Dusty Britches (29 page)

Dusty thought,
But I would
’
ve been fifteen. Then sixteen. I would
’
ve been seventeen if you
’
d waited
.

“
I had to leave,
”
he whispered.
“
Your daddy was havin
’
trouble a
-
scroungin
’
up money to feed his family. He couldn
’
t afford hands. And you were fourteen.
”

He looked to her
,
and she knew by his expression
he expected understanding—t
hat he wanted her forgiveness somehow. He knew he
’
d hurt her. Probably he
’
d known i
t for the past five years—that
he
’
d broken the heart of a young friend he
’
d cared for. And for the first time in five years, Dusty admitted to herself just how young fourteen had been. He
’
d been right to leave. He
’
d done t
he right thing—to the very end,
the night before he
’
d left. He
’
d even tried, in their last moments together, to fulfill her dreams as much as he
could when he was already a man—
and she was still a child.

“
I know,
”
she breathed, closing her eyes against the tears there and finally letting herself remember the night Ryder Maddox had said good
-
bye to the child that loved him.

Dusty had been crying off and on all day. Her mother was beside herself with concern and compassion for her daughter, and her father had explained several times why the
ranch
hands had to be let go.
Becca cried too. She hated
when Dusty was upset
,
and she knew wh
y Dusty was so upset this time—even if she was only twelve.

Dusty
Hunter was
fourteen years old,
and her
world was shattering—o
r so it seemed to her. The droughts of the past two years had nearly ruined
the Hunters’
chances of keeping the ranch
,
and there was no way her father could pay the
cowboys and ranch
hands. H
e’d told them all that morning he couldn’t keep them on; h
e could only afford to keep the top hand, Feller.

All day, Dusty had watched the cowboys ready themselves to leave. She
’
d
watched Ryder Maddox—
the best of them all, the handsomest of them all, the kindest, bravest,
strongest, smartest of them all—watched him
readying his saddle and bedroll to leave the next mor
ning. Never again would she lie
awake in the early, dark hours of the morning, listening to his low, soothing voice singing as he milked the cows, cleaned the stalls
,
and
did other early
-
morning chores—other chores
he
’
d volunteered to do because he liked to work in the early morning. Never again would she thrill when he flashed his dazzling smile at her or lifted her onto the fence to watch the men breaking horses or branding cattle. Never again would he cup her face in his rough hand and tell her not to worry about the other girls in town teasing her
—tell her
she was the prettiest girl in the country and they were just jealous.

That night Dusty sough
t him out. She’d been watching,
waiting for him to leave the fire pit wh
ere all the hands were sitting—
some lamenting their impending travels, some glad for the freedom. And when at last he did
start
tow
ard the barn, she followed him—
watched him from behind a tree as he entered the barn and some moments later came back out carrying his saddlebags. Then, mustering all the courage she could, she ran
to him—scurrying along,
trying to match his stride.

“
Don
’
t go, Ryder,
”
she begged him in a whisper.
“
Daddy will keep you on! Mama
’
s so fond of you…and Daddy too! You don
’
t need to go!
”

“
It
’
s time I move
d on, Dusty,” he’d told her—
his voice not quite as deep as
it would be someday, h
is shoulders not nearly as broad.
“
Gotta always be earnin
’
my keep.
”

“
Ryder, please,
”
Dusty begged him. T
ears started down her face again. She reached out and took hol
d of his arm, and he stopped—
turned to look at her.
“
Please, fi
nd a way to stay here, Ryder. I—
I can
’
t bear it if you go!
”

The young man frowned and grinned at the same time
. He reached out, cupping
her face
with one rough hand in
his
familiar manner
,
stroking her cheek with his thumb.
“
If you were a few years older, sugar…I
’
d move heaven and earth to find a way to stay
’
round your daddy
’
s ranch.
”

“
I love you, Ryder,
”
she confessed with the honesty and ignorance to consequence of a young heart.
“
Don
’
t leave me.
”

