Authors: Marcia Lynn McClure
“
But I gave up, Becca. The day I found Cash with that girl,
”
Dusty confessed,
only just realizing it herself. “I gave up that day—
on Ryder, on love, on d
reams. That was my heartbreak…givin’
up the dream of Ryder.
”
She sighed, looking
through the waterfall and
into the sky
. “I still caught myself lookin’
to the horizon
most days…
more out of habit tha
n anything else. And I realized…
I didn
’
t re
ally care that I wasn’t marryin’
Cash. I had never really
wanted to in the first place. I just kept thinkin’
my dreams would actually come true.
”
“
But he
’
s back now,
”
Becca reminded her.
“
He
’
s back. He
’
s still not married
,
and he
’
s here!
”
“
And he
’
s beautiful
,
and he
’
s still a dream,
”
Dusty told her.
“
He would never want what I
’
ve become.
”
“
He wants you,
”
Becca assured her.
“
He would never have come back here if he didn
’
t. Think about it. You
’
re still you, Dusty! The part of you that makes y
a
you is still there inside! This hard
,
ol
’,
crusty shell will melt away easily enough if you let it. You can have him. I know y
a
can!
”
Dusty
glanced around the alcove—
at the
warm
sun shining through the water and lighting the shadows for them.
“
He kissed me here, y
a
know,
”
she whispered.
Becca gasped
.
“
When?
”
“
The day of the fight in town. H
e said he was sorry for breakin’ my heart all those years ago…a
nd he kissed me. He said we needed to close that old book. He ended it. He doesn
’
t want me, Becca. He needed to know he
could be forgiven for somethin’
he shouldn
’
t
even feel
guilty about.
”
Becca was silent for a moment before commenting,
“
He closed that old book, Dusty. What about the new one? Do y
a
really think he
’
d be here now if there wasn
’
t a first page to a new book?
”
Dusty smiled. Reaching out, she cupped Becca
’
s face lovingly in her hand.
“
Who
’
s this man
who’s
stolen your heart, Becca?
”
Becca
’
s eyes were filled with moisture again.
“
A wonderful man who deserves as much happiness as life can bring. A wonderful man who I
’
ve loved as long as I can remember…just like you.
”
Dusty knew Bec
ca didn’t want to say his name—knew
she was frightened that in saying the name of the man she loved
,
he might be lost to her forever somehow.
“
Remember who I
’
ve always loved, Dusty?
”
There had to be no more than that. With a smile and a nod of encouragement, Dusty leaned back against the alcove wall.
“
Let
’
s listen to the water, Becca,
”
she whispered.
“
Can y
a hear that…the locust in the trees…and t
he calves a
-
bawlin
’
in the corral?
”
Becca closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall too.
“
I can.
”
In three weeks time, the fourth day of July dawned bright, hot
,
and filled with excitement. Becca had
been buzzing around in a bee-
frenzy for tw
o days prior to its arrival. A
glimmer of the excitement
even spilled over onto Dusty—something akin to t
he
way she
used to feel in years so long gone by.
In the days since Ryder had ma
de his peace with her, in the days since she’
d opened the door to healing her relationship with her sister, Dus
ty had changed. Not completely, for she still battled fear. T
he ever
-
present fear of heartache and disappointment
still wound
itself around her heart.
Yet
she had begun to change. She found herself smiling during the course of a
ny given day—
found herself
viewing
Becca in a
more understanding and sympathetic
light.
Dusty now saw Becca as an ally—
someone who was frightened
and hurt herself
instead of the
naive,
innocent, perpetually blissful antagonist she
’
d
come to think her to be
.
As for Ryder—Dusty’s
heart hammered all the more when
ever
he was near. Her body tingled at the brush of his arm or the sight of his mischievous grin.
N
ow she had
something else to motivate her:
hope. Becca
’
s assurances the night at the
waterfall had spurred her on—a
s did the memory of
Ryder’s
kiss. Surely a man could not kiss a woman in such a
manner
if he did not feel something besides mere friendship toward her.
