Dusty Britches (15 page)

It was her only hope of survival to hate him. Otherwise she
’
d be lost
—l
ost in the heartache
of
loving someone she couldn
’
t have. Yet something about him sitting ther
e next to her, arguing with her—
it wasn
’
t so unlike it had been before when he would sit, listening to all her trivial troubles of youth and
giving encouragement. Fact was
most of w
hat she complained to him about she
overdramatized on purpose just to have his attention. She figured he
’
d known that all along. But this was different. This was real and grown
-
up.

She stood, intent on leaving, but he brazenly took hold of her ankle to stall her. She looked down at him indignantly.

“
I
’
m sorry, Dusty,
”
he told her.
“
I
’
m sorry that I hurt you.
”

There was hidden meaning in his w
ords. “Which time?” she asked. Reaching down, she wrenched
her ankle free of his grasp and storm
ed
away.

She stopped just before she entered the clearing to put on her skirt and wipe h
er tears. She’d said too much—r
evealed too much to him. Now where would she find her strength?

Ryder sighed heavily,
took the blade of grass he
’
d been chewing out of his mouth
,
and tossed it into the pond. The thought struck him
—
was it Cash Richardson
’
s betrayal that had turned the girl he used to know
into this resentful woman? Or—
and
he had to admit it to himself—
should the blame be placed more squarely on his own shoulders as Fel
ler had implied? She was there—
that girl whose heart he
’
d unintentionally broken. He could find her
in this woman’s eyes at times—
see the smile wanting to curl the corners of her
pretty
mouth. Could
she ever gift
him the forgiveness he
’
d come back seeking? Would he ever be able to shed the guilt he
’
d carried around for so long? The guilt that was even worse than the other
yoke of
guilt he bore?

Dusty was quiet at dinner. She avoided looking at Ryder, or anyone else for that matter. She helped Becca clean up and went directly to bed. A good night
’
s sleep would help. Ryder understood her now. There would be no horsing around like there had been in the ol
d days. She was a grown-up now, a
s was he.
Yet from
her own observations
, she knew
women gave into adulthoo
d a lot more quickly than men did—e
specially
cowboys and ranch hands
.

Dusty awoke the next morning somewhat puzzled—puzzled in finding herself somehow
feeling
more friendly
toward others, more
tolerant
of her sister’s lighthearted manner. Somehow Becca’s silly antics didn’t irritate her as much; somehow she found a measure of joy in watching the cowboys and ranch hands talking and
chuckling as they worked
.

Ryder
, however,
seemed to play the part of a scolded puppy—a helpless puppy that
had piddled on the rug and been sent out to sleep in the barn.
For nearly two days he behaved
this way—t
wo days during which Dusty began to feel
guilty somehow, as if she’d been the one to scold the puppy. S
he didn
’
t like him this way. What was she thinking? She didn
’
t like him at all! But it was unsettling to have him
sulking
, as it were.

However, in true Ryder Maddox form, he could only be beaten for so long. One day just after lunch
,
as
Dusty was returning from an errand to the barn, sh
e saw Ryder sitting in a chair—
propped up against the outer wall of the bunkhouse and whittling away. She knew he was waiting for old Leroy to ride in with some supplies her father had requested.
U
pon seeing him smile and nod a greeting to her
, s
he felt relieved and
somewhat
forgiven
for having been the puppy-scolder
.

“
I named me a dog Dusty once,
”
Ryder mumbled, pausing in his whittling to look up at her.

“
Really?
”
Dusty asked, rolling her eyes. Yet she was
secretly
elated that he would speak to her after
seeming to ignore
her since their argument at the pond.

“
Yep. I always regretted havin
’
to leave her behind when I was movin
’
on
…’
cause she was a good little mutt.
”

“
What? Is that supposed to make me think better of you somehow?
”
Dusty asked.
“
Am I supposed to be flattered that y
a
named a dog Dusty?
”

“
Nope. I was just thinkin
’
out loud really. She was a good little mutt though.
”
He returned his attention to his whittling as he continued,
“
She used to follow me around like the sun rose and set by me. She took a likin
’
to me first off…even
’
fore she was weaned.
”

Were his words conveying a message to her? Was he saying the puppy had been
similar to the way
she had been as a girl?

