Dusty Britches (57 page)

“
You don
’
t wanna go down this road with me, Dusty,
”
he growled, and she did not miss the crack of emotion in his voice. She wanted to shout,
I
’
d go down any road with you.
But she just stood quietly for a moment when he again repeated,
“
You don
’
t wanna go down it.
”

“
Who is she?
”
she asked, stepping onto the path.

He looked at her, frowning and angry.
“
You read my post?
”
he growled.

“I…
I thought it would be…
”
she stammered, searching for a good excuse
—
knowing there was none.

He shook his head and repeated
,
“
Who was she?
”

“
Yes. You
’
re obviously very upset and
—”

“
She
’
s a girl. She was a girl,
”
he answered bluntly.

“
Did you love her?
”
she asked quietly. Already the tears were heavy in her eyes as she anticipated the dreadful answer.

He chuckled with a sort of grief-stricken hysteria.
“
Did I love her?
”
he repeated.
“
I don
’
t know if that
’
s really any of your business, now is it?
”
His manner was so uncharacteristically cruel that it seemed to answer the question itself. It was a manner provoked of great pain.
H
e added with defeat,
“
No, I didn
’
t love her.
”

Momentary relief washed over Dusty so strongly she thought she might faint.
“
Well then, why
—”
she began.

“
You want me to trust you, is that it?
”
he asked, turning to her
—fury evident on his handsome face
.
“
You want to know why I
’
m so upset by that paper?
”
His voice cracked with emotion.
“
You can
’
t even find the smallest reason to trust me
. W
hy do y
a
think I should trust you?
”

“
Ryder, I…
”
She reached out, taking hold of his arm in a gesture of support, but he yanked his arm free of her grasp.

“
Don
’
t touch me right now.
”
His usually warm eyes were ablaze with anger.
“
I
’
m mad at you.
”

Dusty felt as if someone had shoved her heart into a cider press and was grinding.
“
Me? Because I r
ead the paper? I’m sorry, Ryder.
I know I shouldn
’
t have! I just
—”

“
No,
”
he countered, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head.
“
I don
’
t ca
re that you read the dang paper.
I
’
m mad because…I need to
tell you about this, and I can’t.”

“
You can tell me anything! We
’
ve
always talked about everything. Just because I said somethin’
stupid…because I was afraid and I…just because I won
’
t let myself…does that mean you
’
ll never be my…my…
”
she stammered.

“
Your what, Dusty?
”
he growled.
“
Your what?
”

“
M-m-m-my…my…
”
she struggled for the word that wouldn
’
t betray what she really wanted him
to be to her
. All she could utter was,
“
My friend.
”

“
Ah, but you
’
re wrong on both counts, sugar,
”
Ryder countered, shaking his head.
“
I am your…friend.
”
He said the word as if it left a
bad taste in his mouth to do so.
“And
we don
’
t tell each other everything. Now do we?
”

He was right. As she stood, face drenched in tears before him, trembling in the presence of his pain and anger, she knew he was right. She hadn
’
t told him everything. She hadn
’
t told him how much she dreamed of him, longed for his kiss, desired to be the cause of his smiles and happiness. She hadn
’
t told him everything. She hadn
’
t told him
s
he loved him so desperately in spite of her efforts not to
. And what hadn’t he told her? T
hat there had been a woman in his life sinc
e he left so long ago? That she’
d scarred him, maybe far worse than the scars he now wore on his back?

“
No,
”
she admitted in a whisper,
“
we don
’
t.
”
Then a panic gripped her, prompting her next unexpected question.
“
Will this…be what makes you leave?
”

“
No,
”
he confirmed in a low, much
calmer
, and somehow h
umbled voice. He looked to her,
his eyes seeming so far beyond sad and discouraged that her tears increased.
“
The only thing that would make me leave…
”
He paused
,
and Dusty thought her heart might beat free of her chest so viciously did it pound as she waited for him to continue.
“
If it happened…it wouldn
’
t matter to you if I left or not.
”

Dusty buried her face in her hands and sobbed,
“
How can you say that? How can you, when y
a
know…
”
When she raised her eyes to him again
,
there slowly crossed his face an expression of horrified enlightenment.

“
You
’
re thinkin
’
I
’
m gonna leave again. Is that it?
”
he asked.
“
All this time…you
’
ve been buildin
’
up this wall against me because…
”

“
Did you love that girl, Ryder?
”
Dusty finally cried out as the pain of jealousy and heartache silently but vigorously insisted on another confirmation. She had to know! She had to know
his kisses had been sincere—t
hat he did mean to
kiss her, w
ant
ed to hold her in his arms—t
hat he hadn
’
t been pretending it was a girl in Abilene he couldn
’
t have anymore for whatever reason.

“
Why, Dusty? Why does it matter to you? Tell me!
”
he demanded.
“
Tell me everything!
”

Dusty cupped her hand over her mouth for fear she might indeed confess to him her life had become whatever and whoever and wherever he was.

H
e seemed to take pity on her and sighed
.
“
No. I told you I didn
’
t love that poor girl. And she died.
”
It seemed an odd way to put it—
but it did calm her somehow.

Dusty instinctively leaned toward him, but he held up a hand.
“
I
’
m not mad at you,
”
he whispered,
“
for readin
’
the paper.
”
A heavy sigh escaped his lungs.
“
I
’
m just…worn out. I
’
m turnin
’
in. Good
night.
”
It was so plain and final.

All she could say in response was,
“
Good
night.
”

Al
l night she worried about him—w
ondered if he had lain in his b
unk for long hours in turmoil—
if he would ev
en be in his bunk come morning—
if his horse and his bedroll would be anywhere to be found. But when the rooster crowed and she heard him clanging around in the barn, grumpily cussing at the milk stool, she cried her last fearful tear and drifted to sleep. It was almost an hour later when Becca, having already finished feeding the men, came in to check on her sister, finally waking her up.

“
What in tarnation is the matter with Ryder?
”
Becca asked when Dusty entered the kitchen after having hurried to dress.

“
What do you mean?
”
Dusty asked. She knew, of course, about the newspaper he
’
d received. But Ryder was usually so adept at pasting on a happy face that she was curious about Becca
’
s experience.

“
He stormed in here and ate his breakfast like he
’
d knock you flat if you even talked to him!
”
Becca shook her head.
“
Somethin
’
s eatin
’
at him.
”

Dusty paused. Should she confide
in her sister? She wanted to—d
esperately! But should she?
“
He got some post yesterday
. S
omeone died. That
’
s all I know. It upset him so badly that I
—”

“
Who?
”
Becca interrupted.
“
Who died?
”

Dusty swallowed hard and continued.
“
A girl. A girl in
Abilene
.
”

“
A
—a girl? A
little girl
,
like nine or ten? Or a big girl
,
like
—”

“
A big girl
,
like nineteen.
”

Becca sighed heavily and then began her own explanation.
“
Dusty…I
’
m sure she was just an acquaintance. I
’
m sure she didn
’
t mean anything to him and that
—”

“
If she didn
’
t mean anything to him
,
Becca…then why is he so upset?
”
Dusty burst into tears. She burst into
a quick
confession of what she
’
d told Ryder days before in the barn.

“
Dusty!
”
Becca scolded, horrified.
“
You didn
’
t!
”

“
I did! I swear I
’
ve never been so stupid!
”
Dusty cried.

“
Well, you got that right,
”
Becca agreed. Dusty wiped angrily at her eyes.
“
But,
”
Becca continued,
“
even if this girl was something to him
,
she
’
s dead now and
—”