eat it. Well, she wouldn’t stay long, so no one here would ever know that. As soon as she felt the trail had grown cold, Lark would leave. Where she would go next, she couldn’t be sure. Tears came to her eyes as she walked out to the buckboard. She had a sudden wave of homesickness. At least she was in Texas. You could take a gal out of Texas, but you couldn’t take Texas out of the girl.
Paco helped everyone up in into the buckboard, Lark seated next to him, then climbed up and snapped the reins at the bay horse. “Did you like our sheriff?”
Lark sputtered with embarrassment. “I—I don’t know—I just barely met him.”
“Paco,” Mrs. Bottoms scolded, “what a question! You’re embarrassin’ the lady.”
Jimmy piped up. “I think he liked her. Are they gonna get married?”
“Jimmy!” the old lady scolded.
Lark felt the blood rush to her face, but she had to ask. “Why—what makes you think he liked me?”
Paco chuckled. “Sheriff Witherspoon don’t say much, but he was smiling when he left the hotel. He’s a good sheriff, no, Señora Bottoms?”
“One of the best,” the lady declared as they rode along. “Varmints sure back down from him when he gives them that squinty-eyed glare and almost whispers for them to throw down their guns.”
“Hmm.” Lark was impressed.
“Besides, señorita,” Paco said, “everyone says that he used to be a Texas Ranger down around El Paso.”
Lark blinked. “Then what’s he doing out in a sleepy place like Rusty Spur?”
Paco lowered his voice. “They say he killed a man by mistake and it got to him. Besides, he’s got a brother that brought shame to to the family.”
“You can say that again,” Lark said.
“What?” asked Mrs. Bottoms.
“Nothing,” said Lark. A mysterious ex–Texas Ranger. It was romantic and thrilling. Maybe Lawrence Witherspoon could be as interesting as his saddle-tramp brother. “I notice the town has no bank?”
“Well,” Mrs. Bottoms said somewhat defensively, “ours closed ’cause it had been robbed so much. But with the new sheriff and the railroad comin’ in sometime this summer, the town’ll grow, and I reckon we’ll get one. They won’t be afraid to open up here with a tough sheriff like we got to protect the money.”
He’s sure different from his brother, Lark thought. Larado would rob the bank, but Lawrence would protect it. She began to like Lawrence, even if he wasn’t as charming.
When the buckboard pulled up in front of the big red barn, it looked like most of the county must have heard about the dance. There were horses, wagons, and buggies everywhere, and the barn glowed with lantern light. From inside, Lark heard fiddle music drifting on the warm May air.
Paco assisted Lark from the buggy.
“Heavens,” declared the hotel owner as Paco helped her down, “looks like half the county has come to our wingding.”
The more people, the better chance someone might have seen a wanted poster, Lark thought, but she’d just have to take that chance. After all, this was a very isolated area.
Cowboys rushed forward to meet her, stumbling over their feet in embarrassment, pulling off their Stetsons. “Howdy, ma’am, so you’re the mail-order-bride lady.”
“That’s my fault and Bill’s, señores.” Paco looked embarrassed. “The sheriff didn’t even know she was coming.”
She blushed furiously as the cowboys gathered around. “Then that means she ain’t really spoke fer. I’d be much obliged if you’d save me a dance, miss.”
She had never felt so popular. “Of course I’ll try to save each and every one of you a dance,” she said graciously.
They all beamed, and one of them took the basket from Mrs. Bottoms. “What you got in here, ma’am?”
“Pies and such.”
Even in the moonlight, Lark could see the faces light up. “Mm. It’s been a while since we’ve eat anything good. I’ll bet the young lady is a good cook too.”
“Actually, I’m a terrible cook,” Lark answered.
“And she’s modest, too,” said one of the cowboys. The others nodded. “That’s a good trait in a woman.”
She had spoken the truth, and they didn’t believe her. Well, her conscience was clear, in case the cowboys ever ate any of her cooking. She didn’t say that she could hold her own in any type of riding, shooting, or ranch work. Those were not things cowboys liked to be outdone in.
The ranch hands trailed the ladies like hungry pups as they walked toward the barn.
One of them whispered, “She’s real purty, ain’t she? You reckon any hombres got a chance?”
“The sheriff must be loco if he don’t grab this bit of calico up.”
Lark didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that the sheriff was going to be patrolling the town rather than coming to the dance. The inside of the big barn was aglow with lanterns. It smelled of fresh hay and roasting beef that turned on a spit outside. Bales of straw were scattered about so people could sit down. Over to one side, a small band of settlers sawed away on fiddles or plucked guitar strings…. Chicken in the bread pan, chicken in the dough, swing your partners and do-si-do….
Ladies gathered in groups to visit while the men traded stories, slapping their knees when someone told a good joke. Children ran through the crowd, yelling and playing. The whole scene made Lark homesick for her uncle Trace Durango’s ranch, the Triple D.