“
Really?
”
Dusty
asked
, the sarcasm thick in her voice.
“
Puppy love? Is that it?
”

Ryder chuckled and looked up at her
,
smiling.
“
Now that there was almost funny, Miss Dusty.
”
Pointing his pocketknife at her, he grinned slyly and mumbled,
“
Maybe you
’
ll get weaned enough off
’
n that sour taste of men in your mouth one day yet
.”

“
Don
’
t hold your breath, Mr. Maddox,
”
she said. Ryder was still leaning back against the side of the bunkhouse on
only
the two back legs of the chair. Dusty reached down
,
t
aking hold of one chair leg, and yanked hard. Ryder
tumbled backward
,
bumping his head on the bunkhouse wall.

He
wasn’t provoked, however. He simply chuckled and righted his chair. Sitting
in it once
more, he
briefly rubb
ed the back of his head in amusement and
returned his attention
to whittling.

“
Be careful, Miss Dusty. You may be the boss
’
s daughter, but I don
’
t take too much of a beatin
’
from nobody
’
fore sooner or later I take
’
em down
hard,” he said.

She ignored his insinuation and the thrill
traveling
through her
.
Turning, she walked away. She had taken no more than three steps when
she heard
three quick, consecutive whistles
. Pausing, she looked back at him. Realizing the three quick whistles were akin to those any man might use to summon his dog’s attention, Dusty was
i
nstantly irritated
by
the amused grin on
Ryder’s
face
.

“
Ol
’
Dusty used to come a
-
runnin
’
when I done that too,
”
he chuckled, tipping his hat at her.

Why did she tolera
te his smart-aleck remarks, his
endless teasing and taunting? Why didn
’
t she slap his face whenever something pe
stering came out of his mouth—h
is mouth
—his perfect mouth? How tantalizing his smile was—t
hat sly, all
-
knowing, teasing grin. Well, she thought, pulling herself up short, she never slapped him because…because no doubt he
’
d thwart her attempt and send her sitting in the trough again.

Still, she felt better—
be
tter than she had in days. W
hen she heard the rumble of a wagon and team and turned to see
Alice
approaching, she felt her heart lighten even further. She felt…happy.

“
Are you givin
’
your mama grief today, Makenna?
”
Dusty asked as the tiny angel personified in human form fairly leapt from the buckboard and into her arms.

“
Hi, Dusty,
”
the little girl cheerily greeted.

Dusty adored
Alice
’
s daughter. Makenna was all of two and a half but boasted the vocabulary of a child much older. She was a living angel with soft, blond
e
hair and the brightest of blue eyes, pinchable chubby cheeks, and a smile that lit up any situation.

“
I comed to see you!
”
Makenna exclaimed.

“
You did?
”
Dusty asked, smiling
with delight
and raising her eyebrows in feigned surprise.

“
Um
-
hum. I did! And I bringed my mommy and my baby brudder!
”
she chirped, putting her hands to Dusty
’
s cheeks as Dusty held her on
one
hip.
“
Where
’
s Becca?
”

“
Becca
’
s over helpin
’
Miss Raynetta
with some sewin’ this afternoon.
But I
’
m so glad you came for a visit!
”
Dusty told her.

“
Baby Jakie, him
’
s my brudder
,
and him
’
s got runny drawers
,
and him
’
s cryin
’
a lot! So I bringed mommy to visit you!
”
Makenna added.

Dusty couldn
’
t help but giggle.
“
Runny drawers? Oh, no! I bet your mama surely does need some visitin
’
time, huh?
”

“
Um
-
hum!
”
Makenna said, smiling and pinching Dusty
’
s cheeks.

“
Is he teethin
’
,
Alice
?
”
Dusty asked, turning to look at Makenna
’
s mother. Immediately Makenna put
her hands back to Dusty’s face, forcing Dusty to look
at her.

Alice Jones had once been Alice Maxwell, Dusty
’
s dear, dear childhood friend. She
’
d married a nice man some four years ago. Dusty missed their usually profuse visits
. Seems they’
d dwindled to one a month
,
or
even
less
,
after
Alice
married.