He winced as if she
’
d physically struck him.
“
I
have to, Dusty. I-
I can
’
t stay here. And anyway,
”
he continued, dropping his hand from her face,
“
you only think you love me, sugar. Someday when some good
-
lookin
’
man comes along and steals your heart, you
’
ll look back and think,
‘
That ol
’
Ryder Maddox! What
’
d I ever see in him?
’
”

“
No,
”
Dusty
sobbed
through her tears.
“
I
’
ll never think that.
”

It was the first taste of
the
truth
of
life
she remembered—
that just because you confess your love for someone, it doesn
’
t mean they confess it back. It doesn
’
t mean they won
’
t ever leave you. Turning from him, she ran as fast as she could. S
he heard him calling after her—
knew he
’
d chase her. He always went after her when she was upset.
Yet
darkness was on her side
,
and she was fast. Darting here and there, she managed to lose him, eventually finding herself at the old well house west of the barn. There she threw herself into the nearby straw pile and sobbed bitterly. For a long time she cried, until she felt too tired to cry anymore and she was able to calm her sobbing.

“
There you are,
you little cuss,” Ryder said, plopping down beside her—
panting
with the exertion of having hunted her down
.

Dusty rolled to her other side in the straw pile, turning from him
, too tired to run anymore—
not wanting to face him with the shame she felt because of her confession and now her tears.

“
I
’
m all right, Ryder. There
’
s nothing more you need to say to me,
”
she whimpered.

Ryder
sat in silence for a few more moments
. He
took her shoulders and turned her to face him.
“
You
’
re the prettiest little girl I
’
ve ever seen,
”
he told her.

She winced at his words. I
t hurt her to be reminded of her youth. She
’
d neve
r forget how handsome he’d been—
lying there in the straw
under
the
silver
moonlight. Ryder
’
s eyes were the softest, warmest, most enticing shade of brown. His smile was bewitching and somehow mad
e her mouth water for his kiss—
even though she
’
d never been blessed with the feel of it.

“Still,
I
’
m a mite older than you, Dusty,
”
he continued,
“
in case you hadn
’
t noticed. And I have to leave. I have to leave…more because of you than because
of
your daddy havin
’
trouble with the ranch. Do y
a
understand?
”

Dusty gazed into his eyes. She saw the sincerity obvious in their golden brown tone.
“
You
’
re just bein
’
nice to me, Ryder. Y
a
don
’
t have to do that.
”
She was so deeply warmed by his concern for her.

“
I ain
’
t just bein
’
nice, Dusty,
”
he said, propping his head up on one hand and letting his other travel from her shoulder down over her arm, finally taking her hand in his.
“
I love that little wag y
a
do with your fanny when y
a
look at me over your shoulder and walk away.
”
Dusty
’
s eyes widened in astonishment at his revelation.
“
The way y
a
smile at me and wave from your bedroom window every mornin
’
. But you
’
re fourteen years old, sugar
. Just
a baby—a
nd y
a
put my mind into thinkin
’
about you…and…and I shouldn
’
t! Do y
a
understand what I
’
m tryin
’
to say?
”

“
I
’
m nearly fifteen
,
and I wish you wouldn
’
t talk down to me!
”
she scolded him.

He looked away from her and shook his head.
“
That
’
s my point, Dusty. If you were older…you
’
d realize I ain
’
t talkin
’
down to you. I
’
m tellin
’
y
a
the truth of it. You
’
re a pretty baby
. Y
ou make me laugh
. Y
ou
’
re smart, kind. And you
’
re too young for me, Angelina.
”

Though she didn
’
t say it
—couldn’t admit it to him—
she did know it. He was a man. She was still a child. Though she would
eventually grow up, he was much older, r
eady to live his life. It wa
s wrong to make him feel guilty
about anything concerning her. S
o
moving toward him, she pulled her hand from his and wrapped her arms tightly around his
neck, hugging him warmly,
nestling against him there in the straw. She inhaled
deeply the scent of him, s
wearing to herself she would n
ever forget the way he smelled—the warmth of his body—
how firm his muscles were beneath his shirt.