The music stopped suddenly, and an old rancher climbed up on a box. “All right, folks, choose your partners for the Virginia reel, and don’t mob that new young lady. Since there ain’t enough ladies to go around, some of you will have to be heifers.”
A groan went up from the young cowboys, but half a dozen men stood patiently while someone tied a red bandana around their arms to signify they would dance the lady’s part for a while. In the meantime, Lark was surrounded by a crowd of bashful young cowboys. “Miss, will you be my partner?”
“Wait your turn, Jethro,” another scolded.
“What do you mean, Al? I saw her first.”
“No, you didn’t. I saw her the minute she stepp
ed off the stage.”
There was lots of pushing and shoving, vying for her attention. “Me, Miss Van Schuyler.”
“No, me. I asked her when she got out of the buggy.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” She raised her voice and made a soothing gesture. “I’ll dance with all of you, just wait your turn.”
Mildred Bottoms, at her elbow, said in an undertone, “Are you sure you want to do that, my dear? There must be a couple of dozen of them green young fellas.”
“If I don’t, there may be a riot,” Lark said.
“Ain’t it nice to be so popular, though?” Mrs. Bottoms smiled.
Except with the sheriff, Lark thought. He didn’t seem even interested in her at all. That annoyed her no end. His rascal of a brother would have slapped her on the bottom and called her “sweetie.”
It seemed the cowboys were drawing straws. One let out a yell. “I got it! I get to dance with her first!” He pushed forward, grinning. His face was shiny with scrubbing, and his longish hair was slicked down with water. “Allow me, ma’am.” He bowed to her and offered her his arm.
She took it with a smile. “I’d be pleased to, cowboy.”
“You kin call me Buck, miss.”
Buck danced with more enthusiasm than skill, but she managed to keep her small slippers out from under his cowboy boots. When they finished that dance, another cowboy—this one smelling of rose water hair tonic—grabbed her and whirled her out on the rough board floor. After that, there was another and another.
Paco finally asked her to dance, and she accepted gratefully. “I swear I’m going to regret promising to dance with them all, but I’ll do my best.”
The young Mexican deputy grinned at her. “Now you can see why I sent for you. Everyone’s afraid that if the sheriff don’t find a woman, he won’t stay here, and t he town needs him.”
“Doesn’t appear to me he’s much interested,” Lark said as they moved to line up for the next square dance.
“Oh, he’s just shy and takes his job serious, sí?”
“Well, he does seem conscientious,” she admitted grudgingly. There was a strength and integrity about him that Lark liked.
After an hour, someone yelled that the meat was ready, and the little band quit playing. The ladies began serving out of big pans of cornbread, beans, and cole slaw. There were pies, cakes, cookies, and more barbecued beef than the whole town could eat. Lark hadn’t realized she was so hungry. The friendly ranchers’ wives kept refilling her plate and her lemonade cup over her halfhearted protests.
They were just finishing up, and the band had taken their positions to play again, when there was a commotion at the door. Everyone craned their necks to see what was happening. People began to step away as a motley group of hombres came through the door. They were a rough-looking bunch, Lark thought with alarm.
Mrs. Bottoms nudged her. “Heavens, some of that saloon crowd and railroad workers.”
The leader needed a shave and a bath, Lark thought as he swaggered across the floor, followed by his friends.
Paco took a deep breath. “Holy mother of God, I better go get the sheriff.” With that, he slipped out a side door.
The bad hombre strolled across the floor and stopped in front of Lark. He had an iron railroad spike stuck in his belt. The long heavy spike would make a good weapon. “So you’re the new pretty they’re gossipin’ about in town? I’m Otto. Come on, honey, let’s have us a dance.”
Lark hesitated. Oh my, what am I going to do now?
Chapter Five
Lark took a deep breath as the varmint glared down at her. All the intruders were armed, but none of the respectable men were.
“Come on, honey,” Otto demanded, “let’s have us a dance. My friends want to dance too. Choose a woman, fellas.” He turned and shouted at the little band. “Give us some music!”
The elderly men in the band looked at each other uncertainly as the rough hombres each grabbed a woman. Then they began an off-key version of “The Eyes of Texas.”
The villain holding Lark scowled. “Don’t want none of that slow stuff,” he shouted at the band. “Don’t you know ‘Little Brown Jug’ or ‘Camptown Races’?”
The little band began to play “Yellow Rose of Texas,” loudly if not well. They looked as frightened as the citizens standing around the barn. The intruders dragged their partners out onto the barn floor. Otto pulled Lark out and held her too closely. “All right, girlie, let’s dance some.”
She tried to pull away from him, but he kept a tight grip. His clothes looked dirty, and she could smell him. “I don’t want to dance with you.” She jerked out of his grasp and gave him a hard smack up the side of his head.
