Pioneer Passion (11 page)

Rusty fell in the mud, scraped her knees, and
moaned in pain. Blood and wet dirt ran down her legs, but she
didn’t stop. She ran, she fell, and then she crawled until she
reached her field. When the sky lit up again, she got a glimpse of
the destruction. Her small fruit trees looked like broken sticks
against the black sky.

“Oh, God… why?” she cried bitterly.

Rusty crawled some more, feeling the crushed
saplings under her legs and sore hands. In deep mud, she sat
sobbing and covered her face with dirty hands only to taste the
rich soil. She wailed, shaking an angry fist at the wicked sky,
cursing nature for the storm and fate for the misery in her life.
On the soaked ground, she lapsed into unconsciousness somewhere
between the fury and the calm.

Chapter Twelve

Guy marveled at the breathtaking sunrise
after such a fierce storm. Mother Nature had a way of apologizing
and like a beautiful woman, she was easily forgiven. It was
daybreak when the herd was finally rounded up, and he and his men
were exhausted. But he knew that the fence had to be mended before
they could rest and although, bone weary, with every muscle aching,
they guided the cattle back into the damaged corral. Guy felt his
stomach twist into a knot seeing the ruined bags of fruit.

His eyes were weary and his hands tired, but
he worked along with the hired help mending the fence. When it was
finished, he told every man to change their damp clothes, knowing
that they were looking forward to a hot cup of coffee and a few
hours of sleep. Guy decided a dip in the cold pond would do justice
to his aching muscles. At first he paid no attention to the lump of
dirt, but a gut feeling made him take a closer look. His heart
stopped at what he found. Oh, mother of God!

Guy carried the mud-soaked girl back to the
house and laid her on her bed. He felt panic run through him like
he had never felt before; it was as if ice twisted around his
heart. He bellowed at the top of his lungs for Mattie knowing that
Rusty had to be stripped and made warm. He started to undress her;
her life was more important than convention at a time like
this.

He removed her muddied shirt noticing how the
wet camisole left nothing to his imagination. His hands hovered
over her breasts for a moment and he chided himself for such
thoughts. Even when she looked like a dirty ruffian who wallowed in
mud, he wanted to hold her and feel the softness of her beautiful
breasts. Squeezing his eyes shut, hating his insensitivity, he
jumped back to his senses when the cook walked into the room. When
she saw Rusty out cold and partly undressed, she stopped short and
looked at Guy completely puzzled.

“Why yo’ yellin’ t’ wake de daid? Land sakes,
what happened to dis darlin’? Whut’s goin’ on, and why yo’, youn’
man, undressin’ her?” His servant pushed him carelessly aside.

When she had a better look at the poor girl,
Mattie felt Rusty’s brow and gasped. “Why, de po’ chil’ is burnin’
up.”

She looked at him with a million questions in
her eyes, but he answered only one. “She was out in the storm all
night. We have to get her out of these wet things.” He reached to
finish what he had started but she pushed his hand away as if he
were an annoying insect hovering around and ordered, “Yo’ get and
Ah’ll tend t’ her. Go fetch de Doc. Mattie knows whut t’ do. Now
gets.”

Guy was reluctant to leave but rode into town
not heeding his own discomfort; all he could think of was how pale
and cold Rusty was. A chill ran up his spine with the possibility
that she might not get well. By the time Guy returned with the
doctor, Rusty was delirious, calling for her father. Mattie sat
near wiping the girl’s face with a cool, damp cloth. She then
placed, what she said was a poultice of dried peach leaves, which
she had boiled in a pot until soft, on the warm forehead.

Doctor Samuels told him that Rusty had
pneumonia. Guy let out a heart-felt groan, but the girl was young
and strong and the doctor saw no reason she should not survive.
They received instructions for her care; she was to receive
lineament rubdowns and hot soup. Guy thanked the man and returned
to ask Mattie to make breakfast for the men since they had been out
all night. He himself was hungry, wet and tired, but he wouldn’t
eat or sleep until he saw some improvement in the patient. Mattie
made him promise to take a hot bath, not wanting two sick people on
her hands. Reluctantly, he agreed to the cook’s demands.