And there it began. I
n the days leading up to the picnic
,
the smallest, tiniest pearl of hope
bloomed
in Dusty Hunter
’
s soul
. P
erhaps
—just maybe—
if she could find the
self she lost so long ago,
maybe Ryder would…it was only a maybe.
Still,
it was enough to give her cause to want to try. So she had. She had tried.
In trying, s
he found that indeed it was easier to be kind than
continually cross—
that a smile did feel better on her face than a frown
—
that having Ryder there, whether his heart belonged to her or not, was better than when he had not been there. So it was Dusty found herself looking forward to the picnic instead of dreading it.
Becca was near to exploding with excitement
. S
itting between Dusty
and her father on the buckboard, she reached over and squeezed Dusty’s arm. “
I love the Fourth picnic!
”
she squealed
. “
All day long
,
f
rom mornin
’
’
til midnight! I love it!
”
Dusty, for all her trying to remain calm in appe
arance, couldn’t help but smile. She’d been infected with
a bit of Becca
’
s contagious delirium. After
all, she had always loved the Fourth of July picnic too. Everyone left their ranches and farms and shops in town, even all the hands
and cowboys about. Everyone
headed
out to old man Leroy’s enormous, ancient barn. A
bandoned but in good repair, i
t stood in
the middle of what
was once
a cornfield. Old man Leroy was too old to farm anymore
. B
oth his sons
had been killed in the war, and he’
d sold off som
e of his land to another farmer. Yet the
house, most of the pastures and fields
,
and the old barn
were still his. A
ncient trees
e
xtended quite a ways out from the north side of the barn
, providing
shade so desperately needed for the elderly folks and babies during the heat of the summer day.
Everyone in the county attended, bringing ham, chickens, turkey, beef, pies, cakes and cookies, butter and b
reads, potatoes, and greens—
all manner of delicious food. There were tables and table
s laden with good things to eat, stretching
out the entire length of the barn. The barn itself was always decorated with pretty paper ribbons
. L
anterns
were hung here and there or set about in order to provide light
for the dancing
,
which would begin in the
early evening and continue until the fireworks were ignited in the field
at
about ten o
’
clock. It was indeed the most wonderful day
spent outside all year long!
Dusty felt the warm bubble
of excitement well
up in her bosom—threaten
to burst from her and win over her
indifference of the past few years
.
She glanced
over her shoulder.
Feller and Ryder rode side by side
,
followed by the other
ranch
hands.
Ryder winked at her and smiled. S
he turned away quickly, angry at the heated blush
rising
to her cheeks.
It
had been during
the Fourt
h of July picnic five years ago—the day
Ryder
had
saved her reputation by asking for
the
hanky peeking out of the bodice of her dress. S
till, she smiled at the memory—
wondered if he too w
ere
thinking about that incident.
Becca
glanced
back at the riders for a moment as well. She
leaned over to Dusty and whispered,
“
Doesn
’
t Feller look just adorable today?
”
Dusty couldn
’
t help but smile.
She quirked an eyebrow and asked, “
Adorable?
”
She
’
d never imagined Feller Lance as being
adorable
.
Still, it was true. Oftentimes—now that she contemplated it—
Feller could indeed
appear
adorable.
“
Adorable!
”
Becca repeated
with excitement
.
Dusty sighed, relieved to be leaving the ranch and re
sponsibility behind for a day. Today she would try—
truly make the grandes
t effort ever to enjoy herself—
to
fend off
the
feelings of annoyance and hatred that usually were her safeguard. Today she would try again to be the Dusty Hunter
she was born to be
.
Hank Hunter
tied the team to a post under one of the big trees
and helped Becca and Dusty down. T
he
ranch
hands chuckled and mumbled
with rare excitement
as they
too
secured their horses.
Dusty realized just how thoroughly e
veryone needed a break from the arduous labor of the ranch
.
“
Come on
, girls,” Hank Hunter chuckled. He
crook
ed
both his arms
, inviting
his daughters to
be escorted
.
“
I can smell Miss Raynetta
’
s rhubarb pie from here!
”