He looked stunned and shocked. “No woman is gonna—”
He came at her, and she grabbed a pitchfork and waved it dangerously. The little band stopped playing, and the villain’s partners paused in middle step with their unwilling partners. “Come one step closer,” Lark said, “and I put this through the part of your body you cherish most.”
“Now, honey”—he grinned at her, gesturing for her to lower her weapon—“you just put that thing down before you hurt yourself, and we’ll finish our little dance.”
“I believe my dance card is all filled up,” Lark said and then she kicked him between the thighs. When he doubled up with a groan, she whacked him on top of the head with the pitchfork. He stumbled and fell. The crowd began to laugh. Even his own men were guffawing.
“All right,” Lark yelled, “the party’s over. Now you rascals take your boss and get out of here before I put this pitchfork through his fat you-know-what.”
Even though the intruders were all armed, nobody moved toward her. They looked at their boss and then at each other uncertainly. Probably they had never had a girl show such spunkiness before. Otto stumbled to his feet and backed away, wobbling in his boots. “You ain’t seen the last of us, you spunky little tart.”
Lark ran at him with the pitchfork. “Get out, I said!”
Otto turned and fled, his men following in confused disarray. An excited buzz ran through the crowd and then the people began to applaud.
“What a girl!” some man shouted.
“Did you ever see such spunk?”
“That’s the girl for our sheriff, all right!”
They all gathered around to cheer her. Most of the men appeared to be a little embarrassed that they hadn’t spoken up.
Lark suddenly felt shaky herself. She couldn’t believe she had stood up to the thug. She had done it instinctively. In the past, she had always run from trouble.
“Heavens,” sighed Mildred Bottoms. “I reckon the dance can start again.”
Now men lined up to dance with Lark. “If’n you should decide the sheriff ain’t the man for you,” one said, “I’d be right proud to get hitched to you.”
“Miss Van Schuyler, if you decide you don’t want to marry the sheriff, I’d sure like to court you.”
The sheriff. She had forgotten about Larado or Lawrence or whatever the hell his name was. She still hadn’t solved that problem.
About that time, the sheriff strode into the barn. “I just passed all those railroad workers outside leavin’ like their coattails was on fire. What happened here?”
Immediately, the tall, lanky Texan was surrounded by people wanting to tell him about the incident and how the “spunky little filly” had saved the day.
He pushed through the crowd to Lark. “Are you all right, Miss Van Schuyler?”
Now that it was over, she was shaking at her own impertinence. She who always ran had stood her ground. She’d probably never do it again. “I’m fine, really I am.”
“In that case, ma’am, would you care to dance?” He took off his Stetson and bowed low, a little shy and almost courtly with his manners.
Larado would have been winking and slapping all the girls on the bottom, she thought. “Why, yes, Lawrence, I think I’d like that.”
The band began to play a s
oft, sweet tune, popular in the days of the Civil War: “Lorena.” Lark felt everyone’s gaze upon her as he led her out on the barn floor and took her in his arms. She hadn’t realized how big and wide shouldered he was. She felt protected in his embrace as they danced. The warmth and the strength of the man made her take a deep breath. He smelled of soap, sun, and a rose water hair tonic. He danced well, and she relaxed against him, wherein he pulled back and put space between them. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to be so fresh and improper. I wouldn’t want to offend a lady.”
She had never felt so protected and feminine—she, who was the family tomboy. She smiled up at him. “The lady is not offended.”
Maybe Fate had had a hand in bringing her to Rusty Spur to meet this virile knight of the west Texas plains.
“Everybody’s lookin’ at us,” he gulped, turning red. “Would you like to go outside in the cool air for a moment?”
“Of course.” They slipped out the back door and stood looking over the landscape. She shivered and pulled her shawl closer.
“Oh, Miss Van Schuyler, are you cold? It’s a mite cool for May. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you out in the night air—”
“I’m fine,” she said, not wanting to admit that just being close to this courtly gentleman was making her shudder with excitement. They looked over a scenic valley, shadowed now except for the full moon.
“Ain’t it purty?” the sheriff said with a sigh of awe. “You know Texans say that on the eighth day, God created Texas, and that was the best of his work.”
Lark laughed. “That might be sacrilegious.”
“You wouldn’t get a Texan to think that.” He seemed so earnest and sincere as he looked down at her. They were standing close, too close. For a long moment, they looked into each other’s eyes, and she felt his big hands tighten gently on her arms. She had the feeling that he was going to kiss her, and she wanted him to. She stood on her tiptoes and turned her face up to him, closing her eyes.
She heard him take a deep breath, then he cleared his throat and stepped away from her. She blinked and opened her eyes. He looked uncertain. “I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression of me, ma’am. I ain’t one to be forward with a lady.”
Georgina Gentry - To Tease a Texan Page 7