After the hot bath and clean clothes, he sat
on a chair close to the bed, watching for signs that Rusty was
regaining consciousness. Except for a moan and a flicker of her
dark lashes, she remained the same. Against Mattie’s better
judgment, he insisted on periodically bathing the sick girl’s
limbs. Guy was relieved when the servant relented. He assumed it
was only because the woman had too much work to do and couldn’t sit
with the girl. He rubbed the lineament on Rusty’s arms and legs,
marveling at the loveliness of her young body. Clad only in a dry
chemise and bloomers, there was no doubt she was every inch a
woman. He carefully raised her head and bathed her neck. She was
soft to the touch and she did strange things to his heart.

“Damn!” Here he was lusting over a sick
child.

Stop calling her that! She may look young,
but you know damn well, she’s all woman!

He threw down the wash cloth totally
disappointed with himself. He went down stairs and returned to the
room with a bottle and drank himself into a stupor. He slept the
rest of the day and all through the night, waking slightly hearing
the tsk, tsk, tsking tongue of the dark-skinned servant when she
checked on the patient.

Guy was jarred awake by a very angry cook and
he opened his eyes noticing that the day arrived bright and sunny
but not so to him. He muttered some obscenities feeling as if his
head would explode. He felt the growth on his face and knew he had
been out more than a night. When his head cleared somewhat and
memories seeped back into his brain, he leaped swiftly from the
chair and lost his balance. His already sore head made solid
contact with the hard floor. He clutched it, rolled over onto his
back, and stared at the ceiling, rubbing blood shot eyes. As soon
as his vision focused, he didn’t like what he saw. A very angry
face, scowled at him again and the woman clicked her tongue and
scolded, “Shame on yo’ fo’ getting’ snookered!” His mouth felt like
he was chewing on a cotton blanket and he couldn’t spit to save his
life.

Stupid! Stupid! he reprimanded himself, never
again. God, I have to pee.

He groaned. Some of his moans were loud, some
moans were soft, but all the sound didn’t seem to be coming from
him. It took a minute for him to realize that he wasn’t the only
one moaning. The kid! Forgetting his sore skull, he sat and laid
his forehead on the side of the bed, hearing that annoying clicking
of a tongue. He frowned. It hurt.

Guy dragged himself up slowly and sat on the
bed. He felt Rusty’s face, it was cool to his touch and some of her
color had returned. She would be fine and he gave silent thanks,
licking his dry lips.

Rusty knew someone was touching her face, but
she couldn’t open her eyes just then. There was pain behind her
lids and her mouth was very dry. She tried to think. Was her tired
body lying on clouds? If she didn’t feel so much soreness, she
might have enjoyed her comfortable surroundings. There it was
again, that nice feeling of someone touching her face. She wanted
to see who was caressing her and she tried opening her eyes again.
She managed to flicker her lids slightly, but the light hurt,
casting swirls of patterns inside her eyelids. She wet her lips and
spoke. She could have sworn she croaked instead of voicing a sound
but she must have been understood because the room darkened. Then
someone was helping her to sip cool water down her parched throat.
Most of it trickled down her chin, and trying to catch the cool
liquid with her tongue was useless. There wasn’t a part of her body
that didn’t ache when she tried moving. “Thanks,” she whispered,
keeping her eyes closed as warm broth was spooned into her parched
mouth. She sipped the delicious stock, not caring who her guardian
angel was. Then she slept.

When Rusty opened her eyes again she wondered
how long she had slept. Squinting to focus her vision she saw a
tall form standing by the window, arranging the curtains to let in
some daylight. It was Guy; no other filled the room as he did. He
walked to her side. “Hi,” she smiled, and then she lost her smile.
“You look like hell,” she rasped. He gave her one of his lopsided
grins, saying, “Thanks!” He sat beside her and his weight pulled on
the sheets.

He folded his arms across his chest, and
added, “And I suppose you’d look better after spending a night in a
storm herding panicky steers, then coming back to find a stupid
girl lying senseless in the mud.” He sighed. “I rode into town for
a doctor, not knowing if you’d live or die. And for what… a bunch
of fruit trees?” he groused and realization hit her full force.

“Oh no!” She sat up fast and fell back
against the pillow and groaned. “My oranges were destroyed. I’m
ruined. It’s all gone. Everything!” she cried.

Mattie knew something was wrong by the look
on both faces. Rusty was sobbing. Guy looked flushed and withdrawn,
as if he had just lost his best friend. She placed the bowl on the
nightstand and took the crying girl’s hand. “Whut happened?” she
turned her question to Guy.

Her distraught boss shook his head, “Sorry,
I’m afraid it’s my fault. I ran off at the mouth bringing it all
back.” She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes heavenward.
“Leave the chil’ t’ me. Go! Ah’ve done heard ‘nuff,” she scolded
more harshly than she intended. Ah, Mattie yo’ is jawin’
disrespectable. He’s feelin’ almighty low right now. She placed a
hand tenderly on his shoulder to show she was sorry. “It’s hard on
us all. Yo’ go fer now ‘n’ leave us be.” She forced a smile and
placed her hands on her large hips.

She was indeed peeved with him, but she could
understand why he did it. When she had found him yesterday, out
cold with a bottle in his lap, she tried to wake him and he
rewarded her with a swat of his big hand, and a few cuss words. She
removed the bottle and placed a blanket over him. When she returned
later to bathe Rusty, Guy’s snoring was disturbing. Mattie frowned,
sat on the huge bed, and watched them both for a while, then
left.

Later, she felt the girl’s forehead and
sighed with relief; the fever had broken. She left to make soup
with a little of her own remedy to spice up the broth; a little
extra medicine wouldn’t hurt. The grouchy man had mumbled something
to the effect that he swore off drinking making her laugh. Boss or
not, she thought, he deserved a big head and there was no doubt in
her mind that the foolish man had no idea that he was in love with
the girl. He’d soon discover that lightning not only strikes on the
ground, sometimes it strikes the human heart.

She knew that Rusty’s crying sapped what
little strength she had and the child was exhausted. Doting over
the sick girl, she forced some broth into her trembling mouth
before the child fell asleep.

What had he done? It was too late when Guy
realized that he had said too much. Without thinking his callous
words reopened a wound. He cursed himself for being an ass and
started to apologize when the cook walk into the room with hot soup
for the patient. He ignored the little voice in his aching head,
reminding him that she also lost all of her oranges. And of course,
he didn’t mention either that he drank himself into a stupor.
Feeling like the room was closing in on him he left after watching
his servant gather the weeping girl in her big, soft arms. He
longed to be the one holding her.

Chapter Thirteen

Still in a blue funk, Rusty remained in her
self-made solitude, and the girl knew full well that she was acting
like the child she claimed she wasn’t. And she refused to see Guy.
Mattie forced nourishment into Rusty and despite her moody
disposition she was soon well, but still refused to leave the room.
The stubborn girl sulked about, feeling as if she had nothing to
live for while Mattie continued daily lectures, insisting she was
young and strong and should get off her rump. Albeit, Mattie was on
the receiving end of an accusing finger that was annoying, the
child did however appreciate how concerned she was. Being talked
down to only made Rusty screw her face into a scowl and shrug off
her advice.

Worried, Mattie went about doing her daily
chores shaking her head sadly. She loved that stubborn girl from
the moment they met, reminding her of the daughter she lost. Her
Jasmine was Rusty’s age when she died from a fever many years ago.
She sighed, thinking how alone in the world she felt when her
husband died two years ago in a shooting accident; Rusty and Guy
were her family now.

Taking the clothespin from her mouth she’d
thanked the Lord daily that Guy happened to be eating at the Shady
Elm Hotel when mean old Mr. Haggerty took a switch to her. No one
had ever helped her before and Guy told her that he was also
tempted to take the stick to the cruel man, but claimed that Mr.
Haggerty wasn’t worth going to jail for. Mattie looked up at the
sky and again gave praise to the Lord.

“Rusty, it’s time to leave this room to face
the world,” she scolded herself. Sulking was soon replaced with
boredom and she knew she was only spiting herself. “Ma would be
ashamed of you,” she continued to lecture herself. “C’mon, you’re a
Crawford! Pull up those bootstraps and show everyone you’re made of
tougher stuff!” Straightening her spine, she marched herself
downstairs, into the kitchen.

“Well, well, whut do mah poor eyes see?”
Mattie blurted, showing surprise, but happy. Smiling she prepared
breakfast and shook her head at Rusty. She remained sulking but the
servant said nothing more. Shrugging off the cook’s words, she
plopped unladylike onto a chair. The woman widened her smile,
giving Rusty the impression that the cook knew sooner or later
she’d free herself from her self-made cocoon. Bacon and a stack of
wheat cakes were placed in front of her. Though extremely hungry,
Rusty toyed with the food at first, and then ate with gusto.
Stabbing her food, then with a mouthful, Rusty chewed her words,
“W-where’s, mrmpfh, everybody?”